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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16943-h.zip b/16943-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f85a40 --- /dev/null +++ b/16943-h.zip diff --git a/16943-h/16943-h.htm b/16943-h/16943-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af3a1c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/16943-h/16943-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8834 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Paris: With Pen and Pencil, by David W. Bartlett. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + a[name] { position:absolute; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + + table { width: 60%; padding: 1em; text-align: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .tr {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + .tocch { text-align: center; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; text-indent: 0; font-weight: normal; color: gray; font-size: 0.7em; text-align: right;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Paris: With Pen and Pencil, by David W. Bartlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Paris: With Pen and Pencil + Its People and Literature, Its Life and Business + +Author: David W. Bartlett + +Release Date: October 25, 2005 [EBook #16943] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARIS: WITH PEN AND PENCIL *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and +Distributed Proofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>PARIS:</h1> + +<h4>WITH</h4> + +<h1>PEN AND PENCIL</h1> + + +<h4> </h4> +<h4>ITS</h4> +<h2>PEOPLE AND LITERATURE,</h2> + +<h4> </h4> +<h4>ITS</h4> +<h2>LIFE AND BUSINESS</h2> + + +<h3> </h3> +<h3> </h3> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>DAVID W. BARTLETT</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "WHAT I SAW IN LONDON;" "LIFE OF LADY JANE GRAY;"<br /> +"LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC," ETC. ETC.</h4> + + +<h3> </h3> +<h3>ILLUSTRATED.</h3> +<h3> </h3> +<h3> </h3> +<h3>NEW YORK:</h3> +<h3><span class="smcap">HURST & CO., Publishers,</span></h3> + +<h4>122 NASSAU STREET.</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The contents of this volume are the result of two visits to Paris. The +first when Louis Napoleon was president of the Republic; and the second +when Napoleon III. was emperor of France. I have sketched people and +places as I saw them at both periods, and the reader should bear this in +mind.</p> + +<p>I have not endeavored to make a hand-book to Paris, but have described +those places and objects which came more particularly under my notice. I +have also thought it best, instead of devoting my whole space to the +description of places, or the manners of the people—a subject which has +been pretty well exhausted by other writers—to give a few sketches of +the great men of Paris and of France; and among them, a few of the +representative literary men of the past. There is not a general +knowledge of French literature and authors, either past or present, +among the mass of readers; and Paris and France can only be truly known +through French authors and literature.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> + +<p>My object has been to add somewhat to the general reader's knowledge of +Paris and the Parisians,—of the people and the places, whose social +laws are the general guide of the civilized world.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="300" height="371" alt="CHURCH OF ST. SULSPICE." title="CHURCH OF ST. SULSPICE." /> +<span class="caption">CHURCH OF ST. SULSPICE.</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<h2> </h2> +<h2> </h2> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table summary="contents"> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpg">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a> </td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">London to Paris,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#HISTORY_OF_PARIS">History of Paris,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Restaurants,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#A_WALK_AND_GOSSIP">A Walk and Gossip,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BOURSE_GALIGNANIS_ETC_ETC">The Bourse,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Lafayette's Tomb,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_RADICAL">The Radical,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#A_WALK_INTO_THE_COUNTRY">A Country Walk,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Churches,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Notre Dame,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#ST_GERMAIN_LAUXERROIS">L'Auxerrois,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#SAINTE_CHAPELLE">Saint Chapelle,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPELLE_EXPIATOIRE">Expiatoire,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_MADELEINE">Madeleine,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPEL_OF_ST_FERDINAND">St. Ferdinand,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#ST_VINCENT_DE_PAUL">Vincent de Paul, &c.</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Lamartine,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#HORACE_VERNET">Vernet, </a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#EMILE_DE_GIRARDIN">Girardin,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#VICTOR_HUGO">Hugo,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#JULES_JANIN">Janin,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Places of Blood,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#PLACE_DE_LA_CONCORDE">Place de la Concorde,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The Louvre,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#PUBLIC_GARDENS">Public Gardens,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LUXEMBOURG_PALACE_AND_GARDENS">The Luxembourg Palace and Gardens,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_GOBELINS">The Gobelins,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The People,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CLIMATE_POPULATIONmdashPOLICE_ETC">Climate,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#PUBLIC_INSTITUTIONS">Public Institutions,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#HOTEL_DES_INVALIDES">Hotel de Invalides,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#Jardin_dHiver">Jardin d'Hiver,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">M. Guizot,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#ALEXANDER_DUMAS">Alexander Dumas,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#EUGENE_SUE">Eugene Sue,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#M_THIERS">M. Thiers,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#GEORGE_SAND">George Sand,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Pere La Chase,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_PRISONS">The Prisons,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#FOUNDLING_HOSPITALS">Foundling Hospitals,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHARITABLE_INSTITUTIONS">Charitable Institutions,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#LA_MORGUE">La Morgue,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#NAPOLEON_AND_EUGENIA">Napoleon and Eugenia,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BAPTISM_OF_THE_PRINCE">The Baptism of the Prince, </a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Men of the Past,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_FATHER_OF_FRENCH_TRAGEDY">The Father of French Tragedy,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_GREAT_JESTER">The Great Jester,</a> </span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_DRAMATIST">The Dramatist,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tocch"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td> + + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The Fabulist, </a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_INFIDEL">The Infidel,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_GREAT_COMIC_WRITER">The Great Comic Writer,</a></span></td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td> + </tr> + +</table> + + + + + + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="WHAT_I_SAW_IN_PARIS" id="WHAT_I_SAW_IN_PARIS"></a>WHAT I SAW IN PARIS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h2>LONDON TO PARIS—HISTORY OF PARIS.</h2> + +<h3>LONDON TO PARIS.</h3> + + +<p>Few people now-a-days go direct to Paris from America. They land in +Liverpool, get at least a birds-eye view of the country parts of +England, stay in London a week or two, or longer, and then cross the +channel for Paris.</p> + +<p>The traveler who intends to wander over the continent, here takes his +initiatory lesson in the system of passports. I first called upon the +American minister, and my passport—made out in Washington—was <i>visé</i> +for Paris. My next step was to hunt up the French consul, and pay him a +dollar for affixing his signature to the precious document. At the first +sea-port this passport was taken from me, and a provisional one put into +my keeping. At Paris the original one was returned! And this is a +history of my passport between London and Paris, a distance traversed in +a few hours. If such are the practices between two of the greatest and +most civilized towns on the face of the earth, how unendurable must they +be on the more despotic continent?</p> + +<p>The summer was in its first month, and Paris was in its glory, and it +was at such a time that I visited it. We took a steamer at the London +bridge wharf for Boulogne. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>The day promised well to be a boisterous +one, but I had a very faint idea of the gale blowing in the channel. If +I could have known, I should have waited, or gone by the express route, +<i>via</i> Dover, the sea transit of which occupies only two hours. The fare +by steamer from London to Boulogne was three dollars. The accommodations +were meager, but the boat itself was a strong, lusty little fellow, and +well fitted for the life it leads. I can easily dispense with the +luxurious appointments which characterize the American steamboats, if +safety is assured to me in severe weather.</p> + +<p>The voyage down the Thames, was in many respects very delightful. +Greenwich, Woolwich, Margate, and Ramsgate lie pleasantly upon this +route. But the wind blew so fiercely in our teeth that we experienced +little pleasure in looking at them. When we reached the channel we found +it white with foam, and soon our little boat was tossed upon the waves +like a gull. In my experience crossing the Atlantic, I had seen nothing +so disagreeable as this. The motion was so quick and so continual, the +boat so small, that I very soon found myself growing sick. The rain was +disagreeable, and the sea was constantly breaking over the bulwarks. I +could not stay below—the atmosphere was too stifling and hot. So I +bribed a sailor to wrap about me his oil-cloth garments, and lay down +near the engines with my face upturned to the black sky, and the +sea-spray washing me from time to time. Such sea-sickness I never +endured, though before I had sailed thousands of miles at sea, and have +done the same since. From sundown till two o'clock the next morning I +lay on the deck of the sloppy little boat, and when at last the Boulogne +lights were to be seen, I was as heartily glad as ever in my life.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thoroughly worn out, as soon as I landed upon the quay I handed my keys +to a <i>commissaire</i>, gave up my passport, and sought a bed, and was soon +in my dreams tossing again upon the channel-waves. I was waked by the +<i>commissaire</i>, who entered my room with the keys. He had passed my +baggage, got a provisional passport for me, and now very politely +advised me to get up and take the first train to Paris, for I had told +him I wished to be in Paris as soon as possible. Giving him a good fee +for his trouble, and hastily quitting the apartment and paying for it, I +was very soon in the railway station. My trunks were weighed, and I +bought baggage tickets to Paris—price one sou. The first class fare was +twenty-seven francs, or about five dollars, the distance one hundred and +seventy miles. This was cheaper than first class railway traveling in +England, though somewhat dearer than American railway prices.</p> + +<p>The first class cars were the finest I have seen in any country—very +far superior to American cars, and in many respects superior to the +English. They were fitted up for four persons in each compartment, and a +door opened into each from the side. The seat and back were beautifully +cushioned, and the arms were stuffed in like manner, so that at night +the weary traveler could sleep in them with great comfort.</p> + +<p>The price of a third class ticket from Boulogne to Paris was only three +dollars, and the cars were much better than the second class in America, +and I noticed that many very respectably dressed ladies and gentlemen +were in them—probably for short distances. It is quite common, both in +England and France, in the summer, for people of wealth to travel by +rail for a short distance by the cheapest class of cars.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>I entered the car an utter stranger—no one knew me, and I knew no one. +The language was unintelligible, for I found that to <i>read</i> French in +America, is not to <i>talk</i> French in France. I could understand no one, +or at least but a word here and there.</p> + +<p>But the journey was a very delightful one. The country we passed through +was beautiful, and the little farms were in an excellent state of +cultivation. Flowers bloomed everywhere. There was not quite that degree +of cultivation which the traveler observes in the best parts of England, +but the scenery was none the less beautiful for that. Then, too, I saw +everything with a romantic enthusiasm. It was the France I had read of, +dreamed of, since I was a school-boy.</p> + +<p>A gentleman was in the apartment who could talk English, having resided +long in Boulogne, which the English frequent as a watering place, and he +pointed out the interesting places on our journey. At Amiens we changed +cars and stopped five minutes for refreshments. I was hungry enough to +draw double rations, but I felt a little fear that I should get cheated, +or could not make myself understood; but as the old saw has it, +"Necessity is the mother of invention," and I satisfied my hunger with a +moderate outlay of money. A few miles before we reached Paris, we +stopped at the little village of Enghein, and it seemed to me that I +never in my life had dreamed of so fairy-like a place. Beautiful lakes, +rivers, fountains, flowers, and trees were scattered over the village +with exquisite taste. To this place, on Sundays and holidays, the people +of Paris repair, and dance in its cheap gardens and drink cheap wines.</p> + +<p>When we reached Paris my trunks were again searched and underwent a +short examination, to see that no wines <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>or provisions were concealed in +them. A tax is laid upon all such articles when they enter the city, and +this is the reason why on Sunday the people flock out of town to enjoy +their <i>fêtes</i>. In the country there are no taxes on wine and edibles, +and as a matter of economy they go outside of the walls for their +pleasure.</p> + +<p>When my baggage was examined, I took an omnibus to the hotel Bedford, +Rue de l'Arcade, where I proposed to stay but a few days, until I could +hunt up permanent apartments. My room was a delightful one and fitted up +in elegant style. I was in the best part of Paris. Two minutes walk away +were the <i>Champs Elysees</i>—the Madeleine church, the Tuileries, etc., +etc. But I was too tired to go out, and after a French dinner and a +lounge in the reading-room, I went to sleep, and the next morning's sun +found me at last entirely recovered from my wretched passage across the +channel.</p> + +<p>My second trip to Paris was in many respects different from the +first—which I have just described. The route was a new one, and +pleasanter than that <i>via</i> Boulogne. Our party took an express train +from the London bridge terminus for Newhaven, a small sea-port. The cars +were fitted up with every comfort, and we made the passage in quick +time. At three P.M. we went on board a little steamer for Dieppe, where +we arrived at nine o'clock. After a delay of an hour we entered a +railway carriage fitted up in a very beautiful and luxurious style. At +Dieppe we had no trouble with our passports, keeping the originals, and +simply showing them to the custom-house officials. Our ride to Paris was +in the night, yet was very comfortable.</p> + +<p>In coming back to London, we made the trip to Dieppe in the daytime, and +found it to be very beautiful. From Paris to Rouen the railway runs a +great share of the way in sight of the river Seine, and often upon its +banks. Many of the views from the train were romantic, and some of them +wildly grand. Upon the whole, this route is the pleasantest between +Paris and London, as it is one of the cheapest. There is one objection, +however, and that is the length of the sea voyage—six hours. Those who +dislike the water will prefer the Dover route.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="HISTORY_OF_PARIS" id="HISTORY_OF_PARIS"></a>HISTORY OF PARIS.</h3> + + +<p>The origin of Paris is not known. According to certain writers, a +wandering tribe built their huts upon the island now called <i>la Cité</i>. +This was their home, and being surrounded by water, it was easily +defended against the approach of hostile tribes. The name of the place +was Lutetia, and to themselves they gave the name of <i>Parisii</i>, from the +Celtic word <i>par</i>, a frontier or extremity.</p> + +<p>This tribe was one of sixty-four which were confederated, and when the +conquest of Gaul took place under Julius Caesar, the <i>Parisii</i> occupied +the island. The ground now covered by Paris was either a marsh or +forest, and two bridges communicated from the island to it. The +islanders were slow to give up their Druidical sacrifices, and it is +doubtful whether the Roman gods ever were worshiped by them, though +fragments of an altar of Jupiter have been found under the choir of the +cathedral of Notre Dame. Nearly four hundred years after Christ, the +Emperor Julian remodeled the government and laws of Gaul and Lutetia, +and changed its name to <i>Parisii</i>. It then, too, became a city, and had +considerable <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>trade. For five hundred years Paris was under Roman +domination. A palace was erected for municipal purposes in the city, and +another on the south bank of the Seine, the remains of which can still +be seen. The Roman emperors frequently resided in this palace while +waging war with the northern barbarians. Constantine and Constantius +visited it; Julian spent three winters in it; Valentian and Gratian also +made it a temporary residence.</p> + +<p>The monks have a tradition that the gospel was first preached in Paris +about the year 250, by St. Denis, and that he suffered martyrdom at +Montmartre. A chapel was early erected on the spot now occupied by Notre +Dame. In 406 the northern barbarians made a descent upon the Roman +provinces, and in 445 Paris was stormed by them. Before the year 500 +Paris was independent of the Roman domination. Clovis was its master, +and marrying Clotilde, he embraced Christianity and erected a church. +The island was now surrounded by walls and had gates. The famous church +of St. German L'Auxerrois was built at this time. For two hundred and +fifty years, Paris retrograded rather than advanced in civilization, and +the refinements introduced by the Romans were nearly forgotten. In 845 +the Normans sacked and burnt Paris. Still again it was besieged, but +such was the valor of its inhabitants that the enemy were glad to raise +the siege. Hugues Capet was elected king in 987, and the crown became +hereditary. In his reign the Palace of Justice was commenced. Buildings +were erected on all sides, and new streets were opened. Under Louis le +Gros the Louvre was rebuilt, it having existed since the time of +Dagobert. Bishop Sully began the foundations of Notre Dame in 1163, and +about that time the Knights Templars erected a palace.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Under the reign of Philip Augustus many of the public edifices were +embellished and new churches and towers were built. In 1250 Robert +Serbon founded schools—a hospital and school of surgery were also about +this time commenced.</p> + +<p>Under Charles V. the city flourished finely, and the Bastille and the +Palace de Tourvelles were erected. The Louvre also was repaired. Next +came the unhappy reign of Charles VI., who was struck with insanity. In +1421 the English occupied Paris, but under Charles VII. they were driven +from it and the Greek language was taught for the first time in the +University of Paris. It had then twenty-five thousand students. Under +the reign of successive monarchs Paris was, from famine and plague, so +depopulated that its gates were thrown open to the malefactors of all +countries. In 1470 the art of printing was introduced into the city and +a post-office was established. In the reign of Francis I. the arts and +literature sprang into a new life. The heavy buildings called the Louvre +were demolished, and a new palace commenced upon the old site. In 1533 +the Hotel de Ville was begun, and many fine buildings were erected. The +wars of the sects, or rather religions, followed, and among them +occurred the terrible St. Bartholomew massacre. Henry IV. brought peace +to the kingdom and added greatly to the beauty and attractiveness of +Paris.</p> + +<p>Under Louis XIII. several new streets were opened, and the Palais Royal +and the palace of the Luxembourg begun. Under the succeeding king the +wars of the Fronde occurred, but the projects of the preceding king were +carried out, and more than eighty new streets were opened. The planting +of trees in the Champs Elysees, also took place under the reign of Louis +XIV. The pal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>ace of the Tuileries was enlarged, the Hotel des Invalides, +a foundling hospital, and several bridges were built.</p> + +<p>Louis XV. established the manufactory of porcelain at Sevres, and also +added much to the beauty of Paris. He commenced the erection of the +Madeleine. Theaters and comic opera-houses were speedily built, and +water was distributed over the city by the use of steam-engines.</p> + +<p>Then broke out the revolution, and many fine monuments were destroyed. +But it was under the Directory that the Museum of the Louvre was opened, +and under Napoleon the capital assumed a splendor it had never known +before. Under the succeeding kings it continued to increase in wealth +and magnificence, until it is unquestionably the finest city in the +world.</p> + +<p>I have now in a short space given the reader a preliminary sketch of +Paris, and will proceed at once to describe what I saw in it, and the +impressions I received, while a resident in that city.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h2>RESTAURANTS—A WALK AND GOSSIP.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_018.jpg" width="400" height="332" alt="BOULEVARD DU TEMPLE." title="BOULEVARD DU TEMPLE." /> +<span class="caption">BOULEVARD DU TEMPLE.</span> +</div> + +<h3>RESTAURANTS, CAFES, ETC.</h3> + + +<p>The first thing the stranger does in Paris, is of course to find +temporary lodging, and the next is to select a good <i>restaurant</i>. Paris +without its <i>restaurants, cafés, estaminets</i>, and <i>cercles</i>, would be +shorn of half its glory. They are one of its most distinguished and +peculiar features. Between the hours of five and eight, in the evening +of course, all Paris is in those <i>restaurants</i>. The scene at such times +is enlivening in the highest degree. The Boulevards contain the finest +in the city, for there nearly all the first-class saloons are kept. +There are retired streets in which are kept houses on the same plan, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>with prices moderate in the extreme. You can go on the Boulevards and +pay for a breakfast, if you choose, fifty or even sixty francs, or you +can retire to some quiet spot and pay one franc for your frugal meal. It +is of course not common for any one to pay the largest sum named, but +there are persons in Paris who do it, young men who with us are vulgarly +denominated "swells," and who like to astonish their friends by their +extravagance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_020.jpg" width="500" height="298" alt="PARIS & ARCH OF TRIUMPH." title="PARIS & ARCH OF TRIUMPH." /> +<span class="caption">PARIS & ARCH OF TRIUMPH.</span> +</div> + +<p>Out of curiosity I went one day with a friend to one of the most +gorgeous of the <i>restaurants</i> on the Boulevards. Notwithstanding the +descriptions I had read and listened to from the lips of friends, I was +surprised at the splendor and style of the place. We sat down before a +fine window which was raised, looking into the street. Indeed, so close +sat we to it that the fashionable promenaders could each, if he liked, +have peeped into our dishes. But Parisians never trouble strangers with +their inquisitiveness. We sat down before a table of exquisite marble, +and a waiter dressed as neatly, and indeed gracefully, as a gentleman, +handed us a bill of fare. It was long enough in itself to make a man a +dinner, if the material were only palatable. Including dessert and +wines, there were one hundred specifications! There were ten kinds of +meat, and fourteen varieties of poultry. Of course there were many +varieties of game, and there were eight kinds of pastry. Of fish there +were fourteen kinds, there were ten side dishes, a dozen sweet dishes, +and a dozen kinds of wine.</p> + +<p>The elegance of the apartment can scarcely be imagined, and the savory +smell which arose from neighboring tables occupied by fashionable men +and women, invited us to a repast. We called, however, but for a dish or +two, and after we had eaten them, we had coffee, and over our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>cups +gazed out upon the gay scene before us. It was novel, indeed, to the +American eye, and we sat long and discussed it. In this <i>restaurant</i> +there were private rooms, called <i>Cabinets de Societe</i>, and into them go +men and women at all hours, by day and night. It is also a common sight +to see the public apartments of the <i>restaurants</i> filled with people of +both sexes. Ladies sit down even in the street with gentlemen, to sup +chocolate or lemonade. There is not much eaves-dropping in Paris, and +you can do as you please, nor fear curious eyes nor scandal-loving +tongues. This is very different from London. There, if you do any thing +out of the common way, you will be stared at and talked about. <i>There</i>, +if you take a lady into a public eating-house, <i>her</i> position, at least, +will not be a very pleasant one.</p> + +<p>There are many places in the Palais Royal, the basement floor of which, +fronting upon the court of the palace, is given up to shops, where for +two or three francs a dinner can be purchased which will consist of +soup, two dishes from a large list at choice, a dessert, and bread and +wine. There are places, indeed, where for twenty-five sous a dinner +sufficient to satisfy one's hunger can be purchased, but I must confess +that while in Paris I could never yet make up my mind to patronize a +cheap <i>restaurant</i>. I knew too well, by the tales of more experienced +Parisians, the shifts to which the cook of one of these cheap +establishments is sometimes reduced to produce an attractive dish. The +material sometimes would not bear a close examination—much less the +<i>cuisine</i>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_023.jpg" width="500" height="300" alt="JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL." title="JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL." /> +<span class="caption">JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL.</span> +</div> + +<p>I was astonished to see the quantities of bread devoured by the +frequenters of the eating-houses, but I soon equaled my neighbors. Paris +bread is the best in the world, or at least, it is the most palatable I +ever tasted. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>It is made in rolls six feet long, and sometimes I have +seen it eight feet long. Before now, I have seen a couple dining near +the corner of a room, with their roll of bread thrown like a cane +against the wall, and as often as they wanted a fresh slice, the roll +was very coolly brought over and decapitated. The Frenchman eats little +meat, but enormously of the staff of life. The chocolate and coffee +which are to be had in the French <i>cafés</i>, are very delicious, and +though after a fair and long trial I never could like French cookery as +well as the English, yet I would not for a moment pretend that any cooks +in the world equal those of Paris in the art of imparting exquisite +flavor to a dish. It is quite common for the French to use brandy in +their coffee.</p> + +<p>People who take apartments in Paris often prefer to have their meals +sent to their private rooms, and by a special bargain this is done by +any of the restaurants, but more especially by a class of houses called +<i>traiteurs</i>, whose chief business is to furnish cooked dishes to +families in their own homes. In going to a hotel in Paris, the stranger +never feels in the slightest degree bound to get his meals there. He +hires his room and that is all, and goes where he pleases. The <i>cafés</i> +are in the best portions of the town, magnificent places, often +exceeding in splendor the restaurants. They furnish coffee, chocolate, +all manner of ices and fruits, and cigars. At these places one meets +well-dressed ladies, and more than once in them I have seen well-dressed +women smoking cigarettes. Love intrigues are carried on at these places, +for a Paris lady can easily steal from her home to such a place under +cover of the night. A majority, however, of the women to be seen at such +places, are those who have no position in society, the wandering nymphs +of the night, or the poor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>grisettes. It is not strange that the poor +shop-girl is easily attracted to such gorgeous places by men far above +her in station.</p> + +<p>Outside of all the cafés little tables are placed on the pavement, with +chairs around them. These places are delightful in the summer evenings, +and are always crowded. A promenade through some of the best streets of +a summer night is a brilliant spectacle, and more like a promenade +through a drawing-room than through an American street. The proprietors +of those places do not intend to keep restaurants, but quite a variety +of food, hot or cold, is always on hand, and wines of all kinds are +sold.</p> + +<p>I well remember my first visit to a French <i>café</i>. It was when Louis +Napoleon was president, not emperor of France, and when there was more +liberty in Paris than there is now. I dropped into one near the +Boulevards, which, while it contained everything which could add to +one's comfort, still was not one of the first class. Several officers +were dining in it, and in some way I came in contact with one of them in +such a manner that he discovered I was an American. At once his conduct +toward me was of the most cordial kind, and his fellows rose and bade me +welcome to France. The simple fact that I was a republican from America +aroused the enthusiasm of all. I found, afterward, that the regiment to +which these officers belonged was suspected by the president of being +democratic in its sympathies.</p> + +<p>The reading-rooms of Paris are one of its best institutions. They are +scattered all over the city, but the best is Galignani's, which contains +over twenty thousand volumes in all languages. The subscription price +for a month is eight francs, for a fortnight five francs, and for a day +ten sous.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>There are reading-rooms furnished only with newspapers, where for a +small sum of money one can read the papers. These places are few in +comparison with their numbers in the days of the republic, however. +Under the despotic rule of Louis Napoleon, the newspaper business has +drooped.</p> + +<p>An anonymous writer in one of Chambers' publications, tells a good +story, and it is a true one, of Père Fabrice, who amassed a fortune in +Paris. The story is told as follows:</p> + +<p>"He had always a turn for speculation, and being a private soldier he +made money by selling small articles to his fellow soldiers. When his +term of service had expired, he entered the employ of a rag-merchant, +and in a little while proposed a partnership with his master, who +laughed at his impudence. He then set up an opposition shop, and lost +all he had saved in a month. He then became a porter at the <i>halles</i> +where turkeys were sold. He noticed that those which remained unsold, in +a day or two lost half their value. He asked the old women how the +customers knew the turkeys were not fresh. They replied that the legs +changed from a bright black to a dingy brown. Fabrice went home, was +absent the next day from the <i>halles</i>, and on the third day returned +with a bottle of liquid. Seizing hold of the first brown-legged turkey +he met with, he forthwith painted its legs out of the contents of his +bottle, and placing the thus decorated bird by the side of one just +killed, he asked who now was able to see the difference between the +fresh bird and the stale one? The old women were seized with admiration. +They are a curious set of beings, those <i>dames de la halle</i>; their +admiration is unbounded for successful adventurers—witness their +enthusiasm for Louis Napoleon. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>adopted our friend's idea without +hesitation, made an agreement with him on the principle of the division +of profits; and it immediately became a statistical puzzle with the +curious inquirers on these subjects, how it came to pass that stale +turkeys should have all at once disappeared from the Paris market? It +was set down to the increase of prosperity consequent on the +constitutional <i>régime</i> and the wisdom of the citizen-king. The old +women profited largely; but unfortunately, like the rest of the world, +they in time forgot both their enthusiasm and their benefactor, and Père +Fabrice found himself involved in a daily succession of squabbles about +his half-profits. Tired out at last, he made an arrangement with the old +dames, and, in military phrase, sold out. Possessed now of about double +the capital with which he entered, he recollected his old friend, the +rag-merchant, and went a second time to propose a partnership. 'I am a +man of capital now,' he said; 'you need not laugh so loud this time.' +The rag-merchant asked the amount of his capital; and when he heard it, +whistled <i>Ninon dormait</i>, and turned upon his heel. 'No wonder,' said +Fabrice afterward; 'I little knew then what a rag-merchant was worth. +That man could have bought up two of Louis Philippe's ministers of +finance.' At the time, however, he did not take the matter so +philosophically, and resolved, after the fashion of his class, not to +drown himself, but to make a night of it. He found a friend, and went +with him to dine at a small eating-house. While there, they noticed the +quantity of broken bread thrown under the tables by the reckless and +quarrelsome set that frequented the place; and his friend remarked, that +if all the bread so thrown about were collected, it would feed half the +<i>quartier</i>. Fabrice said nothing; but he was in search of an idea, and +he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>took up his friend's. The next day, he called on +the restaurateur, and asked him for what he would sell the broken bread +he was accustomed to sweep in the dustpan. The bread he wanted, it +should be observed, was a very different thing from the fragments left +upon the table; these had been consecrated to the marrow's soup from +time immemorial. He wanted the dirty bread actually thrown under the +table, which even a Parisian restaurateur of the Quartier Latin, whose +business it was to collect dirt and crumbs, had hitherto thrown away. +Our restaurateur caught eagerly at the offer, made a bargain for a small +sum; and Master Fabrice forthwith proceeded to about a hundred +eating-houses of the same kind, with all of whom he made similar +bargains. Upon this he established a bakery, extending his operations +till there was scarcely a restaurant in Paris of which the sweepings did +not find their way to the oven of Père Fabrice. Hence it is that the +fourpenny restaurants are supplied; hence it is that the itinerant +venders of gingerbread find their first material. Let any man who eats +bread at any very cheap place in the capital take warning, if his +stomach goes against the idea of a <i>réchauffé</i> of bread from the +dust-hole. Fabrice, notwithstanding some extravagances with the fair +sex, became a millionaire; and the greatest glory of his life was—that +he lived to eclipse his old master, the rag-merchant."</p> + +<p>The same writer also gives a graphic description of one class of +restaurants in Paris—the pot-luck shops:</p> + +<p>"Pot-luck, or the <i>fortune de pot</i>, is on the whole the most curious +feeding spectacle in Europe. There are more than a dozen shops in Paris +where this mode of procuring a dinner is practiced, chiefly in the back +streets abutting on the Pantheon. About two o'clock, a parcel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>of men in +dirty blouses, with sallow faces, and an indescribable mixture of +recklessness, jollity, and misery—strange as the juxtaposition of terms +may seem—lurking about their eyes and the corners of their mouths, take +their seats in a room where there is not the slightest appearance of any +preparation for food, nothing but half-a-dozen old deal-tables, with +forms beside them, on the side of the room, and one large table in the +middle. They pass away the time in vehement gesticulation, and talking +in a loud tone; so much of what they say is in <i>argot</i>, that the +stranger will not find it easy to comprehend them. He would think they +were talking crime or politics—not a bit of it; their talk is +altogether about their mistresses. Love and feeding make up the +existence of these beings; and we may judge of the quality of the former +by what we are about to see of the latter. A huge bowl is at last +introduced, and placed on the table in the middle of the room. At the +same time a set of basins, corresponding to the number of the guests, +are placed on the side-tables. A woman, with her nose on one side, good +eyes, and the thinnest of all possible lips, opening every now and then +to disclose the white teeth which garnish an enormous mouth, takes her +place before it. She is the presiding deity of the temple; and there is +not a man present to whom it would not be the crowning felicity of the +moment to obtain a smile from features so little used to the business of +smiling, that one wonders how they would set about it if the necessity +should ever arise. Every cap is doffed with a grim politeness peculiar +to that class of humanity, and a series of compliments fly into the face +of Madame Michel, part leveled at her eyes, and part at the laced cap, +in perfect taste, by which those eyes are shrouded. Mère Michel, +however, says nothing in return, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>but proceeds to stir with a thick +ladle, looking much larger than it really is, the contents of the bowl +before her. These contents are an enormous quantity of thick brown +liquid, in the midst of which swim numerous islands of vegetable matter +and a few pieces of meat. Meanwhile, a damsel, hideously ugly—but whose +ugliness is in part concealed by a neat, trim cap—makes the tour of the +room with a box of tickets, grown black by use, and numbered from one to +whatever number may be that of the company. Each of them gives four sous +to this Hebe of the place, accompanying the action with an amorous look, +which is both the habit and the duty of every Frenchman when he has +anything to do with the opposite sex, and which is not always a matter +of course, for Marie has her admirers, and has been the cause of more +than one <i>rixe</i> in the Rue des Anglais. The tickets distributed, up +rises number one—with a joke got ready for the occasion, and a look of +earnest anxiety, as if he were going to throw for a kingdom—takes the +ladle, plunges it into the bowl, and transfers whatever it brings up to +his basin. It is contrary to the rules for any man to hesitate when he +has once made his plunge, though he has a perfect right to take his time +in a previous survey of the <i>ocean</i>—a privilege of which he always +avails himself. If he brings up one of the pieces of meat, the glisten +of his eye and the applauding murmur which goes round the assembly give +him a momentary exultation, which it is difficult to conceive by those +who have not witnessed it. In this the spirit of successful gambling is, +beyond all doubt, the uppermost feeling; it mixes itself up with +everything done by that class of society, and is the main reason of the +popularity of these places with their <i>habitués</i>; for when the customers +have once acquired the habit, they rarely go anywhere else."</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_032.jpg" width="400" height="326" alt="OMNIBUS." title="OMNIBUS." /> +<span class="caption">OMNIBUS.</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="A_WALK_AND_GOSSIP" id="A_WALK_AND_GOSSIP"></a>A WALK AND GOSSIP.</h3> + + +<p>One of my first days in Paris I sauntered out to find some American +newspapers, that I might know something of what had transpired in +America for weeks previous. I directed my steps to the office of Messrs. +Livingston, Wells & Co., where I had been informed a reading-room was +always kept open for the use of American strangers in Paris. The morning +was a delightful one, and I could but contrast it with the usual weather +of London. During months of residence in the English metropolis I had +seen no atmosphere like this, and my spirits, like the sky, were clear +and bright.</p> + +<p>On my way I saw a novel sight, and to me the first intimation that the +people of Paris, so widely famed for their politeness, refinement, and +civilization, are yet addicted to certain practices for which the +wildest barbarian in the far west would blush. I saw men in open day, in +the open walk, which was crowded with women as well as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>men, commit +nuisances of a kind I need not particularize but which seemed to excite +neither wonder nor disgust in the by-passers. Indeed I saw they were +quite accustomed to such sights, and their nonchalance was only equaled +by that of the well-dressed gentlemen who were the guilty parties. I +very soon learned more of Paris, and found that not in this matter alone +were its citizens deficient in refinement, but in still weightier +matters.</p> + +<p>I soon reached the American reading-room, and walked in. My first act +was to look at the register where all persons who call inscribe their +names, and I was surprised to notice the number of Americans present in +Paris. It only proved what I long had heard, that Americans take more +naturally to the French than to the sturdy, self-sufficient Englishman. +As it is in the matter of fashions, so it is regarding almost everything +else, save morals, and I doubt if the tone of fashionable society in New +York is any better than in Paris.</p> + +<p>I was heartily rejoiced to take an American newspaper in my hand again. +There were the clear open face of the plain-spoken <i>Tribune</i>, the +sprightly columns of the <i>Times</i>, and the more dignified columns of the +Washington journals. There were also many other familiar papers on the +table, and they were all touched before I left. It was like a cool +spring in the wide desert. For I confess that I love the newspaper, if +it only be of the right sort. From early habit, I cannot live without +it. Let any man pursue the vocation of an editor for a few years, and he +will find it difficult, after, to live without a good supply of +newspapers, and they must be of the old-fashioned home kind.</p> + +<p>I did not easily accustom myself to the Paris journals. Cheap enough +some of them were, but still the strange language was an obstacle. They +are worse printed than <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>ours, and are by no means equal to such journals +as the <i>Times</i> and <i>Tribune</i>. They publish continued stories, or novels, +and racy criticisms of music, art, and literature. The political +department of the French newspaper at the present day is the weakest +part of the sheet. It is lifeless. A few meager facts are recorded, and +there is a little tame comment, and that is all. There was a time when +the political department of a French newspaper was its most brilliant +feature. During the exciting times which presaged the downfall of Louis +Philippe, and also during the early days of the republic, the Paris +press was in the full tide of success, and was exceedingly brilliant. +The daily journals abounded, and their subscription lists were enormous. +Where there is freedom, men and women <i>will</i> read—and where there is +unmitigated despotism, the people care little to read the sickly +journals which are permitted to drag out an existence.</p> + +<p>There is one journal published in Paris in the English language, +"<i>Galignani's Messenger</i>." It is old, and in its way is very useful, but +it is principally made up of extracts from the English journals. It has +no editorial ability or originality, and of course never advances any +opinion upon a political question.</p> + +<p>On my return home I passed through a street often mentioned by Eugene +Sue in his Mysteries of Paris—a street formerly noted for the vile +character of its inhabitants. It was formerly filled with robbers and +cut-throats, and even now I should not care to risk my life in this +street after midnight, with no policemen near. It is exceedingly narrow, +for I stood in the center and touched with the tips of my fingers the +walls of both sides of the street. It is very dark and gloomy, and +queer-looking passages run up on either side from the street. Some of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>them were frightful enough in their appearance. To be lost in such a +place in the dead of night, even now, would be no pleasant fate, for +desperate characters still haunt the spot. Possibly the next morning, or +a few mornings after, the stranger's body might be seen at <i>La Morgue.</i> +That is the place where all dead bodies found in the river or streets +are exhibited—suicides and murdered men and women.</p> + +<p>Talking of this street and its reputation in Eugene Sue's novels, +reminds me of the man. When I first saw it he had just been elected to +the Chamber of Deputies by an overwhelming majority. It was not because +Sue was the favorite candidate of the republicans, but he stood in such +a position that his defeat would have been considered a government +victory, and consequently he was elected. I was glad to find the man +unpopular among democrats of Paris, for his life, like his books, has +many pages in it that were better not read. At that time he was living +very quietly in a village just out of Paris, and though surrounded with +voluptuous luxuries, he was in his life strictly virtuous. He was the +same afterward, and being very wealthy, gave a great deal to the poor. +His novels are everywhere read in France.</p> + +<p>I was not a little surprised during my first days in Paris to see the +popularity of Cooper as a novelist. His stories are for sale at every +book-stall, and are in all the libraries. They are sold with +illustrations at a cheap rate, and I think I may say with safety that he +is as widely read in France as any foreign novelist. This is a little +singular when it is remembered how difficult it is to convey the broken +Indian language to a French reader. This is one of the best features of +Cooper's novels—the striking manner in which he portrays the language +of the North <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>American Indian and his idiomatic expressions. Yet such is +the charm of his stories that they have found their way over Europe. The +translations into the French language must be good.</p> + +<p>Another author read widely in Paris, as she is all over Europe, is Mrs. +Stowe. <i>Uncle Tom</i> is a familiar name in the brilliant capital of +France, and even yet his ideal portraits hang in many shop windows, and +the face of Mrs. Stowe peeps forth beside it. <i>Uncle Tom's Cabin</i> was +wonderfully popular among all classes, and to very many—what a +fact!—it brought their first idea of Jesus Christ as he is delineated +in the New Testament. But Mrs. Stowe's <i>Sunny Memories</i> was very +severely criticised and generally laughed at—especially her criticisms +upon art.</p> + +<p>Walking one evening in the Champs Elysees, I found a little family of +singers from the Alps, underneath one of the large trees. You should +have heard them sing their native songs, so plaintive and yet so mild. +Father and mother, two little sisters and a brother, were begging their +bread in that way. They were dressed very neatly, although evidently +extremely poor. The father had a violin which he played very sweetly, +the mother sang, the two little girls danced, and the boy put in a soft +and melancholy tenor. I hardly ever listened to sadder music. It seemed +as if their hearts were in it, saddened at the thought of exile from +their native mountains. After singing for a long time, they stopped and +looked up appealingly to the crowd—but not a sou fell to the ground. +Once more they essayed to sing, with a heavier sorrow upon their faces, +for they were hungry and had no bread. They stopped again—not a +solitary sou was given to them. A large tear rolled down the cheek of +the father—you should have seen the answering impulse of the crowd—how +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>sous rattled upon the ground. They saw instantly that it was no +common beggar before them, but one who deserved their alms. At once, as +if a heaven full of clouds had divided and the sunshine flashed full +upon their faces, the band of singers grew radiant and happy. Such is +life—a compound of sorrow and gayety.</p> + +<p>The Parisian omnibus system is the best in the world, and I found it +very useful and agreeable always while wandering over the city. The +vehicles are large and clean, and each passenger has a chair fastened +firmly to the sides of the carriage. Six sous will carry a person +anywhere in Paris, and if two lines are necessary to reach the desired +place, a ticket is given by the conductor of the first omnibus, which +entitles the holder to another ride in the new line. The omnibus system +is worked to perfection only in Paris, and is there a great blessing to +people who cannot afford to drive their own carriages.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_BOURSE_GALIGNANIS_ETC_ETC" id="THE_BOURSE_GALIGNANIS_ETC_ETC"></a>THE BOURSE—GALIGNANI'S, ETC., ETC.</h3> + + +<p>The Paris Exchange is on the Rue Vivienne, and is approached from the +Tuileries from that street or <i>via</i> the Palais National, and a +succession of the most beautiful arcade-shops in Paris or the world. If +the day be rainy, the stranger can thread his way to it under the long +arcades as dry as if in his own room at the hotel. I confess to a +fondness for wandering though such places as these arcades, where the +riches of the shops are displayed in their large windows. In America it +is not usual to fill the windows of stores full of articles with the +price of each attached, but it is always so in London and Paris. A +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>jewelry store will exhibit a hundred kinds of watches with their +different prices attached, and the different shops will display what +they contain in like manner. There are, too, in Paris and London places +called "Curiosity shop". The first time I ever saw one of these shops +with its green windows and name over the door, memory instantly recalled +a man never to be forgotten. Will any one who has read Charles Dickens +ever forget his "Curiosity Shop," the old grandfather and little Nell? +When I entered the shop—the windows filled with old swords, pistols, +and stilettos—it seemed to me that I must meet the old gray-haired man, +or gentle Nell, or the ugly Quilp and Dick Swiveller. But they were not +there.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_038.jpg" width="400" height="334" alt="PALAIS DE LA BOURSE" title="PALAIS DE LA BOURSE" /> +<span class="caption">PALAIS DE LA BOURSE</span> +</div> + +<p>But I have been stopping in a curiosity shop when I should be on my way +to the Bourse. The Paris Bourse, or Exchange, is perhaps the finest +building of its kind on the continent. Its magnificence is very properly +of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>most solid and substantial kind. For should not the exchange for +the greatest merchants of Paris be built in a stable rather than in a +slight and beautiful manner? The form of the structure is that of a +parallelogram, and it is two hundred and twelve by one hundred and +twenty-six feet. It is surrounded by sixty-six Corinthian columns, which +support an entablature and a worked attic. It is approached by a flight +of steps which extend across the whole western front. Over the western +entrance is the following inscription—BOURSE ET TRIBUNAL DE COMMERCE. +The roof is made of copper and iron. The hall in the center of the +building where the merchants meet is very large—one hundred and sixteen +feet long and seventy-six feet broad. Just below the cornice are +inscribed the names of the principal cities in the world, and over the +middle arch there is a clock, which on an opposite dial-plate marks the +direction of the wind out of doors.</p> + +<p>The hall is lighted from the roof—the ceiling is covered with fine +paintings, or as they are styled "monochrane drawings." Europe, Asia, +Africa, and America are represented in groups. In one, the city of Paris +is represented as delivering her keys to the God of Commerce, and +inviting Commercial Justice to enter the walls prepared for her.</p> + +<p>The hall is paved with a fine marble, and two thousand persons can be +accommodated upon the central floor. There is a smaller inclosure at the +east end, where the merchants and stockholders transact their daily +business. The hours are from one o'clock to three for the public stocks, +and till half past five for all others. The public is allowed to visit +the Bourse from nine in the morning till five at night. A very singular +regulation exists in reference to the ladies. No woman is admitted into +the Bourse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>without a special order from the proper authorities. The +cause for this is the fact that years ago, when ladies were admitted to +the Bourse, they became very much addicted to gambling there, and also +enticed the gentlemen into similar practices. It is not likely that the +old stockholders were tempted into any vicious practices, but the +presence of women was enough to attract another class of men—idlers and +fashionable gamblers—until the exchange was turned into a +gambling-saloon. The matter was soon set to rights when women were shut +out.</p> + +<p>Paris was formerly without an Exchange, and the merchants held their +meetings in an old building which John Law, the celebrated financier, +once occupied. They afterward met in the Palais Royal, and still later, +in a comparatively obscure street. The first stone of the Bourse was +laid on the 28th of March, 1808, and the works proceeded with dispatch +till 1814, when they were suspended. It was completed in 1826. The +architect who designed it died when it was half completed, but the plan +was carried out, though by a new architect. It is now a model building +of its kind, and cost nearly nine millions of francs. In comprehensive +magnificence it has no rival in Paris—perhaps not in the world. The +Royal Exchange of London, though a fine building, is a pigmy beside this +massive and colossal structure. The best view can be obtained from the +Rue Vivienne. From this street one has a fine view of the fine marble +steps ascending to it, and which stretch completely across the western +part.</p> + +<p>The history of all the great panics which have been experienced on the +Paris Exchange would be an excellent history of the fortunes of France. +The slightest premonition of change is felt at once at the Bourse, and +as each successive revolution has swept over the country, it has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>written its history in ineffaceable characters on Change. Panic has +followed panic, and the stocks fly up or down according to the views +outside. The breath of war sets all its interests into a trembling +condition, and an election, before now, has sent the thrill to the very +center of that grand old money-palace.</p> + +<p>On my way home from the Bourse, I stopped to go over Galignani's Reading +Room. It is a capital collection of the best books of all countries, +some of them in French, some in English, and others in German. I found +on the shelves many American republications, but Cooper was always first +among these. For a small sum the stranger can subscribe to this library, +either for a month or a year, and supply himself with reading and the +newspapers of the world.</p> + +<p>The Messrs. Galignani publish an English journal in Paris. It is a +daily, and has no opinions of its own. Of course, an original and +independent journal could not be allowed to exist in Paris.</p> + +<p>For this reason <i>Galignani's Messenger</i> is a vapid concern. It presents +no thoughts to the reader. It is interesting to the Englishman in Paris, +because it gathers English news, and presents it in the original +language. As there are always a great many Englishmen in Paris, the +journal is tolerably well supported. Then, again, the Paris shop-keepers +and hotel-owners know very well that the English are among their best +customers, and they advertise largely in it. So far as my experience has +gone, I have found the <i>Messenger</i> quite unfair to America. It quotes +from the worst of American journals, and is sure to parade anything that +may be for the disadvantage of American reputation. It also is generally +sure of showing by its quotations its sympathy with "the powers that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>be." This may all be natural enough, for it is for their interest to +stand well with the despot who rules France, but to an American, and a +republican, it excites only disgust. At present the <i>Messenger</i> is as +good, or nearly so, as any of the French journals, but when the latter +had liberty to write as they pleased, the contrast between the French +and English press in Paris was ludicrous. In one you had fearless +political writing, wit, and spice. In the other, nothing but selections.</p> + +<p>Once, while in Paris, during the days of the republic, I called upon the +editor of one of the prominent French journals. It was a journal which +had again and again paid government fines for the utterance of its +honest sentiments, both under Louis Philippe and the presidency of Louis +Napoleon. Before the revolution it had a very great influence over the +people, and in the days of the so-called republic. The struggle between +it and the government, at that time was continued. Its editor's great +aim was to express as much truth as was possible and escape the +government line, which in the end would suppress the journal.</p> + +<p>As I entered the building in which this journal was printed and +published, I felt a kind of awe creeping over me, as if coming into the +presence of a great mind. We entered the editor's office; a little green +baize-covered table by a window, pen and ink, and scissors, indicated +the room. One might indeed tremble in such a place. What greater place +is there in this world than an editor's office, if his journal be one +which sells by tens of thousands and sways a vast number of intelligent +men? A throne-room is nothing in comparison to it. Thrones are +demolished by the journals. Especially in Paris has such been the case. +The liberal press has in past years con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>trolled the French people to a +wonderful extent. Kings and queens have physical power, but here in this +little room was the throne-room of intellect. A door opened out of it +into the printing-room, where the thoughts were stamped upon paper, +afterward to be impressed upon a hundred thousand minds.</p> + +<p>The editor sat over his little desk, an earnest, care-worn, yet hopeful +man. His fingers trembled with nervousness, yet his eye was like an +eagle's. He did not stir when we first entered, did not even see us, he +was so deeply absorbed in what lay before him upon his table. I was glad +to watch him for a moment, unobserved. He was no fashionable editor, +made no play of his work. He felt the responsibility of his position, +and endeavored honestly to do his duty. His forehead was high, his eye +black, and his face was very pale. Suddenly he looked up and saw us, and +recognized my friend. It was enough that I was a republican, from +America, and unlike some Americans, abated not a jot of my radicalism +when in foreign countries.</p> + +<p>I looked around the room when the first words were spoken, and saw +everywhere files of newspapers, old copy and that which was about to be +given to the printers. It was very much like an editorial apartment in +an American printing office, though in some respects it was different. +It was a gloomy apartment, and it seemed to me that the writings of the +editor must partake somewhat of the character of the room.</p> + +<p>We went into the printing-office, where a hundred hands were setting the +"thought-tracks." It seemed as if everyone in the building, from +editor-in-chief down to the devil, was solemn with the thought of his +high and noble avocation. There was a half sadness on every +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>countenance, for the future was full of gloom. I was struck with the +fact that the office did not seem to me to be a <i>French</i> office. There +was a gravity, a solemnity, not often seen in Paris. The usual +politeness of a Parisian was there, but no gayety, no recklessness. +Anxiety trouble, or fixedness of purpose were written upon almost every +countenance. In one corner lay piled up to the ceilings copies of the +journal, and I half expected to see a band of the police walk in and +seize them. It seemed as if <i>they</i> half expected some such thing, but +they worked on without saying a word. I became at that moment convinced +that a portion of the French people had been wronged by foreigners. +There is a large class who are not only intellectual, but they are +earnest and grave. They do not wish change for the sake of it. They love +liberty and would die for it. Many of this class were murdered in cold +blood by Louis Napoleon. Others were sent to Cayenne, to fall a prey to +a climate cruel as the guillotine, or were sent into strange lands to +beg their bread. These men were the real glory of France, and yet they +were forced to leave it.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h2>LAFAYETTE'S TOMB—THE RADICAL—A COUNTRY WALK.</h2> + +<h3>LAFAYETTE'S TOMB.</h3> + + +<p>I am fond of being at perfect liberty to ramble where my fancy may lead. +If the sun shine pleasantly this morning, and I would like to hear the +birds sing and smell the flowers, I go to some pleasant garden and +indulge my mood. Or, if I am sad, I go to the grave of genius, and lean +over the tomb of Abelard and Heloise.</p> + +<p>When I lived in Paris, I had no regularity in my wanderings, no method +in my sight-seeing, following a perhaps wayward fancy, and enjoying +myself the better for it.</p> + +<p>One beautiful morning I sauntered out from my hotel, with a friend, who +was also a stranger in Paris.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we go?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To a little cemetery called Picpus, far away from here."</p> + +<p>"Will it be worth our while to go so far to see a small cemetery?"</p> + +<p>"You shall see when we get there."</p> + +<p>We went part of the way by an omnibus, and walked the rest, and when the +morning was nearly spent, we stood before No. 15, Rue de Picpus. The +place was once a convent of the order of St. Augustine, but is now +occupied by the "Women of the Sacred Heart." Within the convent, which +we entered, there is a pretty Doric chapel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>with an Ionic portal. There +was an air of privacy about, the little chapel which pleased me, and a +chasteness in its architecture which could not fail to please any one +who loves simple beauty. Within the walls of the court, there is a very +small private cemetery, but though private, the porter, if you ask him +politely, will let you enter, especially if you tell him you are from +America.</p> + +<p>"Here is the cemetery which we have come to see," I said to my friend.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, it is a very pretty one," he replied; "still I see nothing +to justify our coming so far to behold it."</p> + +<p>"Wait a little while and you will not say so."</p> + +<p>The first group of graves before which we stopped, was that of some +victims of the reign of terror—poor slaughtered men and women. The +grass was growing pleasantly above them, and all was calm, and sunny, +and beautiful around. Perhaps the sun shone as pleasantly when, on the +"<i>Place de la Concorde</i>," they walked up the steps of the scaffold to +die—for <i>Liberty</i>! Oh shame! One—two—three—four—there were eight +graves we counted, all victims of the reign of terror. For a moment I +forgot where I was; the graves were now at my feet, but I saw the poor +victims go slowly up to their horrible death. The faces of grinning, +scowling devils, male and female, were before me, all clamoring for +blood. I could see the tiger-thirst for human flesh in every +countenance—the fierce eye—the flushed face—and yet, how still were +the winds, how cheerful the sky.</p> + +<p>Yet, though every pure-hearted man or woman must detest the horrible +cruelties of the great revolution must shudder at the bare mention of +the names of the leaders in it, is it not an eternal law of God, that +oppression at last produces madness? Have not tyrants <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>this fact always +to dream over—<i>though you</i> may escape the vengeance of outraged +humanity, yet your children, your children's children shall pay the +terrible penalty. Louis XVI. was a gentle king; unwise, but never at +heart tyrannical; but alas! he answered not merely for his own misdeeds, +but for the misdeeds, the tyrannical conduct of centuries of kingcraft. +It was an inevitable consequence—and it will ever be so. But I am +moralizing.</p> + +<p>"You came to see these graves?" remarked my friend. "They are +interesting places to ponder and dream over."</p> + +<p>"Not to see these, though, did I come," I replied.</p> + +<p>We soon came to the graves of nobility. There was the tomb of a +Noailles, a Grammont, a Montagu. Plain, all of them, and yet with an air +at once chaste and artistic. There was the tomb of Rosambo and Lemoignon +amid the tangled grass. All of these names were once noble and great in +France, and as I bent over them, I could but call up France in the days +of the <i>ancien régime</i>, when all these names called forth bows and +fawnings from the people. Dead and buried nobility—what is it? The +nobility goes—names die with the body.</p> + +<p>"You came out to see buried nobility," said my companion.</p> + +<p>"Me! Did I ever go out of my way to see even buried <i>royalty</i>? Never, +unless the ashes had been something more than a mere king. To see the +grave of genius or goodness, but not empty, buried names!"</p> + +<p>We went on a little farther—to a quiet spot, where the sun shone in +warmly, where the grass was mown away short, but where it was green and +bright. The song of a plaintive bird just touched our ears—where it was +we could not tell, only we heard it. It was a still, beautiful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>spot, +and there was a grave before us—yet how very plain! A pure, white +marble, a simple tomb.</p> + +<p>Now my companion asked no questions, but I saw that his lips quivered. +The name on the simple tomb was that of</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">LAFAYETTE.</span>"</p> + +<p>Here, away from the noise of the city, amid silence chaste and sweet, +without a monument, lie the remains of one of the greatest men of +France. Not in Pere la Chaise, amid grandeur and fashion, but in a +little private cemetery, with a cluster of extinguished nobles on one +side, and a band of victims of the reign of terror on the other!</p> + +<p>We sat down beside his tomb, grateful to the dust beneath our feet for +the noble assistance which it gave to the sinking "Old Thirteen," when +the soul of Lafayette animated it. How vividly were the days of our long +struggle before us. We saw Bunker Hill alive with battalions, and +Charlestown lay in flames. Step by step we ran over the bitter struggle, +with so much power on one side, and on the other such an amount of +determination, but after all so many dark and adverse circumstances, so +little physical power in comparison with the hosts arrayed against us. +It was when the heart of the nation drooped with an accumulation of +misfortune, that Lafayette came and turned the balance in the scales. +And we were grateful to him; not so much for what he really +accomplished, as for what he attempted—for the daring spirit, the noble +generosity!</p> + +<p>Then, too, I thought how Lafayette stood between the king and the +people, before and after the reign of terror—thought of his devotion to +France—of his stern patri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>otism, which would neither tremble before a +king nor an infuriated rabble. Yet he was obliged to fly for life from +Paris—from France. He lay in a felon's dungeon in a foreign land, for +lack of devotion to kingcraft, and could not return to France because he +loved humanity too well. Was it not hard?</p> + +<p>France has never been just to her great men. She welcomes to her bosom +her most dangerous citizens, and casts out the true and the noble. She +did so when she sent Lafayette away. She did so in refusing Lamartine +and accepting Louis Napoleon.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_RADICAL" id="THE_RADICAL"></a>THE RADICAL.</h3> + + +<p>When I first visited Paris, while Louis Napoleon was president of the +republic instead of emperor, I became acquainted with a young man from +America who had lived seventeen years in Paris. He was thoroughly +acquainted with every phase of Parisian life, from the highest to the +lowest, and knew the principal political characters of the country. He +was a thorough radical, and an enthusiast. He came to Paris for an +education, and when he had finished it, he had imbibed the most radical +opinions respecting human liberty, and as his native town was New +Orleans, and his father a wealthy slaveholder, he concluded to remain in +Paris. When I found him, he was living in the Latin quarter, among the +students, at a cheap, though very neat hotel. He was refined, modest, +and highly educated, and was busy in political writing and speculations. +At that time he showed me a complete constitution for a "model republic" +in France, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>a code of laws fit for Paradise rather than France. The +documents exhibited great skill and learning, but the impress of an +enthusiast was upon them all. By his conduct or manner, the stranger +would never have supposed that my friend was enthusiastic. He never +indulged in any flights of indignation at the existing state of things, +never was thrown off his guard so as to show by his speech or his manner +that he was passionately attached to liberal principles. It was only +after I had come to know him well, that I discovered this fact—that he +was a great enthusiast, and so deeply attached to the purest principles +respecting human freedom and happiness, that he would willingly have +died for them. Living in Paris, one of the most dissolute cities of the +world, he was pure in his morals, and as rigidly honest as any Puritan +in Cromwell's day. But with all his own purity he possessed unbounded +charity for others. His friends were among all classes, and were good +and bad. One day I saw him walking with one of the most distinguished +men of France. A few days after, while he was taking a morning walk, he +met a university student with a grisette upon his arm—his mistress. The +student wished to leave Paris for the day on business, and asked my +friend to accompany his mistress back to their rooms. With the utmost +composure and politeness the radical offered his arm, and escorted the +frail woman to her apartments.</p> + +<p>Of course, this man was carefully watched by the police. He was well +known, and the eye of the secret police was constantly upon him. He +still clung to his old American passport, for it had repeatedly caused +him to be respected when other reasons were insufficient.</p> + +<p>I one day wrote a note to a friend in a distant part of the city, and +was going to drop it into the post-office <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>when my friend, who was with +me, remonstrated. "You can walk to the spot and deliver it yourself," +said he, "and you will have saved the two sous postage. I am going that +way; let <i>me</i> have the postage and I will deliver it."</p> + +<p>"I will go with you," I said, at the same time giving him the two sous. +He took them without any remonstrance. On the way we met a poor old +family, singing and begging in the streets. "They must live," said my +friend, "and we will give them our mite in partnership." So he added two +sous to those I had given him, and tossed them to the beggars. This was +genuine charity, given not for ostentation, but to relieve suffering and +administer comfort. I found him at all times entirely true to his +principles, and became very much interested in him.</p> + +<p>We took a walk together one evening, to hear music in the Luxembourg +Gardens. As we approached them, the clock on the old building of the +Chamber of Peers struck eight, and at once the band commenced playing +some operatic airs of exquisite beauty. Now a gay and enlivening passage +was performed, and then a mournful air, or something martial and +soul-stirring. The music ceased at nine, and a company of soldiers +marched to the drum around the frontiers of the gardens, to notify all +who were in it that the gates must soon close.</p> + +<p>"What very fine drumming," I said to my companion.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "but you should hear a night <i>rappel</i>. I heard it +often in the days of the June fight. One morning I heard it at three +o'clock, calling the soldiers together for battle. You cannot know what +a thrill of horror it sent through every avenue of this great city. I +got up hastily, and dressed myself and ran into the streets. It was not +for me to shrink from the conflict. But the alarm <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>was a false one. +Soldiers were in every street, but there was no fighting that day."</p> + +<p>A few months before, my friend ventured to publish a pamphlet on the +subject of French interference in Italy. He condemned in unequivocal +terms the expedition to Italy, and showed how it violated the feelings +of the French nation. A few days afterward, he received the following +laconic note:</p> + +<p>"M. Blank is invited to call on the prefect of the police, at his +office, to-morrow, Friday, at eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>M. Blank sat down, first, and wrote an able letter to the minister for +the interior, for he well knew that the note signified the suppression +of the pamphlet, and very likely his ejection from France. He sent the +same letter to the American minister, and the next day answered the +summons of the prefect. This is the account of the interview which he +gave me from a journal he was in the habit of keeping at that time:</p> + +<p>"I read the word '<i>Réfugiés</i>' over the door, and it reminded me of the +inscription on the gates of hell—'Leave all hope far behind.' Everyone +knows that the very reason that ghosts are dreaded, is that ghosts were +<i>never seen</i>. It is the same for policemen—those 'Finders out of +Occasions,' as Othello styles them—those 'rough and ready' to choke +ideas, as the bud is bit by the venomous worm 'ere it can spread its +sweet leaves to the air.' I was about to encounter the assailing eyes of +knavery. A gentleman of the administration welcomed me in. 'Sir,' I +said, coldly, 'I was invited to meet the <i>prefect of the police</i>. I wish +to know what is deemed an outrage to the established government of +France?'</p> + +<p>"The reply, was, 'The procureur-general noticed sev<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>eral portions of +your book; sit down and we will read them!'</p> + +<p>"I listened to several extracts, where there were allusions to +<i>princes</i>, (Louis Napoléon had been formerly a prince, and this was +objected to,) and remarked to them that France recognized <i>no +princes</i>—that what I had written about the expedition to Italy, I had +the right, as a publicist, to write. The world had universally +repudiated that expedition, and the president had tacitly done the same +in his letter to Colonel Ney, and in dismissing the ministers who +planned the expedition. The president being quoted as authority, the +agent of the executive thought it useless to hold the argument any +longer, and backed out. The gentlemen of the police knew nothing of +bush-fighting, and might have exclaimed with the muse in Romeo, 'Is this +poultice for my aching bones?'"</p> + +<p>The upshot of the examination was, that the pamphlet was untouched, and +M. Blank remained in Paris.</p> + +<p>But he was watched closer than ever. When I left him, he was waiting in +daily expectation of a <i>coup de état</i> on the part of Louis Napoléon. I +asked him what hopes there were for France. He shook his head sadly—he +despaired of success. It might be that Napoléon would be beaten down by +the populace, if he attempted to erect a throne, but he had faint hopes +of it, for he had got the army almost completely under his influence. Or +it was possible that Napoléon might not violate his solemn oaths to +support the republic—not for lack of disposition, but fearing the +people. I could see, however, that my friend had little faith in the +immediate future of "poor France," as he called her, as if she were his +mother. He thought the reason why the republic would be overthrown, was +from the conduct of those who had been at its head in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>the early part of +its history. The republicans, soon after Louis Philippe's flight, acted, +he thought, with great weakness. If strong men had been at the helm, +then no such man as Louis Napoléon would have been allowed afterward to +take the presidential chair. I think he was more right than wrong. A +vigorous and not too radical administration, might have preserved the +republic for years—possibly for all time. Louis Napoléon should not +have been allowed to enter France, nor any like him, who had proved +themselves disturbers of the peace.</p> + +<p>About a year after the time I have been describing, while walking down +Nassau street, in New York, I very suddenly and unexpectedly met my +friend, the radical!</p> + +<p>"Aha!" said I, "you have left Paris. Well, you have shown good taste."</p> + +<p>"No! no!" he replied, "I did not leave it till Louis Napoléon forced me +to choose exile or imprisonment. I had no choice in the matter."</p> + +<p>He seemed to feel lost amid the bustle of New York. His dream was over, +and at thirty-five he found himself amid the realities of a +money-seeking nation. The look upon his face was sad, almost despairing. +I certainly never pitied a man more than I did him. Pure, guileless +generous—and poor, what could he do in New York?</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="A_WALK_INTO_THE_COUNTRY" id="A_WALK_INTO_THE_COUNTRY"></a>A WALK INTO THE COUNTRY.</h3> + + +<p>The summer and autumn are the seasons one should spend in Paris, to see +it in its full glory. The people of Paris live out of doors, and to see +them in the winter, is not to know them thoroughly. The summer weather +is unlike that of London. The air is pure, the sky serene, and the whole +city is full of gardens and promenades. The little out-of-door theaters +reap harvests of money—the tricksters, the conjurors, the street +fiddlers, and all sorts of men who get their subsistence by furnishing +the people with cheap amusements, are in high spirits, for in these +seasons they can drive a fine business. Not so in the winter. Then they +are obliged either to wander over the half-deserted <i>places</i>, gathering +here and there a sou, or shut themselves up in their garret or cellar +apartments, and live upon their summer gains. To the stranger who must +be economical, Paris in the winter is not to be desired, for fuel is +enormously high in that city. A bit of wood is worth so much cash, and a +log which in America would be thrown away, would there be worth a little +fortune to a poor wood-dealer.</p> + +<p>The country around Paris is scarcely worth a visit in the winter or +early spring months, but in the summer it is far different. I remember a +little walk I took one day past the fortifications. When I came to the +walls of the city, I was obliged to pass through a narrow gate. All who +enter the city are inspected, for there is a heavy duty upon provisions +of nearly all kinds which are brought from the provinces into Paris. The +duty upon wines is very heavy. Upon a bottle of cheap wine, which costs +in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>the country but fifteen sous, there is a gate-duty of five sous. +This is one reason why the poor people of Paris on <i>fête</i> days, crowd to +the country villages near Paris. There they can eat and drink at a much +cheaper rate than in town, besides having the advantage of pure air and +beautiful scenery. I witnessed an amusing sight at this gate. A man was +just entering from the country. He was very large in the abdominal +regions, so much so that the gate-keeper's suspicions were aroused, and +he asked the large traveler a few leading questions. He protested that +he was innocent of any attempt to defraud the revenues of Paris. The +gate-keeper reached out his hand as if to examine the unoffending man, +and he grew very angry. His face assumed a scarlet hue, and his voice +was hoarse with passion, probably from the fact that he was sensitive +about his obesity. But the gate-keeper saw in his conduct only increased +proof of his guilt, and finally insisted upon laying his hand upon the +suspicious part, when with a poorly-concealed smile, but a polite "beg +your pardon," he let the man pass on his way. It is probable the +gate-keeper was more rigid in his examinations, from the fact that not +long before a curious case of deception had occurred at one of the other +gates, or rather a case of long-continued deception was exposed. A man +who lived in a little village just outside of the walls, became +afflicted with the dropsy in the abdominal regions. He then commenced +the business of furnishing a certain hotel in Paris with fresh +provisions, and for this purpose he visited it twice a day with a large +basket on his head or arm. The basket, of course, was always duly +examined, and the man passed through. He became well-known to the +gate-keeper, and thus weeks and months passed away, until one day the +keeper was sure he smelt brandy, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>searched the basket more carefully +than usual. Nothing was discovered, but the fragrance of the brandy grew +stronger, and his suspicions were directed to the man. He was examined, +and it was found that his dropsy could easily be cured, for it consisted +in wearing something around his body which would contain several +gallons, for the man was really small in size, though tall, and he had +made it his business to carry in liquors to the city, and evade the +taxes. But at last, unfortunately, the portable canteen sprung a leak, +and this was the cause which led to the discovery.</p> + +<p>At another gate, a woman was detected in carrying quantities of brandy +under her petticoats, and only passing for a large woman. I knew of a +woman who, in passing the Liverpool custom house, sewed cigars to a +great number into her skirt, but was, to her great chagrin, detected, +and also to the dismay of her husband, whom she intended to benefit.</p> + +<p>Such taxes would not be endured in any American city, but the old world +is used to taxation. In the very out-skirts of London there are +toll-gates in the busiest of streets, but that is not so bad as the +local tariff system.</p> + +<p>I soon came, in my walk, to the fortifications of Paris. They were +constructed by Louis Phillippe, and are magnificent works of defense. +There is one peculiar feature of this chain of defense which has excited +a great deal of remark. It is quite evident that a part of the +fortifications were constructed with a view to defend one's self from +enemies <i>within</i>, as well as without. Louis Phillippe evidently +remembered the past history of Paris, and felt the possibility of a +future in which he might like to have the command of Paris with his +guns, as well as an enemy outside the wall. But the fortifications and +the cannon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>were of no manner of use to him. So, very possibly, the +grand army which Louis Napoleon has raised may be of no use to him, and +the little prince, the young king of Algeria, may end his days a +wanderer in the United States, as his father was before him. It is to be +hoped, if he does, that he will pay his bills.</p> + +<p>The fortifications of Paris extend entirely around the city, and are +seventeen miles in length. I went to the top of them, but I had not +stood there five minutes before the soldiers warned me off. The approach +to the city side of the wall is very gradual, by means of a +grass-covered bank. While standing upon the summit, a train of +cars—came whizzing along at a fine rate. I saw for the first time +people riding on the tops of cars as on a coach. The train was bound to +Versailles, and as the distance is short, and probably the speed +attained not great, seats are attached to the tops of the cars, and for +a very small sum the poorer classes can ride in them. In fine weather it +is said that this kind of riding is very pleasant.</p> + +<p>I passed out through the gates beyond the fortifications, and was in the +open country—among the trees, the birds and flowers, and the cultivated +fields. The contrast between what I saw and the city, was great. Here, +all was beautiful nature. There, all that is grand and exquisite in art. +The fields around me were green with leaves and plants; the branches of +the trees swayed to and fro in the restless breeze; the little peasant +huts had a picturesque appearance in the distance, and the laborers at +work seemed more healthy than the artisans of Paris. I approached a +peasant who was following the plow. I was surprised to find the plow he +used to be altogether too heavy for the use to which it was put. Yet I +was in sight of Paris, the city of the arts and sciences. Such a plow +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>could not have been found in all New England. I looked at the man, too, +and compared him with an American farmer or native workman. He was +miserably dressed, and wore shoes which might have been made in the +twelfth century. He had no look of intelligence upon his face, but +stared at me with a dull and idiotic eye. This was the peasant under the +walls of Paris—what must he be in the provincial forests?</p> + +<p>Leaving the plowman, I walked on, following a pretty little road, until +I came to a large flock of sheep in the care of a shepherd-boy and a +dog. While I stood looking at them, the boy started them off across the +fields and through the lawns to some other place. All that he did was to +follow the sheep, but I certainly never saw a dog so capable and +intelligent as that one. He seemed to catch from his master the idea of +their destination at once, and kept continually running around the +flock, now stirring them into a faster gait, then heading off some +wayward fellow who manifested a strong disposition to sheer off to the +right or left, and again turning the whole body just where the master +wished. It was an amusing sight, and well worth the walk from the city. +To be sure, the dog was rather egotistical and ostentatious. He knew his +smartness, and was quite willing that bystanders should know it too, for +he pawed, and fawned, and barked at a tremendous rate. The flock seemed +to know his ways, and while they obeyed his voice, they were not +particularly frightened at it.</p> + +<p>Leaving the flock and their master, I soon came to a little inn, and sat +down to dine. It was not much like the restaurants on the Boulevard, or +even like those within the city on retired streets, but I got a very +comfortable meal, and for a very small sum of money. I found that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>the +mere mention that I was an American, in all such places as this, insured +me polite attention, and I could often notice, instantly, the change of +manners after I had informed my entertainers of my country. It is but a +slight fact from which to draw an inference, but yet I could not help +inferring that the more intelligent of the common people of Paris are +yet, notwithstanding the despotism which hovers over France, in their +secret hearts longing for the freedom of a just republic.</p> + +<p>A young American was a few months since visiting Paris with a much +younger brother. The latter went out one day into the country, alone, +and seeing that a party of people from Paris were enjoying themselves in +the gardens connected with a small public house, he drew near to witness +their gayety. They were artisans, but of the most intelligent class. +They were neatly dressed, and their faces were bright and intelligent. +Whole families were there, down to the little children, and they were +enjoying a holiday. Seeing a young man (he was but sixteen years' old) +gazing upon them, and judging him to be a stranger, one of the party +approached him, and with great politeness asked if he would not come +into the garden and drink a glass of wine. The act was a spontaneous +one, and arose from good-nature and high spirits. The young American +entered, and in the course of a conversation told the company that he +was an American. Instantly the scene changed. He was loudly cheered, and +one man remarked, with very significant gestures and looks, that "<i>he +came from a republic</i>!" Nothing would do but that the guest must sit +down and accept of food and wine to an alarming extent. He was, in fact, +made so much of, that he became somewhat alarmed, for he was young and +inexperienced. I may as well finish the story <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>by saying what was the +truth, that so many of the party begged the privilege of drinking with +him, that he became somewhat giddy and unfit to retrace his steps. He +was unused to wine, and the moment the Parisians saw it, they urged him +to drink no more, and asking his hotel, they took him carefully and +kindly to it in a carriage, after an hour or two had passed away and he +had pretty much recovered from his dissipation. Now there can be no +doubt that the enthusiastic politeness of the artisans, arose from the +fact that he was a republican, and from a great republican country, and +such facts which I have repeatedly witnessed, or heard of, assure me +that the old republican fire is not extinguished in the hearts of the +common people of Paris.</p> + +<p>After a frugal dinner at the inn, I sauntered still further into the +country, so as, if possible, to get a glimpse of the farm-houses. But +one cannot get any fair idea of French agriculture so near Paris. A +great deal of the land is used in cultivating vegetables for the Paris +markets, and this land is scarcely a specimen of the farms of France, it +is more like gardens. I found a few buildings which were occupied by +these gardeners, and one or two genuine farmers, and while there was +evidently scientific culture bestowed upon the land, the tools were +generally clumsy, and altogether too heavy for convenience and dispatch. +It struck me as very singular. Paris excels in the manufacturing of +light and graceful articles of almost every kind. Certainly, in jewelry, +cutlery, and all manner of ornamental articles, it is the first city in +the world. How comes it, then, that so near Paris, agricultural +implements are so far behind the age? I would by no means have the +reader infer that the best of agricultural tools are not manufactured in +France. Such is not the fact, as the Paris Exhibition <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>proved, but <i>who +buys them</i>? Now is it not a significant fact, that within a bow-shot of +Paris I found tools in use, which would be laughed at in the free states +of America? The true reason for this, is to be found in the condition of +the French agricultural laborer. He is ignorant and unambitious. Where +the laborer is intelligent, he will have light and excellent tools to +work with. This is a universal fact. The slaves of the southern states +are in a state of brutal ignorance, and their agricultural implements +are heavy and large. Such is the fact with all those men and women who +are in a condition somewhat similar. After looking upon the plowman I +have before alluded to, I could easily believe what reliable Frenchmen +told me—that in the famous (shall I call it <i>in</i>famous?) election, very +many of the farmers of the interior supposed they were voting for +Napoleon the Great, instead of Louis Napoleon!</p> + +<p>I passed, in returning to my hotel, one of the finest buildings in +Paris—the <i>Palace d' Orsay</i>. It was begun in the time of Napoleon, and +is a public building.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_062.jpg" width="400" height="334" alt="PALAIS DE QUAI D'ORSAY." title="PALAIS DE QUAI D'ORSAY." /> +<span class="caption">PALAIS DE QUAI D'ORSAY.</span> +</div> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h2>CHURCHES—NOTRE DAME—L'AUXERROIS—SAINT CHAPELLE—ST. +FERDINAND—EXPIATOIRE—MADELEINE, ETC.</h2> + +<h3>NOTRE DAME.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_064.jpg" width="500" height="303" alt="CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME." title="CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME." /> +<span class="caption">CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME.</span> +</div> + + + +<p>The churches of Paris are full of gorgeous splendor—how much vital +religion they contain, it is not, perhaps, my province to decide. But in +beauty of architecture, in the solemnity and grandeur of interior, no +city in the world, except Rome, can excel them. The church of the +Madeleine is the most imposing of all; indeed, it seemed to me that in +all Paris there was no other building so pretentious. But Notre Dame has +that mellow quality which beautifies all architecture—hoary age.</p> + +<p>I started out one morning to see it, crossing on my way one of the +bridges to <i>Isle la Cité</i>, and was soon in sight of the two majestic +towers of the old cathedral. You can see them, in fact, from all parts +of Paris, rising magnificently from the little island city, like beacons +for the weary sailor.</p> + +<p>The morning was just such an one as Paris delights to furnish in the +month of June—fair, clear, and exhilarating—no London fog, mud, or +rain, but as soft a sky as ever I saw in America. We stopped a moment +before the church, to gaze at the high-reaching columns, and admire the +general architecture of the church. Workmen were scattered over +different portions of the building and tow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>ers, (this was on my first +visit to Paris,) engaged in renewing their ancient beauty. My first +emotion upon entering, was one of disappointment, for although +externally Notre Dame is the finest church in Paris, internally it is +gloomy, exceedingly simple, and has an air of faded beauty. Still, the +"long-drawn aisles" were very fine. Gazing aloft, the eye ached to watch +the beautiful arches meet far above. Then to look away horizontally on +either hand through the graceful aisles, filled one with pleasure.</p> + +<p>I scarcely know how, but as I was passing a little altar where a priest +was saying mass, I unaccountably put my cap upon my head. I was +instantly required to take it off. I was reminded of the fact that but a +few days before, when entering a Jewish synagogue, upon taking off my +hat, I was instantly required to replace it. Such is the difference +between the etiquette of a Catholic church and a Jewish synagogue.</p> + +<p>I noticed that the threshold of Notre Dame, like that of St. Germain +l'Auxerrois, was very much worn away by the feet of the crowds who have +crossed it during many centuries. The organ is an excellent one. It is +forty-five feet high, thirty-six broad, and has three thousand four +hundred and eighty-four pipes. Its power is great, and as the organist +touched some of the lower notes, the cathedral walls reverberated with +the sound.</p> + +<p>The <i>Porte Rouge</i> is a splendidly sculptured door-way. Under the +arch-way there is a sculpture of Jesus Christ and the Virgin crowned by +an angel. Behind it there are bas-reliefs representing the death of the +Virgin—Christ surrounded by angels, the Virgin at the feet of Christ +in agony, and a woman selling herself to the Devil. The interior of the +church abounds with sculpture of every de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>scription, and some of it was +executed in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.</p> + +<p>There now remains only one of the old peal of bells which used to exist +in Notre Dame—but one has escaped the fury of French revolutions. It +was hung in the year 1682, and was baptized in the presence of Louis +XIV. and Queen Theresa. Its weight is thirty-two thousand pounds—the +clapper alone weighing a thousand pounds. A clock in one of the towers +is world-renowned for the intricacy and curiosity of its mechanism. The +feats it performs every time it strikes the hour and quarter-hour, can +hardly be credited by one who has not seen them.</p> + +<p>It is supposed that the first foundations of a church on this spot were +laid in the year 365, in the reign of Valentian I. It was subsequently +several times rebuilt, a portion of the work which was executed in the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries still remaining. The other portions +were built in 1407, by the duke of Burgundy, and are of a deep red +color. The <i>Porte Rouge</i> was built under his special superintendence. He +assassinated the duke of Orleans, and built this red portal as an +expiation for his crime.</p> + +<p>In 1831, when the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois was sacked, the mob +crowded into Notre Dame and completely destroyed everything within its +reach, including, among other things, the coronation robes of Napoleon. +The archbishop's palace was next attacked, and in one short hour all its +rich stores of ancient and modern literature were thrown into the Seine. +The palace itself was so completely ruined, that the government +afterward removed every vestige of it. Nothing is more terrible in this +world than a mob of maddened people. And though such Vandal acts as +these cannot be defended, still it be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>hooves us to remember, that the +conduct of the inhabitants of these palaces was such as to bring down on +their heads the just indignation and censure of the people.</p> + +<p>Slowly passing through the aisles of the cathedral, I passed again the +threshold into the street. The majestic towers and turrets were bright +beneath the gaze of the sun, and it seemed to me that I could stand for +hours to look at them. It is not so with the Madeleine. Its +architectural beauty is great, but it is new—it has no age. Notre Dame +has seen centuries, and is full of historical associations, and I could +have lingered about it and dreamed over them till the sunlight faded +into night.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ST_GERMAIN_LAUXERROIS" id="ST_GERMAIN_LAUXERROIS"></a>ST. GERMAIN L'AUXERROIS.</h3> + + +<p>The oldest church in Paris, is called the St. Germain l'Auxerrois. It is +one of the quaintest specimens of architecture I ever saw. A church was +founded on the spot, many centuries ago, by Childebert. It was of a +circular form, and was destroyed by the Normans, in 886. A monastery was +established here in 998, and the church at that time was dedicated to +St. Germain l'Auxerrois. The ecclesiastics were formed into a college, +to which were attached upwards of forty clergymen. It was for many years +one of the most celebrated schools in France. In 1744 the college was +united to that of Notre Dame, and it was considered to be the college of +the royal parish.</p> + +<p>This church passed through the terrible scenes of the revolution +unscathed, and it would have been perfectly preserved until now, but for +a foolish attempt of the royalists to celebrate in it the death of the +duke de Berry. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>This occurred on the 13th of February, 1831. A great +tumult arose, and the interior of the church was entirely destroyed. It +was with the greatest difficulty that the furious mob was prevented from +tearing it down. On the same day, the palace of the archbishop was also +completely devastated. St. Germain l'Auxerrois was now closed, and +remained so until 1838. It was then restored, and reopened for public +worship. At one time it was one of the finest interiors in Paris, the +royal painters and artists vying with each other in its adornment. It is +now, however, only as a third-rate church in its decoration. It is +cruciform in shape, with an octagonal termination. At one corner there +is a tower which was built in 1649, and some portions of the building +were erected in 1400. The western front has a finely sculptured portico, +with five low, but rich Gothic arches. The three central ones are higher +than the others, and crowned with a parapet The porch was built in 1431, +by Jean Gossel. The other parts of the church were built before the +regency of the duke of Bedford. The door-ways are splendidly sculptured, +and the church has a rich and ancient appearance.</p> + +<p>We entered at one of the little side doors, the friend who was with me +remarking,</p> + +<p>"See how the feet of centuries have worn away these solid stones."</p> + +<p>It was true. A path two feet deep had been worn into the stepping-stone +at the entrance. It was a striking exhibition of the power of time.</p> + +<p>The interior of this church afforded me one of the most impressive +sights I ever witnessed. It had recently been painted in the Byzantine +style, and the fresco paintings were as varied and beautiful as the +traceries of the frost upon our autumnal woods. You can scarcely +conceive <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>the effect it had upon me, just emerged from the ever busy +street. The beauty overwhelmed me.</p> + +<p>There was a large fresco painting of Christ upon the cross, which +particularly arrested my attention. You saw in it every feature of the +man, united with the holiness and majesty of the Divine. The face +expressed every shade of sweetness and agony; yet it was only a fresco +painting. Another represents Christ preaching on the Mount of Olives, +with his disciples and the people gathered about him. I was struck with +a series of frescoes which were executed to illustrate the most +important precepts of Christ. One is that of a warrior, sheathing his +sword in the presence of his deadly enemy. It would well grace the walls +of a non-resistant, but not those of a French church, which ever +reverberate to the music of the drum. The church has generally +illustrated that precept of Christ by pictures, not by works. Another of +the frescoes represents two brothers embracing each other. Still +another, a beautiful young woman giving alms in secret to a poor old +blind man. A painting to the right represents Christ issuing the +command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every +creature." The Magdalen kneels below, in devout admiration, and still +lower is the Virgin surrounded by a group of pious women.</p> + +<p>On the keystone of one of the vaults, "The Last Supper" is sculptured in +solid stone; on another, "The Ordination of the Shepherd." Within the +church there are several chapels. The first in the southern aisle +contains a magnificent fresco by M. Duval, representing Christ crowning +the Virgin. Not far from it there is a fine fresco by Guichard, +representing the descent from the cross. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>windows upon this side are +magnificently decorated with figures of saints and stained glass.</p> + +<p>In the center of one transept there is a marble basin for holy water, +surmounted by a finely sculptured group of three children supporting a +cross. The design is by the donor—the wife of Alphonso de Lamartine, +the poet. I noticed in one compartment some admirable traceries in solid +oak, and before the high altar an elaborate gilt-bronze lamp—the gift +of the wife of Louis Phillippe; but the most brilliant portion of the +ulterior is the fresco painting.</p> + +<p>As we walked slowly from chapel to chapel, and transept to transept, I +could see men and women—principally the latter—with great apparent +devotion kneeling before the altar, or at the confessional. It was not +Sunday, yet many people were constantly passing in and out. I might +perhaps infer from this fact, that the French possess much religious +feeling—but I cannot believe it. Art and literature swallow up +religion.</p> + +<p>The war-spirit soon eats out vital religion—and revolution and blood +sap the morals of any people. The reader will remember that even our +revolution rapidly dissipated the good morals of the nation. Never was +there a time in the history of New England when vice of every sort made +such progress as in the time of the revolution. This is not strange, for +war necessarily blunts the religious sensibilities, and opens the door +of almost every vice.</p> + +<p>We left the interior of the church and stood upon its steps. The Louvre +in all its magnificence stood before me. I looked up at the tower of the +church, and listened to the very bell which, more than three hundred +years ago, gave the signal for the commencement of the massacre of St. +Bartholomew. While I stood there it seemed to me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>that I could go back +to the past—to that night of horror when the Protestants were gathered +at the fête of St. Bartholomew. When twelve had struck, in the dead of +night, the bell in St. Germain l'Auxerrois gave out the solemn signal, +and there ensued a scene of horrible atrocity, such as the world has +rarely witnessed, and which will make the names of its perpetrators +infamous so long as the world lives.</p> + +<p>It was in the house of the dean of St. Germain l'Auxerrois that the +beautiful Gabriel d'Estrees lived for awhile and died.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="SAINTE_CHAPELLE" id="SAINTE_CHAPELLE"></a>SAINTE CHAPELLE.</h3> + + +<p>The Sainte Chapelle is one of the finest specimens of florid Gothic +architecture in the world, and I went with a Frenchman one day to see +it. It is impossible to give the reader any adequate idea of its +peculiar beauty, but I can briefly sketch it, and at least point out +some of its most striking features. It was erected by St. Louis in 1248, +and set apart for the reception of relics bought of the emperor of +Constantinople. The Chapelle consists of an upper and a lower +chapel—the upper communicating with the old palace of the ancient kings +of France. It was formerly appropriated to the king and court. The lower +chapel opens into the lower courts of the palace, and was appropriated +to the use of the common people in and around the palace. The interior +has of late undergone extensive repairs, and it is now thoroughly +restored.</p> + +<p>The entrance is unpleasant, for it is very narrow—so much so that a +good view of the front cannot be had. It has a portico of three Gothic +arches with intersecting but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>tresses, and in connection with lateral +buttresses there are two spiral towers with spiral stair-cases. Between +the towers there is a splendid circular window, which was constructed by +Charles VIII. The spires of the church are octagonal, and are adorned +with mouldings and traceries, and also at about half-height with a crown +of thorns. The different sides of the Chapelle are in the same +style—with buttresses between the windows, gables surmounting these, +and a fine open parapet crowning all. The roof is sloping, and the +height is over a hundred feet. The spire measures, from the vaulting, +seventy feet. We entered by a stair-case the upper chapel, and an +exquisite view presented itself. A single apartment, a half-circular +chair, with fine, large windows, detached columns with bases and +capitals, and fine groining—these all strike the eye of the visitor as +he crosses the threshold. The whole is gorgeously painted and +interspersed with <i>fleur de lis</i>. In the nave there is a carved wooden +stair-case of the thirteenth century. The windows are filled with +stained glass of 1248, which has escaped destruction during two great +revolutions.</p> + +<p>Near the altar there is a side chapel, to which access is had from +below. Here Louis XI. used to come, amid the choicest relics, and say +his prayers. Some of the relics are still preserved, and consist of a +crown of thorns, a piece of the cross upon which Christ was crucified, +and many antique gems. The Chapelle and the relics cost Louis two +millions eight hundred thousand francs—the relics alone costing an +enormous amount.</p> + +<p>There was a richly endowed chapter in connection with the Chapelle and +what is a little singular, the head of it became renowned for his +litigous disposition. The poet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>Boileau, in <i>Lutrin</i>, satirized this +character—and was, after death, buried in the lower chapel.</p> + +<p>At the time of the great revolution, this ancient and beautiful building +escaped destruction by its conversion by the government into courts of +justice. The internal decorations were, however, many of them destroyed. +The church, as it exists now, in a state of complete restoration, is one +of the finest church interiors in Paris, and the best specimen of its +peculiar kind of architecture in the world.</p> + +<p>My friend was a little surprised at the enthusiasm I manifested. <i>He</i> +seemed to look as coolly upon the exquisite architectural beauty, and to +contemplate the age of the building as quietly, as a farmer would survey +his promising wheat-field. I reminded him that I came from a land where +such things do not abound, and where one cannot gratify the desire to +look upon that which is not only ancient, but around which cluster the +choicest historical associations.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPELLE_EXPIATOIRE" id="CHAPELLE_EXPIATOIRE"></a>CHAPELLE EXPIATOIRE.</h3> + + +<p>While wandering one day though the Rue d'Anjou St. Honoré, I came +unexpectedly upon one of the most beautiful chapels my eyes ever +beheld—the <i>Chapelle Expiatore</i>. It was originally a burial-ground in +connection with the Madeleine church, but was afterward set apart to +commemorate the sad fate of the elder Bourbons. When Louis XVI. and his +queen were executed, in 1793, they were obscurely buried on this spot. A +friend, M. Descloseaux, at once cared for their remains, else they would +have been lost amid other victims of the bloody revolution. It is a +singular fact, that Danton, Herbert, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>Robespierre were also buried +in this same place, together with the Swiss Guard.</p> + +<p>An early entry in the parish records of the Madeleine, still shows to +any one who has the curiosity to see, the plainness with which the queen +was buried. It is as follows: "<i>Paid seven francs for a coffin for the +Widow Capet</i>."</p> + +<p>M. Descloseaux watched carefully over the graves of the king and queen, +purchased the place containing their bodies, and converted it into an +orchard, with the view of shielding them from the fury of the populace. +His plan was successful, and it is said that he sent every year a +beautiful bouquet of flowers to the duchess d'Angoulême, which were +gathered from the ground beneath which her royal parents were sleeping.</p> + +<p>The restoration came, and the orchard was purchased from M. Descloseaux. +The bodies were transferred to St. Denis, with great pomp. The earth +which had surrounded the coffins was preserved, as also were all remains +of the Swiss Guards, and buried on the spot. Over it an expiatory chapel +was built, with buildings adjoining, the whole forming a very beautiful +structure. An inscription on the front informs the gazer of the +principal facts I have enumerated. The adjoining garden is filled with +cypresses.</p> + +<p>The interior of the chapel is simple, but gives a pleasant impression. +It contains two statues, one of Louis XVI., and the other of Marie +Antoinette. Each is supported by an angel, and on the pedestal of the +king his will is inscribed in letters of gold, upon a black marble slab. +On the pedestal of the queen's statue are extracts, executed in a like +manner, from her last letter to Mme. Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>There are several niches in the chapel which contain <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>very fine +candelebra, and on a bas-relief the funeral procession to St. Denis is +represented.</p> + +<p>I was struck while here (as indeed I was in many other places) with the +fact, that the whole past history of Paris and France is written in her +chapels and churches. The stranger cannot, if he would, shut out the +fact from his sight. It glares in upon him from every street. The +revolutions of France have imprinted themselves upon Paris in +ineffaceable characters.</p> + +<p>As I stood in this chapel, the sad history of Marie Antoinette came into +my thoughts, and she stood before me as she stood before the crowd on +the day of her execution. Her downfall, the wretched neglect with which +her poor body was treated, and the obscure burial, were all before me. +Only "seven francs," for the coffin of "Widow Capet!" What a contrast to +the pomp and ceremony of her second burial, aye what a contrast to her +life!</p> + +<p>I had seen enough for that day, and set out sadly on my way back to my +apartments. The gayety in the streets, the bright and balmy air, could +not take the hue of melancholy from my thoughts. For always to me the +history of Marie Antoinette has been one of the most sorrowful I ever +read. I have few sympathies for kings, and much less for kingly tyrants, +but I could never withhold them from her, queen though she was. And I +never wish to become so fierce a democrat that I can contemplate such +sorrows as were hers, such a terrible downfall as she experienced, with +a heartless composure.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_MADELEINE" id="THE_MADELEINE"></a>THE MADELEINE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_077.jpg" width="400" height="322" alt="EGLISE DE LA MADELEINE." title="EGLISE DE LA MADELEINE." /> +<span class="caption">EGLISE DE LA MADELEINE.</span> +</div> + + +<p>The Madeleine looks little like a church to the stranger, but more like +a magnificent Grecian temple. Its impression upon me was by no means a +pleasant one, for the style of its architecture is not sufficiently +solemn to suit my ideas of a place where God is publicly worshiped. It +is, however, one of the finest specimens of modern architecture in the +world, and is so widely known that I can hardly pass it over without a +slight sketch of it.</p> + +<p>An edifice was erected on the spot where the Madeleine stands, in 1659, +by Mademoiselle d'Orleans. That building was soon found to be too small +for the accommodation of the people in its neighborhood, and in 1764, +the present building was commenced by the architect of the duke of +Orleans. The revolution put an end for a time to the work upon the +church, but Napoleon, after his Prussian campaign, determined to +dedicate the Madeleine <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>as a Temple of Glory, "to commemorate the +achievements of the French arms, and to have on its columns engraved the +names of all those who had died fighting their country's battles." The +necessary funds were given and architects were set at work immediately +upon it. But Napoleon's plans were frustrated, and in 1815 Louis XVIII. +restored the building to its original destination, and ordered that +monuments should be erected in it to Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, Louis +XVII., and Mme. Elizabeth. The revolution of 1830, however, interrupted +this work, and it was not till the reign of Louis Phillippe, that it was +completed. The entire cost of the Madeleine was two millions six hundred +and fifteen thousand and eight hundred dollars. It stands on a raised +platform, three hundred and twenty-eight feet long and one hundred and +thirty-eight broad, and has at each end an approach consisting of +twenty-eight steps, the entire length of the facade. The architecture is +Grecian, a colonnade of fifty-two Corinthian columns entirely +surrounding the building, giving to it a grandeur of appearance to which +few structures in Europe attain. Between the columns there are niches, +and a row of colossal statues stand in them. They represent St. Bernard, +St. Raphael, and a score of others. The colonnade is surmounted by a +beautiful piazza, and a cornice adorned with lion's heads and palm +leaves.</p> + +<p>The pediment of the southern end contains a large altorelievo by +Lemaire. It is one hundred and twenty-six feet long and twenty-four feet +high. In the center is a figure of Christ; the Magdalene is beneath in a +suppliant attitude; while <span class="smcap">He</span> is pardoning her sins. On the +right hand the angel of Pity gazes down upon the poor woman, with a look +of deep satisfaction. On the other hand is the figure of Innocence, +surrounded by the angels, Faith, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>Hope, and Charity. In the angle of the +pediment is the figure of an angel greeting the new-born spirit, and +raising his hand, points to the place prepared for him in heaven.</p> + +<p>On the left of the pediment the angel of Vengeance is repelling the +Vices. Hatred is there with swollen features; Unchastity, with +disheveled hair and negligent dress, clings to her guilty paramour; +Hypocrisy, with the face of a young woman, a mask raised to her +forehead, looks down upon the spectator; and Avarice is represented as +an old man clinging to his treasures.</p> + +<p>The pediment is filled completely by the figure of a demon, which is +forcing a damned soul into the abyss of woe. This is the largest +sculptured pediment in the world, and occupied more than two years in +its execution. The figure of Christ is eighteen feet in length, which +will give the reader an idea of the size of the sculpture.</p> + +<p>The doors of the Madeleine are worthy of particular notice. They are of +bronze, measuring more than thirty feet by sixteen. They are divided +into compartments each of which illustrates one of the Ten Commandments. +In the first, Moses commands the tables to be obeyed; in the second, the +blasphemer is struck; in the third, God reposes after the creation; in +the fourth, Joshua punishes the theft of Acham, after the taking of +Jericho, etc. etc. The doors were cast in France, and are only surpassed +in size by the doors of St. Peter's.</p> + +<p>On entering the Madeleine, the magnificent organ meets the eye of the +visitor. On the right, there is a chapel for marriages, with a +sculptural group upon it, representing the marriage of the Virgin. On +the left, there is a baptismal font, with a sculptured group, +representing Christ and St. John at the waters of the Jordan. There are +twelve confessionals along the chapels, which, together <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>with the +pulpit, are carved out of oak. The walls of the church are lined with +the finest marbles, and each chapel contains a statue of the patron +saints. The architecture of the interior it is useless for me to attempt +to sketch, it is in such a profusely ornamented style. Fine paintings +adorn the different chapels. One represents Christ preaching, and the +conversion of Mary Magdalene; another the Crucifixion; still another, +the supper at Bethany, with the Magdalene at the feet of her Lord. Over +the altar there is a very fine painting by Ziegler, which intends to +illustrate, by the representation of persons, the events which, in the +world's history, have added most to propagate the christian religion, +and to exhibit its power over men.</p> + +<p>The Magdalene, in a penitent attitude, stands near Christ, while three +angels support the cloud upon which she kneels, and a scroll, upon which +is written, "<i>She loved much</i>." The Savior holds in his right hand the +symbol of redemption, and is surrounded by the apostles. On his left, +the history of the early church is illustrated. St. Augustine, the +Emperor Constantine, and other personages, are painted. Then follow the +Crusades, with St. Bernard and Peter the Hermit, with a group of +noblemen following, filled with holy enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Near the Magdalene there is a group of men who figured in early French +history—the Constable Montmorenci, Godefroy de Bouillon, and Robert of +Normandy. The struggles of the Greeks to throw off Mussulman rule, are +represented by a young Grecian warrior, with his companions in arms.</p> + +<p>On the left of the Savior, some of the early martyrs are painted—St. +Catherine and St. Cecelia. The Wandering Jew's ghostly form is upon the +canvas, and, to come down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>to a later day, Joan of Arc, Raphael, Michael +Angelo, and Dante each occupies a place in the mammoth picture.</p> + +<p>The choir of the Madeleine forms a half-circle, and is very richly +ornamented. The great altar is splendidly sculptured. The principal +group represents the Magdalene in a rapturous posture, borne to heaven +on the wings of angels. A tunic is wrapped around her body, and the long +hair with which she wiped her Savior's feet. This group of sculpture +alone cost one hundred and fifty thousand francs.</p> + +<p>I have thus given the reader a sketch of the most gorgeous church in +Paris, that he may get an idea of the style of religion which obtains at +present there. It is like this church. It is pretentious, imposing, in +bad taste, without simplicity and a real sanctity. I was disgusted with +the Madeleine from the moment I knew it to be a church. At first I saw +it only as a fine building—an imitation of the Parthenon—and I was +struck with admiration. But when I was told that it was a temple for the +warship of God, I was shocked, and still more so when I entered it. The +interior, as a collection of fine paintings and statues, as a specimen +of gorgeous Gothic architecture, is one of the best in the world; but I +would as soon think of attending public worship amid the nakedness of +the Louvre, as in the Madeleine. Had Napoleon's idea been carried out, +and this modern Parthenon been dedicated to Mars, it would adorn Paris, +and add much to the pleasure of the stranger; but as it is now, it only +serves to illustrate one of the weak points in the French character.</p> + +<p>The genuine Parisian is so fond of appearance, that he cares little for +the substance. The churches of Paris, therefore, abound with all that +can impress the eye, how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>ever repugnant to a refined taste. For I dare +to hold, that the French love not the true refinement in matters of +religion. Having little vital piety, it is impossible for them to judge +of church architecture. Solemn old St. Paul's in London, will always +linger in my memory as a fit temple of the living God. Its impressive +grandeur contrasts strongly with the rich magnificence of the Madeleine. +The latter inspires only admiration, as the figure of a Greek warrior, +but St. Paul's inspires awe; and that is just the difference between +them.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPEL_OF_ST_FERDINAND" id="CHAPEL_OF_ST_FERDINAND"></a>CHAPEL OF ST. FERDINAND.</h3> + + +<p>The interior of this chapel is one of the most beautiful in Paris. It +was the scene of the death of the duke of Orleans in 1842. He left Paris +in the forenoon of the 13th of July, in an open carriage, with but one +postillion, intending to call upon the royal family at Neuilly, and +proceed to the camp at St. Omer. As he approached Porte Maillot, the +horses became frightened. The driver began to lose his control of the +horses.</p> + +<p>"Are you master of your horses?" asked the duke.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I guide them," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you cannot hold them," again cried the duke.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, sir," was the reply.</p> + +<p>The duke then endeavored to get out of the carriage, but his feet became +entangled in his cloak, and he was thrown with great force to the +ground, his head striking first. It was dreadfully fractured, and he was +carried into the house of a grocer near at hand, where he expired <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>at +four o'clock the same day, entirely unconscious. The royal family were +with him when he died. The house with the adjacent property was bought, +and two distinguished architects were commanded to erect a commemorative +chapel on the place. In July, 1843, it was consecrated by the +archbishop, in the presence of the royal family.</p> + +<p>The building is fifty feet long, twenty in height, is built in the +Lombard-Gothic style, and resembles an ancient mausoleum.</p> + +<p>Opposite the entrance there stands an altar to the Virgin, on the very +spot where the duke breathed his last, and over it there is a strikingly +beautiful statue of the Virgin and child. Beyond, there is a Descent +from, the Cross in marble. On the left, is another altar dedicated to +St. Ferdinand, and on the right a marble group, which represents the +duke on his death-bed. An angel kneels at his head, as if imploring the +Divine Mercy upon the sufferer. It is a fine figure, and is doubly +interesting from the fact that the Princess Marie, sister of the duke, +with her own hands wrought it, long before he was still in death. +Beneath this marble group there is a bas-relief, representing France +leaning over, and near, the French flag drooping at her feet. There are +four circular windows of stained glass, with St. Raphael, Hope, Faith, +and Charity, upon them. There are fourteen pointed windows, stained with +the patron saints of the royal family. Behind the altar the very room is +preserved in which the duke died—the sacristy of the chapel now. The +oaken presses, chairs, and prayer-desk are all clothed in black, giving +an air of gloom to the whole apartment. Opposite the entrance there is a +large painting by Jacquard, representing the death of the duke. He is +lying upon a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>couch with his head supported by physicians; his father is +opposite, apparently stupefied by his deep emotions. On the left is a +group, consisting of the queen and Princess Clementine, the Dukes +Aumale, and Montpensier, Marshals Soult, Gerard, and the curé of Méry. +The picture is a touching one. There is a small apartment detached from +the chapel, which was fitted up for the accommodation of the royal +family—the family now exiled from the land. In another room there is a +clock with a black marble case, on which France is represented as +mourning for the death of the duke. The hands of the clock mark ten +minutes to twelve, the exact moment when the prince fell; and in another +apartment there is a clock with the pointers at ten minutes past four, +the moment when he died.</p> + +<p>The interior of this chapel impressed me as the saddest I ever was in. +Everything in it was in perfect keeping with the sentiment of complete +melancholy, though it was rather too luxurious to express deep grief. +Sorrow which is poignant, is not expressed in so sensuous a manner. But +the chapel is unique; there is nothing else like it in the world, and +that is quite a recommendation.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ST_VINCENT_DE_PAUL" id="ST_VINCENT_DE_PAUL"></a>ST. VINCENT DE PAUL.</h3> + + +<p>In my enumeration of the splendid churches of Paris, it would never do +to omit that of St. Vincent de Paul. It is in the Rue Lafayette, and is +now a Protestant church.</p> + +<p>The approaches to the building are fine, and the structure forms a +parallelogram of two hundred and forty-three feet by one hundred and +eighty. At the southern end, there are two large towers with Corinthian +pilasters. The church stands upon the brow of a hill, and presents a +striking appearance from the streets Lafayette or Hauteville.</p> + +<p>The interior of this church is profusely decorated, and is, in fact, so +richly ornamented as to detract from its beauty. Over the portal, there +is a stained window representing St. Paul surrounded by the sisters of +charity. The choir is semi-circular, and has a fine skylight. A richly +sculptured arch, over sixty feet in height, gives access to it. The +altar-piece is a crucifix on wood. Behind it is a stained window, +representing the Virgin and the Savior. The chapels have also +beautifully stained windows. There are no oil-paintings in St. Vincent +de Paul, but in other respects it is as faulty as the Madeleine. It may +be the result of early education, but I sickened of this excess of +ornament. It was too forced—too unnatural. If I had never entered the +church I should have received a good impression, for its exterior is +everything of which the Ionic order is capable, and its situation is the +finest of any church in Paris.</p> + +<p>I will simply allude to a few of the other churches in Paris. The <i>Notre +Dame de Lorette</i>, is a very beautiful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>church in the street <i>Fountain +St. George</i>. It is built in the renaissance style, and the sculptures of +the interior are of the highest order. The gorgeous decorations of the +church are unsurpassed. The interior is one blaze of splendor, and the +feelings inspired by a contemplation of it, are not the ones appropriate +for a place of worship. The choir of the church is fitted up with +stalls, a gilt balustrade separating it from the rest of the nave. The +walls are adorned with rich marbles. The altar is executed in the +highest style of magnificence. Behind it is a piece entitled "The +Crowning of the Virgin," wrought on a background of pure gold. The +Parisians boast a great deal of this church, as a gem of the renaissance +style, and with reason, when it is regarded simply as a work of art, but +the less they boast of it as <i>a church</i>, the better. The cost was one +million eight hundred thousand francs.</p> + +<p><i>St. Roch</i>, in the <i>Rue St. Honoré</i>, was built under the patronage of +Louis XIV. and Anne of Austria, in 1653. The renowned financier, Law, +gave one hundred thousand livres toward its completion. The steps are +high, and from them crowds of people during the revolution saw the +executions which took place but a short distance away. A mob once filled +the steps, and were cleared away by Napoleon's cannon. The duke of +Orleans, and Corneille, the poet, lie buried in it, together with other +distinguished persons. St. Roch is not beautiful in its architectural +decorations, but is, nevertheless, the richest church in Paris.</p> + +<p><i>St. Eustache</i> is the largest church, except Notre Dame, in Paris, and +is very old. The style is a mixed Gothic.</p> + +<p>The <i>St. Paul et St. Louis</i>, is a church built in the Italian style, and +is a fine edifice.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>All the churches of Paris are open every day of the week, from early in +the morning till five or six o'clock. They have bare pews or slips, and +no seats. There are a plenty of chairs which may be had on Sundays and +festival days, for two cents each, of an old woman who attends them. +This custom is a singular one to the American, accustomed as he is to +well-cushioned, and even luxurious pews. The pulpits, too, are nothing +but upright boxes, with a spiral stair-case leading to them—not like our +broad platforms, with rich sofas and tables in front.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_087.jpg" width="400" height="330" alt="CHURCH OF ST. EUSTACHE." title="CHURCH OF ST. EUSTACHE." /> +<span class="caption">CHURCH OF ST. EUSTACHE.</span> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h2>LAMARTINE—HORACE VERNET—GIRARDIN—HUGO—JANIN</h2> + +<h3>LAMARTINE</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_088.jpg" width="300" height="336" alt="LAMARTINE." title="LAMARTINE." /> +<span class="caption">LAMARTINE.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Lamartine is a poet, a historian, and a statesman. He has not been +successful in the last-mentioned capacity, but take his qualities +together, he is, perhaps, the most distinguished of living French +authors.</p> + +<p>Alphonse de Lamartine was born on the 21st of Octo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>ber, 1791, at Mecon. +His father was captain in a regiment of cavalry. Refusing to join with +the terrorists in 1794, he fled from Paris into the country with his +wife and two children. But he did not escape the spies of his enemies, +who arrested and put him at once into a dungeon. Some months after, the +terrorists having lost power, he was released. Resolving to provide for +the future peace of his family, he purchased the chateau of Milly, a +spot in the open, and nearly wild country. Lamartine gives us sketches +of his life here. His mother was a good, pious soul, and taught him out +of the old family bible lessons from the sacred scriptures. She often +made visits to the poor, and Alphonse accompanied her on these +benevolent errands, and thus very early in life learned to be gentle and +good. He left the grounds of Milly at eight years of age, to enter the +school of Belley, under the care of the Jesuits.</p> + +<p>He took the prizes with ease, and his teachers discovering that he had a +talent for poetry, encouraged it. His parents took counsel as to what +should be done with their son. The father wished to make a soldier of +him, but the mother was opposed to this plan—she did not care to make a +human butcher of her boy. He paused some time at Lyons, on his return +from school, and afterward he traveled over Italy. He here met a young +man who was an excellent singer, and became quite intimate with him, so +much so, that he often slept upon his shoulder. When the two friends had +arrived at Rome, Lamartine was called down to the breakfast-room one +morning, to behold—<i>not</i> his male companion, but a young woman of +beauty, who greeted him familiarly. It was his friend who had been +traveling in male costume, and who now said blushingly, "Dress does not +change the heart."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lamartine went to Naples and his purse ran low, when he chanced to meet +an old classmate who had plenty of money, and together the young men +enjoyed their good fortune. At Naples, Graziella, the daughter of a poor +fisherman, fell in love with the poet. The story of this girl he tells +very touchingly. When he returned home he was welcomed very warmly. The +family had removed to Macon. His mother grew pale and trembling, to see +how long absence and agony of heart had changed her son. She told him +that their fortune had been considerably affected by his travels and +imprudences, and she spoke not by way of reproach, for said she, "You +know that if I could change my tears into gold, I would gladly give them +all into your hands."</p> + +<p>He wished to go to Paris, and his father gave him, for his maintenance, +the moderate sum of twelve hundred francs a year. The mother pitied her +son, and going to her room, she took her last jewel and put it into his +hands, saying, "Go and seek glory!" He took a plenty of recommendations +with him, but was resolved to accept nothing from the emperor. When a +young man he had dreamed of a republic, but now, after coming to Paris, +he became a Bonapartist. He entered the most aristocratic circles, and +changed again to a legitimist. He now made a second voyage to Italy, +following the inclinations of his dreamy nature. During his stay there, +he composed the first volume of his <i>Meditations</i>, which afterward won +him so much fame.</p> + +<p>He was on the borders of the gulf of Naples, when he heard of the +establishment of the Bourbon dynasty, and he hastened home and solicited +a place in the army, to the great joy of his father. During the Hundred +Days he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>threw aside the sword, and would not take it again when Louis +XVIII. regained the throne.</p> + +<p>Lamartine now loved a young woman devotedly, but she died, to his +excessive grief. He was severely ill from this cause, and it wrought a +great change in his character. When recovered from his illness, he +destroyed his profane poetry, and kept only that which bore the impress +of faith and religion. He published his first volume of <i>Meditations</i> +in 1820. He sought in vain two years for a publisher, until at last a +man by the name of Nicoll, as a personal favor, issued the volume. It +made his fortune. France welcomed the new poet as a redeemer, who had +dispelled the materialism of Voltaire. He became an <i>attache</i> of the +ambassador in Tuscany, and there met a young English woman, who was in +love with him before she saw him, from reading his <i>Meditations</i>. This +woman he shortly married. She brought him beauty, goodness, and a large +fortune.</p> + +<p>In 1823 the second volume of <i>Meditations</i> appeared, and had the same +success as the first. An uncle died at this time, leaving him a fortune, +and he was now independent of the world. He lived alternately in London +and in Paris, occasionally accepting the post of secretary to a foreign +ambassador, and finally becoming charge d'affaires at an Italian court. +Like almost all the distinguished authors of France, Lamartine fought +his duel. He had written something disparaging to modern Italy, and one +Colonel Pepe, an Italian, challenged him to fight a duel. He accepted +the challenge and was wounded. For six months he hung between life and +death. All Florence condemned with severity the brutal colonel, who had +taken offense at one of the poet's verses, and they came to inquire for +his health every hour of the day, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>if he had been a monarch. When he +left Florence, great was their sorrow. In the midst of his diplomatic +labors he continued to write poetry, and on his return to Paris in the +month of May, 1829, he published "<i>Harmonies Poetiques et +Reliegieuses</i>," and this book created for him such a reputation, and +gave him so much honor, that in 1830 he was elected a member of the +Academy.</p> + +<p>The government about this time was resolved upon sending a minister +plenipotentiary to Greece, and Lamartine was chosen as the man; but at +the juncture the revolution broke out, and the project fell to the +ground. The poet was discouraged, and went to live in the country, on an +estate bequeathed to him by one of his uncles. He soon became tired of +his quiet life, and took ship at Marseilles, with his wife and his +daughter Julia, for the Orient. The vessel was his own, and he sailed at +pleasure. France lost for a time her brilliant son, but gained there-for +a beautiful book—<i>Le Voyage en Orient</i>. It achieved a great success, +and if he would have been content with literary renown, he now could +have wished for nothing more to add to his happiness. While he was +absent in the East, he kept an eye upon the politics of home.</p> + +<p>His daughter Julia was taken very ill at Beyrout, and died. She was +brought back to Marseilles in her coffin. This was a terrible blow to +the poet, who possessed as soft a heart as ever throbbed in the breast +of woman.</p> + +<p>During his absence, the electors of Dunkirk decided to offer Lamartine a +seat in the Chamber of Deputies, and he was elected. Well had it been +for the poet if he had rested satisfied with his literature, but he +entered the field of politics to become distinguished, but to win no +laurels. He was unsuccessful, at first, in the Chamber. He became a +radical, and that party flattered him. They were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>poor—he was rich and +generous. He gave freely for his party, and found himself almost +penniless. He gave to all who needed, so long as he had anything to +give. At this time a man wrote to him—"I die of hunger." The poet sent +five hundred francs, and begged pardon for not sending more, adding—" +You have all my heart."</p> + +<p>At this time the <i>History of the Girondins</i> appeared, and had a +remarkable success. Lamartine was severely blamed by many for writing +it, but none disputed the wonderful literary merit of the work. The next +revolution came—and Louis Phillippe fled from France. The people +flocked around Lamartine. They had been charmed by his grand words for +humanity; they were now fascinated by his commanding mien and noble +countenance. They thought because he sang sweetly, wrote nobly, that he +was a statesman. They mistook. The author had no talents for +statesmanship, and he fell. He was too ideal—not sufficiently +practical; and he could not hold the position which the populace had +given him. For a short time his ambition—never an impure one—was +gratified, for he saw France turn toward him as a deliverer; but he has +ever since had the bitter reflection that he was unequal to the +occasion, and that he had acted wisely never to have invaded the domain +of politics.</p> + +<p>The history of Lamartine during the revolution of 1848 is everywhere +known, and we need not repeat it. He soon gave up politics forever. +Since that time he has attended only to literature. Recently, he +ventured into speculations, and lost his fortune. I had the good luck to +meet him last June, in the office of the editor of <i>L'Illustration</i>, in +the Rue Richelieu. He was in good health, and I was much struck with his +general appearance. He looks to be what he has always been—one of +nature's no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>blemen. His hair is almost white, but his figure is erect +and noble. He is tall and dignified, and his manners are pleasing. +Lamartine has struggled hard to save from the hands of his creditors his +estate of Saint Point, where the bones of his ancestors lie. Every +autumn he repairs thither with Madame Lamartine, and spends a few months +in the golden quiet of the country. His wife is the angel of his +household, and has proved a treasure far above earthly riches. Both +husband and wife are exceedingly generous. A friend of theirs, who was +very intimate with the family, was so angered at their liberality, that +he one morning entered the house, demanding all the keys, and declaring +that he would for a time take charge of their expenses. They willingly +acceded to his demand. He locked up everything valuable, and left the +house. Soon a sister of charity came, and sought alms for the poor. +Madame Lamartine tried the desk for money—it was locked. She called the +valet and had it broken open, and gave the sister eight hundred francs. +Lamartine smiled, and kissed her for the generous act. The friend +returned and found that there was not money enough left for dinner!</p> + +<p>Lamartine possesses a noble heart, a conscience, and is a christian. He +is a bright example, but alas! a rare one, among the authors of France.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="HORACE_VERNET" id="HORACE_VERNET"></a>HORACE VERNET</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_095.jpg" width="300" height="368" alt="HORACE VERNET." title="HORACE VERNET." /> +<span class="caption">HORACE VERNET.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Horace Vernet, the great modern painter of France, was born in the +Louvre on the 30th of June, 1789. The kings of France were in the habit +of giving to distinguished artists a domicile in the Louvre, and the +father of Horace Vernet, at the time of his birth, had apartments in the +palace. He is descended from a dynasty of artists.</p> + +<p>Antoine Vernet, the great-grandfather of Horace, lived in the time of +Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, a very celebrated courtesan, and it is said by +some that he was the author of the portrait of her which exists at this +day, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>it is proved that he never left Argnon, where he lived as an +artist. The grandfather of the subject of this sketch—Claude-Joseph +Vernet—studied in Rome, and became a distinguished marine painter under +the reign of Louis XV., who commissioned him to paint a series of +pictures. Carle Vernet, the father of Horace Vernet, was also an artist. +When quite young, he fell violently in love with the daughter of an +opulent furnisher. The marriage was impossible, and his friends, to wean +him from his love, sent him to Italy, where he studied the art of +painting, and took a high prize—but he could not forget the woman he +had loved. In his grief he resolved to give himself up to a monastic +life, and his letters from Italy apprised his friends of that fact. His +father hastened to Italy and brought him back to France, where he at +once acquired distinction as a painter, and was elected a member of the +Academy of Painting. He painted several grand battle-scenes under the +empire, and in 1789 became the father of the Horace Vernet, so justly +distinguished in modern times.</p> + +<p>Horace was taught the art of his father, and he learned to draw at the +same time that he learned to read. In 1793 the family of artists +experienced many dangers, and on the 18th of August, while his father +and Horace were crossing the court of the Tuileries palace, Horace was +shot through the hat, while a ball pierced the clothes of the father. +Carle Vernet was about to hasten from France when new terrors detained +him. His sister had married M. Chalgrin, an architect, who adhered to +the fortunes of the court of Provence. For this, the mob had revenge +upon his beautiful wife, who was thrown into the Abbaye prison. Carle +Vernet hastened to his brother artist, David, who was in favor with the +revolutionists, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>and who could easily save his sister's life. He +besought David to save his sister, but he coolly replied:</p> + +<p>"She is an aristocrat, and I will not trouble myself about her." She +perished, and the reason was, that in early life she had refused the +matrimonial offers of the painter.</p> + +<p>The youthful Horace was reckoned very beautiful by all his friends, and +especially by his father. He was a model, in fact, and as he grew up, he +showed that he had inherited the artist-genius of his father, and added +to it a wit peculiarly his own. His sallies were often exceedingly +amusing to the people in whose company he chiefly spent his time. He +entered college, and as soon as he had quitted it he was already +distinguished as an artist. Instead of going back to ancient times, he +painted his own age. He was enthusiastic in all his efforts, and +catching the spirit of the times, grew rapidly popular. He did not live +in the past, but in the living present, and endeavored to glorify the +men, deeds, and places of to-day.</p> + +<p>The figure of Vernet was small, his face was fine-looking, his hand +white, and his foot very small. He went to masked balls and arrayed +himself as a woman, and was constantly importuned by suitors. On one +occasion a marshal of France was so pressing in his suit, that he put +himself under the care of his wife, who took the supposed lady home with +her in the family carriage!</p> + +<p>From 1811 to 1815 Vernet appeared at court and was quite popular. He +painted portraits of the different members of the royal family. He was +so celebrated for his drawings, that the editors disputed for them, and +paid him the highest prices. In 1814 he was decorated with the cross of +the Legion of Honor. At the restoration, he for a time was under a +cloud. He was not idle, but such were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>his subjects that he was shut out +of the Louvre. He, however, executed many paintings, which subsequently +became celebrated. Disgusted with the treatment he received, he +journeyed with his father into Italy.</p> + +<p>The Louvre continued shut against Vernet's pictures, but the peers took +up his cause with great unanimity and enthusiasm. A list of his best +pictures was published and warmly eulogized, and as they could be seen +at his studio, the crowd of artists and critics, and others, wended +their way thither. The painter was recompensed. In the midst of this +crowd, and the confusion necessarily consequent upon their visit, Horace +Vernet went on quietly in his work, in their presence, and executed that +series of grand paintings, which in after years brought him so wide a +renown. The duke of Orleans was his warm friend. He bought many pictures +of him, and ordered himself painted in every style. Charles X. grew +jealous, and concluded it wise to withdraw his persecution of the +artist. He ordered a portrait of himself, and the Louvre was open to +him.</p> + +<p>He now wrought a revolution in the art of painting in Paris, and +established a new school. It was his desire to triumph over David, and +he boasted that he would do so. The public pronounced him the first +painter of the age. Some of his best pictures at this time were painted +at Rome. Upon his return he found his old friend king, under the title +of Louis Philippe. He was, of course, a favorite at court. The king gave +him the use of a studio at Versailles, of a magnificent description, in +which he wrought at great national pictures. He was an indefatigable +worker. He never hesitated to make the longest journey to study the +scene of his pictures. He traveled up and down the Mediterranean, +visited Arabia, Africa, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>and other distant spots, lived in tents, put up +with privation and suffering, that he might paint from nature. His +memory was so excellent that having once looked upon a spot, nothing was +afterward forgotten; every characteristic of the place was sure to +reappear upon the canvas. The least detail of position or gesture, he +remembered for years with ease. Indeed, his faculty for daguerreotyping +such things upon his mind, was wonderful. He met his friend, the marquis +de Pastorel, one day, who said:</p> + +<p>"How are you, Horace; where have you kept yourself for these two years? +I have not met you for years."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," replied the artist; "I met you six months since in +the garden of the Tuileries."</p> + +<p>"You are dreaming," said the marquis.</p> + +<p>"No," said Vernet, "a lady was with you—wait a moment and I will sketch +her face."</p> + +<p>He drew a few hasty lines upon a bit of paper, and lo! the marquis +beheld the face of an intimate lady friend of his, and at the same +instant remembered that he had escorted her across the Tuileries gardens +six months before.</p> + +<p>"It is well for you that you live <i>now</i>" said the marquis, "for two +centuries earlier they would have burned you for a sorcerer."</p> + +<p>Horace Vernet has been a great student of the scriptures, and he +maintains that in painting historical scenes from the bible, the +costumes should be such as the Arabians use at this time, and in his +scripture paintings he has followed out this plan.</p> + +<p>In 1834 and 1835 he was principally on the coast of Africa, engaged in +painting. But he returned to his studio at Versailles, and in 1836 +produced several grand battle-pictures. The king desired that he should +fill an entire gallery with his pictures at Versailles, and Vernet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>went +at his giant work. He occupied six years, and the gallery was called <i>la +Galerie de Constentine</i>. The king came into his studio one day, and +offered to make Vernet a peer. The painter declined the honor, saying +"the <i>bourgeois</i> rise—the nobles fall—leave me with the arts."</p> + +<p>He was one day painting <i>the Siege of Valenciennes</i> for the king, when +the latter requested that the painter would represent Louis XIV. as +prominent in the siege. Vernet consulted history, and found that during +the siege the king was three leagues away with one of his mistresses. He +therefore utterly refused to lie upon canvas. The king was very angry, +and several persons were sent to persuade Vernet to consent, <i>for pay</i>, +to make the concession. He however remained firm, and picking up his +effects and selling his pictures, started for St. Petersburgh, where he +was received with open arms by Nicholas. While at the Russian court, +Vernet spoke freely his sentiments, and condemned the taking of Poland. +"Bah!" said the Czar, "you look from a French point of view—I from the +Russian. I dare say, now, you would refuse to paint me <i>the taking of +Warsaw</i>."</p> + +<p>"No, sire," replied the painter, sublimely; "every day we represent +Christ upon the cross!"</p> + +<p>Louis Philippe sent by his ambassador for Vernet to return to Paris. +"You may paint the Siege of Valenciennes without any Louis XIV. in it, +if you please," he said. The painter was received warmly, and the old +quarrel was forgotten. He at once commenced a picture of immense +size—the taking of Smala, which in eight months he finished.</p> + +<p>The repose of Horace Vernet is in his travels, and he is one of the +greatest of modern travelers. It is said that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>the Arabian tribes love +and respect him, and that he returns gladly to their society whenever +duty requires it.</p> + +<p>Horace Vernet has been blessed with but one child, a daughter, who +married Paul Delaroche, a distinguished artist. This only child died in +1846.</p> + +<p>In the later revolutions which have passed over France, Vernet has not +participated. He has lived only in his profession and among his personal +friends. He resided for years at Versailles, where he had a splendid +mansion, but he removed to Paris a few years since. He is one of the +greatest of modern artists, and is revered as an honor to the nation.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="EMILE_DE_GIRARDIN" id="EMILE_DE_GIRARDIN"></a>EMILE DE GIRARDIN.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_102.jpg" width="300" height="341" alt="EMILE DE GIRARDIN." title="EMILE DE GIRARDIN." /> +<span class="caption">EMILE DE GIRARDIN.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Girardin has been for so many years one of the leading minds of Paris, +has been so distinguished as a journalist, that I have thought a slight +sketch of his life and character would be acceptable to my readers.</p> + +<p>It is said that he never knew the day of his birth, but it occurred in +the year 1802. He does not appear to be as old as he in reality is, for +his forehead is unwrinkled, his eye sparkles with a fascinating fire, +and his hair is not gray. He carries almost always an eye-glass, which +gives him the reputation—undeserved—of impertinence. His manners are +those of a gentleman of the most refined cast, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>and, as editor of <i>La +Presse</i>, he has long wielded a powerful influence over a class of minds.</p> + +<p>Girardin was the illegitimate child of a count of the empire; his +mother, taking advantage of the absence of her husband from France, +conducted herself in a shameful manner with her lovers, and before her +husband had returned, she had presented one of them with the subject of +this sketch. Many scandalous stories have been coined by the enemies of +Girardin respecting his birth, but the facts we have stated are +undeniable. He was placed out at nurse with a woman named Choiseul, who +took illegitimate children to the number of ten, from the wealthy and +high-born, to care for and nurse. Had it not been for the shrewdness of +this old nurse, Girardin would never have known his parents. For a time +they came to see their child, in stolen visits, but gradually their +visits died away, and were finally given up altogether. But the nurse in +her walks about the streets met and recognized the familiar faces of the +parents, and ascertained their condition in life.</p> + +<p>The father was at this time unmarried, but at the instigation of his +master, Napoleon, he wedded a young wife, and soon neglected his +illegitimate child. Fearing that his wife would discover his secret, and +take revenge upon him, he had the boy secretly removed to the care of an +old servant of his, who was furnished with the means to take care of him +and teach him all he knew himself, which was but little. He was strictly +enjoined to call the child <i>Emile Delamothe</i>. This occurred in 1814. The +father now thought that he had acquitted himself of his duty to the boy, +and cared no more for him. But he was not blessed in his union—he had +no legitimate children.</p> + +<p>The man into whose care Emile was given, was a harsh <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>man, and gave the +youth no rest from his severe discipline. He allowed him none of the +pastimes of other children, and under this regime he suffered. At +fourteen he had bad health, and a bilious color overspread his face, +which never left it. Seeing that his health was suffering, the master +sent him, under the care of his brother, into Normandy. This brother was +a kind old soul, and gave the boy pleasant words, and a healthy, homely +fare. In the country Emile enjoyed himself heartily. He wandered among +the fields, played among the animals, and slept at night upon a litter +of straw, and grew well again. In his ramblings he was oftenest alone, +and pondered over his wretched fortunes. At eighteen he left the country +for Paris. His first care was to visit his old nurse, and try to +discover the condition of his parents. She could only give him a clew, +but there had been such great changes since he left Paris, that she had +no idea where his father dwelt, if he was alive. Emile then went to see +the old man who first had care of him—his guardian—and plied him with +questions. But he was impenetrable, and would reveal nothing. More than +this—he read the law respecting illegitimate children, to Emile. It was +a heavy blow upon his hopes. His guardian showed him proof of his birth, +and a paper which gave to him, at twenty-one, the command of a small sum +of money, the interest of which had heretofore supported him. In his +anger he tore up the proof of his birth. Perhaps naturally, he at once +took up against the laws of marriage, and became a bitter reformer. He +frequented a reading-room, where he met several literary men who were in +the habit of speaking of their books with pride. Emile was excited to +try his own capabilities, and soon presented to his friends the +manuscript of <i>Emile</i>, a story, the principal parts of which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>were true +records of his own life. The literary friends were at variance in their +criticisms upon the manuscript. Some declared it worthless, and advised +him to get a style, while others praised the effort. Finding no +publisher, our hero learned from a court directory the secret he had +struggled after so long—the address of his father—and sent to him his +story, written in a manner calculated to move the paternal heart. He +received no direct reply, but eight days after, he was presented with an +excellent situation with the secretary of Louis XVIII. Undoubtedly he +was indebted to his father's recommendation for the place. So his +story—afterward published—though it did not appear as he had intended +when he wrote it, was not without its effect.</p> + +<p>His time not being wholly occupied in the bureau, Girardin employed his +spare moments in writing one or two novels, which appeared some time +afterward. He has not been a voluminous author, <i>Emile</i> being his +principal book. But his career has been that of a journalist, and though +he has been everything by turns, yet he has had fame and influence.</p> + +<p>By a turn in the wheel of fortune Girardin lost his place with the +secretary, and went upon the exchange and solicited an humble office for +the purpose of studying the chances there. As soon as he considered +himself fit to decide, he ventured in buying very heavily certain +stocks, and lost nearly all his little property. He was in despair and +wrote to his father, who sent back an unfeeling letter. It is told of +him that he presented himself before his father with a loaded pistol in +either hand, and threatened to shoot him, and then himself, if he would +not give him his name. This tale was undoubtedly invented by his +enemies. He tried to enter the army but was re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>jected on account of his +sickly appearance. He was go discouraged at this, that he attempted to +commit suicide, and was saved from death as it were by a miracle. He +resolved never again to give way to a similar rashness, and tried once +more to succeed in life. He boldly took the name of Girardin, and though +it was against law, yet his father feared scandal too much to institute +legal measures against him. He now offered his book—<i>Emile</i>—to the +publishers. It was eagerly caught up and sold rapidly. In the midst of +his success he went to the minister and demanded employment, naming his +father as reference! This bold application was successful, and he had a +sinecure given him, as a kind of inspector of the fine arts.</p> + +<p>He started a weekly journal with a friend, which was made up of +selections. It was called <i>The Voleur</i>, and at the end of a month had a +circulation of ten thousand. It was a dishonest mode of getting money, +as no original writing was given. The name, <i>Voleur</i>, means thief. One +of the authors whose writings were often quoted from in the <i>Voleur</i>, +loudly remonstrated against the injustice of the procedure, and gaining +no satisfaction, he fought a duel with Girardin, who was wounded in the +shoulder, but the wound was not dangerous. It was not his first duel—he +had fought with pistols in 1825. He withdrew from the conductorship of +the <i>Voleur</i>, and under the patronage of the duchess de Berri, started a +new journal, called <i>la Mode</i>. It had a great success, but as it waxed +more and more liberal, the duchess repented her patronage, and finally +withdrew it. The act gave the journal three thousand new subscribers. He +foresaw the revolution of 1830, and sold out both his journals, thus +taking excellent care of his property. Under the new <i>régime</i> he started +a weekly paper, which acquired a circulation of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>one hundred and twenty +thousand copies. He soon fell in love with Madamoiselle Delphine Gay, a +talented and beautiful young woman, and married her.</p> + +<p>After his marriage Girardin for several years turned his attention more +particularly to philanthropic projects, which should benefit the people. +He advocated savings banks, and gave much of his time to their +establishment. He also founded an agricultural school. His wife turned +him somewhat from his political and speculative plans, to more practical +ones of this kind.</p> + +<p>In 1833 he started <i>le Musee des Familles</i>, and to get subscribers, he +placarded the walls of Paris with monstrous bills, initiating a nuisance +which has ever since been used by all kinds of impostors. In 1834 he was +elected to the Chamber of Deputies, and a year later he fought his third +duel.</p> + +<p>In 1836 <i>La Presse</i> was established, the journal with which his greatest +fame is connected. In starting this new paper Girardin intended to ruin +all the other Paris journals. His plan was to furnish more matter for +one-half the ordinary price of a journal than the usual dailies gave to +their readers. He made, as he might have expected, bitter enemies out of +his contemporaries. They attacked him, and with such unfairness, and in +such a personal manner, that he flew to the courts for relief, or +revenge. The journalists then accused him of cowardice—of fearing to +trust his reputation to public discussion. It was at this time that he +had his sad and fatal quarrel with Armand Carrel—a brother editor. +Girardin shot Carrel in the groin. He died the next day. Girardin was +wounded in the thigh. The loss of Carrel was deeply felt, and his +funeral was attended by multitudes of the Parisians. For a time Girardin +was exceedingly unpopu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>lar in Paris, and his enemies knew well how to +make use of his unpopularity. They attacked him with redoubled severity +and criticised all his questionable acts. He, however, replied to their +fire with so much spirit, and with such terrible bitterness, that they +were in the end if not conquered, willing to let him alone.</p> + +<p>In his journal Girardin defended the throne, and was generally the +friend of good morals. He is accused of signing his own name to all the +most brilliant articles which appeared in his journal, whether he was in +reality the author or not, for the sake of his reputation. He made +enemies in all quarters, but his paper gained an immense circulation. +His wife became his disciple, and rendered him great assistance in his +literary labors. She has rendered her own name illustrious in France by +her writings. She was entirely devoted to her husband, and not only +loved the man but espoused his cause and principles. Whenever her +husband was attacked she resented it, and often used a bitter and witty +pen in his defense. Her verses upon Cavaignac are yet remembered in +Paris. When that general arrested her husband, she flew to his house and +demanded if she were living in the reign of terror.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Cavaignac, "but under the reign of the sword."</p> + +<p>"Attach a cord to your sword and you will be a guillotine!" replied the +intrepid woman.</p> + +<p>The drawing-rooms of Madame Girardin were among the most celebrated of +the French capital. There might be seen the most distinguished authors, +political celebrities, and soldiers of the time, and she was the leading +spirit among them. Her husband rarely condescended to attend their +<i>reünions</i>, as he had no taste for society and conversation. In the late +revolutions which have swept <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>over France, Girardin continued to save +himself from exile or imprisonment. The truth is, he always loved money +and power too well to make a sacrifice of himself for the cause of the +people, and his course has been too much that of a demagogue from the +first. His great object, during the latter part of his life, seems to +have been to gain the portfolio of a minister—and without success, for +from the days of the 1848 revolution, his influence rapidly declined.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="VICTOR_HUGO" id="VICTOR_HUGO"></a>VICTOR HUGO</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_110.jpg" width="300" height="308" alt="VICTOR HUGO." title="VICTOR HUGO." /> +<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO.</span> +</div> + + +<p>France has given birth to few men, in modern times, who exceed Victor +Hugo in all that is noble and great. He is not simply a man of genius, a +poet, and an orator, he is in its full sense <i>a man</i>. Too many of the +brilliant men of France have lacked principle, have been ready to sell +themselves to the highest bidder. It has not been so with Victor Hugo, +and for that reason he is now an exile from the shores of his native +land. His passionately eloquent orations, delivered on various sad +occasions since he was exiled, have awakened the interest of the world, +and people who cared little for him as the successful author, feel a +deep sympathy for the noble exile.</p> + +<p>Victor Hugo was born at Besançon in 1803, and of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>rich family. His +father was a general in the service of Joseph Bonaparte, who was then +king of Naples. He followed him into Spain, where he distinguished +himself by his valor. He returned in 1814, and journeyed through Italy. +Victor was then very young, but accompanied his father on his Italian +tour. When but fourteen years old, Victor wrote a poem, to compete with +many older persons for a prize, and though his poem was undoubtedly +deserving of the reward, yet from his extreme youth, only honorable +mention was made of his effort. This early poetical ambition, however, +was an indication of his future career.</p> + +<p>When he was twenty-two years of age, Charles X. gave him an audience, +and Victor Hugo presented his majesty with some of his poetry. The king +handed it to Chateaubriand, who was near, and demanded his opinion.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "the youth has a sublime genius!"</p> + +<p>Hugo was displeased with the judgment of the Academy, which had not +given him the prize for his first verses, and he wrote for an Academy at +Toulouse, won several prizes, and was honored with a degree in the +presence of Chateaubriand. He lived during this time in Paris, with his +mother, who loved him to idolatry, and the affection was as warmly +returned on the part of her son. She was a royalist and suggested his +first poems. When she died he was overwhelmed with grief, and wrote a +sad romance entitled <i>Han d' Glande</i>, which was severely attacked by the +critics, many of whom knew his youth. But he triumphed over them all, as +genuine genius is always sure to do. He now fell in love with a +beautiful young girl, named Mademoiselle Foucher, and they married. He +was twenty, and she was but fifteen years of age. They loved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>each other +fondly, and if they were poor in gold, they were "very rich in virtues."</p> + +<p>The publisher who brought out Hugo's romance, says that he visited the +young family to purchase the second edition, and found them living in a +pleasant little dwelling with two children to grace their fireside. Here +came troops of friends, for Hugo had already made them among the wise +and great. The politicians of the day, Thiers and others, were his +companions. He often took his wife and children and went out to saunter +in the public gardens or on the Boulevards, and wherever they went they +carried happiness with them.</p> + +<p>Hugo was still a royalist. It was more a sentiment than a principle with +him, for he had not yet regarded politics with conscientious study. In +1826 a publisher made a collection of his poems, and issued them in one +volume. It brought him wealth and renown. But though all this while Hugo +was very happy in his family, yet the critics were bitter in their +attacks upon him. He was accused of plagiarism, and especially when a +new romance of his came out, he was accused of stealing it from Walter +Scott.</p> + +<p>The poet lost his first-born, and Madame Hugo took it so much to heart +that he thought it wise to close their residence. Besides, changes had +been made in the street so as to render it less pleasant as a residence. +After one or two changes he finally settled down in the Place Royale, +where he spent many years of his life. This dwelling was furnished to +suit the taste of a poet, and was beautiful in every respect. It was +filled with statues, paintings, and exquisite furniture, and his study, +especially, was a charming apartment. Here his friends came—and they +were numerous as the leaves upon a tree. Young authors <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>flocked to his +rooms and received counsel, and old men came to enjoy his conversation.</p> + +<p>He next published <i>The Last days of the Condemned, and Notre Dame de +Paris</i>, which had a fine success, and covered his name with glory in +France. He now wrote <i>Marion Delorme</i> for the theater, but the censor +would not allow it to be played. The king himself was appealed to, and +confirmed the decision of his officer, and it appeared after his fall. +This was the play which Dumas stole. When this play was rejected by the +censor, Hugo wrote another for the theatrical manager who had engaged +it, entitled <i>Hernani</i>, which had a splendid success. The opposition +which he met from the actors and actresses was at first great, but he +conquered all obstacles. The king, as if to appease him for the conduct +of his censor, gave him a pension of six thousand francs a year, but he +nobly refused to take a franc of it.</p> + +<p>The success of <i>Delorme</i> was very great, and the Parisian public wept +over it in dense crowds. One peculiarity of Hugo has been, that having +once written a book or play he never recalls a sentence. Not to please +managers, censors, or friends even, has he ever recalled a line, though +it were to save himself from severe penalties. He has always been too +proud and too conscientious to stoop in this way to either the populace +or the government. In the meantime his house was besieged with +publishers and theatrical managers, who besought him to use his pen for +them.</p> + +<p>He wrote, when once at a piece of work, with rapidity, and applied +himself very closely. In writing <i>Notre Dame</i>, he was occupied for six +months, and during that time he did not leave his house for a day, such +were the urgent demands of his publisher upon him. He wrote for his +pub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>lishers and for the managers and constantly increased his +reputation. <i>Lucretia Borgia</i> appeared on the stage and had an almost +unheard of success. It eclipsed all of his plays which had preceded it. +He also published two or three volumes of songs at this time, which were +enthusiastically received by the French people. He was always the warm +friend of the poor. In 1834 he petitioned the duke of Orleans in favor +of a poor family he chanced to know, and the duke gave a hundred louis +to relieve them. In return the poet addressed the duke in song.</p> + +<p>The manager who had brought out <i>Lucretia Borgia</i> offered him ten +thousand francs for another, and very soon <i>Marie Tudor</i> made its +appearance. There seems to have been trouble in its representation, from +quarrels between rival actors. The manager acted dishonorably toward the +poet. He announced his new play in an objectionable manner. Hugo +complained, and he promised amendment the next day. But when the next +day's announcement came Hugo saw no change, and what was worse still, +the manager tried to deceive him by asserting that the bills were +altered according to his wish. Hugo upbraided him for his falsehood, and +demanded the play back. The manager would not give it up, for he had +announced it. Said he:</p> + +<p>"To-morrow your play will appear, and I will cause it to prove a +failure."</p> + +<p>"Instead of that," replied Hugo, "I will make your theater bankrupt."</p> + +<p>The representation came on, and it proved eminently successful. But Hugo +would not forgive such deception and insolence. He wrote a new +play—<i>Angelo</i>—for a rival theater. In vain the old manager offered a +high price for it. In a few months he and his theater were bankrupt, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>and he found, too late, that it was unwise to attempt to deceive and +insult a man like Victor Hugo.</p> + +<p>It is said that M. Hugo has a talent of high order for music, and also +for drawing. During the cholera of 1832, he filled an album with +caricatures to amuse his wife and children, and draw their attention +from the dreadful ravages of the epidemic.</p> + +<p>In 1841 Victor Hugo was elected a member of the Academy. Two years later +he was raised to the dignity of peer of the realm. The duke of Orleans +congratulated him upon the event.</p> + +<p>A short time previous to this, Barbes was condemned to death. An +application for a reprieve had been made to the king without being +granted. A sister of Barbes came to Hugo, and besought him to use his +influence with the king. Marie Wirtemburg had just died and the count de +Paris was but a few weeks old. Hugo addressed a few touching lines of +poetry to the king, and with allusions to the dead and the newly born, +besought a pardon. It was instantly granted.</p> + +<p>The history of Hugo from this time forward the whole world knows. He was +an honest and hearty reformer. He was not content with glory as a man of +letters—he wished to be of service to his suffering fellow-men. He was +to a certain extent a communist, and a thorough republican. He hated the +man Louis Napoleon, and was exiled. Belgium would not hold him, nor +London—the latter was too full of smoke and fog to be endured. He said, +after trying London, "The good Lord will not take the sunshine, too, +from us."</p> + +<p>He lives now in the island of Jersey, in a simple English mansion, but +very comfortable. Behind it there is a beautiful garden terminated by a +terrace, upon which the sea <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>lashes its foam when the wind is high. From +the window the sad exile beholds the distant shores of his native +France.</p> + +<p>In his retreat he has occupied himself with literary labors. He has been +writing a volume of poetry to appear in the epic form. He has also been +busy upon a volume of philosophy, a drama of five acts in which Mazarin +is to figure as the principal character, two volumes of lyrical poetry, +and a romance upon a modern subject, for which he has been offered one +hundred and twenty thousand francs.</p> + +<p>Madame Hugo and the children partake of exile with Victor Hugo, together +with ten grandchildren. Charles Hugo, his son, who is with him, is +distinguished as an author, but busies himself principally on the island +in taking daguerreotype views. He has already made a hundred different +pictures of his illustrious father, and sent them to his admirers in +France.</p> + +<p>Victor Hugo is a little over fifty years of age, and is full of life and +animation. Let us hope that by political changes, or the clemency of the +tyrant who sits upon the French throne, that he may soon return to the +land he loves so well.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="JULES_JANIN" id="JULES_JANIN"></a>JULES JANIN</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_117.jpg" width="300" height="327" alt="JULES JANIN." title="JULES JANIN." /> +<span class="caption">JULES JANIN.</span> +</div> + + +<p>"Oh! what a year in which to be born!" exclaims Janin of the year +1804—the year in which Napoleon, conqueror at the Pyramids and Marengo, +placed upon his head the imperial crown—and the year which gave birth +to the prince of French critics—Jules Janin. His parents were poor and +humble, but honest and intelligent, and resided in Saint Etienne, near +Lyons. At Lyons he entered school and became distinguished. At fifteen +he imagined himself well versed in Greek and Latin, and in short, was a +young egotist. His family fostered this self love. An uncle said, "Let +me send the prodigy to college in Paris!" An aunt paid the expenses of +the first year—for he entered the college of Louis-le-Grand. This aunt +loved the boy dearly, and for a week before he left, could not see him, +such was her tenderness.</p> + +<p>The whole family expected great things of him, and thought that his +talents would be immediately recognized. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>But they were doomed to +disappointment. He gained no prize in college, and no honors. His aunt +had expected that after one year, such were his talents, that the +college would gladly give him the rest of his education, but she was +obliged to support him for two years more.</p> + +<p>He made himself unpopular with his teachers in college from fighting the +Jesuits. When he left college he would not return to Saint Etienne, +where his companions would mock him. He resolved to stay in Paris, even +if he starved. He wrote to his kind old aunt, who at once came to Paris +and made a quiet home for him. But this would not do—the rent of the +house was half her income. He first took a class of pupils and taught +them Latin, Greek, and history. This was a slight addition to their +income. Summer came and his pupils left. He now was forced to engage +with a professor of a boarding-school, at the rate of ten dollars a +month, to teach. The professor was unfortunate and his furniture was +attached, he, at the time, owing Jules for three months' work. He was an +honest and good man, and Jules offered to give him the sum due, though +he had not money enough left to get him a dinner. But he contrived a +plan by which he cheated the law officers of a part of their goods, and +got his pay. He was noted at this time more for his appetite than +anything else, and would sacrifice more for a good dinner, probably, +than for aught else. But in the absence of good living he took to +solitary reading, and acquired a taste for literature.</p> + +<p>He one day chanced to meet a college-friend who was a journalist.</p> + +<p>"I am miserable," said Janin.</p> + +<p>"Become a journalist, then," the friend replied, "if you have not an +income"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>That very night he was invited to dine with his friend, and made his +resolution to live by his pen. He commenced his articles in the +journals, writing at first criticisms upon theatrical performances. He +at once commenced his system of flattering those who paid him well +either in praise or gold, and denouncing authors and actors who were +independent of him.</p> + +<p>His kind aunt now died, after having expended her last franc, and Janin +took up a new residence. He soon acquired such fame in his critical +writings, that he was at ease. He engaged with the <i>Figaro</i> journal, and +contributed powerfully to its success. He was, of course, well paid for +his services. He fell in love with a young girl in humble life. An +artist did the same. The two men quarreled about her, and Janin wrote a +book in which the woman was the heroine. But he was unsuccessful—the +young woman married the painter and was happy. Janin rose to the highest +position as a fashionable critic in Paris, and still he has never +acquired beyond France the reputation of a profound critic and scholar.</p> + +<p>In October, 1841, he was married, and instead of spending a pleasant +evening, he celebrated his marriage by going to his room and writing a +newspaper article, greatly to his prejudice amongst his friends. Of late +it has been remarked, that Jules Janin is less imperious in his +criticisms than he was formerly. He has been very severely reviewed by +Dumas and Roqueplan, and has behaved more wisely since.</p> + +<p>We have not sketched Jules Janin as a great man, but as a man who makes +great pretensions, and who has long been acknowledged, in Paris and +France, as the prince of critics.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h2>PLACES OF BLOOD—PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.</h2> + + +<p>Almost every fine square in Paris has a high-sounding name, For +instance, that spot which has been the theater of so much tragedy, upon +which so much human blood has been poured, is called the <i>Place de la +Concorde</i>. It much more appropriately might be called the Place of +Blood. So there are other, many other spots in Paris, which deserve a +scarlet title, and when wandering a stranger through its streets, +whenever I came to one of these, I was strongly inclined to stop and +indulge in reverie. The past history of France and Paris arose before my +mind, and I could not, if I would, away with it. The characters who +acted parts in Paris and perished in those places were before me, and +their histories lent a powerful interest to the spot upon which they +suffered and died. The reader can have no adequate idea of the feelings +with which a stranger visits these places of sad memories, unless he +recalls them to mind, nor will it be out place for me to do so.</p> + +<p>A prison was often pointed out to me in which the celebrated Madame +Roland was confined, and the spot upon which she suffered death. I gazed +long at the grim walls which shut out the sunlight from that noble +woman—long upon the stones which drank her blood in the Place de la +Concorde. Her whole history was as vividly before me as if I were living +in the terrible days of blood. Her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>maiden name was Manon Philipon, and +her father was an engraver. They lived in Paris, where she grew up with +the sweetest of dispositions, and one of the finest of intellects. Her +mother was a woman of refinement and culture. She was excessively fond +of books and flowers, so much so that many years later she wrote, "I can +forget the injustice of men and my sufferings, among books and flowers." +Her parents gave her good masters, and she applied herself to her +studies with ardor and delight. They were never harsh in their treatment +of her, but always gentle and kind. She acted nearly as she pleased, but +seems not to have been spoiled by such a discipline as we might have +expected. When she was only nine years old, Plutarch fell into her +hands, and she was intensely interested in it—more so than with all the +fairy tales she had ever read. From him she drank in republicanism at +that early age. She also read Fenelon and Tasso. She spent nearly the +whole of her time in reading, though she assisted her mother somewhat in +her household duties. The family belonged to the middle-classes, and +despised the debaucheries of the higher and lower orders of the people. +The mother was pious, and Manon was placed for a year in a convent. She +then spent a year with her grandparents, and returned to her father's +house. Her course of reading was very much enlarged, and her attention +was now specially directed to philosophical works. She was thus a great +deal alone, and gave little of her time to gossip and promenade. She +went, however, once to Versailles, and saw the routine of court, but +returned with a great delight to her old books and the heroes in them. +She was dissatisfied with France and Frenchmen. She says: "I sighed as I +thought of Athens, where I could have equally admired the fine arts +without being wounded by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>the spectacle of despotism. I transported +myself in thought to Greece—I was present at the Olympic games, and I +grew angry at finding myself French. Thus struck by all of grand which +is offered by the republics of antiquity, I forgot the death of +Socrates, the exile of Aristides, the sentence of Phocion."</p> + +<p>She began, at last, to repine at her situation. She felt conscious of +her abilities, and that her thoughts were high and noble, and she longed +for a higher position, in which she might use her talents. Her father +grew more and more poor and unable to care for his family, and her +mother was anxious that she should be married. She did not lack offers. +She was beautiful and accomplished, and many suitors presented +themselves, but not one whom she could love. Her mother now died, to her +great sorrow. She now persuaded her father to retire from the business +which he was ruining, and save the little property he had left, and she +retired to a little convent. She prepared her own food, lived very +simply, and saw only her own relations.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that Manon became acquainted, through a +school-friend, with M. Roland, who was the younger son of a poor, but +noble family, and whose lot in life was not an easy one. He was now +considerably advanced in years, and was superintendent of the +manufactories at Rouen and Amiens. He had written several works upon +these subjects, and was somewhat celebrated. She took great pleasure in +his society, and after five years of friendship, respected, and perhaps +loved him. He offered himself and was finally accepted. She says: "In +short, if marriage was as I thought, an austere union, an association in +which the woman usually burdens herself with the happiness of two +individuals, it were better that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>I should exert my abilities and my +courage in so honorable a task, than in the solitude in which I lived."</p> + +<p>The married couple visited Switzerland and England, and then settled +down near Lyons, with her husband's relations. She had one child—a +daughter—and her life and happiness consisted in taking care of her and +her husband. She thus gives a beautiful picture of her life:</p> + +<p>"Seated in my chimney corner at eleven, before noon, after a peaceful +night and my morning tasks—my husband at his desk, and his little girl +knitting—I am conversing with the former, and overlooking the work of +the latter; enjoying the happiness of being warmly sheltered in the +bosom of my dear little family, and writing to a friend, while the snow +is falling on so many poor wretches overwhelmed by sorrow and penury. I +grieve over their fate, I repose on my own, and make no account of those +family annoyances which appeared formerly to tarnish my felicity."</p> + +<p>The revolution came amid all their sweet and quiet pleasure, but found +her ready for it. M. Roland was elected to the National Assembly, to +represent Lyons. The family at once repaired to Paris, and the house of +Roland was at once the rendezvous for the talented, the men of genius, +but more especially the Girondists, as the more conservative of the +republicans were called. The genius and beauty of Madame Roland soon +became known, and made her house the fashionable resort of the <i>elité</i> +of Paris. The arrest of the king filled her with alarm. She was not +willing to push matters to such extremes. She was one of the noblest of +republicans, out she was merciful and moderate in some of her views. Her +husband again retired to the country—to-Lyons. Amid the solitude of +their own home she grew discontented. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>could not, having tasted the +sweets of life in Paris, abandon it without a pang of sorrow. The +following winter a new ministry was formed of the Girondists, and her +husband was named minister for the interior. They again returned to +Paris, and now in greater state. Roland was one of the most honest men +of the revolution, but was so precise and methodical in his papers which +were prepared for the public, that without the assistance of his wife, +his success would have been far less than it was.</p> + +<p>M. Roland wishing to save the king, if possible, determined upon +remonstrating with him upon his course. Madame Roland wrote the letter +of remonstrance, though, of course, it appeared in his name. It was bold +and severe, and accomplished no good. The result of it was, that Roland +was dismissed from the office, and retired to private life. Soon after, +however, he was recalled under the republic, and endeavored to do his +duty. Madame Roland writes in September of this year: "We are under the +knife of Marat and Robespierre. These men agitate the people and +endeavor to turn them against the National Assembly." She and her +husband were heartily and zealously for the republic, but they were +moderate, and entirely opposed to those brutal men who were in favor of +filling Paris and France with blood. Madame Roland writes, later: +"Danton leads all; Robespierre is his puppet; Marat holds his torch and +dagger: this ferocious tribune reigns, and we are his slaves until the +moment when we shall become his victims. You are aware of my enthusiasm +for the revolution: well, I am ashamed of it; it is deformed by monsters +and become hideous." Madame Roland now struggled to overthrow the +Jacobins—but was only overthrown herself. She was at this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>time +celebrated for her wit and beauty. A writer of that time says of her:</p> + +<p>"I met Madame Roland several times in former days: her eyes, her figure, +and hair, were of remarkable beauty; her delicate complexion had a +freshness and color which, joined to her reserved yet ingenuous +appearance, imparted a singular air of youth. Wit, good sense, propriety +of expression, keen reasoning, <i>naive</i> grace, all flowed without effort +from her roseate lips."</p> + +<p>During the horrible massacres of September Roland acted with great +heroism. While the streets of Paris ran with human blood, he wrote to +the mayor, demanding him to interfere in behalf of the sufferers. Marat +denounced him as a traitor, and from that moment his life was in danger. +Madame Roland was charged with instigating the unpopular acts of her +husband by the radicals, and she was in equal danger with her husband. +After the execution of the king, Roland became discouraged, and +convinced that he could do no more for France, and he retired with his +wife to the country. Here they lived in constant danger of arrest. +Roland finding the danger so great, made good his escape, but she was +arrested a short time after. She had retired to rest at night, when +suddenly her doors were burst open and the house filled with a hundred +armed men. She was instantly parted from her child and sent off to +Paris. One of the men who had her in charge, cried out, "Do you wish the +window of the carriage to be closed?" "No, gentlemen," she replied, +"innocence, however oppressed, will never assume the appearance of +guilt. I fear the eyes of no one, and will not hide myself."</p> + +<p>She was shut up in prison at once. She asked for books—for Plutarch, +and Thompson's Seasons. On the 24th of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>June she was liberated, and then +suddenly rearrested. This deception was more than cruel, it was +infamous. She was placed in the prison of St. Pelaige—a filthy and +miserable place. The wife of the jailor pitied her and gave her a neat, +upper apartment, and brought her books and flowers, and she was +comparatively happy again. It was in this prison that she wrote her own +memoirs. She usually kept a stout heart, but at times when thoughts of +her husband and child came over her, she was overwhelmed with grief.</p> + +<p>The chief Girondists now began to fall under the stroke of the +guillotine, and her turn was quickly coming. The day that her friend +Brissot perished, she was transferred to the <i>Conciergerie></i> the prison +which suggested this sketch of her to my mind. I went over this prison, +and the very apartment was pointed out to me in which Madame Roland was +confined. Here she spent her last days, and wretched days they were, +indeed. But she conducted herself nobly and courageously through all. +The mockery of a trial was held, and she wrote her own defense, a most +eloquent production. She was sentenced to death in twenty-four hours. +Twenty-two victims had just poured out their blood, and she was to +follow their example. A French writer speaks of her at that time as +"full of attractions, tall, of an elegant figure, her physiognomy +animated, but sorrow and long imprisonment had left traces of melancholy +on her face that tempered her natural vivacity. Something more than is +usually found in the eyes of woman, beamed in her large, dark eyes, full +of sweetness and expression. She often spoke to me at the grate, with +the freedom and courage of a great man. This republican language falling +from the lips of a pretty French woman, for whom the scaffold <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>was +prepared, was a miracle of the revolution. We gathered attentively +around her in a species of admiration and stupor. Her conversation was +serious, without being cold. She spoke with a purity, a melody, and a +measure which rendered her language a soul of music of which the ear +never tired. She spoke of the deputies who had just perished with +respect, but without effeminate pity; reproaching them even for not +having taken sufficiently strong measures. Sometimes her sex had +mastery, and we perceived that she had wept over the recollection of her +daughter and husband."</p> + +<p>She was led out to execution on the 10th of November, on that place of +blood—<i>La Concorde</i>. She was dressed in white, and inspired the +multitudes who saw her with admiration. Another victim accompanied her. +She exhorted him to ascend first, that his courage might not be shaken +by witnessing her death. She turned to the statue of Liberty, +exclaiming, "Oh, Liberty! how many crimes are committed in thy name." +She was thirty-nine years of age, and though she ended her life thus +young, she had achieved immortality.</p> + +<p>M. Roland was at this time in safety in Rouen, but when he heard of the +death of his noble wife, he resolved to give himself up at once to the +authorities. The interests of his child, however, tempted him to another +course. Should he give himself up he would certainly perish, and by the +law of France his possessions would be confiscated, and would not, +therefore, descend to his child. Were he to die, even by his own hand, +the case would be different—he would save the property for his child. +Five days after his wife perished upon the scaffold, he fell upon his +sword on a high road near Rouen. The following lines were found upon his +person:</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The blood that flows in torrents in my country dictates my resolve: +indignation caused me to quit my retreat. As soon as I heard of the +murder of my wife, I determined no longer to remain on an earth tainted +by crime."</p> + +<p>I had occasion often while in Paris to cross the street of the <i>Ecole de +Medicine</i>. It is a rather pleasant street, and leads into the street of +<i>Ancienne Comedie</i>, named so after the <i>Theater Francaise</i>, which was +formerly located upon it. Just opposite it is a <i>cafe</i> which Voltaire +used to frequent, and I have stopped to take a cup of chocolate in it. +But one day I hunted up number eighteen of the street of <i>Ecole de +Medicine</i>. The house was one which Marat used to occupy in the time of +the great revolution. We paused a moment upon the threshold, and then +passed up a flight of stairs and entered the room where Marat used to +write so many of his blood-thirsty articles. A little room at that time +opened out of it, and in the apartment was a bath-room. He often wrote +in his bath in this room.</p> + +<p>The last day Marat lived, was the 13th of July, 1793, and it was spent +in this little room. He was the monster of the revolution, loved the +sight of blood as a tiger does, and his influence over the multitude +gave him power to sacrifice whoever he pleased. If he but pointed his +long finger at a man or woman, it was death to the victim. No one was +safe. Under his devilish prompting, already some of the truest +republicans in France had been beheaded, and every hour some unfortunate +man or woman fell beneath his hellish ferocity. Should a fiend be +allowed to personate liberty longer? Should a wretch whose very touch +scorched and blistered, whose breath was that of the lake of fire, any +longer be allowed to pollute France with his presence? These were the +questions which pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>sented themselves to the mind of a young +country-girl. Who would have thought that the young and beautiful +Charlotte Corday would have taken it upon herself to answer these +questions and avenge the murdered innocents?</p> + +<p>She had learned to love, to adore liberty, among the forests and hills +of her native country. She saw Marat perpetrating murders of the +blackest die in the name of liberty. He went further still, he +sacrificed her friends—the friends of liberty. She resolved that <i>the +wretch should die</i>. No one could suspect the dark-haired girl. +Enthusiastic to madness, she flew to Paris with but one thought filling +her breast—that she was amid the terrors of that time, in the absence +of all just law, commanded by God to finish the course of Marat. +Everything bent to this idea. She cared nothing for her own +life—nothing for her own happiness. She came to the threshold of the +house many a time and was turned away—she could not gain admittance. +Marat's mistress was jealous of him, and Charlotte Corday had heard of +this and feared that it would be impossible to see him alone. She +therefore wrote to the monster, and with great eloquence demanded a +private interview. The request was granted.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the 13th of July she came in person, and Marat ordered +that she be shown into his room. He lay in his bath, with his arms out +of water, writing. He looked up at her as she entered, and asked her +business. She used deception with him, declaring that some of his +bitterest enemies were concealed in the neighborhood of her country +home. She named, with truth, some of her dearest friends as these +enemies. "They shall die within forty-eight hours," said Marat. This was +enough—in an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>instant she plunged a dagger, which she had concealed +about her person, to the center of his heart.</p> + +<p>She was executed for this deed upon the <i>Place de la Concorde</i>. They +tell the story in France, to show how modest she was, that after her +head had fallen from the body a rough man pushed it one side with his +foot, <i>and her cheeks blushed scarlet</i>. Marat was interred with great +pomp in the Pantheon, but a succeeding generation did better justice to +his remains, for they were afterward, by order of government, +disinterred and thrown into a common sewer. I scarcely ever stopped on +the <i>Place de la Concorde</i> without thinking of Charlotte Corday, and +bringing up the dreadful scene in Marat's house, and her own execution. +I fancied her as she appeared that day—a smile upon her face, a wild +enthusiastic joy in her eyes, as if she had executed her task, and was +willing, glad, to leave such a horror-stricken land. No man can doubt +the purity of Charlotte Corday's character. She was no ordinary +murderer. She did not act from the promptings of anger, or to avenge +private wrongs. She felt it to be her duty to rid France of such an +unnatural monster, and undoubtedly thought herself God's minister of +vengeance.</p> + +<p>Another spot which may justly be denominated a place of blood, is the +Conciergerie. It is yet as grim and awful as ever, in its appearance. +The spot is still shown in the stones where the blood ran from the +swords of the human butchers. If the history of this prison were +written, it would make a dozen books, and some of the most heart-rending +tragedies would be unfolded to the world. The great and good, and the +wretchedly vile, have together lived within its walls and lost their +hopes of life, or their desire for it. I could never pass it without a +shudder, for though it was not so much a place of execution as a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>prison, yet so terrible a place was it that many a prisoner has +joyfully emerged from its dark walls to the scaffold. It has witnessed +the death of many a poor man and woman, stifled with its foul air, its +horrid associations, and the future with which it terrified its inmates. +Many a noble heart has been broken in its damp and dimly-lighted cells, +for it has existed for many centuries. As early as 1400 it was the scene +of wholesale butchery, and on St. Bartholomew's night, its bells rang +out upon the shuddering air, to add their voice with the others, which +filled every heart with fear.</p> + +<p>Paris is one of the most singular cities in the civilized world for one +thing—for the atrocities which it has witnessed. Certainly, in modern +times no city in the world has been the scene of such hideous acts as +the city of the fine arts. Deeds have been done within a century, which +would put a savage to the blush. The place is still pointed out where a +poor girl was burned by a slow fire. She had wounded a soldier, and as a +punishment, she was stripped naked, her breasts cut off, her skin +slashed by red hot sabres, while she was being burned. Her yells could +be heard over half Paris.</p> + +<p>Think, too, of later times—when Louis Napoleon aimed his cannon at the +houses of inoffensive people, and shot down, in cold blood, some of the +best inhabitants of Paris. A more hellish act was never perpetrated in +this world of ours than that—yet he is the patron of modern +civilization, and is on excellent terms with the amiable Queen Victoria. +I do not wonder that Rousseau argued that the +primitive and savage condition of man is to be preferred to French +civilization. This is one phase of Paris life as it is to-day, and as it +always has been, and it is right that the stranger should not pass it +by.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>Paris is crowded with such places as these I have been describing—spots +to which bloody histories cling. The paving-stones are, as it were, red +to this day with the blood they drank in the times of the revolution.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="PLACE_DE_LA_CONCORDE" id="PLACE_DE_LA_CONCORDE"></a>PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.</h3> + + +<p>There is no public square or place in the world, which in broad +magnificence surpasses the <i>Place de la Concorde</i>. The stranger can form +little idea of it, except by personal inspection. Stand in the center +and look which way you will, something grand or beautiful greets the +eye. Look toward the south, and see the fine building which contains the +senate chamber, the bridge over the Seine, and the <i>Quai de Orsay</i>. To +the north, and see the row of buildings named Place de la Concorde, with +their grand colonnades and the pretentious Madeleine. To the east, and +there the green forest of the Tuileries gardens, with its rich array of +flowers and statuary—and the palace—greets you, and farther away the +grand towers of Notre Dame. Or look where the sun sets—the Elysian +fields are all before you with their music and dancing and shows; their +two long promenades, and in the distance Napoleon's grand triumphal +arch.</p> + +<p>To look at the Place de la Concorde itself, you should stand upon the +bridge across the Seine—from its center look down upon the great open +<i>plaza</i>, see the wonderful fountains, gaze up at the obelisk of Luxor in +the center, and you will be struck with admiration of the grand scene +before you.</p> + +<p>But I confess that I was attracted to the Place de la <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>Concorde more by +the historical associations connected with it, than by its present +magnificence. Leaning upon the parapet of the bridge and looking down +upon the Seine, a pleasant July morning was present to my imagination, +and a crowd was gathered upon the place to witness an execution. The +slight form of a beautiful woman passes up yonder winding steps to the +block. Her hair is dark—not so dark, though, as her genius-lighted eyes +-and her forehead is white and nobly pure. She kneels, bows down her +head to the block, and is forever dead. It was Charlotte Corday, the +enthusiast, who assassinated Marat in his bath. I have seen the place +where she killed him—have looked at the very threshold where she waited +so long before she gained admittance. The house is standing yet, and the +room where Marat lay in his bath writing—where he looked up from his +manuscript at Charlotte Corday and promised death to some of her dearest +friends in a provincial town—where she plunged her dagger to the center +of his black heart!</p> + +<p>It was on the Place de la Concorde that Louis XVI expiated the crimes of +his ancestors upon the scaffold. One still October day the sweet though +proud Marie Antoinette came here, also, to die. The agony that she +suffered during her trial, and the day that she perished upon the +scaffold, no human thought can reckon. The French revolution taught a +fearful lesson to kings and queens; that if they would rule safely, it +must be through the hearts of their subjects, otherwise the vengeance of +an insulted and oppressed people will be sure to overtake them.</p> + +<p>One April day, amid sunshine and rain, that man of dark eyes, lofty +brow, and proud stature, the magnificent Danton, walked up the fatal +steps and knelt down to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>death. How strange! The man before whose nod +all Paris had trembled as if he had been a god—the man whose eloquence +could thrill the heart of France, was now a weak creature beneath the +iron arm of Robespierre. He had sentenced hundreds to death upon this +spot, and was now condemned himself, by his old associate, to taste the +same bitter cup which he had so often held to the lips of others. This +act alone will fix the stain of ferocious cruelty upon the character of +Robespierre, however conscientious he may have been.</p> + +<p>And here, too, on that same day, Camille Desmoulins, the mad author and +revolutionist-editor, ended his young life. Many a time with his +comic—yet sometimes awfully tragic—pen, had he pointed with laughter +to the Place de la Concorde, and its streams of human blood. And now the +strange creature who one day laughed wildly in his glee and another was +all tears and rage, followed Danton, the man he had worshiped, to the +block. Robespierre was his old friend, he had written his praises upon +many a page, yet now he stood aloof, and raised not a hand to save the +poor editor, though he besought his aid with passionate eloquence.</p> + +<p>Three months later, and the Place de la Concorde witnessed the closing +scene of the revolution. On the 28th of the following July, Robespierre +and St. Just perished together on the scaffold. He whose very name, +articulated in whispers, had made households tremble as with a +death-ague, had lost his power, and was a feeble, helpless being. Cruel, +stern, without a feeling of mercy in his heart, awful to contemplate in +his steel severity, he was, after all, almost the only man of the +revolution who was strictly, sternly, rigidly honest. No one can doubt +his integrity. He might have been dictator if he would, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>saved his +life, but the principles which were a part of his very nature, would not +allow him to accept such power, even from the people. His friends plead +with streaming eyes; it was a case of life or death; but he said, +"Death, rather than belie my principles!" and he perished.</p> + +<p>As I looked down upon the very spot where stood the scaffold, and saw +that all around was so peaceful, I could hardly realize that within half +a century such a terrible drama had been enacted there—a drama whose +closing acts illustrate the truth of that scripture which saith, "Whoso +taketh the sword shall perish by the sword."</p> + +<p>Louis XVI. first ascends the scaffold, looking mournfully at Danton, but +saying never a word; and then Vergniaud, the pure of heart, executed by +his friend Danton; then Danton, thinking remorsefully of Vergniaud and +cursing Robepierre; and last, Robespierre!</p> + +<p>The Place de la Concorde was originally an open spot, where were +collected heaps of rubbish, but in 1763 the authorities of the city of +Paris determined to clear it up and erect upon it a statue in honor of +Louis XV. The statue was destroyed by the populace in 1792, and the +place named <i>Place de la Révolution</i>. In 1800 it took the name it at +present retains. In 1816 Louis XVIII. caused the statue of Louis XV. to +be replaced, though still later that of Louis XVI. was erected here, and +the former placed in the Champs Elysees.</p> + +<p>The obelisk of Luxor is perhaps the most prominent feature of the place. +It is a magnificent relic of Egypt, and is one of two obelisks which +stood in front of the temple of Thebes. It was erected fifteen hundred +and fifty years before Christ, by Sesostris, in the eighteenth Egyptian +dynasty. Mehemet Ali made a present of the obelisk to the French +government. On account of its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>enormous size, great difficulty was +experienced in removing it to Paris. A road was constructed from the +obelisk to the Nile, and eight hundred men were occupied three months in +removing it to the banks of the river, where was a flat-bottomed vessel +built expressly for it. A part of the vessel had to be sawed off to +receive it, so great was its size. It descended the Nile, passed the +Rosetta bar, and with great care was towed to Cherbourg. It must be +remembered that the obelisk is a single stone, seventy-two feet high, +and weighs five hundred thousand pounds. On the 16th of August, 1836, it +was drawn up an inclined plane to the top of the pedestal where it now +stands. In the following October, the public ceremony of placing it +occurred, in the presence of the royal family, and more than a hundred +and fifty thousand other persons.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_136.jpg" width="400" height="338" alt="PLACE DE LA CONCORDE." title="PLACE DE LA CONCORDE." /><span class="caption"><br />PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.</span> +</div> + +<p>The cost of removal from Thebes to Paris was two millions francs, but +not a life was lost from the beginning to the end of the transaction. It +stands upon a single block <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>of gray granite, the total height of obelisk +and pedestal being about a hundred feet.</p> + +<p>There are two fountains upon the Place, dedicated, one to Maritime, the +other to Fluvial navigation. The basin of each is fifty feet in +diameter, out of which rise two smaller ones, the latter inverted. Six +tall figures are seated around the larger basins, their feet resting on +the prows of vessels, separated from each other by large dolphins which +spout water into the higher basins. But the beauty of the Place de la +Concorde is not so much the result of any one feature as the combination +of the whole, and as such it is unequaled in Europe.</p> + +<p>From the Place de la Concorde one has a fine view of the Arch of +Triumph, which was erected by Napoleon in honor of his great victories.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h2>THE LOUVRE—PUBLIC GARDENS—LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS—THE GOBELINS.</h2> + +<h3>THE LOUVRE.</h3> + + +<p>The subject is hackneyed and old—what can <i>I</i> say about the Louvre +which will be new to the reader? However, to write a book on Paris, and +make no mention of the Louvre, would be like acting the play of Hamlet, +with Hamlet omitted. I make no pretensions to critical skill in +reference to paintings or architecture, I only give the impressions of a +man who loves both when they seem beautiful to him. I am no such art +enthusiast that I love to wander through galleries of naked and sensual +pictures, though they do show great genius. Nor can the glitter and +grandeur of a thousand public buildings hide from my eyes the squalor +and wretchedness of the common people.</p> + +<p>I will not give a precise description of the Louvre, but record the +things which struck me most forcibly.</p> + +<p>The foreigner by showing his passport is admitted any day into the +Louvre, though certain days are specified for the public to enter, and +upon others the artists of Paris are busy in studying and copying the +works of the masters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_139.jpg" width="500" height="304" alt="THE LOUVRE." title="THE LOUVRE." /> +<span class="caption">THE LOUVRE.</span> +</div> + +<p>It was one of those days, when the Louvre was occupied by the artists, +that I presented my American passport at one of the entrances, and was +politely invited to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>pass in. My companion was a French artist, who +had kindly offered to guide me over the renowned collection of +paintings. The visit was much pleasanter to me from the fact that no +crowd of visitors was present, and it was a novel sight to behold the +young artists of Paris engaged in their work. I have mentioned in +another part of this book that no pictures of living artists are allowed +a place in the Louvre. The Luxembourg Gallery is the place for all such, +and the Louvre collection is therefore made up of paintings from the +hands of all the old masters. It is for this reason that the Parisian +artists fill the rooms of the Louvre so constantly—either to copy some +gem in the vast collection, or by practice, to catch some of the genius +of the master-hand.</p> + +<p>The first picture-room we entered is represented to be the finest for +the exhibition of pictures in the world. Its splendor was really very +great. The pictures in it are of immense size, and they require a strong +and clear light. It is called the Grand Saloon, and is divided by +projecting arcades which are supported by fine marble columns. The +length is one thousand three hundred and twenty-two feet, and the +breadth forty-two feet. The ceilings and the walls are completely +covered by pictures, the number of them being one thousand four hundred. +Those by French masters number three hundred and eighty, by the Flemish +and German five hundred and forty, and by the Italian four hundred and +eighty. The greater part of the collection was made by Napoleon, and +though many of the finest pictures were taken away by the allies in +1815, yet it is still one of the largest collections in the world. To +stand in this room and gaze at leisure upon some of the finest paintings +in the world, was a delight I had never before felt. It is +indescribable, yet it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>none the less real. I could not, as my friend +the artist did, point out the peculiar excellences of each, and the +faults, nor compare one with another critically, but I could feel the +same thrill of pleasure which he did, and I found that the picture which +he declared to be the finest, was that before which I delayed longest. +It certainly is no more necessary for a man to be an art-critic to love +pictures, than it is to be a botanist to love flowers. I admit that one +must be a critic, to a degree, to <i>thoroughly</i> appreciate the art of +painting, but that is another thing. The common people in France are +universally fond of pictures, much more so than the English. The +Americans are next to the French in ideality, notwithstanding their +great practicality. The common people of England are far behind those of +America in their fondness for the beautiful—at least I judge so from a +pretty fair experience. America as yet, to be sure, can show few works +of art, but the vast number of enlightened Americans who continually +visit Europe, and many for the purpose of seeing the grand and beautiful +in art, tells the story. The English upper-classes are undoubtedly +well-educated in art, but not the other classes. But I must not digress.</p> + +<p>The second room we visited was the <i>Salle des Bijoux</i>, and was entirely +occupied by vases, jewels, and rare and costly cups. I was much pleased +with an Arabian basin of splendid workmanship. There were also articles +of toilette given by the ancient republic of Venice to Marie de Medicis, +one casket alone being worth many thousands of dollars.</p> + +<p>The next apartment we entered contains copies of Raphael's frescoes in +the Vatican at Rome; but the next room interested me more, for it +contains Grecian statuary and antiquities. The southern part of Italy +and Etruria, Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>culaneum and Pompeii, are all represented in the +collection. One striking feature of this hall is, that the ceilings are +covered with paintings of the best artists. One represents Vesuvius +receiving fire from Jupiter to consume Herculaneum and Pompeii; another, +Cybele protecting the two cities from the fires of Vesuvius.</p> + +<p>The <i>Hall du Trone</i>, which we next visited, contained a great variety of +beautiful pictures. One is a representation of the Genius of Glory +supported by Virtue, with a scroll on which are written the names of the +heroes of France—the warriors, statesmen, and great writers. There are +in this apartment many exquisite vases, and among them four of Sevres +porcelain, and one of Berlin porcelain, a present from the king of +Prussia. There are, also, two very fine Chinese side-boards and +specimens of Chinese sculpture.</p> + +<p>We next looked into the <i>Musee Egyptian</i>, which contains Egyptian +curiosities, and the ceilings are painted, but, of course, by modern +authors, as they are executed not upon canvas, but upon the hard +ceiling. One of the paintings represents Egypt as being saved by +Joseph—another, and one of the finest of the ceiling decorations in the +Louvre, is by Horace Vernet. It represents Julian II. giving orders to +Michæl Angelo, Raphael, and Bramante to construct St. Peters.</p> + +<p>The <i>Galerie Francaise</i> is filled with paintings of the French school, +but none of them are by living painters. Many of them are unquestionably +fine specimens of art, but as they were principally portraits of men +more distinguished by their position than by any genius, I was not +interested in the collection.</p> + +<p>Very near the French gallery, there is an alcove in which Henry IV. used +often to sleep, and where he at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>last died. His portrait is now +exhibited in it. In another little recess the suit of armor which Henry +II. wore on the day of his death, is shown to the stranger. It was in +the year 1559. The day was very hot and the king let down his helmet for +fresh air. The royal party were engaged in a tournament, when the +tilting-spear of the count de Montgomerie pierced the king's eye, and +through it his brain, and he died.</p> + +<p>The Spanish gallery contains many fine specimens of the works of the +Spanish masters, Velasquez, Murillo, and others.</p> + +<p>The Standish Collection is so called, because it was given to Louis +Phillippe in 1838, by an Englishman by the name of Standish. It includes +many first-class paintings, and a bible once owned by Cardinal Ximenes, +now valued at twenty-five thousand francs. Before Louis Phillippe died, +he claimed this collection as his private property. He had no intention +of taking it away, but wished to test his claim to it. It was +acknowledged, and he then bequeathed it to the Louvre.</p> + +<p>It is impossible for me in a brief sketch to even mention <i>all</i> the +apartments in the Louvre, and I must pass by many. The upper floor is +devoted to a Marine museum. It contains fourteen rooms, all well-filled +with curiosities. Among them I noticed some excellent models of brigs, +ships, men-of-war, Chinese junks, etc. There is in this suite of rooms a +fine display of American curiosities. It first struck me that Colton's +collection must be before me, but I soon discovered my mistake.</p> + +<p>The Louvre contains a spacious museum of antiquities beneath the +painting-galleries. There is also a museum of modern sculpture on the +ground-floor. It contains the finest specimens of French sculpture, as +well as the mas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>ter-pieces of foreign sculptors. In the first room there +is one of Michael Angelo's best pieces—the Master and his Slave. It is, +indeed, a master-piece. One of Canova's pieces—a Cupid and a +Psyche—thrilled me with its exceeding beauty.</p> + +<p>But I must say a few words respecting the building of the Louvre. The +eastern facade is one of the finest specimens of architecture that any +age can boast. The colonnade is composed of twenty-eight Corinthian +columns. There is a gallery behind them in which you may promenade, +looking out upon the streets below. The southern front of the Louvre, +seen from one of the bridges of the river, with its forty Corinthian +pilasters and sculptures, is a magnificent sight.</p> + +<p>The building of the Louvre forms a perfect square, and after visiting +the different galleries, the stranger will find that he has completed +the circuit. The gateways are fine and richly ornamented with +sculptures, and the court is a pleasant one. Each side of the building +measures four hundred and eight feet.</p> + +<p>In the year 1200, Phillip Augustus used a castle which existed on the +present site of the Louvre, for a state prison. Charles V. made +additions to the building and placed the Royal Library in it. The +present building was begun by Francis I., in 1528, and the southern side +of the Louvre as it now exists was his work. Henry II., Henry IV., and +Louis XIII., successively added to it, and in still later time, Louis +XIV., Louis XV., Charles X., Louis Phillippe, and Napoleon III., have +done the same.</p> + +<p>Charles X. stood in one of the windows of the Louvre overlooking the +Seine, and fired upon the poor victims of the massacre of St. +Bartholomew. In July, 1830, the people made a terrible attack upon it, +and it was cour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>ageously defended by the Swiss Guards, until everyone +of them perished.</p> + +<p>The Louvre is one of the noblest piles in Europe, and as a +painting-gallery, it reflects great credit upon France. I used to +frequent it, yet I must, to be honest, confess that many of its pictures +are too sensual and licentious to suit my taste. Are such pictures as +can be found in the French gallery, pictures which express sensuality +and debauchery, productive of good?</p> + +<p>Is it well to look at so much nakedness, even if it be executed with the +highest art? In portions of the Louvre there is altogether too much +nakedness, and I humbly hope that American ladies will never get so +accustomed to such sights that they can stare at them in the presence of +gentlemen without a blush. I now allude to the most licentious pictures +in the collection. I saw French women stop and criticise pictures which +I could not look at, in their presence, at least—pictures which +exhibited the human form in a state of nudity, and at the same time +expressed the most shameful sensuality and portrayed the most licentious +attitudes. I cannot believe a woman of perfectly pure mind can delight +to look at such pictures in a public gallery. But this nakedness is all +of a piece with many other things which characterize French society, and +but shows the corrupt state of the morals of the French people.</p> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PUBLIC_GARDENS" id="PUBLIC_GARDENS"></a>PUBLIC GARDENS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_148.jpg" width="500" height="300" alt="JARDIN DES TUILLERIES." title="JARDIN DES TUILLERIES." /> +<span class="caption">JARDIN DES TUILLERIES.</span> +</div> + +<p>The gardens of Paris are almost numberless. Some of them are free, and +others are open only to those who pay an entrance fee. The latter class +is great in numbers, from the aristocratic <i>Jardin d' Hiver</i> down to La +Chaumiere. In the first you meet the fashionable and rich, and in the +last, the students with their grisettes, and the still poorer classes. +But I will not describe this class of gardens in this article.</p> + +<p>The Tuileries gardens are perhaps as aristocratic as any in Paris, if +that term can be appropriately applied to a <i>free</i> garden, and they are +certainly among the finest in the world. They are filled with statues +and fountains, trees and flowers. The western part is entirely devoted +to trees, almost as thickly planted as our American forests. The care +which is taken of this grove of trees surprised me, and I think would +any new-world visitor. The trees grow closely to the southern wall of +the gardens, yet do not protrude their branches over the line of the +wall. The sight is a singular one from the banks of the Seine, outside +the walls of the garden, for the whole grove looks exactly as if it had +been <i>sheared</i> like a hedge. The branches have been so cared for and +trimmed, that the side presented is perfectly even and a mass of green. +Still this, though curious, is not beautiful. Trees need to grow +naturally for that. Art cannot surpass nature in this way. The grove is +full of beauty. Walks run every way over it, and the trees are so +trimmed and cultivated that beautiful arches are formed over nearly all +the paths. This constitutes the forest, one of the most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>singular in +Paris, and it is a novel sight to the stranger. On the north side of the +groves there is a collection of orange trees, and in among them are set +a large quantity of chairs, which are rented by a person in attendance +for two sous an hour. So for two cents, a man can sit and rest himself +in one of the most delicious spots in Paris. This is a peculiar feature +of all the gardens of Paris. No free seats are furnished, but an old +woman is sure to select some shady and enchanting spot whereon to +arrange her chairs, which are for rent. Indeed, there are many places on +the Boulevard where this practice obtains, to the great joy of +numberless tired pedestrians.</p> + +<p>In front of the <i>Tuileries palace</i> there is a choice garden of flowers +and plants enclosed by an iron railing. The flowers were in bloom when +last I saw it, and were exceedingly beautiful. Directly in front of this +garden a fine fountain is always playing, and scattered in every +direction is a profusion of statuary. There are some magnificent groups, +but again others are disgusting in their sensuality. There are several +pieces of statuary scattered among the trees of the grove. One of them, +a statue of Venus, is an exquisite conception, and so very pure that I +wondered it should have found a place in a French garden. But not far +from it there were two nude figures which were so shockingly sensual, +and so clearly were intended by the sculptor to be so, that I turned +away half indignant. Yet while I walked in the grove more than one +French lady stopped leisurely to look at them through her glass.</p> + +<p>When the weather is warm, the fashionable pedestrians flock to the trees +of the Tuileries gardens, and among its cool recesses sit and talk the +hours away. When the weather is colder and sunshine is desirable, the +grounds <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>immediately in front of the palace are more pleasant, as there +the cold winds come not.</p> + +<p>The Luxembourg gardens I have spoken of with some particularity in +another place.</p> + +<p>The <i>Jardin d' Hiver</i> is a winter garden, and contains many roofed +hot-houses. The public are admitted by the payment of one franc. There +are occasional displays of flowers and plants.</p> + +<p>The <i>Champs Elysees</i> form one of the most delightful promenades in +Paris. They contain no plants or flowers, but are so thickly planted +with trees, that they may be called gardens. It was originally a +promenade for Marie de Medici. It runs along the banks of the Seine, +from the Place de la Concorde to the Triumphal Arch. The length is a +mile and a quarter, the breadth three hundred and seventy-three yards. +All the public fêtes take place on these fields. On the right is the +promenade, and on the left under the trees and in open spaces are fairs, +instrumental performances, shows, etc. etc. It is one of the most +dazzling scenes in the night that ever eye beheld. I well remember that +on my first visit to Paris, I wandered out of my hotel and saw the +Champs Elysees in the evening. The sight was almost overpowering. The +whole place was a scene of splendor. The trees and grounds were one +blaze of lamps. Scattered over it were little theaters, concerts in the +open air, every kind of show, coffee-houses, restaurants, and every kind +of amusement. The concerts charge nothing. But if you enter within the +ring you pay for a seat a trifle, and also for your refreshments. Almost +everyone who entered, (it was all in the open air,) bought a glass of +something to drink, and sat down to enjoy it with the music. Fiddlers +and mountebanks abounded in every direction, and beggars were more +nu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>merous if possible than the spectators. But not one <i>solicited</i> alms. +It would jar too coarsely upon the Parisian refinement. A beggar sings, +looks piteously, plays his flageolet or harp, but never <i>asks</i> for +money! The whole scene presented to me was one of the most brilliant I +ever witnessed, and it probably impressed me more from the fact that I +was unprepared for it. I have often since frequented it in the evening, +but never wearied of it.</p> + +<p>The <i>Jardin des Plantes</i> is the most beautiful free garden in the world. +It was founded in 1635 by Louis XIII. Buffon was its most celebrated +superintendent. He devoted himself enthusiastically to its cultivation +and development. It was at periods, during the revolutionary times, much +neglected, but it continued to prosper through everything, unlike many +of the other gardens. It consists of a botanical garden with several +large hot-houses and green-houses attached; several galleries with +scientific natural collections; a gallery of anatomy; a menagerie of +living animals; a library of natural history; and lastly, a theater for +public lectures. Everything is open to the people—lectures and +all—and take it altogether, it is the finest and noblest garden in the +world.</p> + +<p>The <i>Jardin des Plantes</i> in the summer is one of the favorite resorts of +Parisians, and although I frequented the spot, I never left it without a +wonder that so much is thrown open free to the public. This is a +remarkable feature of Paris and French institutions and public +buildings. If possible, that which the people wish to see they can see +for nothing. Painting-galleries, gardens, churches, and lectures are +open to the crowd. This is in striking contrast with London. There +nothing is free. The stranger pays to go over Westminster Abbey and St. +Paul's. He cannot see anything without paying half a crown <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>for the +sight. To <i>look</i> at a virgin or butler is worth at least a shilling.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_153.jpg" width="500" height="299" alt="JARDIN DES PLANTES." title="JARDIN DES PLANTES." /> +<span class="caption">JARDIN DES PLANTES.</span> +</div> + +<p>The stranger usually enters the <i>Jardin des Plantes</i> by the eastern +gate. The gallery of zoology is seen at the other end of the garden, +while on either hand are beautiful avenues of lime trees. Beyond, on the +right, is the menagerie, and on the left is a large collection of forest +trees. Scattered all around in the open space, are beds containing all +manner of medicinal and other plants from all parts of the earth. This +part of the garden is to the botanist a very interesting spot. The +flowering-shrubs are surrounded by a rail fence, and the level of the +ground is sunk beneath that of other parts of the garden. There is a +special "botanical garden," which is much frequented by students. On +another avenue there are plantations of forest shrubs, and near them a +café to accommodate visitors. Then stretching still further on, are new +geological, mineralogical, and botanical galleries, all warmed in winter +and summer, if necessary, by hot water, and capable of receiving the +tallest tropical plants. Between the conservatories there are two +beautiful mounds—one a labyrinth, and the other a collection of +fir-trees. The labyrinth is one of the best and most beautiful I ever +saw, far surpassing the celebrated one at Hampton court. The mound is of +a conical shape, and is completely covered by winding and intricate +paths. The whole is surmounted by a splendid cedar of Lebanon. On the +summit there are also seats covered with a bronze pavilion, and taking +one of them the visitor can look over all the garden portions of Paris, +and several of the villages near Paris. It is an exquisite view, and I +know of no greater pleasure in the hot months than after walking over +the garden to ascend the labyrinth and sit down in the cool shade of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>pavilion, and watch the people wandering over the gardens, Paris, and +the country. The western mound is a nursery of fir-trees, every known +kind being collected there. There is another inclosure entered by a door +at the foot of this mound, which in warm weather contains some of the +most beautiful trees of New Holland, the Cape of Good Hope, Asia Minor, +and the coast of Barbary. The amphitheater is here, also, where all the +lectures are delivered. It will hold twelve hundred students but more +than that number contrive to hear the lectures. In the enclosure there +are twelve thousand different kinds of plants, and at the door stand two +very beautiful Sicilian palms more than twenty-five feet in height.</p> + +<p>The menagerie of the garden is one of the finest in the world, and is in +some respects like the menagerie in London, though arranged with more +taste. The cages are scattered over a large inclosure, and it seems like +wandering over a forest and meeting the animals in their native wilds. +After passing beneath the boughs of dark trees, it is startling to look +up and see a Bengal tiger within a few feet of you, though he is caged, +or to walk on further still, and confront a leopard. This part of the +garden is a continual source of amusement to the younger portions of the +community of Paris, to say nothing of the children of larger growth.</p> + +<p>The cabinet of comparative anatomy is one of the finest parts of the +garden, and we owe its excellence mainly to the great exertions of +Cuvier. Every department is scientifically arranged, and the whole form, +perhaps, the best collection of anatomical specimens in the world. In +the first room are skeletons of the whale tribe, and many marine +animals; in the next, are skeletons of the human species from every part +of the globe. A suite of eleven <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>rooms is taken up for the anatomy of +birds, fishes, and reptiles. Several rooms are taken up with the +exhibition of the muscles of all animals, including man. Others exhibit +arms and legs; others still, brains and eyes, and the different organs +of the body all arranged together, distinct from the remaining parts of +the frame. In one room there is a singular collection of skulls of men +from all countries, of all ages, and conditions. Celebrated murderers +here are side by side with men of ancient renown.</p> + +<p>The gallery of zoology is three hundred and ninety feet in length, and +fronts the east end of the garden. The other galleries are all equally +spacious and well arranged.</p> + +<p>The library is composed of works on natural history, and it is an +unrivaled collection. It contains six thousand drawings, thirty thousand +volumes, and fifteen thousand plants. This fine library is free on +certain days to the world.</p> + +<p>The good which results from such <i>free</i> exhibitions as that of the +<i>Jardin des Plantes</i> is incalculable. The <i>people</i> become educated, +enlightened to a degree they can never attain, upon the subjects +illustrated, without them. This is one reason why Parisians are +universally intelligent, even to the artisans. The poorer classes can +scarcely help understanding botany, anatomy, zoology, and geology, with +such a garden free of access. This is but a specimen of many like places +in Paris. Lectures upon the sciences and arts are free to all who will +hear, and whoever will may learn.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_LUXEMBOURG_PALACE_AND_GARDENS" id="THE_LUXEMBOURG_PALACE_AND_GARDENS"></a>THE LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS.</h3> + + +<p>When France was governed by Louis Phillippe, the Palace Luxembourg was +occupied by the Chamber of Peers, and it is now occupied by the Senate. +It is a fine old building, and the impression it makes upon the stranger +is an agreeable one. There is nothing in its history of particular +interest, though its architecture is ancient.</p> + +<p>I was better pleased with the Luxembourg gardens than with the palace. +They are more beautiful than the Tuileries gardens and are much more +democratic. Trees, plants, and flowers seemed to me to abound in them to +a greater extent than in any other garden in Paris. On beautiful days +they are full of women and children. Troops of the latter, beautiful as +the sky which covers them, come to this place and play the long hours of +a summer afternoon away, with their mothers and nurses following them +about or sitting quietly under the shade of the trees, engaged in the +double employment of knitting and watching the frolicsome humors of +their children. I was very fond of going to these gardens in the +afternoon, just to look at the array of mothers and children, and +it was as pretty a sight as can be seen in all Paris. +It is a sight which New York—be it spoken to her shame—does not +furnish.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_159.jpg" width="600" height="359" alt="JARDIN ET PALAIS DU LUXEMBOURG." title="JARDIN ET PALAIS DU LUXEMBOURG." /> +<span class="caption">JARDIN ET PALAIS DU LUXEMBOURG.</span> +</div> + +<p>In the summer evenings a band of music plays for an hour to a vast +multitude. Four of the finest bands in Paris take turns in playing at +seven o'clock, four evenings in the week, and their music is of the +highest order. Perhaps fifty thousand people are gathered at once, men, +women, and children, to listen to the delicious music and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>the +gathering in itself is a sight worth seeing. The great majority +promenade slowly around the band, some stand still, and a very few rent +chairs and sit. Nearly all the men smoke, and occasionally a woman does +the same. But the flavor of the tobacco is execrable. What substitute +the French use I know not, but the villainous smells which come from the +cigars smoked by the majority of Frenchmen indicate something very bad. +Cabbage leaves—so extensively used to make cigars with in England—do +not give forth so vile a stench.</p> + +<p>I always noticed in the Luxembourg gardens many fine looking men, and +some elegantly dressed and lady-like women, but the majority of the +latter were grisettes, or mistresses. Many students were promenading +with their little temporary wives, not in the least ashamed to make such +a public display of their vices. The women present might be divided into +four classes; the gay but not vicious, students' mistresses, ordinary +strumpets, and the poor but virtuous, by far the majority belonging to +those classes which have a poor reputation. Yet the conduct of those +women was in every respect proper. There were no indecent gestures, and +not a loud word spoken which would have been out of place in a +drawing-room. Not a woman addressed one of the opposite sex.</p> + +<p>Directly in front of the Luxembourg palace there is a bower of orange +trees and statues railed off from other portions of the garden. It +presents an extremely beautiful appearance. In front of it there is a +fine basin of water and a fountain. Four nude marble boys support a +central basin, from which the water pours. The ground directly in front +of the palace is lower than it is on either side, and a row of fine +orange trees extends out on either hand from the palace, and flowers of +every description <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>mingle their fragrance with that of the orange +blossoms. Groves of trees extend far to the right and left, and to the +south, there are fine gardens devoted to the cultivation of rare plants +and every variety of fruit trees.</p> + +<p>The best thing I know about the Luxembourg palace is, that it has a +gallery of paintings. It formerly was used to exhibit paintings by the +old masters, but now nothing is allowed a place in the Luxembourg +gallery but pictures of living artists. As soon as the artist dies, his +pictures which hang in the Luxembourg, and which have been purchased by +the government, are at once removed to the Louvre, where only paintings +of men now dead are on exhibition.</p> + +<p>The collection in the Luxembourg is in many respects a very fine one, +but it has the fault of all the modern French and continental +pictures—there is too much sensuality exhibited upon the canvas. The +school is too voluptuous—too licentious. I can put up with anything not +positively indecent for the sake of art, but I cannot put up with French +pictures. Their nakedness is too disgusting, for it is not relieved by +sentiment, unless of the basest kind. This remark of course does not +apply to all the pictures I saw. Some of them are very fine, especially +those of Delaroche and the war pictures of Horace Vernet. Near the +entrance there is a beautiful group by Delaistre, representing Cupid and +Psyche.</p> + +<p>One of the pictures in this gallery haunts me still. It is an +illustration of one of Dante's immortal verses—his visit to the lake of +Brimstone. The poet with a wreath of laurel round his brow stands in the +center of a little boat, while his conductor in the stream propels the +craft with one oar over the boiling and surging sea of hell. His +countenance is filled with mingled astonishment and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>horror, yet he +preserves his wits and observes very critically all that is about him. +One poor wretch lifts his head from the liquid fire, and fastens his +jaws upon the rim of the boat in his terrible agony, while one of the +attendants of the boat with an oar endeavors to beat him back. On the +other side a ghostly wretch has fastened his long teeth into a +fellow-sufferer. The shades of light and darkness are so mingled that +the effect is very striking. It is the most horrible picture I ever +looked at, and I would much rather sleep in Madame Tassaud's chamber of +horrors, than look at it again. In the next apartment there is a picture +of Christ, which struck me as the best I ever looked at. The divine +sweetness of the human and the grandeur of the God were united with +wonderful skill. The face was half-sorrowful, as if the heart were +filled with thoughts of a sinful, suffering world, and still upon the +brow the very sunshine of heaven rested. The impression which that face +made upon me will never be entirely obliterated, and its effect was far +different from the illustration of Dante. The two pictures, it seemed to +me, teach a useful lesson. It is that men are to be saved through love, +and not through fear. Let men see God's beauty and loveliness, and you +will more surely win them from error than by showing them the horrors of +hell.</p> + +<p>The origin of the Luxembourg palace was as follows: about the middle of +the sixteenth century, one Robert de Harley erected a large house in the +middle of the gardens. In 1583 the house was bought and enlarged by the +duke of Luxembourg, and in 1612 Marie de Medicis bought it for ninety +thousand francs, and then commenced the present palace. During the first +year of the revolution it was used for a prison; then for an +assembly-room for the consuls; still later as the chamber for the peers, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>and now the French senate meet in it. It contains a large library, but +the people cannot have access to its well-stored shelves. Students can, +however, by making proper application, consult the library.</p> + +<p>One evening while walking in the Luxembourg gardens, the band playing +exquisite music, and the crowd promenading to it, I met a friend, an +American, who has resided in Paris for seventeen years. Taking his arm +we fell into the current of people, and soon met a couple of quite +pretty looking ladies arm-in-arm. They were dressed exactly alike and +their looks were very much of the same pattern, and as to their figures, +I certainly could not tell one from the other with their faces turned +away.</p> + +<p>"They are sisters," said my friend, "and you will scarcely believe me +when I tell you that I saw them in this very garden ten years ago." I +replied that I could hardly credit his story, for the couple still +looked young, and I could hardly think that so many years ago they would +have been allowed by their anxious mamma to promenade in such a place. I +told my friend so, and a smile overspread his countenance. He then told +me their history. Ten years ago and they were both shop-girls, very +pretty and very fond of the attentions of young men. As shop-girls, they +occasionally found time to come and hear the music in the gardens of an +evening, and cast glances at the young students. Soon they were +student's mistresses. Their paramours were generous and wealthy young +men, and they fared well. For four years they were as faithful, +affectionate, and devoted to the young men as any wives in all France. +They indulged in no gallantries or light conduct with other men, and +among the students were reckoned as fine specimens of the class. Four +happy years passed away, when one morning the poor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>girls awoke to a sad +change. The collegiate course was through, and the young collegians were +going back to their fathers' mansions in the provinces. Of course the +grisettes could not be taken with them, and the ties of years were +suddenly and rudely to be snapped asunder. At first they were frantic in +their grief. When they entered upon their peculiar relations with the +students, they well knew that this must be the final consummation, but +then it looked a great way off. That they really loved the young men, no +one can doubt. It would not be strange for a little shop-girl to even +adore a talented university student, however insignificant he might be +to other people. To her he is everything that is great and noble. These +girls knew well that they were not wives, but mistresses, yet when the +day of separation came, it was like parting husband and wife. But there +was no use in struggling with fate, and they consoled themselves by +transferring their affections to two more students. Again after a term +of years they were forsaken, until the flower of their youth was gone, +and no one desired to support them as mistresses. Then a downward step +was taken. Nothing but promiscuous prostitution was before them—except +starvation. And still they could not forget their old life, and came +nightly to this public promenade to see the old sights, and possibly +with the hope of drawing some unsophisticated youth into their net. +While my friend repeated their story, the couple frequently passed us, +and I could hardly believe that persons whose deportment was so modest +and correct, could be what he had designated them; but as the twilight +deepened, and we were walking away, I noticed that they were no longer +together, and one had the arm of a man, and was walking, like us, away +from the gardens.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>I do not know as I could give the reader a better idea of a great class +of women in Paris, than by relating the brief history of these girls, +and certainly I could not sketch a sadder picture. To the stranger the +social system of France may seem very pleasant and gay, but it is in +reality a sorrowful one. While the mistress is young, she has a kind of +happiness, but when she loses her beauty, then her wretchedness begins. +But I will dwell upon this whole subject more fully in another place.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_GOBELINS" id="THE_GOBELINS"></a>THE GOBELINS.</h3> + + +<p>One of the interesting places which I visited in Paris, is the famous +Tapestry and Carpet Manufactory in the Rue Mouffetard. The walk is quite +a long one from the Garden of Plants, but the wonders of art and +industry which are shown to the visitor, amply repay for the trouble and +toil in getting to the manufactory.</p> + +<p>I first passed through several rooms, upon the walls of which were hung +some of the finest of the tapestries which are finished. I was +astonished to see the perfection to which the art is carried. Some of +the tapestries, were quite as beautiful as some of the paintings in the +Louvre. Each piece was a picture of some spot, scene, or character, and +the workmanship is of such an exquisite kind, that it is extremely +difficult to believe that real paintings of the highest order are not +before you. Yet all the shades and expressions are wrought into the web, +by the hands of the skillful workmen. I visited six of the work-rooms, +where the men were manufacturing the tapestries. It was a wonderful +sight. The workman stands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>immediately behind the web, and a basket +containing woolen yarn, or a thread of every variety or color, is at his +feet. The design, usually an exquisite picture, stands behind him in a +good light. A drawing of the part of the landscape or figure first to be +made is sketched by pencil upon the web, and with the picture to be +copied constantly in sight, the workman or artist, as he should be +called, works slowly upon his task, glad if in a day he can work into +the tapestry a branch, a hand, or an eye. In some of the work-rooms, the +finest tapestries were being manufactured, and in others only very fine +rugs and carpets.</p> + +<p>In 1450 a man by the name of Jean Gobelin acquired considerable property +in the region of Rue Mouffetard by dyeing and making carpets. His sons +carried on the business in his name, and the manufactory was celebrated; +hence the name, Gobelins. Louis XIV. erected it into a royal +manufactory, and it has continued such ever since. Between one and two +hundred men are constantly in the employ of the government, in the +manufactory, and as men of great skill and refined tastes are required, +a good rate of wages is paid. The workmen seemed to be very intelligent, +and were dressed, many of them, at least, like gentlemen. The +tapestries, carpets, &c. &c., which are manufactured at this place, are +intended for the emperor, the palaces, and for other monarchs to whom +they may be presented in the name of the French emperors. They are the +finest specimens of their kind in the world. There is another +manufactory connected with the Gobelins, for dyeing wools, and they are +dyed better than in any other place, or at least none can be purchased +elsewhere so fitted for the wants of the tapestry workers. There is also +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>a school of design connected with it, and a course of lectures is +delivered by able and accomplished men.</p> + +<p>The carpet manufactory is one of the best, and perhaps <i>the</i> best, in +the world. The Parisian carpets are not equal to those manufactured +here. It often takes five and ten years to make a carpet, and the cost +is as high sometimes as thirty thousand dollars. None are ever sold. One +was one made for the Louvre gallery, consisting of seventy-two pieces, +and being over thirteen hundred feet in length.</p> + +<p>I have never been more astonished with any exhibition of the fruits of +industry and art, than with the carpets and tapestries in the Rue +Mouffetard. Some of the latter excel in beauty the best pictures in +Europe, and when one reflects that each tint is of wool, worked into the +web by the careful fingers of the workman, that every line, every +muscle, is wrought as distinctly and beautifully as upon canvas, it +excites admiration and wonder. The rooms are open for four Hours two +days in the week, and they were crowded when I was there, and +principally by foreigners.</p> + +<p>On my way back, I stopped in the Garden of Plants, and seated myself +upon the benches beneath the shade of the trees. After resting awhile, I +entered a restaurant and ordered dinner, as I could scarcely wait to +return to the hotel, and in Paris, where a bargain is made at so much +per day for hotel charges, including meals, if one is absent at dinner +the proper sum is deducted from the daily charges.</p> + +<p>I did not succeed in getting a good dinner for a fair price, which I +always could do at the hotel. It was so poor that a little while after, +I tried a cup of coffee and a roll upon the <i>Champs Elysees</i>, which were +delicious enough to make up for the poor dinner.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>In front of me there was an orchestra, and some singers, who discoursed +very good music for the benefit of all persons who patronized the +restaurant. A multitude of ladies and gentlemen were ranged under the +trees before them, sipping coffee, wine, or brandy. The sight was a very +gay one, but not uncommon in Paris.</p> + +<p>I went one day outside the walls of Paris, and took dinner in a +beautiful spot where the sun was almost entirely excluded by the trees +and shrubs, in gardens attached to a restaurant. I had a capital dinner, +too, for a small price, better than I could have had for double the +money at a London hotel.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h2>THE PEOPLE—CLIMATE—PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS—HOTEL DES INVALIDES.</h2> + +<h3>THE PEOPLE.</h3> + + +<p>The French people, so far as one may judge from Paris, are very +difficult to study and understand. They are easy of access, but it is +difficult to account for the many and strange anomalies in their +character.</p> + +<p>The intense love of gayety and the amount of elegant trifling which +shows itself everywhere as a national characteristic, does not prepare +one to believe that some of the greatest of mathematicians, +philosophers, and scientific men are Frenchmen and Parisians; but such +is the fact. The French are fickle, love pleasure, and one would think +that these qualities would unfit men for coolness, perseverance, and +prolonged research; and I am sometimes inclined to think that the +proficiency of the French in philosophy, the arts, and sciences, is not +so much the result of patient investigation and laborious and continued +study, as a kind of intuition which amounts to genius. The French mind +is quick, and does not plod slowly toward eminence; it leaps to it. +Certainly, in brilliancy of talents the French surpass every other +nation. I will not do them the injustice to speak of them as they are at +this moment—crushed under the despotism of Louis Napoleon—but as they +have been in the last few years, and indeed for centuries. Paris is a +city of brilliant men and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>women. A French orator is one of the most +eloquent speakers, one of the most impressive men, any country can +furnish. The intelligence of the Paris artisans would surprise many +people in America. We have only to examine the journals which before the +advent of the empire were almost exclusively taken by the +working-classes of Paris, to see the proof of this. Their leaders were +written in the best essay-style, and were the result of careful thought +and application. Such journals could never have gained a fair support +from the artisans of New York. They were not mere news journals, nor +filled up with love-stories. They contained articles of great worth, +which required on the part of the reader a love of abstract truth and +the consideration of it. Such journals sold by thousands in Paris before +Napoleon III. throttled the newspapers. These very men were fond of +pleasure and pursued it, and I have been told by residents, that often +persons of a foppish exterior and fashionable conduct, are also +celebrated for the extent of their learning. At home we rarely look for +talent or learning among the devotees of fashion, or at least, among +those who exalt fashion above all moral attributes.</p> + +<p>It seems to me that the French are more gifted by nature than the +English. The English mind is more sluggish, but in all that is +practical, it gains the goal of success, while the French mind often +fails of it. In theory, the French have always had the most delightful +of republics—in fact, a wretched despotism. So, too, they have had an +idea of liberty, such as is seldom understood even in America, but real +liberty has existed rarely in France.</p> + +<p>The laboring men of Paris perhaps never saw the inside of a school-room, +but they are educated. They know how to read, and through the +newspapers, the library, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>popular lecture and exhibition, they have +gained what many who spend most of their earlier years in school never +gain. From an experience which justifies it, I believe the soberest part +of Paris is its class of artisans. They may possess many wrong and +foolish opinions, but they are a noble class of men. They are a majority +of them republicans, and though they consent to the inevitable +necessity—obedience to the monarch and endurance of a monarchy—yet +they indulge in hopes of a brilliant future for France. They know very +well how their rights are trampled upon, and feel keenly what a +disgraceful condition Paris and all France occupies at the present time, +but are by no means satisfied with it. They well know that there is no +real liberty in Paris to-day; that no journal dares to speak the whole +truth for fear of losing its existence; and that the noblest men of the +republic are in exile. The trouble is, that the lower classes of the +provinces are grossly ignorant, and do not desire a republic, nor care +for liberty. Thus, those who are intelligent and have aspirations after +freedom, are borne down by the ignorant.</p> + +<p>One of the characteristics of the people of Paris, for which they are +known the world over, is their politeness. I noticed this in all circles +and in all places. In England John Bull stares at your dress if it +differs from his own, and hunts you to the wall. Or if anything in your +speech or manners pleases him, he laughs in your face. But in Paris, the +Frenchman never is guilty of so ill-bred an action as to laugh at +anybody in his presence, however provoking the occasion. If you are lost +and inquire the way, he will run half a mile to show you, and will not +even hear of thanks, I remember once in Liverpool asking in a +barber's-shop the way to the Waterloo hotel. A <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>person present, who was +so well-dressed that I supposed him a gentleman, said that he was going +that way and would show me. I replied that I could find the spot, the +street having been pointed out by the barber. The "gentleman" persisted +in accompanying me. When we reached the hotel I thanked him, but he was +not to be shaken off. He raised his hat and said, "I hope I may have the +happiness of drinking wine with you!" I was angry at such meanness, and +I gave him a decided negative. "But," he persisted, "you will drink ale +with me?" I replied, "I never drink ale." "But," said he, "you will give +<i>me</i> a glass?" This persistence was so disgusting that I told the man I +would give him in charge of the police as an impostor if he did not +leave, which he did at this hint, instantly.</p> + +<p>The only time that I ever experienced anything but politeness in Paris, +was when in a great hurry I chanced to hit a workman with a basket upon +his head. The concussion was so great that the basket was dashed to the +pavement. He turned round very slowly, and with a grin upon his +countenance said, "Thank you, sir!" This was politeness with a little +too much sarcasm. It was spoken so finely that I burst into a laugh, and +the Frenchman joined me in it.</p> + +<p>The shop-keepers of Paris are a very polite class, and are as avaricious +as they are polite. The habit which they have of asking a higher price +than they expect to get is a bad one. It is a notorious fact that +foreigners in Paris can rarely buy an article so cheaply as a native. +There are always quantities of verdant Englishmen visiting Paris, and +the temptation to cheat them is too great to be resisted by the +wide-awake shop-keepers. Besides, it satisfies a grudge they all have +against Englishmen. I al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>ways found it an excellent way not to buy until +the shop keeper had lowered his price considerably. Sometimes I state my +country, and the saleswoman would roguishly pretend that for that reason +she reduced the price. I remember stopping once in the Palais Royal to +gaze at some pretty chains in the window. A black-eyed little woman came +to the door, and I asked the price of a ring which struck my fancy. She +gave it, and I shook my head, telling her that in the country which I +came from I could get such a ring for less money. She wanted to know the +name of my country, and when I told her it was America, she said in a +charming manner, "Oh! you come from the grand republic! you shall have +the ring for so many francs," naming a sum far less than she had at +first asked. Of course, I did not suppose she sacrificed a <i>sou</i> for the +sake of my country, but it showed how apt are the Paris shop-keepers at +making excuses. An Englishman or American would have solemnly declared +he would not take a penny less—and then very coolly give the lie to his +assertion; at any rate, I have seen English and American tradesman do +so.</p> + +<p>A majority of the shop-keepers of Paris are women, and many of them +young and pretty. I certainly have seen more beauty of face in the shops +than on the Boulevards of Paris. Young girls from the ages of fifteen to +twenty-five, are usually the clerks in all the shops, which are often +presided over by a grown-up woman who is mistress of the establishment, +her husband being by no means the first man in the establishment, but +rather a silent partner.</p> + +<p>The grisettes are often girls of industry and great good-nature, but the +morals of the class are lamentably low. They are easily seduced from the +path of right, and are led to form temporary alliances with men, very +often the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>students of the Latin Quarter. They rarely degrade themselves +for money or for such considerations, but it is for love or pleasure +that they fall. They are given to adventures and intrigues, until they +become the steady paramours of men, and then they are true and constant. +Often they are kept and regarded more like wives than mistresses. I +should not do entire justice to this class if I were to convey the idea +that all of them are thus debauched. Many marry poor young men, but such +is not usually the case; a poor young man seeks a wife with a small +dowry. They have little hope of wedded life—it will never offer itself +to them. Their shop-life is dreary, monotonous, and sometimes exacting. +If they will desert it, pleasure presents an enticing picture; a life of +idleness, dancing, and a round of amusements.</p> + +<p>I was very much struck by a remark made to me by one of the purest men +in France—that a Frenchman is more apt to be jealous of his mistress +than his wife, and that as a general rule, a mistress is more true to +her lover than a wife is to her husband. This is horrible, yet to a +certain extent I am convinced it is true. And it may be so, and women be +no more to blame in the matter than the other sex. To-day, in the +fashionable society of our great cities, how much does it injure a +wealthy young man's prospects for matrimony, if it is a well-known fact +that he is a libertine? And how long can such a state of things continue +without dragging down the women who marry such men? If a lady cares not +if her lover is a libertine, she cannot possess much of genuine virtue. +The fashionable men of Paris keep mistresses—so do those of all +classes, the students, perhaps, according to their numbers, being worse +in this respect than all others. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>It is not strange, such being the +case, that the women are frail.</p> + +<p>One thing is specially noticeable among the ladies of Paris—the care +with which they are guarded before marriage, and the freedom of their +conduct after. In countries where there is almost universal virtue among +women, the faith in them is strong, and a freedom of intercourse between +the sexes is allowed previous to marriage, which is never tolerated in +such a place as Paris. In New England it is not thought improper for a +young gentleman and lady to enjoy a walk together in the country, and +alone, but in France it would ruin the reputation of a woman. A friend +of mine in London warmly invited a young friend of his in Paris to come +over and make his family a visit on some special occasion. The Parisian +wrote back that he should like nothing better than such a trip, but that +business would not allow of it. "Then," wrote back my friend, "let your +sister come." The reply was decided: "Oh, no! it would never do for the +young lady to make such a trip alone, for the sake of her reputation." +It would have struck this Frenchman as a very singular fact, if he had +known that in America a young lady will travel thousands of miles alone, +without the slightest harm to her reputation.</p> + +<p>But when the French woman <i>marries</i>, the tables are turned. Then she +possesses a freedom such as no American lady, thank heaven, wishes to +enjoy. She may have half a dozen open lovers, and society holds its +tongue. Her husband probably has as many mistresses. It is not +considered improper in Paris either for a husband and father to love his +mistress, or a wife and mother to love her acknowledged lover, and that +man not her husband. The intrigues which are carried on by married +people in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>Paris, would shock sober people in America, or at least, +outside our largest and wickedest cities.</p> + +<p>The social state of France is exceedingly bad, and when American +religious writers profess to be shocked at the theories of the French +Socialists, I am inclined to ask them what they think of the <i>actual +condition</i> of the French people. Some of the Socialists have been driven +to extremes, because Paris has no conception of the home and the family. +The enemies of Socialism in France are, in practice, worse than their +enemies in theory. Who is the man now ruling France? Does the world not +know him to have long been an open and thoroughly debauched libertine? +The same is true of other distinguished friends of "law and order."</p> + +<p>The outward condition of the streets of Paris often deceives the +stranger as to the morality of the city. Said one gentleman to me, who +had spent several weeks at a fashionable Paris hotel, "Paris is one of +the quietest, pleasantest towns in the world, and as for its morals, I +can see nothing which justifies its bad reputation abroad." After a +week's stay in it, such was my own opinion. Things which are tolerated +in London and New York streets, are not permitted in the streets of +Paris. A street-walker ventured to accost an Englishman in Paris at +night, and was taken in charge by the police. But this outward fairness +only indicates that in Paris, even the vices are regulated by the state. +Bad women cannot make a display and accost men in the street, but they +abound, and what is far worse, in all the circles and gradations of +society. It is society which is corrupt there. One need but to look at +the morals of its great men, to see this at once. What is the moral +character of the first men in the empire? Bad, as no Frenchman will +deny. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>Some of the very men who have won in America golden opinions for +their noble and eloquent advocacy of liberty, have been in their private +lives devoid of all virtue. It only shows the social condition of the +country. Some writers deny these allegations against Paris, but no man +will who has lived in it, and is honest and candid. Paris abounds with +illegitimate children. The statistics tell the story. Ten thousand +illegitimate children are born every year in that city! What can be the +morality of any town, while such facts exist in reference to its +condition?</p> + +<p>I hate all cant, but am satisfied that the chief reason why France does +not succeed better in her revolutions is, because she lacks the +steadiness which a sincere devotion to religion gives to a nation. The +country needs less man-worship and more God-worship. It needs less +adulation of beautiful women, and more real appreciation of true +womanhood.</p> + +<p>There is a great deal of art-worship in Paris, but it does not seem to +really elevate the condition of the people. The pictures and the statues +are generally of the most sensuous kind. Do these things improve the +morals of a city or nation? If so, why is it that wherever naked +pictures and sensual statuary abound, the people are licentious and +depraved? In America such things are not tolerated by the mass of the +people, and there prevails a higher style of virtue than in any other +land. But in France and in Italy, the beauty of the human form upon +canvas or in marble, in however offensive a manner, is adored—and in +those countries the people have little morality.</p> + +<p>The French <i>home</i> is not the home of England or America. The genuine +Parisian lives on the street, or in the theater or ball-room. He never +lives at home. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>Hence, the mothers and daughters of England and America +are not there to be found. "Comparisons are odious" but I cannot express +my meaning so plainly without making them, and I state but the simple +truth. Young men and women are not taught to seek their pleasure at the +family fireside, but beyond it, and a man marries not to make a home, +but to make money or a position in society. Women, too, often marry +simply to attain liberty of action.</p> + +<p>Another characteristic of the French, and especially of Parisians, is +that they educate their sons to no such independence as is everywhere +common in America. The young Parisian is dependent upon his father—he +cannot support himself; and men of thirty and forty, who are helpless, +are to be seen in all classes throughout the great cities of France.</p> + +<p>Whether there is just ground for expecting that France will very soon +throw off the despotism which now weighs her down, I am incompetent, +perhaps, to judge; but I fear not. There is a very noble class of men in +Paris—I know this by experience—who hate all despotism and love +freedom, but I fear they will for centuries be overcome by ignorance and +the love of pleasure, on the part of the people, and knavery and brute +force on the part of rulers.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CLIMATE_POPULATIONmdashPOLICE_ETC" id="CLIMATE_POPULATIONmdashPOLICE_ETC"></a>CLIMATE—POPULATION—POLICE, ETC.</h3> + + +<p>The weather of Paris during the summer months is warm and usually +delightful, but in winter it is very cold—much colder than it is in +London. But Paris escapes the horrible fogs which envelop London in +November and December. The weather, too, though cold, is wholesome and +often conducive to health. The two months of fog in London are often +termed the suicidal months, because of the number of persons who destroy +their own lives in those months. The people of Paris with their +mercurial temperaments would never endure it for a long time, at least.</p> + +<p>Fuel is exceedingly dear in Paris, and the buildings are not made for +in-door comfort. If they were as warmly made as the houses of New York, +they would be comfortable in winter, but such not being the case, and +fuel being costly, comfort in private apartments is rarely to be had by +any but the rich. Coal is not used to any great extent, though charcoal +is burned in small quantities, but wood is the fuel principally used. It +is sold in small packages, and is principally brought up from the +distant provinces by the canals. The amount of wood required to make +what a Frenchman would call a glowing fire, would astonish an American. +A half a dozen sticks, not much larger or longer than his fingers, laid +crosswise in a little hearth, is sufficient for a man's chamber. A log +which one of our western farmers would think nothing of consuming in a +winter's evening, would bring quite a handsome sum in Paris on any +winter day. The truth is, the economical traveler had better not spend +his winter in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>Paris, for comfort at that time costs money. The houses +admit such volumes of cold air, the windows are so loose and the doors +such wretched contrivances, and that, too, in the best of French cities, +that the stranger sighs for the comforts of home. Nowhere in the world +is so much taste displayed as in Paris, in the furnishing of apartments. +This is known as far as Paris is, but it is always the <i>outside +appearance</i> which is attended to, and nothing more. It is like the +Parisian dandy who wears a fine coat, hat, and false bosom, but has no +shirt. The homes of Paris are got up, many of them at least, upon this +principle. The rooms are elegantly furnished, and in pleasant weather +are indeed very pleasant to abide in, but let a cold day come, and they +are as uncomfortable as can be, and the ten thousand conveniences which +a New York or London household would think it impossible to be without, +are wanting.</p> + +<p>The longest day in Paris is sixteen hours, the shortest eight. The +cities of Europe are distant from it as follows: Brussels, one hundred +and eighty-nine miles; Berlin, five hundred and ninety-three; Frankfort, +three hundred and thirty-nine; Lisbon, one thousand one hundred and +four; Rome, nine hundred and twenty-five; Madrid, seven hundred and +seventy-five; Constantinople, one thousand five hundred and +seventy-four; St. Petersburgh, one thousand four hundred and five. These +places are all easily reached from Paris in these modern days of +railways and steamers.</p> + +<p>The situation of Paris is much more favorable to health than that of +London. London is a low plain—Paris is upon higher ground; yet London +is the healthiest city. The reason is, that the latter is so thoroughly +drained, and the tide of the Thames sweeping through it twice a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>day, +carries away all the impurities of the sewers. Paris might surpass +London in its sewerage easily, but as it is, some of its narrow streets +in warm weather are fairly insupportable, from the intolerable stench +arising in them.</p> + +<p>The population of Paris is considerably more than a million. The number +of births in a year is a little more than thirty thousand, and of these, +ten thousand are illegitimate. This fact speaks volumes in reference to +the morals of Paris. The deaths usually fall short of the births by +about four thousand. The increase of population in France is great, +though it is now a very populous country.</p> + +<p>The increase in forty years is more than nine millions. The births in +France in one year are about eight hundred and ninety-seven thousand, +and the deaths eight hundred and sixty-five thousand. Of the births, +more than seventy thousand are illegitimate. This fact shows that the +morals of Paris, in one respect, are worse than those of the provinces.</p> + +<p>It is calculated that one-half of the inhabitants of Paris are <i>working</i> +men; the rest are men who live by some trade or profession, or have +property and live upon it. Paris has more than eighty thousand servants, +and at least seventy thousand paupers. The latter class, as a matter of +course, varies with the character of the times; sometimes, a bad season +enlarging the number by many thousands. There is an average population +of fifteen thousand in the hospitals; five thousand in the jails; and at +least, twenty thousand foundlings are constantly supported in the city. +The annual number of suicides in France is nearly six thousand. Yet the +French are a very gay people!</p> + +<p>The police regulations of Paris are very good, but not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>so good as those +of London, though New York might learn from her many useful lessons. +Rogues thrive better in Paris than in London. The Paris policeman wears +no distinctive dress, and there are streets in which if you are attacked +by night, your cries will call no officer to the rescue. The police have +been proved often to be in league with bad men and bad women, and these +cases are occurring from day to day. I should not like to walk alone on +a winter's night, after midnight, anywhere for half a mile on the +southern side of the Seine. Some of the streets are exceedingly narrow, +and are tenanted by strange people. Still, one might have many curious +adventures in them, and escape safely—but <i>La Morgue</i> tells a +mysterious tale every day of some dark deed—a suicide or a murder, +perhaps.</p> + +<p>Getting lost after midnight in one of the narrow streets of Paris, is +not particularly pleasant, especially if every person you meet looks +like a thief. The police system of Paris is in one respect far more +strict than that of London—in political matters. Every stranger, or +native, suspected in the least of tendencies to republicanism, is +continually watched and dogged wherever he moves. While in Paris, my +whereabouts was constantly known to the police, and though I made +several changes in my abode, I was followed each time, and my address +taken; yet I was but an in offensive republican from America. A man must +be careful to whom he talks of French despots, or despotism. For +speaking against Louis Napoleon in an omnibus, a Frenchman was sentenced +to two years imprisonment, and men have been exiled for a less offense. +The police are everywhere to detect conspiracy or radicalism, but are +more slack in reference to the safety of people in the streets.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>One pleasant feature of Paris is its great number of baths, public and +private. The artisan who has little money to spare can go to the Seine +any day, and for six cents take a bath under a large net roofing. A +gentleman, to be sure, would hardly like to try such a place, but the +working people are not particular. It is cheap, and in the hot weather +it is a great luxury to bathe, to say nothing of the necessity of the +thing. To take a bath in a first-rate French hotel is quite another +matter. Every luxury will be afforded, and the price will be quite as +high as the bath is luxurious.</p> + +<p>Pleasure trips are getting to be quite common in France, in imitation of +the English, on a majority of the railways. The fares for these pleasure +trips are very much reduced. I noticed the walls one day covered with +advertisements of a pleasure trip to Havre and back for only seven +francs. The second and third class carriages on the French railroads are +quite comfortable, but the first are very luxurious. Trains run from +Paris to all parts of the country, at almost all hours of the day and +night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="PUBLIC_INSTITUTIONS" id="PUBLIC_INSTITUTIONS"></a>PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS.</h3> + + +<p>There is no city in the world so blessed with educational institutions +of the first class as Paris, and no government fosters the arts and +sciences to such an extent as the French government, whether under the +administration of king, president, or emperor. The government constantly +rewards discoveries, holds out prizes to students and men of genius. The +educational colleges are without num<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>ber, and the lectures are free. +There is one compliment which the stranger is forced to pay the French +government—it encourages a republicanism among men of genius in +learning, the arts and sciences, if it does put its heel upon the +slightest tendency toward political republicanism.</p> + +<p>And not Paris, or France alone, reaps the advantage of this +liberality—the whole civilized world does the same. Go into the +university region, and you will always see great numbers of foreigners +who have come to take advantage of the public institutions of Paris. The +English go there to study certain branches of medicine, which are more +skillfully treated in the French medical schools than anywhere else in +the world. Many young Americans are in Paris, at the present time, +studying physic or law.</p> + +<p>The difference between the cost of education in England and France is +great. Three hundred dollars a year would carry a French student in good +style through the best French universities. To go through an English +college five times that sum would be necessary.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_185.jpg" width="400" height="329" alt="PALAIS DE L'INSTITUT." title="PALAIS DE L'INSTITUT." /> +<span class="caption">PALAIS DE L'INSTITUT.</span> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>The <i>Institut de France</i> lies upon the southern branch of the Seine, +just opposite the Louvre, which is north of the river. The <i>Institute</i> +is divided into five academies, and the funds which support the +institution are managed by a committee of ten members, two from an +academy, and the minister of public instruction, who presides over the +committee. The academies are—first the <i>Académie Francaise</i>; second, +the <i>Académie Royale des Inscriptions et Belle-Lettres</i>; third, the +<i>Académie Royale des Sciences</i>; fourth, the <i>Académie Royale des Beaux +Arts</i>; and fifth, the <i>Académie Royale des Sciences Morales et +Politiques</i>. Members of one academy are eligible to the other four, and +each receives a salary of three hundred dollars. The Institute has a +library common to the five academies, the whole number of members +amounting to two hundred and seventeen. If a member does not attend the +proceedings and discussions, and cannot give a good reason for his +absence, he is liable to expulsion.</p> + +<p>The <i>Académie Francaise</i> consists of forty members, who are devoted to +the composition of the dictionary and the purification of the French +language. An annual prize is awarded of two thousand francs for poetry, +a prize of ten thousand francs for the best work of French history and +fifteen hundred francs is given every other year to some deserving but +poor student, for his attainments.</p> + +<p>The Belle-Lettres Academy is composed of forty members, and ten free +academicians—the latter receive no salary. It has many foreign +associates or honorary members. Its members pursue the study of the +learned languages, antiquities, etc. etc. A yearly prize of ten thousand +francs is awarded by it for memoirs, and another for medals.</p> + +<p>The Academy of Sciences has sixty-five members, beside ten free +academicians. It is divided into eleven sec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>tions, as follows: six +members are devoted to geometry, six to mechanics, six to astronomy, six +to geography and navigation, three to general philosophy, six to +chemistry, six to minerology, six to botany, six to rural economy and +the veterinary art, six to anatomy and geology, six to medicine and +surgery. Prizes are awarded by this academy, yearly, for physical +sciences, statistics, physiology, mechanics, improvements in surgery and +medicine; for improvements in the art of treating patients, for +rendering any art or trade less insalubrious, for discoveries, for +mathematical studies, and also a prize to the best scholar in the +Polytechnic school.</p> + +<p>The Academy of Fine Arts has forty members, who are divided into five +sections—painting, sculpture, architecture, engraving, and musical +composition. It awards prizes to the best students in the arts, and +sends to the French Academy at Rome, free of all expense, the successful +students, who are educated at the expense of the state.</p> + +<p>The Academy of <i>Sciences Morales et Politiques</i> has thirty members, +divided into the following sections: philosophy, moral philosophy, +legislation, jurisprudence, political economy, history, and the +philosophy of history.</p> + +<p>The building of the Institute is surmounted by a splendid dome, and it +presents a striking appearance to the stranger. It immediately fronts +the foot-bridge which crosses the Seine to the Louvre.</p> + +<p>The university of France it is supposed was founded by Charlemagne. It +is a magnificent and truly liberal institution, and is under the +authority of the minister of public instruction. It has five +departments, an immense library and funds for aged or infirm teachers.</p> + +<p>The Academy of Paris consists of five faculties—science letters, +theology, law, and medicine. In the department <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>of sciences, which +includes that of mathematical astronomy, Leverrier occupies a +professor's chair—the man who demonstrated the existence of another +planet by mathematical Calculations, and pointed out the place where it +must be found.</p> + +<p>The Faculty of Law has seventeen professors. Four years of study are +necessary to gain the highest honors, or the title of <i>Docteur en +droit</i>.</p> + +<p>The Faculty of Medicine has twenty-six professorships, with salaries +varying from two thousand to ten thousand francs a year. Every student +before taking his degree must serve the government one year, at least, +in a hospital. This is an admirable regulation. The lectures are all +gratuitous, and what is better still, they are open to the people and +the world. Any foreigner can attend the course of lectures of the most +celebrated men in France, and indeed in the world, for nothing. The law +students number about three thousand; those studying medicine about +three thousand; and those studying the sciences about fifteen hundred. +Foreign students are admitted upon the same terms as French, and a +diploma given by an American college, if it be of high repute, will put +the student upon the same footing as a French <i>bachelier et lettres</i> +when the object is to study law or medicine.</p> + +<p>The College Royal has twenty-eight professors, who give gratuitous +lectures on astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, medicine, chemistry, +natural history, law, ethics, etc. etc. There is a college of Natural +History, connected with the <i>Jardin des Plantes</i>, with fifteen +professors. The <i>Ecole Normale</i> is an institution for the education of +students who intend to become candidates for professorships. There are +in Paris besides these, five royal colleges where a student is boarded +as well as educated. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>charge for board is two hundred dollars a +year; the additional charges, educational and otherwise, are only twenty +dollars, which the published terms state, "<i>does not include music or +dancing!</i>"</p> + +<p>Among the literary and scientific societies is the <i>Institut +Historique</i>, where public and gratuitous lectures are given. A journal +is published, and all that members pay for it, and the advantages of the +institution, is about four dollars a year. There is a flourishing +agricultural society, a society for the encouragement of national +industry, one for the improvement of national horticulture, one for the +civilization and colonization of Africa, one for the promotion of +commercial knowledge, etc. etc.</p> + +<p>Besides the many colleges to which I have barely alluded, and the +societies, there are twenty or thirty literary and scientific societies +of note in Paris.</p> + +<p>It will not be necessary to be more particular to convince the reader +that no other city in the world has the educational advantages of Paris. +What a privilege it must be to a poor Parisian to live near such schools +and colleges, we can at once perceive. If a young man has talents or +genius, his poverty need be no bar to his advancement. He is taken up at +once. He is not the charity student of America, for the very fact that +without money and friends he has by sheer force of native genius made +his way into the places given only to students poor and talented, adds +to his fame, and he is quite as well if not better liked for it. What an +advantage the many kinds of lectures, which are given to all who please +to attend gratuitously, must be to all inquiring minds in Paris, we can +feel at once. The artisan if he can spare an hour can listen to one of +the most brilliant lectures upon history, either of the sciences, or +medicine, side by side with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>young aristocrat. Nothing higher in +character is to be had in Paris or out of it than that which he listens +to without cost. The effect of this vast system of public instruction is +very great, and the influence of the colleges and learned societies upon +society is wonderful. There is no spirit of exclusiveness, such as +characterizes the English and some of the American colleges, and the +people are not prejudiced against them. This system of instruction is +almost perfect, <i>of its kind</i> but France lacks one thing which America +has—a system of common schools, which shall educate <i>the children</i>. Far +better have this system and lack the one she has now, but if she only +had our common school system together with her colleges and academies, +she would surpass, by far, any other nation. America very much needs +such a system. It is free, broad, and liberal, and with ordinary care +will make any country glorious in the sciences and arts. Certainly until +America cares less for mere cash and more for the arts and sciences, +until she is generous enough to foster them and appropriate money to +help young men of genius, and offer prizes to men of talent, the fine +arts will not prosper with us. Only the arts which in a pecuniary sense +<i>pay</i>, will thrive, and the rest will live a starveling life. Can we +rest content with such a prospect? No country is better able to be +generous in such matters than America.</p> + +<p>While in Paris I made the acquaintance of several students of law and +medicine from America, and from them I learned that the professors in +all the different institutions are exceedingly polite and kind to +foreign students, and especially to Americans. Foreign diplomas are +granted by the different colleges, and no difference is made between a +native and a foreign scholar.</p> + +<p>The students of Paris are an intellectual class, and as a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>body are +inclined at all times to be democratic. In England and in America +learning seems always to incline to conservatism. The great schools and +colleges are opposed to radicalism. This is generally true in America, +in the old institutions of learning, and it is emphatically true of +England. Cambridge and Oxford are the strong-holds of the blindest +toryism. They are two hundred years behind the age. But in Paris this is +not the case. The colleges are reformatory and radical. The Academies +have the same disposition, only it is modified. Many of the members of +the French academy are sincere republicans. I cannot account for this +singular fact, unless it be that the French mind is so active and so +brilliant that it easily arrives at the truth. A Frenchman, if he +considers the matter of government and politics, very soon arrives at +his conclusion—that man has rights, and that a form of government which +comes least in collision with them is the best. It is entirely a matter +of theory with him. Everything tends to theory. The practical is +ignored. Hence, while Paris abounds with theoretical democrats and +republicans, there are few men in it capable of administering the +affairs of a democratic republic.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_192.jpg" width="400" height="326" alt="HOTEL DES INVALIDES" title="HOTEL DES INVALIDES" /> +<span class="caption">HOTEL DES INVALIDES</span> + +</div> + +<h3><a name="HOTEL_DES_INVALIDES" id="HOTEL_DES_INVALIDES"></a>HOTEL DES INVALIDES</h3> + +<p>The Hotel des Invalides is visited by a vast crowd of people, Parisians, +provincials, and foreigners, for it is the final resting place of +Napoleon the Great. It is an imposing structure, and aside from the +interest felt in it as the receptacle of the remains of Napoleon, it is +well worth a visit. It is situated on the south side of the Seine, not +far from the chamber of deputies, its front facing the south. It +presents a magnificent appearance from the street, perhaps the finest of +any like building in Europe. It has long been a celebrated military +hospital for the reception of disabled and superannuated soldiers. Under +Louis XIV. the present hospital was instituted, and building after +building was added, together with a fine church, until the vast pile +covers sixteen acres of ground, and encloses fifteen courts. At the time +of the revolution, the hospital was called the Temple of Humanity, under +Napoleon the Temple of Mars, and now the Hotel des Invalides. It is +under the control of the minister of war, has a governor and a +multiplicity of inferior officers. It is divided <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>into fourteen +sections, over each of which an officer is appointed. All soldiers who +are disabled, or who have served thirty years in the army, are entitled +to the privileges of the institution, and are boarded, clothed, and +lodged. For breakfast they have soup, beef, and vegetables, for dinner, +meat, vegetables, and cheese. They have but two meals a day. They also +receive pay at the rate of two francs a day, and the officers higher in +proportion to their rank. Before the northern face of the building there +is a large open space, in which many trophies of war are placed, and +there are beds of flowers interspersed among them. On the southern front +there is a fine statue of Napoleon. The library of the hospital contains +fourteen thousand volumes, and is of course open to all the inmates. The +church is a very important part of the great pile of buildings, and is +filled with statues of great military men, trophies of different +campaigns, etc. etc. The dome of this church is one of the finest in +Paris, and is decorated in the interior in a gorgeous style.</p> + +<p>Beneath the dome lies the tomb of Napoleon, the great attraction of the +place. It is, for a wonder, simple and massive in its style, and upon it +are laid Napoleon's hat, sword, imperial crown, etc. etc. To this tomb +thousands of admirers have come and will come to the latest generations, +for whatever were the faults of the great military hero, he had the +faculty of making passionate admirers. The old soldiers in the +institution seem to regard the tomb as an object of adoration, and guard +it as carefully as they would the living body of the hero.</p> + +<p><a name="Jardin_dHiver" id="Jardin_dHiver"></a>Across the Seine from the Hotel des Invalides, on the avenue des Champs +Elysees, is the fashionable Jardin d'Hiver, a roofed garden of +hot-houses, and which is open in winter as a flower-garden. The +admittance is not free, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>but costs a franc. It often contains very fine +collections of the costliest and rarest of plants and flowers. The +French exquisites in the cold and chilly weather are fond of frequenting +its exhibitions, and to the stranger who would like to see the higher +classes of Paris, in a public garden, it is an interesting place.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_194.jpg" width="400" height="342" alt="JARDIN D'HIVER." title="JARDIN D'HIVER." /> +<span class="caption">JARDIN D'HIVER.</span> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h2>GUIZOT—DUMAS—SUE—THIERS—SAND.</h2> +<h3>M. GUIZOT</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_195.jpg" width="300" height="418" alt="M. GUIZOT." title="M. GUIZOT." /> +<span class="caption">M. GUIZOT.</span> +</div> + + + + +<p>Pierre Francois Guillaume Guizot, was born at Nismes in 1787. At the age +of seven years he saw his own father guillotined during the reign of +terror, and without doubt this fact made a deep impression upon his +heart, and led him ever after instinctively to dislike the people and a +popular government. His mother took ref<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>uge in Switzerland. She was a +strong Calvinist, and from her the son imbibed his rigid Calvinistic +sentiments. He had no youth, properly speaking, for he was apparently +devoid of youthful feeling and passions. He was educated in the strict +and formal school of Geneva, and his education, together with his +nature, made him a stoic, a man with no sympathies for the people, +lacking heart, possessing a great intellect, and rigidly honest.</p> + +<p>At the age of nineteen he left Geneva for Paris, to study law, and his +poverty was such that he was obliged to seek employment. M. Stopper, an +old minister of the Helvetic confederation, took him as a tutor for his +children. His pride rebelled against his situation, for the children of +the minister were spoiled, and whenever he went into the street they +made him stop before every confectioner's shop to satisfy their depraved +appetites. This he refused to do, and the children made loud complaints, +the result of which was, that Guizot left his place, declaring that it +was not his mission to buy candies for the minister's children! In +endeavoring to teach these children the grammar of their language, M. +Guizot made a <i>Dictionary of Synonymes</i>, which he sold to a bookseller +for a reasonable price. This was his first attempt at authorship. He +made the acquaintance of M. Luard, who was the chief censor of new +books, before whom his little dictionary came. M. Luard discovering in +the young Guizot great talents and capacity, prevailed upon him to give +up writing of synonymes, and devote himself to more honorable and +lucrative labors.</p> + +<p>Recommended by his friend, he wrote for nearly all the public journals +in turn, giving them specimens of his cold, unimpassioned style, which +was never after changed. He wrote <i>himself</i> upon his paper, and like +himself was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>his style—cold and dignified. But his style had admirers, +though not many readers. He was accorded genius and an exalted +intellect, but he was not loved. His first books were the <i>Annals of +Education</i>, <i>Lives of the French Poets of the Age of Louis XIV.</i>, and a +translation of <i>Gibbon's Fall of the Roman Empire</i>. These volumes were +noticed in a flattering manner by all scholars and critics, and the +young author very soon occupied a high position in Paris. After this he +did not seem to succeed, and he wrote a couple of pamphlets upon the +condition of French literature and fine arts. He failed as a critic, and +was appointed to the chair of modern history in the university. His +political fortunes now commenced. His manners, his dress, which was +severe in style, and his pale face, all combined to make him for the +time a lion, and he drew crowds to his lectures. This was in 1812. M. +Guizot was one of the first to foresee and prepare for the restoration.</p> + +<p>M. Guizot met in society a Mademoiselle Meulan, a literary woman of +note, and fancied her. She was utterly poor, and during a severe fit of +illness he wrote articles which she signed, and thus earned enough for +her support. When she had recovered, she gave him her heart and hand in +marriage, though she had not a <i>sou</i> of dowry. She was older than he, +but was a woman of many virtues. Madame Guizot was an intimate friend of +the Abbe Montesquieu, who was the principal secret agent of Louis XVIII. +As soon as Guizot was married, he was let into these secrets, and became +private secretary to the abbe. He was in the habit of meeting the +friends of the restoration every evening at a club, and he did not +hesitate to take a bold part in its proceedings. Royer-Collard said to +him after one of these meetings, "Guizot, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>you will rise high." Guizot +demanded an explanation He replied, "You have ambition; you have much +head but no heart; you will rise high. When the restoration comes the +abbe will be minister, and he will make you secretary-general." Such was +the fact eighteen months after. The Calvinistic religion of Guizot was +no bar to his promotion, so long as his conscience permitted him to +serve with unquestioned zeal his master, and he was never troubled on +that score. The return of Napoleon from Elba was a sudden blow to the +fortunes of Guizot, and he became the friend of the new minister, who +kept him provisionally in office. He was suddenly dismissed, however, +because, he declares, he would not sign an additional act to the +constitution, but the minister denied this. He returned to Ghent, where +in the <i>Moniteur</i> he published bitter articles against Napoleon and his +government. The columns were filled with criticisms of this nature. He +endeavored afterward to disown some of these articles, but the +authorship clung to him.</p> + +<p>Napoleon was vanquished, but Guizot continued to write books. Some of +them were as follows: <i>"Some Ideas upon the Liberty of the Press;" "Of +the Representative Government;" "Essay upon the state of Public +Instruction."</i> He was a <i>busy</i> man—he was never idle. This is in his +favor, and undoubtedly he honestly sought the good of the nation, though +mixed with this desire there was a strong love of fame, and great +ambition. He wrote a book upon the elections, and the king created a new +department for him—that of director-general of the communes and +departments. He made use of his position to extend his influence. He +became chief of the doctrinaire school, which included many eminent men +of that time, and acquired great political power. It occupied a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>kind of +middle ground between the <i>ancien régime</i> and pure liberalism. There +came a reaction, and Guizot again took to his pen, leaving office and +emolument. The king did not like his writings, and even his office of +professor of history in the university was taken from him. He was a man +who was not dejected through misfortune, and grew stronger as he was +persecuted. His wife was taken very ill, and finally died. The Catholic +priests endeavored to gain access to her bed-side, but were not +permitted. She died a convert to Protestantism. Guizot was to her a good +husband, but she always felt keenly the fact that she was older than her +husband. He married a young and beautiful English woman, of whom he was +passionately fond, if so cold a man ever possessed passions. His first +wife, it is said, knew who was to succeed her. He now wrote a <i>History +of Representative Government</i>, in which he gave the administration +repeated blows.</p> + +<p>He issued new books often enough to keep his name constantly before the +public, and these volumes were loudly praised by the opposition +journals. The administration modified its conduct toward him, and he +again participated in public affairs. But he foresaw the great change +which was coming, and this time made sure to make no blunders. Perhaps, +indeed, it is probable that he was honest in desiring a government like +that of Louis Phillippe—at any rate, he saw with great shrewdness the +revolution, and profited by his foresight.</p> + +<p>Guizot became the minister of Louis Phillippe. He commenced a system of +corruption which long after ruined his fortunes and those of his master. +It is, perhaps, difficult to say who was the soul of this system—the +king or the minister; but both were heartily in it and approved it, and +M. Guizot, of course, is responsible for it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>He did not forget his +friends during his good fortune, but imitating Louis Phillippe, he gave +place to all his old companions. His <i>valet de chambre</i>, even, was made +<i>sous-prefet</i>, but this appointment raised such a storm that the king +made a change in the ministry. But during his short retirement from +office he never for a moment lost the ear of his royal master, who well +knew the capabilities of the man—and too well to spare his services for +any great length of time. The two men were suited to each other, and +united their fortunes. The queen was conscious of Guizot's ambition, and +it is said spoke of it to the king. But Louis Phillippe could not have +expected pure devotion without hope of reward. He ruled through bribery, +and could not blame a minister for being animated in his service by +personal considerations. The plan of Guizot seemed to be to buy up all +malcontents who could not be awed into subjection, or in fact, all who +were <i>worth</i> buying. This corrupt system he carried as far as it was +possible, and avoid too much scandal. He bought up constituencies for +the king, and with his fellows he successfully silenced the opposition. +One of his enemies was M. Thiers, who constantly persecuted him through +a long course of years. The bearing of Guizot while minister, was +dignified, calm, and indeed grand. He could never, by passionate attacks +or bitter persecutions, be tempted into any undignified displays of +temper. He was a stoic everywhere—in politics as well as in his +religion, and at home. It is a singular fact that M. Guizot, who was a +great minister of corruption, who bought votes by the wholesale, never +allowed himself to profit pecuniarily, in the slightest degree, by his +position. He did not amass a franc save by his honest earnings, and so +well was his character known in this respect, that he was above all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>suspicion. He did not love money—but power. He was economical in his +habits, caring nothing for idle pomp or extravagant show. While +ambassador in London he walked the streets with a plain umbrella, +instead of riding in his carriage, and such were his general habits of +economy that he amassed a fine property.</p> + +<p>His second wife now died, and it is said that after the event, he +carried on intrigues with women; it is certain that he was very +susceptible to female beauty and accomplishments. He was thought +fine-looking by the ladies, and did not lack admirers among them. It is +said by his enemies that he greatly admires himself, and that his home +abounds with portraits of himself from chamber to kitchen. It is also +told of him, to illustrate his hatred of M. Thiers, that when he was +ambassador in London, he would not receive his instructions from his +enemy, who was the minister in power, but received secret notes from +Louis Phillîppe, and in the king's own hand.</p> + +<p>But the system adopted by the king and M. Guizot, ended in ruin. The +latter saved himself by ignominious flight. He clothed himself as a +peasant, and in this manner crossed the frontier. He afterward gave an +eloquent description of his escape. So hurried was his departure from +Paris, that he could not even bid his mother good-bye. He loved her +fondly; indeed his affection for her was the strongest sentiment of his +heart. It was the link which connected him with humanity. His mother set +out to rejoin him in London, and died on the way. It was unquestionably +the hardest trial, the most dreadful shock of his life, but he was true +to his stoical nature, and manifested not the sign of an emotion when +the news came to him.</p> + +<p>The king and the minister were together in England, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>in exile, but they +did not visit each other. They had had both learned a lesson—that a +system of corruption will in the end defeat itself. Since his flight to +London, M. Guizot has written two or three works, but they have not had +a marked success, and only prove that he clings tenaciously to his old +conservative opinions.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ALEXANDER_DUMAS" id="ALEXANDER_DUMAS"></a>ALEXANDER DUMAS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_203.jpg" width="300" height="365" alt="ALEXANDER DUMAS." title="ALEXANDER DUMAS." /> +<span class="caption">ALEXANDER DUMAS.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Alexander Dumas, one of the most celebrated authors of France, was born +on the 24th of July, 1802, in the village of Villars-Coterets. His +grandfather, the marquis de la Pailletrie, was governor of the island of +St. Domingo, and married a negress called Tiennette Dumas. Some declare +that this woman was his mistress, and not his wife, but we will not +pronounce upon this point. The marquis returned to France, bringing with +him a young mulatto—the father of the subject of this sketch. The youth +took the name of his mother, and entered the army as a private soldier. +He soon achieved renown and rose step by step to the rank of general of +a division. Under the empire, he died without fortune, leaving his +son—Al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>exander Dumas—to the care of his widow, who was quite poor. +Alexander commenced his studies under the Abbe Gregoire, who found it +impossible to teach him arithmetic, and with great difficulty beat a +little Latin into him. This arose, not from the boy's stupidity, but +because he did not apply himself. He was exceedingly fond of out-door +sports and exercise, and to such an extent did he follow his +inclinations in this particular, that he laid the foundation for a +vigorous health, that years of labor have never impaired. He was very +handsome when a boy, with long, curling hair, blue eyes, and a skin a +little tinged with the tropical hue, to denote his African descent. At +the age of eighteen, he entered a notary's office in his native village, +with the purpose of studying law.</p> + +<p>Leuven, exiled from Paris until the return of the Bourbons, resided in +the village, and forming the acquaintance of young Dumas and noticing +that he was ambitious, he counseled him to write dramas, and he would +make money. Dumas followed his advice—wrote three, which were offered +to the directors of the Paris theaters, and were each rejected by all. +But Dumas was made of stuff of the better sort, and was not thus to be +discouraged. Leuven soon returned to Paris, and Dumas longed to follow +him there. But he was too poor. He formed a plan, however, of gaining +his point, for he was anxious to see and know the actors of Paris, and +with a fellow-clerk he set out on foot for the great city. The two +young men were without money, but each carried a gun. They shot hares +and partridges as they journeyed toward Paris, and sold them to dealers +in game, and thus paid their expenses from day to day.</p> + +<p>Leuven received him with open arms, and gave the delighted youth a +ticket to hear Talma. He was privileged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>to go behind the scenes between +the acts, and converse with the actors. He was filled with delight. +Talma saw him, and at once pronounced him a genius. In his memoirs, he +declares that he said, "Alexander Dumas, I baptize you a poet, in the +name of Shakspeare, Corneille, and Schiller. Return to your native +village, enter your study, and the angel of Poesy will find you there, +and will raise you by the hair, like the Prophet Habakkuk, and transport +you to the spot where duty lies before you."</p> + +<p>Alexander soon came to Paris again, not this time supporting himself by +his gun, but with money which his mother gave him. He had letters of +recommendation to some of the old generals of the empire, and installed +himself comfortably in the <i>Place des Italiens</i>. Some of the men to whom +he had letters received him coldly, but in General Foy he found a warm +friend and protector. He introduced him to the notice of the duke of +Orleans, who finding that the young man possessed a good hand-writing, +which, by the way, he preserves to this day, he made him one of his +secretaries, and gave him a salary of twelve hundred francs. Alexander +now considered himself on the high road to fortune. He was in Paris—and +with a salary! It was small, to be sure, but he was where he could +frequent the theaters, and his patron was a man of eminence. He had +little to do, and read Shakspeare, Scott, Goethe, and Schiller. He said +to General Foy, "I live now by my hand-writing, but I assure you that +one day I will live by my pen." This shows that he looked forward to a +literary life—that he foresaw, in a measure, his after success in +literature. He soon began to write, and some of his plays were so well +liked by the managers of different theaters, that they bought them and +brought them out. He had already, while a secreta<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>ry, begun to receive +money for his writings. He wrote for his mother who came up to Paris, +and the couple took up their residence in a humble apartment in the +faubourg St. Denis. For a time after this, his efforts were attended +with poor success, but he had the good fortune to please the +director-general of the theaters by a tragedy, and he promised him that +it should be brought out. Before this was done the director left for the +east, and in his absence the man who took his place refused to bring out +the play. Dumas made loud complaint. The censor asked him if he had +money, and he replied that he had not a <i>sou</i>. He demanded of him what +he depended upon for his support, Dumas referred to his salary of twelve +hundred francs, as secretary to the duke of Orleans. The censor advised +him to stick to his writing-desk. This was not only cruel, but very +unjust treatment of an author of great promise. In this play, it is but +right to state, Dumas exhibited the weakness which has almost uniformly +characterized his career—that of plagiarism. His situations, and +sometimes his language, were stolen from Goethe, Scott, etc., etc. His +next play was entitled <i>Henry III.</i>, and was brought out under the +protection of the duke of Orleans. It was very successful, and he +received for it the sum of fifty thousand francs. It was, like the play +which preceded it, filled with stolen passages and scenes, but this did +not detract from its success. He now left his humble lodgings and took +up his residence in the Rue de l'University, where he lived in splendid +style. He was not a man to hoard his money, but to enjoy it as it was +earned.</p> + +<p>His life at this time was almost a ludicrous one. He lived in the most +luxurious manner, dressed fantastically, and loved a great number of +women. After the great success of <i>Henry III.</i>, the +play—<i>Christine</i>—which had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>previously been rejected, was brought +forward with success.</p> + +<p>In the revolution of July Dumas acted bravely, and has himself told the +story of his conduct with not a little boasting. He brought out the +drama of <i>Napoleon Bonaparte</i>, and that of <i>Charles VII.</i>, after Louis +Phillippe was upon the throne. These dramas he had the fame of writing, +but other persons wrote largely in them. He adopted the plan of +employing good writers upon the different parts of a drama, and while +himself superintending the whole and writing prominent parts, yet +entrusting to his assistants a great portion of the composition. It was +his genius which arranged the plot and guided the selection of +characters, but the glory should have often been divided with his +humbler co-laborers. Victor Hugo wrote a play which the censors would +not allow to be brought out. He read it to Dumas. The latter soon issued +a play which was so very like that of Hugo, that when sometime after the +interdict was taken off from the play of Hugo, he was accused of +stealing from Dumas. But the truth was easily to be proved—that Hugo's +play was <i>first</i> written—and Dumas declared in the public newspapers +that if there was any plagiarism in anybody, himself was the guilty +party! A new play now appeared which was principally written by +assistants, and which was also defaced by plagiarisms. Like some of +those which preceded it, it made light, indeed glorified, vices of the +darkest dye.</p> + +<p>A person by the name of Gillardet wrote a play, and presented it to the +manager of a theater, who not liking it, asked Jules Janin, the critic, +to revise it. Not liking it any better after the work of Janin upon it, +he handed it over to Dumas for a similar revision. He reärranged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>it and +brought it out as his own play! M. Gillardet went to law upon the matter +and recovered his rights. A duel was the result of the quarrel. Many +plays after this were written, until at last Janin, the critic, wrote a +severe article upon one of Dumas' plays. The author was wroth, and +replied. Janin made a second attack, and Paris laughed at the author. +Dumas swore that he would have blood, and author and critic went on to +the field for combat. Dumas demanded to fight with the sword—Janin with +the pistol—and finally not coming to agreement upon this point, the +parties made up their quarrel and became friends.</p> + +<p>The reader will have seen by this time where Dumas' genius lies—it is +in the arrangements for a drama—in working a subject up for the stage. +It is not so much in the matter, as the manner. Give him incidents, and +he will group them so as to produce a great effect. This is his power.</p> + +<p>Dumas' income grew large, and he took a new and more princely residence. +He associated himself with the great, and even went so far as to take an +actress to a ball given by his patron, the duke of Orleans. The woman +acted in his plays, and his relations with her were too intimate, but he +soon afterward married her. They lived so extravagantly that a +separation soon followed, and though Dumas' income was two hundred +thousand francs a year, yet he was constantly in debt from his +astonishing extravagance. He built at St. Germain his villa of Monte +Christo, which required enormous sums of money. He imported two +architects from Algiers, to decorate at a great expense one room after +the fashion of the east, and pledged them not to execute any similar +work in Europe. He has twelve reception-rooms in his house, and it is +mag<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>nificently furnished throughout. He keeps birds, parrots, and +monkeys, and a collection of fine horses.</p> + +<p>From 1845 to 1846 he issued sixty volumes, the majority, of course, +written <i>for</i>, not by him. As a matter of course, if these volumes sold +successfully, his income was enormous, and his name upon the cover of a +book seemed to insure its success. A theater was erected for the express +purpose of representing his plays alone, called the Theater of History. +He now visited Spain, and was present at the marriage of the duke of +Montpensier. Coming home, he made a short tour in Africa, where he +engaged in rare sports. He was accompanied by his son Alexander, who is +a distinguished author.</p> + +<p>After the revolution of 1848 Dumas appeared among the people, who +welcomed him as a pure democrat. He started a journal which soon died. A +good story is told of him about this time. A great admirer said to him +that there was a gross historical error in one of his romances. "Ah!" +said Dumas, "in what book?" The volume and error were pointed out, when +he exclaimed, "Ah! I have not read the book. Let me see—the little +Augustus wrote it. I will cut his head off!"</p> + +<p>He got so rapidly in debt soon after' this, that he left France for +Brussels. Monte Christo was seized to pay his debts.</p> + +<p>He broke off with one of the most eminent of his assistants, and since +then, his romances and plays have lacked much of the interest and +ability which they formerly possessed, and he is not regarded to-day as +he once was in Paris. This may be owing in part to the sickly condition +of literature under the despotism of Louis Napoleon. In his personal +appearance he is burly; he has large, red cheeks, his hair is crisped +and piled high upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>his forehead. His eyes are dark, his mouth a +sensuous one; his throat is generally laid bare, and in short, he is a +good looking man. It is said that he has thought of visiting the United +States, and would do so, were it not for the prejudice against color in +America.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="EUGENE_SUE" id="EUGENE_SUE"></a>EUGENE SUE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_211.jpg" width="300" height="335" alt="EUGENE SUE." title="EUGENE SUE." /> +<span class="caption">EUGENE SUE.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Marie-Joseph Sue, was born on the first day of January, 1801, in Paris. +His family was from Provence. His great-grandfather, Pierre Sue, was a +professor of medicine in the faculty of Paris, and was the author of +several excellent works, but died poor. His grandfather was not a +learned man, but was exceedingly wealthy. He was physician to the family +of Louis XVI. His father was professor of anatomy, and was appointed by +Napoleon surgeon of the Imperial Guard, and was, later, physician to the +family of Louis XVIII. He was married three times, and his wives each +bore him children. The second wife was the mother of the great novelist, +and she died soon after giving birth to her child. The Prince Eugene and +the Empress Josephine stood sponsors at the baptism of the child, and in +after life he relinquished his two given names for that of Eugene—after +the prince—by which he is now universally known.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>While at school, Eugene and an intimate companion were noted for the +mischief they wrought. One of their mischievous acts was, to raise +Guinea pigs and then turn them loose in the botanical garden of the +elder Sue, where, of course, they destroyed many of the plants.</p> + +<p>A tutor was engaged to school the refractory boys—one that was very +poor, and who dreaded above all things else, to lose his situation. +Whenever the tutor required that the boys should study their Latin, they +threatened him with a dismissal from his place, and so intimidated him +by this and other means, that he was content to let them alone. The +elder Sue asked him how the boys progressed in their Latin. He was +compelled to reply that they were excellent scholars, whereupon the old +gentleman demanded a specimen of the Latin they had acquired. They at +once manufactured a torrent of atrocious sentences, and palmed them off +upon him as genuine Latin, he not knowing enough to detect the +imposition, but the remorseful tutor had to listen to it in silence! The +father was delighted.</p> + +<p>The elder Sue was a very easy, good-natured man, but had no learning, +though he was reckoned a <i>savan</i> of the first water. Eugene knew this, +and wickedly took advantage of it. His father—the doctor—was in the +habit of delivering a course of botanical lectures to a circle of very +select ladies, and Eugene suspected that his father, notwithing his +voluble discourse, had little knowledge of botany. He, therefore, with +one or two of his companions, took occasion (as it was their task to +prepare plants and flowers in vases, with their names written upon the +vases for examination) to insert new and unheard of names to puzzle the +old man. He entered the hall one day, smiling to the ladies on either +hand, and stood before them. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>took up a vase, and for an instant was +staggered by the name, but it would not do to let his ignorance be +known, so he very coolly said, "This, ladies, is the +<i>concrysionisoides</i>." He hemmed a little, and then for more than an hour +descanted upon the character and nature of the fabulous plant, it is +needless to add, fabricating all the way through. Eugene was unkind +enough not only to enjoy the scene, but to go and tell the ladies of the +joke.</p> + +<p>About this time, the since celebrated Dr. Veron became a fellow-pupil of +Sue's, and made the fourth of this band of youthful jokers. They were +now assistant surgeons in one of the Paris hospitals. Eugene one day +made the discovery that in his father's cabinet there was an apartment +in which he kept a very choice collection of wines, which were presents +from the allied sovereigns, when they were in Paris. There were among +others, sixty bottles of delicate Johannisberg, a present from Prince +Metternich. The students soon found the way, led by Eugene, to this +wine, and drank time after time. The question came up as to what should +be done with the bottles. Eugene proposed that the empty ones be +concealed, but Dr. Veron remarked that their absence would bring +detection. So a plan was hit upon which was far better—the bottles were +half-filled with wine and then water was added. The doctor was fond on +great occasions of bringing out this old wine and telling the story +connected with it, and drinking a few bottles. He thus ordered it on the +table one day, and prepared his guests to expect a remarkable wine. They +drank in silence, while the doctor exclaimed, "Delicious!—but <i>it is +time it was drunk</i>." Eugene was present and drank his wine and water +without any emotion. But not long after, while the students were +drinking the pure wine, the old doctor entered the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>cabinet and caught +them at their wicked work. It was an act never to be forgotten by him, +and he was astounded beyond measure. About this time he also discovered +that Eugene had been borrowing money at usurious interest to pay debts +he had contracted, and he was so indignant that he ordered him to leave +his house. Eugene joined the army and went to Spain. His father became +anxious for his safety, and had him attached to the staff of the duke of +Augouléme. But young Sue took good care not to expose himself to much +danger. He passed through the siege of Cadiz, the taking of Trocadero, +and returned to Paris in safety. His father was delighted to see him, +and received him kindly. But the doctor did not open his purse.</p> + +<p>Young Sue found his old companion faring sumptuously, being attached to +a liberal man named De Forges, who also supplied Sue occasionally with +money. Dr. Veron drove a fine horse and tilbury, and Sue was not content +until he could do the same. He applied to the Jewish money-lenders, who +replied that if he would sell a lot of wines for them, they would allow +him a handsome commission. As a last resort he sold the wine, and +procured a fine horse and phæton. Driving out one day very rapidly in +the streets, he ran down a pedestrian, and looking at the unfortunate +man he discovered that it was his own father! The old man was +exceedingly angry and caned him on the spot. He demanded an explanation +of his son for this apparent wealth, and commanded him at once to go to +Toulon and enter the military hospital there, in the practice of his +profession. In Toulon his personal appearance was so fascinating that +the women fell in love with him, and he carried on many shameful +intrigues.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>In 1825 he returned to Paris, and found an old friend of his the +director of a little journal. He commenced writing articles for this +little journal, some of them light and others of a <i>spirituel</i> +character, which were highly admired. In Paris he was also given to +intrigues with women. In 1826 he made many aristocratic conquests, and +frequented the home of a celebrated female novelist. In his first +romances, his high-born mistresses figure as his principal characters. +The elder Sue now formally declared that he would pay no more debts of +his son, and he was again reduced to poverty. He had recourse to the +Jews, who lent him money upon his expectations from his grandfather. He +plunged again into extravagance, and this time his father placed him as +surgeon in the navy, and in this capacity he made voyages round the +world. Soon after his return, his maternal grandfather died, and his +father a little later left him a large fortune, and he commenced a life +of gorgeous extravagance and sensuality, which has often been described. +From 1831 to 1833, he published a series of sea-romances, which had a +great success, and the French critics called him the French Cooper. He +was very proud, frequented the most gay and fashionable circles, and +assumed airs above his station. He was, however, one day excessively +mortified by the sarcastic allusion of one of his noble friends to the +business or profession of his father. He once more tried the pen to +achieve a name for himself, and this time in history. For the Naval +History of France which he wrote, he received eighty thousand francs, an +enormous price for a poor book. The more renown he acquired, the less +pains he took with his books, but he always made good any losses +incurred by publishers in publishing his works.</p> + +<p>Finding himself in years, he bethought himself of mar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>riage, and turned +his attention to a relative of Madam de Maintenon, who refused him +upon the pretext of the disparity in their ages. He had his revenge in +writing against marriage, and against all aristocracies in his romances. +His <i>Mysteries of Paris</i> appeared in the <i>Debats</i>, and the <i>Wandering +Jew</i> in the <i>Constitutionel</i>. He endeavored through his fiction to teach +Socialistic doctrines, and so far carried them into practice that he +appeared in the streets in a blouse. There can be no question that his +later novels were written with a far higher aim than the early ones, +which were reeking with a refined, yet none the less loathsome +sensuality. An enormous price was paid for the <i>Wandering Jew</i> by the +editor of the <i>Constitutionel</i>, who was none other than his old +companion of the wine-closet—Dr. Veron. The latter made a bargain with +the author to write ten small volumes a year for fourteen consecutive +years, for which he agreed to pay one hundred thousand francs a year, or +nearly a million and a half for the whole engagement. He presented Dr. +Veron with the manuscript of the <i>Seven Capital Sins</i>, when the worthy +editor found himself drawn to the life, under the title of the Gourmand. +He protested against it, but Sue pleading the bargain, would not abate +one sentence. Dr. Veron would not, of course, publish it, and finally +the contract was annulled. The Gourmand—Dr. Veron—was published in the +<i>Seicle</i>, and the others of the <i>Capital Sins</i>, were published in the +<i>Presse</i>.</p> + +<p>Sue had at this time a splendid chateau in the environs of Orleans—the +chateau des Bordes. Here he lived in great luxury and splendor. In the +days of the republic he was elected a member of the legislative +assembly, which office at first he was backward in assuming. In <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>1852 +Sue sold his Orleans property, and removed to a beautiful place in +Savoy, where his life was described as follows: "He rises in the morning +and receives from a servant a long bamboo cane, and walks in the region +of his house until breakfast. A pretty house-keeper waits upon him while +he partakes of a sumptuous meal, and when it is finished, he enters his +study to write. The servant presents him with a spotless pair of kid +gloves in which he always writes. At each chapter a new and perfumed +pair is presented him. He writes five or six hours steadily, without +correcting or reading. His income is from sixty to eighty thousand +francs a year from these writings. After laborious writing, Sue makes +his toilet in the best style, and prepares for dinner, which is +everything that an epicure might desire. After dinner he mounts a fine +horse and rides among the hills which surround his home, until his +digestion is completed. He returns, smokes tobacco from an amber pipe, +and enjoys himself at his leisure."</p> + +<p>Of Eugene Sue's character it is, perhaps, needless for me to make any +criticisms. He has many admirers in all parts of the world—and also +many enemies. That he is a romancer of astonishing powers nobody will +deny, but we well may question the use he has made of those powers. +Nearly all of his earlier romances are unfit for the eyes of pure men +and women, and now that he is dead, let us hope that they too will +perish. In later years, M. Sue has endeavored to advocate the cause of +the poor, and with great eloquence, in his fictions. But he has probably +caused as much harm by the licentiousness of his style, as he has +accomplished good by his pleas for the poor. It is stated that he has +given very liberally to the poor, and in prac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>tice exemplified his +doctrine. His books give an indication of the present fashionable +morality of Paris and France, and though they have sold largely in +America, their influence cannot be good.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="M_THIERS" id="M_THIERS"></a>M. THIERS</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_219.jpg" width="300" height="375" alt="M. THIERS." title="M. THIERS." /> +<span class="caption">M. THIERS.</span> +</div> + + +<p>M. Thiers has figured prominently in French politics, was a minister of +Louis Phillippe, and is a historian. He is a man of a singular nature, +witty and eccentric, rather than profound and dignified, and it will not +do to pas him by without a notice. He was born in Marseilles, in the +year 1797. His father was a common workman, but his mother was of a +commercial family which had been plunged into poverty by a reverse of +fortune. The young Thiers was educated through the bounty of the state, +at the school of Marseilles, and was, when a boy, known principally for +his rogueries. He sold his books to get apples and barley-sugar. +Punishments seemed never to have any terror for him. At one time he +concealed a tom-cat in his desk in the school, with its claws confined +in walnut <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>shells, and suddenly in school hours let him loose, to the +great astonishment and anger of his teachers. He was condemned to a +dungeon for eight days, and received a terrible reprimand. The effect of +either the lecture or the imprisonment was decided. He became docile and +obedient, and paid attention to his studies. For seven years he studied +with unremitting attention, and during all that time took the first +prizes of his class. He now went to Aix to study law, where his old +habits returned to him, and he became wild and mischievous in his ways. +At eighteen Adolphe Thiers was a favorite with the liberals and a terror +to the royalists, and was the leader of a party at Aix. He already +showed fine powers of oratory and composition, which later conducted him +to power. He spoke and wrote in the interest of the enemies of the +restoration. He wrote for the newspapers whose columns were open to him, +and increased the vigor and eloquence of his style by this constant +practice.</p> + +<p>There was at Aix an academy which awarded prizes to the best writers +upon given subjects. Thiers wrote for the prize, but was foolish enough +to reserve a copy of his treatise and read it to his companions, who +loudly proclaimed that he must win. The persons who were to award the +prizes were royalists, and hated Thiers for his liberalism, and when +they heard the vauntings of Thiers' friends, they were prepared to +decide against him, which they did when the day of examination came. The +prize was reserved, and another trial was instituted. Thiers put in his +old treatise, and this time the judges awarded to it the second prize, +and gave <i>the first</i> for a treatise which came to them from Paris. Judge +of their chagrin when they found that this treatise was written by +Thiers! The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>little student had fairly taken them in his net. Great were +the rejoicings of the liberals in Aix.</p> + +<p>Among the friends of Thiers was Mignet, since a historian, and the young +men full of hope came together to Paris, where, poor as they were +hopeful, they took lodgings in a miserable street. Mignet determined to +follow literature and by it gain a living and fame, but Thiers resolved +upon intrigue. He made himself known to the liberal leaders, and with +great tact exhibited his abilities. He was instantly offered employment +of various kinds, and chose that of editor. He took charge of the +<i>Constitutionel</i>, and plunged into the heat and strife of party +politics. His witty, hornet-like nature fitted him well for the +position. He attained great influence and power, and the great men of +the time, even Talleyrand, came to him, while he exclaimed bombastically +and blasphemously, "Suffer little children to come unto me."</p> + +<p>He went into society, made the acquaintance of the old men of the +revolution, and gathered the materials for the <i>History of the +Revolution</i>, which afterward carried him to the height of his +popularity. He fought two duels about this time—one with the father of +a young lady whom he had seduced. He started a new journal called the +<i>National</i>, which should be more fully under his control than the +<i>Constitutionel</i> had been, and which should entirely meet his views of +what a journal should be. But the new journal seriously offended the +government, the officers of which attempted to put it down, for on the +morning of the 26th of July, they nearly destroyed the presses of the +establishment. The opposition journalists had a meeting to express their +opinions upon this outrage upon the rights of the press. During the +three troublous days of fighting, Thiers left Paris for the suburbs, and +came <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>back in time to make his fortune, for he was soon named +secretary-general to the government. He had the principal management of +the finances, which at that time were in a state of great disorder. +Thiers delivered a public speech upon the law of mortgages, and +Royer-Collard approached him with open arms, exclaiming, "Your fortune +is made!"</p> + +<p>In the meantime, M. Thiers, as the holidays were approaching, thought it +wise to run down to Aix, which he represented in the chamber of +deputies. Since he was last there he had changed his course upon many of +the important questions of the day. Formerly he was extremely liberal, +but for the sake of power he had deserted the cause of Poland and Italy.</p> + +<p>He let the inhabitants of Aix know that he was coming, that no excuse +might be wanting for a grand reception. Surely the people of Aix would +feel proud of their fellow-citizen who had been so highly honored by the +government!</p> + +<p>He arrived before the gates of the town and was surprised at the silence +everywhere. No crowd came out to greet him—the people were about their +business. A few officials alone met and welcomed him back to the scene +of his early triumphs. He went to his hotel, and when night came, it was +told him that crowds of people were gathered in the street below. He +went to the window—ah! now the people were come to do him honor! What +was his chagrin to hear the multitudes commence a serenade of the vilest +description. Tin horns were blown, tin pans were pounded, and every +species of execrable noise was made, and M. Thiers came to the +conclusion that the people of Aix did not admire his late political +conduct. To satisfy him, the leaders cried aloud, "Traitor to Poland, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>to Italy, and France!" He was satisfied, and hurried back to Paris, +where Louis Phillippe met him, and as if to console him for his +reception in Aix, gave him a portfolio—and he was the king's minister.</p> + +<p>One of his first acts was to destroy the character of the duchess of +Berri, who pretended that the French throne belonged to her son. Louis +Phillippe gave him almost unlimited power to accomplish this object, and +he set to work coolly and with deliberate calculation. It is said he +bribed an intimate friend of the duchess, who knew where she was, with a +million of francs to betray her, and she was thrown into prison. Once +there, he found means to ruin her fame and destroy her influence, though +the measures he took excited the indignation of France. He extorted from +her a secret confession, under the promise that it should always remain +strictly secret, and then coolly published it in the government organ.</p> + +<p>Under M. Thiers the finances of the country improved, and many of the +public works were completed. The splendid Quai d'Orsay and the Place +Vendome were finished, and the Madeleine begun. At the ceremonies which +attended the inauguration of the column upon the Place Vendome, a good +thing was said in the ears of the minister by a Parisian wit. Thiers was +at the foot of the column—the statue of Napoleon at the top. The height +of the column is one hundred and thirty-two feet. Said the wit aloud, +"There are just one hundred and thirty-two feet from the ridiculous to +the sublime!"</p> + +<p>But M. Thiers was not in reality a ridiculous man. Under his management +France saw prosperity. He developed its resources and exhibited great +abilities. He was constantly subjected to attacks from his old radical +associates and he deserved them. The great quarrel of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>life, +however, was with Guizot. These two men were constantly by the ears with +each other, and the king gave one a certain office and the other +another. He changed these officers from time to time, until at last both +saw that one alone must triumph. Guizot was the triumphant man, and +Thiers fell. He became more radical as he lost office, and published (in +1845) two volumes of his <i>History of the Consulate</i>. They had a splendid +success; he sold the whole work for five hundred thousand francs—an +enormous price. But the concluding volumes were not forthcoming, and the +publisher demanded them—but in vain. For the last thirty years M. +Thiers has lived in a beautiful house in the place Saint Georges. He is +wealthy, and has always lived in good style.</p> + +<p>It is currently reported that M. Thiers has been guilty of treating +certain members of his family with great meanness, and in society many +scandalous stories have been repeated illustrating his miserly economy.</p> + +<p>When the revolution of 1848 broke out, M. Thiers ran away from Paris, +but afterward returned, and has since lived a very quiet life.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="GEORGE_SAND" id="GEORGE_SAND"></a>GEORGE SAND</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_225.jpg" width="300" height="414" alt="GEORGE SAND." title="GEORGE SAND." /> +<span class="caption">GEORGE SAND.</span> +</div> + + +<p>One of the most distinguished of the living writers of France is Madam +Dudevant, or GEORGE SAND, which is her <i>nom de plume</i>. She is by no +means a woman either after my ideal or the American ideal, but is a +woman of great genius. Her masculinity, and, indeed, her licentious +style, are great faults: but in sketching some of the most brilliant of +French writers, it would not do to omit her name.</p> + +<p>The maiden name of George Sand was Amantine Aurore Dupin, and she is +descended from Augustus the Second, king of Poland. Her ancestors were +of king's blood, and the more immediate of them were distinguished for +their valor and high birth. She was born in the year <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>1804. She was +brought up by her grandmother, at the chateau Nahant, situated in one of +the most beautiful valleys of France. The old countess of Horn, her +grandmother, was a woman of brilliant qualities, but not a very safe +guide for a young child. Her ideas were anti-religious, and she was a +follower of Rousseau rather than of Christ. When Aurore was fifteen +years old, she knew well how to handle a gun, to dance, to ride on +horseback, and to use a sword. She was a young Amazon, charming, witty, +and yet coarse. She was fond of field sports, yet knew not how to make +the sign of the cross. When she was twenty years old she was sent to a +convent in Paris, to receive a religious education. She loved her +grandmother to adoration, and the separation cost her a great deal of +suffering. She often alludes in her volumes to this grandparent, in +terms of warm love and veneration. In her "<i>Letters of a Traveller</i>" she +gives us some details of her life with her grandmother at the chateau de +Nahant. She says:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Oh, who of us does not recall with delight the first, books +he devoured! The cover of a ponderous old volume that you +found upon the shelf of a forgotten closet—does it not bring +back to you gracious pictures of your young years? Have you +not thought to see the wide meadow rise before you, bathed in +the rosy light of the evening when you saw it for the first +time? Oh! that the night should fall so quickly upon those +divine pages, that the cruel twilight should make the words +float upon the dim page!</p> + +<p>"It is all over; the lambs bleat, the sheep are shut up in +their fold, the cricket chirps in the cottage and field It is +time to go home.</p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> + +<p>"The path is stony, the bridge narrow and slippery, and the +way is difficult.</p> + +<p>"You are covered with sweat, but you have a long walk, you +will arrive too late, supper will have commenced.</p> + +<p>"It is in vain that the old domestic whom you love will retard +the ringing of the bell as long as possible; you will have the +humiliation of entering the last one, and the grandmother, +inexorable upon etiquette, will reprove you in a voice sweet +but sad—a reproach very light, very tender, which you will +feel more deeply than a severe chastisement. But when, at +night, she demands that you account for your absence, and you +acknowledge, blushing, that in reading in the meadow you +forgot yourself, and when you are asked to give the book, you +draw with a trembling hand from your pocket—what? <i>Estelle et +Nemorin</i>.</p> + +<p>"Oh then the grandmother smiles!</p> + +<p>"You regain your courage, your book will be restored to you, +but another time you must not forget the hour of supper.</p> + +<p>"Oh happy days! O my valley Noire! O Corinne! O Bernardin de +Saint Pierre! O the Iliad! O Milleroye! O Atala! O the willows +by the river! O my departed youth! O my old dog who could not +forget the hour of supper, and who replied to the distant +ringing of the bell by a dismal howl of regret and hunger!"</p></div> + +<p>In other portions of her books George Sand refers to her early life, and +always in this enthusiastic manner.</p> + +<p>Her grandmother exercised no surveillance upon her reading—she perused +the pages of Corinne, Atala, and Lavater, and the two former would raise +strange dreams in the head of a girl only fourteen years old. She read +everything which fell in her way.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>In reading Lavater's essays upon Physiogomy, she noticed the array of +ridiculous, hideous, and grotesque pictures, and wished to know what +they were for. She saw underneath them the +words—drunkard—idler—glutton, etc. etc. She very soon remarked that +the drunkard resembled the coachman, the cross and meddling person the +cook, the pedant her own teacher, and thus she proved the infallibility +of Lavater!</p> + +<p>Once, when in the convent at Paris, she was misled by the poetry of +Catholicism, and abandoned herself to the highest transports of +religious fervor. She passed whole hours in ecstasy at the foot of the +altar. This shows the susceptibility of her imagination. About this time +her grandmother died, and she left the convent to close the eyes of her +much-loved grandparent. She returned, with the full determination of +becoming religious. All the authority of her family was required to +break this resolution, and, six months after, to prevail upon her to +marry M. le baron Dudevant, the man they had sought out to be her +husband. He was a retired soldier and a gentleman farmer. The union was +a very unhappy one. She was sensitive, proud, and passionate, while he +was cold, and entirely swallowed up in his agricultural pursuits. The +dowry of Aurore amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, and this money +M. Dudevant spent with a lavish hand upon his farm, but bestowed little +attention upon his wife. At first she endured this life, for two +children were given to her to alleviate her sorrows. But finding her lot +grow more sad, and her health failing, she was ordered to taste the +waters of the Pyrenees, whither she went, but without her husband. She +rested at Bordeaux, and there made her entrance into society, through +some kind friends residing in that city. She was received <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>with praises. +A wealthy shipping merchant fell deeply in love with her; she did not +give way to it, however, but returned to her family, where she found no +affection to welcome her.</p> + +<p>Jules Sandeau, a student of law, spent one of his vacations at the +chateau Nahant, and was the first person who turned Madame Dudevant's +attention to literary pursuits. He returned to Paris profoundly in love +with the lady, though he had not dared to mention it. M. Nerard, a +botanist, came also to the chateau, to give lessons to M. Dudevant, and +his wife was charmed with him, and they spent happy hours together. But +in time love grew out of the intimacy—a love which of course was +wicked, but which according to French ideas, was innocent. The husband +was justly suspicious, and a voluntary separation took place, he +retaining all her property in exchange for her liberty, which he gave +her, and she set out for Bordeaux. She recounts a part of her subsequent +history in "<i>Indiana</i>." She found her lover in Bordeaux, but he had +changed, and was on the eve of marriage, and she went to Paris. She +returned to the same convent where she had spent a part of her youth, to +weep over her lot. She soon left the convent for an attic in the Quai +St. Michel, where Jules Sandeau, the law-student, soon discovered her. +She was in very destitute circumstances, and Sandeau was also very poor. +She knew a little of painting, and obtained orders of a toyman to paint +the upper part of stands for candlesticks, and the covers of +snuff-boxes. This was fatiguing but not remunerative, and they wrote to +the editor of the <i>Figaro</i> newspaper. He replied, and invited them to +visit him at his home, where he received them with kindness. When Aurore +spoke of her snuff-boxes, he laughed heartily; "but," said he to +Sandeau, "why <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>do not you become a journalist? It is less difficult than +You think."</p> + +<p>Sandeau replied, "I am too slow for a journalist."</p> + +<p>"Good!" replied Aurore; "but I will help you!"</p> + +<p>"Very good!" replied the editor; "but work, and bring me your articles +as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>Madame Dudevant laid aside her pencil and took up the pen—not to lay it +down again. She commenced a series of articles which puzzled the +Parisian press. The editor liked them, but desired that she should try +her hand at romance. In about six weeks Madame Dudevant and Jules +Sandeau had completed a volume entitled "<i>Rose and Blanche, or the +Comedian and the Nun</i>;" but they could find no publisher. The editor +came to their aid, and persuaded an old bookseller to give them four +hundred francs for the manuscript. When the book was to be published, +they deliberated upon the name of the author. <i>She</i> disliked the scandal +of authorship—<i>he</i> feared his father's curse; and the editor advised +that the name of the law-student should be divided, and no friend would +recognize the name. So the story came out as written by Jules Sand.</p> + +<p>The young people thought their fortunes made—that the four hundred +francs were inexhaustible. Madame Dudevant now adopted a man's costume +for the first time, that she might go to the theater with advantage—at +least this was her excuse. The young couple visited the theater at +night, and Sandeau slept the days away. The money soon was gone, and +Madame Dudevant in her new extremity was advised to return to the +chateau Nahant, and endeavor to get a legal separation from her husband, +and an annual allowance. When she set out, she left with Sandeau the +plan of "<i>Indiana</i>." They were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>to divide the chapters of the new story; +but when she came back he had not written a line of his task. To his +great surprise Aurore put into his hands the whole of the manuscript of +the book.</p> + +<p>"Read," said she, "and correct!" He read the first chapter, and was full +of praise. "It needs no revision," he said; "it is a master-piece!" He +then declared that as he had not written any of the book, he would not +allow the common name to be used. She was greatly troubled, and had +recourse to the editor. He proposed that she still keep the name of +Sand, but select another first name. "Look in the calendar," said he; +"to-morrow is the day of St. George; take the name of George—call +yourself George Sand!" And this is the origin of that distinguished +name.</p> + +<p>"<i>Indiana</i>" was purchased for six hundred francs, but it sold so well +that the publisher afterwards gave her a thousand francs more. The +editor of <i>Figaro</i> put two of his critics upon the book to review it. +They both condemned it as mediocre and without much interest. But the +book had a wonderful success, and Paris was thrown into a state of +excitement about the author. The journals added fuel to the fire by +their remarks and criticisms, and at once Madame Dudevant was a great +authoress. She took elegant apartments, where she received the artists +and authors of the gay city, herself arrayed in a man's costume, and she +astonished her male friends by smoking and joking with them like a man. +She was known only by the name of George Sand, and preferred to be +called simply George. She walked the Boulevards in a close fitting +riding coat, over the collar of which fell her dark, luxuriant curls. +She carried in one hand her riding whip and in the other her cigar, +which from time to time she would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>raise to her mouth. Jules Sandeau was +forgotten, and fled to Italy. In after years George Sand bitterly +repented her neglect of this friend, and she has written very touchingly +in one of her books her repentance. She now wrote two or three other +stories which were caught up eagerly by the publishers. She wrote +against the institution of marriage and the critics at once attacked +her, and with justice. Story followed story from 1835 to 1837—each +filled with passionate, magnificent writing, and selling with great +rapidity. Her style was brilliant and elegant, and appealed to the +French taste with great success.</p> + +<p>In 1836 George Sand assumed her old name, that she might demand from her +husband her fortune and children. It was proved upon trial that he had +treated her with brutality in the presence of her children, and in her +absence had lived shamefully, and the judge gave back to Madame Dudevant +her children and her fortune. The children accompanied their mother to +Paris, where she superintended their education. She now became intimate +with M. Lamnenais and went so far as to repudiate the bad sentiments of +many of her books. An end however soon came to her friendship for +Lamnenais, and they separated in anger, and hating each other heartily. +She now wrote and published several Socialistic novels, which met with a +poor sale in comparison with that of some of her previous works. In +fact, for the last ten years, her works have been decreasing in sale. In +the revolution of 1848, George Sand took side with the republicans. At +present she resides almost entirely at the chateau Nahant, where she has +erected a little theater in which her pieces (for she wrote for the +stage) are acted previous to their being brought out in Paris. Her +income is from ten to twelve <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>thousand francs a year, and her life is +pleasant and patriarchal. She gathers the villagers round her, invites +them to her table, and instructs them. She once took into her house a +woman covered with leprosy, who was cast off by all others, and with her +own hand ministered to her wants, dressed her sores, and nursed her +until she was cured. George Sand lives in a plain style, clinging to +everything which recalls her early life and her love of early friends. +She sleeps but five or six hours. At eleven the breakfast bell rings. +Her son Maurice presides at the table in her absence. She eats little, +taking coffee morning and evening. The most of her time she devotes to +literary labors. After breakfast she walks in the park; a little wood +bordering upon a meadow is her favorite promenade. After half an hour's +walk she returns to her room, leaving everyone to act as he pleases. +Dinner takes place at six, which is a scene of more careful etiquette +than the breakfast table. She walks again after dinner, and returns to +the piano, for she is fond of music. The evening is spent in pleasant +intercourse with her guests. Sunday is given up to a public theatrical +representation for the people. Such is a specimen of the life of this +woman.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h2>PURE LA CHAISE—PRISONS—FOUNDLINGS—CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS—LA +MORGUE—NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA—THE BAPTISM.</h2> + +<h3>PERE LA CHAISE.</h3> + + +<p>Pere la Chaise is not a cemetery which suits my taste, but it is +unquestionably the grandest in all France, and I ought not to pass it by +without a few remarks upon it. I visited it but once, and then came away +displeased with its magnificence. It seems to me that a cemetery should +not be so much a repository of art, as a place of great natural beauty +and quiet, where one would long to rest after "life's fitful fever."</p> + +<p>The cemetery is beyond the eastern limits of the city, upon the side of +a hill which commands a very fine view of the country, and is surrounded +by beautiful hills and valleys. It was much celebrated in the fourteenth +century, and during the reign of Louis XIV. Pere la Chaise resided upon +the spot, and for a century and a half it was the country-seat of the +Jesuits. Hence its name. It was purchased by the prefect of the Seine +for one hundred and sixty thousand francs, for a cemetery, it then +containing forty-two acres of ground. It was put into competent hands, +and was very much improved by the planting of trees, laying out of +roads, etc. etc. In 1804 it was consecrated, and in May of that year the +first grave was made in it. It is now filled with the graves of some of +the most distinguished men of Paris and France, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>is by far the most +fashionable cemetery in France. It is distinguished for the size, +costliness, and grandeur of its monuments. There are temples, sepulchral +chapels, mausoleums, pyramids, altars, and urns. Within the railings +which surround many of the graves, are the choicest of flowers, which +are kept flourishing in dry seasons by artificial supplies of water. A +canal conducts water from a distance to the cemetery.</p> + +<p>The day was fine, the sky cloudless when I visited the spot, and though +I could not but contrast it with Mount Auburn near Boston, or Greenwood +near New York, yet I was much impressed with the natural beauty of the +situation. Art is, however, too profusely displayed upon the spot, and +the original beauty is covered up to a certain extent. The gateway +struck me as being rather pretentious. Passing through it and by the +guardian's lodge, which is at its side, one of the first spots I sought +was the grave of Abelard and Heloise. The stranger always asks first for +it, and visits it last when returning from the cemetery. It is the most +beautiful monument in the cemetery. It consists of a chapel formed out +of the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, which was founded by Abelard, +and of which Heloise was the first abbess. It is fourteen feet in +length, by eleven in breadth, and is twenty-four feet in height. A +pinnacle rises out of the roof in a cruciform shape, and four smaller +ones exquisitely sculptured stand between the gables. Fourteen columns, +six feet high, support beautiful arches, and the cornices are wrought in +flowers. The gables of the four fronts have trifoliate windows, and are +exquisitely decorated with figures, roses, and medalions of Abelard and +Heloise. In the chapel is the tomb built for Abelard by Peter the +Venerable, at the priory of St. Marcel. He is represented <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>as in a +reclining posture, the head a little inclined and the hands joined. +Heloise is by his side. On one side of the tomb, at the foot, are +inscriptions, and in other unoccupied places. I lingered long at this +tomb, and thought of the singular lives of that couple whose history +will descend to the latest generations. It seemed strange that two +lovers who lived in the middle of the twelfth century, should, simply by +the astonishing force of their passions, have made themselves famous +"for all time." It seemed wonderful that the story of their love and +shame should have so burned itself into the forehead of Time, that he +carries it still in plain letters upon his brow, that the world may +read. It shows how much the heart still controls the world. Love is the +master-passion, and so omnipotent is it, that yet in all hearts the +story of a man or woman who simply <i>loved each other</i> hundreds of years +ago, calls forth our tears to-day, as if it occurred but yesterday. Bad +as Abelard's character must seem to be to the careful reader—cruel as +was his treatment of Heloise—he must have had depths of love and +goodness of which the world knew not. Such a woman as Heloise could not +have so adored any common man, nor a wonderful man who had a hard heart. +She saw and knew the recesses of his heart, and pardoned his occasional +acts of cruelty. Having known what there was of good and nobleness in +his nature, she was willing to die, nay, to live in torture for his +sake.</p> + +<p>The tomb is constantly visited, and flowers and immortalities are heaped +always over it. Had it no history to render the spot sacred, the beauty +of the monument alone would attract visitors, and I should have been +repaid for my visit. The French, who magnify the passion of love, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>or +pretend to do so, at all times above all others keep the history of +Abelard and Heloise fresh in their hearts.</p> + +<p>One of the best monuments in Pere la Chaise, is that erected in memory +of Casimir Périer, prime minister in 1832. It consists of an excellent +statue of the statesman, placed upon a high and noble pedestal. There is +a path which winds round the foot of the slope, which is by far the most +beautiful in the cemetery. It is full of exquisite views, and is lined +with fine monuments. Ascending the hill west of the avenue, I soon was +among the tombs of the great. One of the first which struck my eye was +the column erected to the memory of viscount de Martignac, who is +celebrated for the defense of his old enemy, the Prince Polignac, at the +bar of the chamber of peers, after the 1830 revolution. Next to it, or +but a short distance from it, I saw the tomb of Volney, the duke Decrés, +and the abbe Sicard, the celebrated director of the deaf and dumb school +of Paris, and whose fame is wide as the world. Many others follow, each +commemorating some great personage, but the majority of the names were +unfamiliar to me. Among those which were known, were those of the +Russian countess Demidoff. It is a beautiful temple of white marble, the +entablature supported by ten columns, under which is a sarcophagus with +the arms of the princes engraved upon it. Manuel, a distinguished orator +in the chamber of deputies, and General Foy, have splendid monuments. +Benjamin Constant has a plain, small tomb, as well as Marshal Ney.</p> + +<p>West of these tombs lie the remains of marchioness de Beauharnais, +sister-in-law of the Empress Josephine. Moliere has also near to it a +fine monument; La Fontaine a cenotaph with two bas-reliefs in bronze, +illustrating two of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>his fables. Madame de Genlis has a tomb in this +quarter. Her remains were transported here by Louis Phillippe. Laplace, +the great astronomer, has a beautiful tomb of white marble. An obelisk +is surmounted by an urn, which is ornamented with a star encircled by +palm-branches. The marquis de Clermont has a fine monument—he who +gallantly threw himself between Louis XVI. and the mob, to save his +sovereign.</p> + +<p>In one part of the cemetery I noticed many English tombs, of persons, I +suppose, who were residents of Paris, or who visiting it were stricken +by death.</p> + +<p>One of the most superb monuments in the cemetery is that of M. Aguado, a +great financier, but it smacks too strongly of money to suit my taste. +He was a man of enormous wealth, therefore he has a magnificent +monument. According to this method, the rich men of the world shall have +monuments which pierce the skies, while the men of genius and of great +and noble character, shall go without a slab to indicate their final +resting-place.</p> + +<p>This plan of turning a cemetery into a field for the display of splendid +marbles, is certainly not consonant with good taste. It is calculated +that in forty years not less than one hundred millions of francs have +been spent in the erection of monuments in Pere la Chaise, the number of +tombs already amounting to over fifteen thousand.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_239.jpg" width="500" height="301" alt="PARIS FROM MONTMARTRE." title="PARIS FROM MONTMARTRE." /><span class="caption"><br />PARIS FROM MONTMARTRE.</span> +</div> + +<p>In 1814, when the allied forces were approaching Paris, heavy batteries +were planted in Pere la Chaise, commanding the plain which extends to +Vincennes. The walls had loop-holes, and the scholars of Alfort occupied +it and defended it against three Russian attacks. The last was +successful, and the Russians were masters of the field. The city of +Paris capitulated that very evening, and the Russian troops encamped +among the tombs.</p> + + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_240.jpg" width="300" height="487" alt="COLUMN OF JULY 8—PLACE JUILLET." title="COLUMN OF JULY 8—PLACE JUILLET." /> +<span class="caption">COLUMN OF JULY 8—PLACE JUILLET.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>In coming back from Pere la Chaise, I saw the Column of July, erected in +memory of the victims of the July of the great revolution. Upon this +spot the old Bastille stood, and the column indicates it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_PRISONS" id="THE_PRISONS"></a>THE PRISONS.</h3> + + +<p>The public prisons of Paris are nine in number: for persons upon whom a +verdict has not been pronounced, and against whom an indictment lies; +for debt; for political offenses; for persons sentenced to death or the +hulks; for criminals of a young age; for females; and for offenders in +the army.</p> + +<p>In the penal prisons, the inmates are allowed books and the privilege of +writing, but are all obliged to labor, each, if he wishes, choosing the +trade in which he is fitted best to succeed. The men receive a pound and +a half of bread per day, and the women a fraction less.</p> + +<p>The prison La Force is in the Rue du Roi de Sicile. The buildings of +which it is composed were once the hotel of the duke de La Force—hence +the name. It was converted into a prison in 1780. A new prison for +prostitutes was erected about the same time, and was called La Petite +Force. In 1830 the two prisons were united, and put under one +management, and the whole prison is given up to males committed for +trial. The prisoners are divided into separate classes; the old +offenders into one ward, the young and comparatively innocent into +another; the old men into one apartment, and the boys into another. The +prisoners sleep in large and well ventilated chambers, and the boys have +each a small apartment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>which contains a single bed. The prisoners have +the privilege of working if they wish, but they are not obliged to do +so, inasmuch as they are not yet <i>convicted</i> of crime. There is a +department for the sick, a bathing-room, a parlor, and an advocate's +room, where the prisoners can hold conversations with their legal +defenders. The number of prisoners is very great—ten thousand being +under the annual average confined in the prisons.</p> + +<p>St. Lazare is a prison for women under indictment and those who have +been sentenced to a term less than one year. One department of the +prison, which is entirely separated from the rest, is devoted to +prostitutes, and another distinct department is devoted to girls under +sixteen years of age. Each department has its own infirmary, and a new +plan has been adopted to stimulate the inmates to industry. They are +allowed two-thirds pay for all the work they will perform in the prison. +Every kind of manufacture is carried on in the prison—the preparation +of cashmere yarn, hooks and eyes, etc. etc. The number confined in this +prison in a year, is over ten thousand. The service of the prison is +carried on by the sisters of charity.</p> + +<p>La Nouvelle Force is a new prison in a healthier quarter than La Force, +and is used for the same purposes. It contains twelve hundred and sixty +separate cells.</p> + +<p>Depôt de Condemnés is in the Rue de la Roquette, and is a prison for the +confinement of persons condemned to forced labor and to death. It is a +very healthy prison and one of the strongest in the world. A double +court surrounds the prison, in which sentinels are constantly kept on +guard; the walls are very thick and solid, and each prisoner has a +separate cell. A fountain in the center dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>penses water to all parts of +the prison. The number of the inmates is at least four hundred on the +average.</p> + +<p>The Prison of Correction, situated also in Rue de la Roquette, is for +the confinement and correction of offenders under the age of sixteen, +who have been pronounced by the judge incapable of judgment. They are +subjected to a strict, but not cruel discipline, in this prison. It is +very healthy, and all its appointments are such as to facilitate the +education of the morals and intellect of the inmates. It is well +supplied with water and wholesome diet, and books and religious +teachers. It is divided into separate departments, and one grade of boys +is never allowed intercourse with another. This is a very wise +regulation, as under it a fresh, ignorant, and wicked inmate cannot have +influence over those who have long been under the discipline of the +place.</p> + +<p>The Conciergerie is used to confine persons before trial, and it is one +of the most famous (or infamous) prisons in the world. Its historical +associations are full of interest. Its entrance is on the Quai de +l'Horloge. In visiting this prison, the stranger from the new world is +struck with the terrible outlines of some of the apartments. The Salle +des Gardes of St. Louis, has a roof which strikes terror into the heart, +it is so old and grim. In one part of the building there is a low +prison-room, where those persons condemned to death spend their last +hours, fastened down to a straight waistcot. The little room in which +Marie Antoinette was confined, is still shown to the visitor. There are +now three paintings in it which represent scenes in the last days of her +life. The prison-room which confined Lourel, who stabbed the duke de +Barry, and the dungeons in which Elizabeth, the sister of Louis XVI., +was imprisoned, are shut up and cannot be seen. There are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>many +histories connected with this old prison, which to repeat, would fill +this volume.</p> + +<p>The Prison de l'Abbaye is a military prison, and is situated close to +St. Germain des Pres. It was formerly one of the most famous in Paris, +and the horrors which it witnessed during the bloody revolution were +never surpassed in any city of the world. Many of the atrocities which +were committed in it are now widely known through the histories of those +times of blood. Many of its dungeons are still under ground, and wear an +aspect of gloom sufficient to terrify a man who spends but a few moments +in them. The discipline of this prison is very rigid, as it contains +only military offenders.</p> + +<p>The prison for debtors is in Rue de Clichy, and is in an airy situation, +is well constructed, and holds three or four hundred persons. The +officers of this prison still remember the modest-faced American editor, +who spent a few memorable days in it—I mean Horace Greeley of the +<i>Tribune</i>. France is not sufficiently enlightened yet to abolish +imprisonment for debt, but the time will soon come. Such a barbarity +cannot for any great length of time disgrace the history of any +civilized nation.</p> + +<p>The prison of St. Pelagie, in Rue de la Chef, was formerly a prison for +debtors, but is now used for the imprisonment of persons committed for +trial, or those persons sentenced for short terms. Nearly six hundred +persons are confined in it.</p> + +<p>Connected with the prisons of Paris are two benevolent institutions, the +object of which is to watch over and educate the young prisoners of both +sexes during their terms of imprisonment, and after they have left +prison. As soon as they have left prison they are cared for, and if they +conduct themselves well, they are generally <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>furnished with good places. +Prisoners are also taken from the Correctional House before their terms +have expired, in cases of excellent conduct, and the government pays the +society a sum toward the expenses of such persons until the time of +their sentence shall have expired. Lamartine, the poet, was at one time +president of one of these truly benevolent societies.</p> + +<p>The prisons of Paris, take them as a whole, compare favorably with those +of any city in the world. Their administration is characterized by an +enlightened liberality and philanthropy, and though it may seem strange, +yet it is true, that Paris abounds with the most self-sacrificing +philanthropists. The prisoner, the deaf and dumb, the blind and the +idiotic, are cared for with a generosity and skill not surpassed in any +other land.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FOUNDLING_HOSPITALS" id="FOUNDLING_HOSPITALS"></a>FOUNDLING HOSPITALS.</h3> + + +<p>There are at least one hundred and fifty foundling hospitals in France, +and Paris has a celebrated one in the Rue d'Enfer. It was established by +St. Vincent de Paul, in 1638, but has been very much improved since. +The buildings are not remarkable for their architectural beauty, for +they are very plain. The chapel contains a statue of the founder. It is +now necessary for a mother who desires to abandon her child, to make a +certificate to that effect before the magistrate. The latter is obliged +to grant the desire of the woman, though it is a part of his duty to +remonstrate with her upon her unnatural conduct, and if she consents to +keep the child, he is empowered to help her to support it from a public +fund. The infants <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>received at the hospital are, if healthy, put out at +once to nurse in the country, and the parentage of the child is +recorded. Unhealthy children are kept under hospital treatment. Nurses +from the country constantly present themselves for employment, and do +not usually receive more than one or two dollars a month for their +trouble. After two years of nursing, the child is returned and +transferred to the department for orphans. There are a little short of +three hundred children in the hospital, and as many as thirteen thousand +constantly out at nurse in the country. The internal arrangements of the +hospital are very ingenious and good. Every convenience which can add to +the comfort of the infants is at hand, and the deserted little beings +are rendered much more comfortable than one would naturally suppose to +be within the range of possibility.</p> + +<p>The hospital for orphans is in the same building, and is well arranged. +The orphan department and the foundling hospital, are under the special +care of the sisters of charity.</p> + +<p>There is, perhaps, no more strange sight in all Paris, than the +assemblage of babies in the apartments of the Foundling Hospital. To see +them ranged around the walls of the rooms in cradles, attended by the +nurses, will excite a smile, and yet, when we reflect how sad is the lot +of these innocents, the smile will vanish. They are deprived of that to +which, by virtue of existence, every human being is entitled—a home, +and the affectionate care of father and mother. To be entirely shut out +from all these blessings, really makes existence a curse, and it were +better if these thousands had never been born.</p> + +<p>On visiting the hospital, I rang a bell and was admitted by a polite +porter, and a female attendant conducted us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>through the various +apartments. I was at once struck with the exceeding tidiness of +everything. The floors were of polished oak, and the walls of plaster +polished like glass. One of the first rooms we were shown into contained +forty or fifty babies, ranged in rows along the wall. The cradles were +covered with white drapery, and their appearance was very neat. Four +long rows stretched across the apartment, and in the center there was a +fire, round which the nurses were gathered, attending to the wants of +the hungry and complaining babies. But if the sight of the cradles was +pleasant, the noise which greeted my ear was far otherwise. At least +twenty-five of the children were crying all at once, and <i>one</i> is as +much as I can usually endure, and not that for any length of time. Among +the children round the fire, there was one which was very beautiful. It +had black hair and eyes, and when we stopped before it, it laughed and +crowed at a great rate. I could not help wondering that any human mother +could have abandoned so beautiful a babe—one that would have been "a +well-spring of pleasure" in many a home.</p> + +<p>I was next shown into the apartment for children afflicted with diseases +of the eye. The room was carefully shaded, and the cradles were covered +with blue or green cloth. There was quite a number of children in this +department, and all of them seemed to be well cared for. I was shown +into another apartment devoted entirely to the sick children, and its +appointments were excellent. It was wholesome and clean, the air was +pure as that of the country, and the rooms were high and commodious. +Other apartments are shown to the visitor which contain the linen used +in the hospital, and where all kinds of work <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>are performed, and +finally, the pretty little chapel which I have alluded to before.</p> + +<p>In former times the government made it easy for any mother to resign her +infant to the care of the state. This was done properly and with a good +object in view, which was to prevent infanticide. It was intended that +mothers should not only find it easy to cast off their children in this +manner, but that it might be done with secrecy. A box was placed outside +of the hospital and a bell-handle was near it, and all that the mother +had to do was, to place her babe in the box and pull the bell. No one +saw her, no questions could be asked, and the box sliding upon grooves +was drawn inside the wall. The mother could leave some mark upon the +dress of the child, or if this was not done, an exact inventory of the +effects of the little stranger was always recorded in the hospital, that +in after years the child might be identified by its parents if they +wished. The numbers that were deposited in the Paris hospital were very +great under those pleasant regulations. It is not strange, and one +cannot escape the conviction, that such a system afforded a temptation +to the women, and indeed men of the good classes to sin. A woman might +escape to a great extent the penalty of a wicked deed. It held out a +premium to immorality. But on the other hand it prevented infanticide to +a great extent. The reasons why the government revoked the regulations +were, first, that they encouraged the increase of illegitimate children, +and second, the great expense to the state, and the last consideration +was the one which had most weight.</p> + +<p>It was found upon trying the new system, that infanticide increased with +considerable rapidity, as the morning exhibitions at La Morgue greatly +indicated. When we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>consider, too, that the majority of the infanticides +are unquestionably not detected, the body of the child being hid from +the sight, and the vast amount of injury which results to the mothers +from the attempt to destroy unborn children, we cannot wonder that +French philanthropists have been inclined to return to the old system. +Infanticide is one of the most horrible of crimes, and its growth among +a people is accompanied by as rapid a growth of vice of every other +kind. In England where a foundling hospital could not be endured for a +moment, the crime of infanticide is increasing every year, and the +number of murdered children is already an army of martyrs.</p> + +<p>The safest way is, perhaps, for the government to leave the whole matter +with the people, and not either encourage illegitimacy or attempt to +prevent infanticide, except by punishment. Upon the heads of the guilty +ones be their own blood. But there certainly should be asylums for those +children who cannot be supported by their poverty-stricken parents.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHARITABLE_INSTITUTIONS" id="CHARITABLE_INSTITUTIONS"></a>CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS.</h3> + + +<p>Paris abounds with charitable societies and institutions. Until the +latter part of the last century, the city was full of objects of +compassion, the blind, the deaf and dumb, the sick and suffering. The +prisons too, and the madhouses, were scenes of cruelty and violence. But +a controversy arose upon the whole matter, and under Louis XVI. four new +hospitals were ordered to be erected, but in the excitement which +preceded the great revolution, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>they were not completed. After the +revolution the subject came up from time to time to the consideration of +the governing powers, and new hospitals were erected, and great +improvements made in the old ones. At the beginning of this century, +they were placed under the direction of a general administration. All +the civil hospitals and the different institutions connected with them, +are under the control of an administrative committee. The regulations of +the hospitals are nearly the same as they are in London and New York. In +cases of severe wounds, persons are admitted into the hospitals without +any order, by simply presenting themselves at the doors. Medical advice +is given at some of the hospitals on certain days to poor persons. The +hospitals of Paris are of three kinds; the general, open to all +complaints for which a special hospital is not provided; the special +hospitals, for the treatment of special diseases; and the alms-houses. +The hospitals support more than twelve thousand aged men and women, +receive more than eighty thousand patients, and have constantly under +treatment six thousand persons.</p> + +<p>Among the hospitals I may mention Bricètre, situated on the road to +Fontainbleau. It is upon very high ground, and is the healthiest of all +the hospitals from its position and arrangements. It is used as an +asylum for poor old men, and for male lunatics. The old men have every +encouragement to work, for they receive pay for their labor, slight, of +course, and the money is devoted to giving them better food and clothes +than the usual hospital allowance, which is some soup, one pound and a +quarter of bread, four ounces of meat, vegetables, cheese, and a pint of +wine each day. When seventy years old, the quantity of wine is doubled, +and when a person has been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>thirty years an inmate of the house, the +quantity of everything is doubled. Three thousand beds are made up for +the indigent, and eight hundred for lunatics. The latter, of course, +occupies a distinct part of the building.</p> + +<p>There are two hospitals appropriated entirely to the use of men who have +no hope of immediate cure, and are troubled with chronic ailments. The +buildings are large and airy, and will accommodate four or five hundred.</p> + +<p>The hospital of St. Louis, in Rue des Recollets, is very large, +containing eight hundred beds. It is used for the special treatment of +scrofula and cutaneous diseases. Persons able to pay, do so, but the +poor are received without. It has very spacious bath accommodations, and +it is estimated that as many as one hundred and forty thousand baths +have been served in the establishment in the course of a year. The baths +are in two large rooms, each containing fifty baths. The water is +conducted to them in pipes, and every variety of mineral and sulphurous +bath is given, as well as vapor and all kinds of water baths. The +institution is very well managed, its work being all done within its +walls, and so far is this principle carried, that the leeches needed for +the diseased are cultivated in an artificial pond upon the premises.</p> + +<p>In the Rue de Sevres is a hospital for incurable women It will +accommodate six hundred women and seventy children. There are a few +pictures in this establishment which are worth noticing. The +Annunciation, the Flight into Egypt, and a Guardian Angel, possess great +beauty.</p> + +<p>The Louecine Hospital is for the reception of all females suffering with +syphilitic diseases. It makes up three hundred beds, fifty of which are +for children. The number of persons treated in Paris is more than two +thousand every year, and the mortality is very slight.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Medical men dislike this hospital, for the diseases are such as to +render their duties very unpleasant, but to insure proper attendance, a +regulation exists that every physician before making an application for +a place in any of the hospitals, shall serve in the Louecine.</p> + +<p>The Rouchefoucald Hospital is principally for the reception of old and +worn-out servants, and is of course not kept up by state funds, though +it is overseen by the government. Persons who enter the institution pay +a sum of money, and are entitled to a room, fire, and food, so long as +they live, and some enter even as young as the age of twenty. There is +another establishment in Paris where only the middling classes are +received, and who pay for the attention they receive. Single men who +have no homes of their own, when attacked by violent diseases, can by +paying a moderate sum enter this institution and be well cared for.</p> + +<p>I cannot even mention a tenth part of the hospitals or charitable +institutions of Paris, and will only allude to one or two more which are +a little peculiar. There are, for example, <i>nurseries</i>, where poor women +who must leave home for work in factories or similar places, can in the +morning leave their babies, return occasionally to nurse them, and take +them away at night. If a child is weaned, it has a little basket of his +own. A very small sum of money is paid for this care, and as the +nurseries have the best of medical attention, some mothers bring them +for that purpose alone. There are public soup establishments to which +any person with a soup-ticket can go and demand food. The tickets are +dispensed with some care to persons in needy circumstances. In each of +the twelve arrondissements of Paris there is a bureau for the relief of +poor women having large families. When proper rep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>resentations are made +by such females struggling to keep from the alms-house, an allowance is +made of bread, firing, meat, and clothing, and sometimes money is given. +There are sometimes as many as thirty thousand dependent in this manner +for a part of their income upon the state. Hence, bureaus are excellent +institutions, inasmuch as prevention is always easier than cure. To save +struggling families from the humiliation of a complete downfall to the +poor-house, small weekly allowances are made, and in such a way that +their pride need not be touched, for it is often done with such secrecy +that even the intimate friends of the recipients are unaware of the +relation existing between them and the state. Such an arrangement as +this is needed in all the great cities of the world. London suffers from +the want of it. In some places the parish authorities are at liberty to +make grants to poor families, but it is nowhere done with such a system +and with such a delicacy as in Paris.</p> + +<p>Another of the charitable institutions of Paris lends money upon movable +effects, the interest charged being very low. This is an excellent +provision for emergencies in the lives of poor persons. There are at +least a million and a half of articles pledged at this institution +yearly, and its receipts are from twenty-six to twenty-eight millions a +year. In winters of famine the public are sometimes allowed to pledge +property without paying any interest upon it when redeemed. The Mont de +Pietie, is the name of this institution, and it has branches all over +Paris, and has in its employ, as clerks and otherwise, three hundred +persons.</p> + +<p>There are savings' banks in Paris specially adapted to the wants of the +poor, and to encourage in them the habit of accumulating property, +though in very small <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>sums. A deposit of one franc is received, and one +person cannot hold but two thousand francs at one time in one bank of +the kind. This institution, however, is not superior to those of its +kind in many other countries.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="LA_MORGUE" id="LA_MORGUE"></a>LA MORGUE.</h3> + + +<p>On the southern side of Isle la Cité, there is a small stone building +which is certainly one of the "sights" of Paris. I saw it one day when I +had been to look at Notre Dame, and was on my way home. I was filled +with admiration of the magnificence of the great city, for with Notre +Dame and the Louvre in sight, I could not easily entertain other +sentiments. A little building arrested my attention, and I saw quite a +crowd of persons standing in front of it. It was <i>La Morgue</i>. I entered +it, not that I have a penchant for horrors, but to see a sight strangely +contrasting with all I had heretofore seen in Paris. It was a long, low +interior, and one end of the room was fenced off from the rest, and in +it a row of dead bodies was arranged against the wall. Jets of water +were playing constantly upon them, and upon hooks the garments of the +deceased were hung. The use of <i>La Morgue</i> is to exhibit, for +twenty-four hours, the dead bodies which are found in the streets and +the river. If no friend in this time recognizes and claims the body, it +is buried. There were five bodies when I was there—four men and one +woman. The men were evidently suicides and the woman was probably +murdered, as there were marks of violence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>upon her body, which could +not have been self-inflicted. There are several hundred persons +exhibited in La Morgue in the course of a year, and they tell strange +stories of the misery and crime which abound in the finest city in the +world. The majority of the bodies which are found, are suicides, but +many are those of persons who have been murdered. The French commit +suicide for reasons which appear frivolous to the American or +Englishman. The loss of a favorite mistress, an unsuccessful +love-intrigue, the bursting of a bubble of speculation, and sometimes a +mere trifle is enough to induce self-destruction. Sometimes a man and +his mistress, or a whole family shut themselves up in a room with +burning charcoal, which is a favorite method of committing suicide. A +great many bodies are fished out of the Seine, for it is very easy for a +poor and wretched man or woman to leap into it in the darkness of night. +The next day the body lies for recognition in La Morgue, and if no good +friend claims it it is borne by careless hands to a pauper burial.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_256.jpg" width="500" height="298" alt="LE PONT-NEUF" title="LE PONT-NEUF" /> +<span class="caption">LE PONT-NEUF</span> +</div> + +<p>I crossed the Seine by the Pont Neuf—a fine bridge, completed in 1604 +by Henry IV. Near the center of it, standing upon a platform and +pedestal of white marble, is a splendid bronze statue of Henry IV. upon +horseback. The height of the statue is fourteen feet, and its cost, +somewhat above sixty thousand dollars, was defrayed by public +subscription in 1818.</p> + +<p>The Place Vendome, too, lay in my path, so called from having been the +site of a hotel belonging to the Duke de Vendome, illegitimate son of +Henry IV. and Gabrielle d'Estrees. The Place is now ornamented by a +magnificent pillar, erected by Napoleon in honor of his German campaign.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>I passed also the beautiful Fountain des Innocents, whose sculptor, the +celebrated Jean Goujon was shot during the massacre of St. Bartholomew, +while working at one of the figures.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_258.jpg" width="300" height="376" alt="FONTAINE DES INNOCENTS." title="FONTAINE DES INNOCENTS." /> +<span class="caption">FONTAINE DES INNOCENTS.</span> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="NAPOLEON_AND_EUGENIA" id="NAPOLEON_AND_EUGENIA"></a>NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA.</h3> + + +<p>On my second visit to Paris, I found that many changes had taken place, +and some of them striking ones. It was especially true of the +architectural condition of Paris. In the years which elapsed between my +visits, the Louvre had assumed a new appearance, and was now connected +with the Tuilleries Palace. Other changes of a similar character had +occurred.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_259.jpg" width="300" height="495" alt="COLUMN DE PLACE VENDOME." title="COLUMN DE PLACE VENDOME." /> +<span class="caption">COLUMN DE PLACE VENDOME.</span> +</div> + +<p>When I was first in Paris, Louis Napoleon was president, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>but he was +preparing for the empire, and there was in reality no more liberty in +France than now, and in many respects a residence in Paris was then more +uncomfortable than at present. Everybody was expecting a change, and +Louis Napoleon, as president, was actually more despotic in little +things than he is as emperor. He was then ready to hunt down any man +against whom a suspicion could lie, while now his rule is, after a +manner, established. He has as fair prospects to remain emperor of +France till he dies, for aught that I can see, as any European monarch +has of retaining his throne.</p> + +<p>When I entered Paris, under the presidency, I was more closely watched +than under the empire. As an American, from a republic, I was, perhaps, +naturally an object of suspicion to the spies of a man who was planning +a <i>coup d'etat</i>; at any rate I was tracked everywhere I stirred, by the +police, while on my last visit I experienced nothing of the sort.</p> + +<p>The people of Paris are divided into many classes in politics—some are +the friends of Louis Napoleon, while others are his enemies. But he has +few distinguished friends in Paris. The shop-keepers are pleased with +the pomp and magnificence of his court, for it gives them custom and +money. Many of the wealthy business men desire him to live and rule +because they want a stable government, and they deprecate above all +things else, change. They are more for money, as we may expect, than for +freedom. Then there are the partisans of the Orleans and Bourbon +families, who fear the republicans and accept Napoleon as a temporary +ruler, and who much prefer him to anarchy. So that there is a strong +body of men in Paris and in France—a majority of the people—who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>upon +the whole prefer that the rule of a man they all dislike should be +perpetuated for years to come.</p> + +<p>And there is something in the character of Louis Napoleon which excites +admiration. He is intensely selfish, but he is a very capable man. He +understands the French people thoroughly, and rules them shrewdly. He is +one of the ablest statesmen in Europe, and the world knows that he lead +England in the late war with Russia. Yet he possesses some ridiculous +qualities, as his conduct previous to his last entrance into France +shows. He relies upon his destiny in the blindest manner, and is not +possessed of genuine courage of the highest character. He is so reckless +that he will never flinch from the prosecution of any of his schemes, +either from personal danger or the dread of shedding human blood. He +seems to have no heart, and his countenance is like adamant, for it +gives no clue to the thoughts which fill his brain. He is certainly a +very remarkable character and one worth studying. His early history is +laughable. His various descents upon France were too ridiculous for +laughter, and they only excited the pity of the world. His private +conduct, too, was such as to disgust moral people. There seems to have +come over the man a great change about the time of the Louis Phillippe +revolution. I well remember that in the spring of 1848 I saw him +parading one of the streets of London, arm-in-arm with a son of Sir +Robert Peel, both sworn in as special constables to put down the +chartists should they attempt a riot. It was, on that memorable first of +April, quite fashionable for members of the best families to be sworn in +as special constables to preserve order, and Louis Napoleon who was +living with his mistress and children in London, had so far put away the +democratic opinions which he once held, that he was ready <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>and eager to +show where his sympathies were in the Chartist agitation.</p> + +<p>That Louis Napoleon was very shrewd in entering France, and seating +himself in the presidential chair, no one will deny, but it is equally +true that in violating his oath and shooting down the people of Paris as +he did, that he might gain a throne, he also proved himself to be a +great villain. The mere fact that he was successful will not atone for +perjury and murder with people of common morality. But aside from these +atrocities, his shameful censorship of the press, and conduct toward +some of the noblest men of France, he has acted for the best interests +of the country. He has understood the wants of the people, and his +decrees and provisions have met the wishes of the nation. France has not +had the material prosperity for many years that she has at this time. +But the press is dumb. Literature is in a sickly condition. Many of the +first men of France are either in exile or are silent at home. It is +astonishing to see how few of the really eminent men of France are the +friends of Louis Napoleon. Lamartine does not like him; Eugene Sue was +his enemy; the same is true in a modified sense of Alexander Dumas; +George Sand dislikes him; Arago while living did the same; and Jules +Janin the brilliant critic is no friend of the administration. Victor +Hugo, Ledru Rollin, Louis Blanc, and a score of other brilliant men are +in exile, and of course hate the man who exiled them. It is certainly +one of the most singular facts of modern history that Louis Napoleon has +few friends, yet is firmly seated upon his throne. His enemies are so +divided, and so hate anarchy, that they all unite in keeping him where +he is. But Paris laughs in its sleeve at all the baptismal splendors +over the prince and the sober provisions for the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>regency made by the +emperor. No one that I could find has the faintest expectation that the +baby-boy will rule France, or sit upon a throne. When the emperor is +shot or dies a violent death, then chaos will come, or something better, +but not Napoleon IV. I am confident that this is the universal +sentiment, at least throughout Paris, if not over France. I have asked +many a Frenchman his opinion, and the same reply has been given by +republican and monarchist. This is one secret of Napoleon's strength. It +is thought that with his death great changes must come, and very likely +confusion and bloodshed. No one believes in a Napoleon succession, and +therefore all bear his despotism with equanimity. Those who hate him say +his rule will not last forever, while those who wish to advance their +own political interests through other royal families, bide their time.</p> + +<p>It is possible that Louis Napoleon will live many years yet, or at least +die a natural death, but there are those who have a reputation for +shrewdness who do not believe it. They think that as he has taken the +sword so he will perish by the sword, or in other words that a bullet +will one day end his life. It would not be strange, for he has many +bitter enemies, and there would be poetic justice in such a fate, to say +the least.</p> + +<p>The empress is quite popular in France, but not so much so as the +journalists and letter-writers would make out. She is exceedingly +handsome, and this fact goes a great way with the Parisians. Her conduct +since her marriage has been irreproachable, which should always be +mentioned to her credit. But that she is naturally a very lovely woman, +gentle, and filled with all the virtues, few who know her early history +will believe. She is, like the emperor, shrewd, and acts her part well. +She is certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>ly equal to her position, and in goodness is satisfactory +to the French people. It has been thought by many that if Louis Napoleon +had married a French woman it would have better satisfied the people, +but this is by no means certain.</p> + +<p>The emperor and empress seem to live together happily, or at least rumor +hath nothing to the contrary; and he would be a brute not to be +satisfied with the woman who has presented him with what he desired +above everything else—a male heir.</p> + +<p>Portraits of the empress abound in all the shops and in private houses. +Her great beauty is the passport to the French heart. It is not of the +dashing, bold style, but is delicate and refined. Louis Napoleon has in +his provisions for the prince calculated largely upon the popularity of +the empress, in case of his own death.</p> + +<p>He confides the boy-prince to the Empress Eugenia, and thinks her +popularity is such, and the gallantry of the people so great, that they +will gather round her in the day of trouble. But though the French are a +gallant people they estimate some things higher than politeness or +gallantry. There is no loyalty in France. The only feeling which +approaches to it is the veneration which is felt in some of the +provinces for the elder Napoleon. But that sentiment of loyalty which is +felt in all ranks and circles in England is unknown to France. Who +carries in his bosom that sentiment towards the man who procured his +throne by perjury? Not a single Frenchman. Many admire his intellect, +his daring, and many others accept his rule with pleasure, but nobody +has the feeling of loyalty toward him. It has died out in France, and I +must confess that this is a good sign. While it is true, France cannot +really <i>like</i> a monarchical despotism, though she may for a long time +endure it.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_BAPTISM_OF_THE_PRINCE" id="THE_BAPTISM_OF_THE_PRINCE"></a>THE BAPTISM OF THE PRINCE.</h3> + + +<p>The 14th of June was a great day in Paris, for it witnessed the baptism +of the prince and heir to the French throne. It was not because Paris +was or is devoted to the present Napoleonic dynasty, not because the +birth of an heir to Louis Napoleon was or is regarded with any +remarkable enthusiasm, but simply for this reason: Paris loves gayety, +and above all things is fond of a public <i>fête</i>.</p> + +<p>Louis Napoleon well knew how to make the day memorable. All that was +wanting was money—a prodigious pile of Napoleons. With this he could +easily make a pageant.</p> + +<p>The young baby-prince was baptized in the ancient church of Notre Dame, +which was fitted up in a magnificent style expressly for the occasion. +On each side of the grand nave, between the main columns hung with gold +and crimson drapery, a series of seats were erected, also covered with +crimson velvet and gold decorations. Around the altar seats were erected +for the legislative body, the senate, the diplomatic corps, and officers +of state. Above these, galleries were formed, hung with drapery, for the +occupation of ladies. The appearance of the interior was grand in the +extreme, but it needed the splendid concourse soon to be present, to add +a wonderful beauty to it.</p> + +<p>A few minutes past six o'clock a burst of drums announced the arrival of +the grand cortege in the ancient city, and the archbishop of Paris, with +his assistants, went to the door or grand entrance of Notre Dame, to +receive Napoleon and Eugenia. The princes and princesses had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>already +alighted, and were ready with the clergy to receive the emperor and +empress.</p> + +<p>The procession was in something like the following order: First came the +cross, followed by the archbishop and his vicar-generals. Next came the +military officers of the imperial household. Then what are called the +honors of the imperial infant, as follows—the wax taper of the Countess +Montebello; the crimson cloth of Baroness Malaret; and the salt-cellar +of the Marquess Tourmanbourg. Then came the sponsorial honors. These +ladies all walked in couples, and were dressed in blue, veiled in white +transparent drapery. The grand duchess of Baden and Prince Oscar of +Sweden immediately preceded the prince.</p> + +<p>The royal babe wore a long ermine mantile, and was carried by a +gouvernante with two assistants, one on each side of her. The nurse +followed, clad in her native costume—that of Burgundy. Marshals +Canrobert and Bosquet followed the infant, and their majesties next +appeared under a moving canopy.</p> + +<p>The cardinal-legate had appeared and been welcomed before, and took his +seat upon a throne erected expressly for him. Immediately in front of +the altar there was erected a crimson platform, on which two crimson +chairs were placed for the accommodation of Napoleon and Eugenia. Far +above there was a crimson canopy lined with white, and spotted with +golden bees.</p> + +<p>Napoleon advanced up the aisle on the right of Eugenia, and a pace in +advance. He did not offer her his arm, as that is considered improper in +a church, according to Parisian notions of propriety. Eugenia was +dressed in a light blue, covered with an exquisite lace, and she was +covered with dazzling diamonds. The jewels she wore <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>were worth nearly +five millions of dollars. The blue color worn by nearly all the ladies +present, was considered the appropriate color for the ruder sex of the +baby. Napoleon wore the uniform of a general officer, but with white +knee pants and silk stockings. He wore several orders.</p> + +<p>Everything being ready, the cardinal-legate left his throne, went to the +foot of the altar, and commenced the <i>Veni Creator</i>, which was taken up +and executed by the fine orchestra. The music was inexpressibly grand. +When it was concluded the masters of ceremonies saluted the altar and +their majesties, and then waited upon the legate, who at once catechised +the sponsors. He then conducted the royal babe to the font, holding the +baptismal robe. Napoleon and Eugenia ascended the throne. The duchess of +Baden, representing the god-mother, advanced to the font. The god-father +was the pope, represented by the legate. The baptism was then proceeded +with.</p> + +<p>When the rite was performed, the gouvernante presented the babe to its +mother, who at once handed it over to its royal papa, who held it up to +the crowd of gazers, and then the cries of "<i>Vive le Prince Imperial!</i>" +came near destroying the solid masonry of Notre Dame. After this the +royal pair soon took their departure, though there were many ceremonies +after they had left.</p> + +<p>A magnificent banquet was at once given to their majesties by the city +of Paris, in the <i>Hotel de Ville</i>, and it was probably one of the most +luxurious the world ever witnessed. All the male guests were in official +costume, and the ladies were dressed with great richness.</p> + +<p>The next day—Sunday—was the great day for out-door <i>fêtes</i>, though +this was widely celebrated. The day <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>was given up to all kinds of +enjoyment, and the emperor gave immense sums to make the people +good-humored and enthusiastic. There was a display of fire-works in the +evening rarely equaled, and probably never surpassed. The theaters were +all open, free to all who came, and could gain entrance. In the course +of the day more than three hundred balloons were sent up, laden with +confectionary and things to tickle the palate, and showered down upon +the multitude. The whole of Paris was gay, and the stranger had a fine +sample of a grand Parisian <i>fête</i>, and Sabbath—both in one!</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h2>THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY—THE JESTER—THE DRAMATIST.</h2> + +<h3>MEN OF THE PAST.</h3> + + +<p>During my residence in Paris I became very much interested in the +history of the great men of France, not only in the present day, but in +past years. I was not so well acquainted with the great French masters +in literature, especially of the past, as with the great men of English +history. I believe this to be the fact with most Americans. I soon found +that to know France, to know Paris to-day, I needed to have by heart the +history of her heroes of to-day and yesterday, and especially of those +great men who made Paris their home and final resting-place. The +influence of these men over the minds, manners, and even the morals of +the people of Paris, is still very great. Nowhere is genius more +praised, or adored with a greater devotion, than in Paris. Rank must +there doff its hat to genius, which is the case in no other country but +the American republic. It will then not be out of place for me to sketch +a very few of the most brilliant men who in the years which have fled +away lighted with their smiles the saloons of Paris. I will commence +with</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_FATHER_OF_FRENCH_TRAGEDY" id="THE_FATHER_OF_FRENCH_TRAGEDY"></a>THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY.</h3> + + +<p>In the Rue d'Argenteuil, number 18, there is a small quiet house, in +which Corneille, the father of French <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>tragedy, breathed his last. It +has a black marble slab in front, and a bust in the yard with the +following inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Je ne dois qu'á moi seul toute ma renommeé</i>."</p></div> + +<p>The great man lies buried in the beautiful church of St. Roch, where a +tablet is erected to his memory.</p> + +<p>Corneille was the son of Pierre Corneille, master of forests and waters +in the viscounty of Rouen. His mother was of noble descent, but the +couple were somewhat poor. The dramatist was born in 1606, and early +became a pupil of the Jesuits of Rouen. He was educated for the law, but +had no taste for that profession, and although he attempted to practice +it he was unsuccessful. It was well for France that such was the fact, +for had it been otherwise, she would have lost one of her most brilliant +names.</p> + +<p>When Corneille entered upon life, there was no theater in France, though +there were exhibitions of various kinds. At last a few wretched plays +were written by inferior men, and they were acted upon the stage by +inferior actors. Corneille, while vainly endeavoring to win success at +the bar, was incited to write a comedy, and produced one under the title +of "<i>Melite</i>." The plot was suggested by an incident in his own life. A +friend of his was very much in love with a lady, and introduced him to +her, that he might, after beholding her charms, indite a sonnet to her +in the name of his friend. The poet found great favor in the eyes of the +lady, and the original lover was cast into the shade. This incident was +the reason Why Corneille wrote "<i>Mélite</i>." The success of the piece was +very great, a new company of players was established in Paris, and at +that time it was fully equal to any comedy which had been written in the +French language, though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>it reads dull enough at the present day. The +poet traveled up to Paris to witness his play upon the stage, and was so +well pleased with its reception, that he went on writing plays. They +were without merit, however. He had not yet struck the key-note of his +after greatness.</p> + +<p>With four other authors, Corneille was appointed to correct the plays of +Richelieu. Parties quickly sprung into existence in the <i>salons</i> of +Paris. Some of them espoused the cause of Corneille—others openly +traduced his plays and were his enemies. He had the independence to +correct one of Richelieu's plays without the consent of his comrades, +and Richelieu reprimanded him for it. He became disgusted and left Paris +for Rouen. He was quite willing, too, to return to the lady who had +inspired his sonnet. She was very beautiful, and he continued to love +her until his death, and this may be said to be the only lasting passion +of his life.</p> + +<p>The poet was not much of a scholar, though well informed. He next wrote +a tragedy entitled "<i>Media</i>," and then another comedy called "<i>The +Illusion</i>." But he had not yet hit upon the note of success. Soon after, +when about thirty years of age, he commenced the study of the Spanish +language.</p> + +<p>An Italian secretary of the queen counseled him to this course, and +advised him to read the "<i>Cid</i>" of de Castro, with an idea of making it +a subject for a drama. Corneille followed his advice, and produced a +tragedy which roused all France to enthusiasm. Paris was one prolonged +storm of applause, and when one praised an object, he said "It is fine +as the <i>Cid!</i>" The play was translated into the different languages of +all the civilized nations. Fontenelle says: "I knew two men, a soldier +and a mathematician, who had never heard of any other <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>play that had +ever been written, but the name of Cid had penetrated even the barbarous +state in which they lived."</p> + +<p>The dramatist had enemies—no man can quickly achieve renown without +making them—and some of them were exceedingly bitter in their attacks +upon him. Richelieu, the cardinal, was excessively annoyed that the man +he had reprimanded should have achieved success, and the French Academy +of Criticism, which was deeply under his influence, after discussions +decided somewhat against "The Cid." This suited the cardinal, but the +poet kept a wise silence, making no reply.</p> + +<p>The next effort of Corneille was that resulting in the tragedy of +"<i>Horace</i>," which was a master-piece, and was received with unbounded +applause. He surpassed this effort, however, in his next piece, called +"<i>Cinna</i>." After this—which many consider his best drama—came +"<i>Polyeceute"</i>, a beautiful piece. In it the Christian virtues are +illustrated, and when read before a conclave of learned men, they +deputied Voiture to the poet, to induce him, if possible, to withdraw +it, for the christianity in it the people would not endure. But the play +went to the people without amendment, and so beautiful was its +character, and so delightful the acting, that it carried away the hearts +of the listeners.</p> + +<p>Corneille now tried again to write comedy, but did not succeed so well +as in tragedy. He triumphed, however, over a rival, and that to him was +something, though the play is an inferior one. From this time the poet +wrote no better, but in truth worse and worse. He did not fail to write +beautiful scenes, but failed in selecting good subjects. He established +himself in Paris, and could do so with comfort, for the king bestowed a +pension upon him. Before this he had resided at Rouen, running up to +Paris <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>quite often. In 1642 he was elected a member of the French +Academy. He was never a courtier, and was not fitted to shine in gay +Parisian circles. His tastes were very simple, and he was in his manners +like a rustic. To see him in a drawing-room you would not think the man +a genius, nor even a bright specimen of his kind. Some of his friends +remonstrated with him, and tried to rouse him from his sluggishness in +society. He always replied, "I am not the less Pierre Corneille."</p> + +<p>La Bruyere says of him, "He is simple and timid; tiresome in +conversation—using one word for another—he knows not how to recite his +own verses." It is strange that he came to Paris, for he loved the +country better, and many attribute the remove to his brother, who was +also winning success as a dramatist.</p> + +<p>It had been well if after this Corneille had been content to write no +more plays, for everyone he now produced only proved that his genius +had decayed. The old cunning was gone. A young rival sprung up, the +graceful Racine, and for awhile the old favorite was forgotten, or +laughed at.</p> + +<p>Racine took a line from one of his pieces and used it in such a manner +as to excite laughter. Corneille said: "It ill becomes a young man to +make game of other people's verses." Unfortunately he was tempted into a +duel with Racine. The latter triumphed as a writer for the time, and +Corneille stopped his pen, as he should have done a long time before. +But often he had the pleasure of seeing some of his best pieces enacted +upon the stage, and they always excited great enthusiasm. He also knew +that the refined and critical loved his best plays—the better the more +they read them.</p> + +<p>The conduct of the poet through his whole life was, in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>the main, such +as to excite great admiration in after generations. He was no sycophant +in that age of fawning courtiers. He was simple and manly. He was always +melancholy and cared little for the vanities of life. Though poor in +early life, he cared but little about money. The king gave him a pension +of two thousand francs, which at that time was a good income. He was +generous and died utterly poor. One evening when age had bowed his form +he entered a Paris theater. The great <i>Condé</i> was present, and prince +and people as one man rose in honor of the great dramatist. He died in +his seventy-ninth year, and Racine pronounced a high eulogy upon him, +before the academy. Such was its beauty that the king caused it to be +recited before him. In it he extolled the genius of the man who had at +one time been his rival, and he taught his children to revere his +memory.</p> + +<p>In France, much more in Paris, the name of Corneille is to-day half +sacred. The house he lived and died in has many visitors, and to his +tomb many a pilgrim comes. And it is not strange that Parisians adore +him, for he was the father of comedy as well as tragedy. It was his +plays that caused the erection of commodious theaters. His plays have +continued to hold their place in the affections of the nation, and he is +reverenced more to-day than he was while living. The foreigner cannot +understand fully the character of modern French dramatists, and that of +their works, without knowing something of Corneille, nor can he wander +long among the streets of Paris, without becoming aware of the +estimation in which he is held at the present time by the intelligent +classes.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_GREAT_JESTER" id="THE_GREAT_JESTER"></a>THE GREAT JESTER</h3> + + +<p>Rabelais was born in 1483. He was a learned scholar, a physician, and a +philosopher. He was called "the great jester of France," by Lord Bacon. +Many buffooneries are ascribed to him unjustly, and he was a greater man +than certain modern writers make him out to be.</p> + +<p>His place of birth was Chinón, a little town of Touraine. His father was +a man of humble means. He received his early education in a convent near +his home. His progress was very slow and he was removed to another. He +promised poorly for future distinction, but at the second convent he was +fortunate in making the acquaintance of Du Ballay who afterward became a +bishop and cardinal, and whose friendship he retained to the day of his +death.</p> + +<p>He was again removed to another convent, where he applied himself to the +cultivation of his talents. There was, however, no library in the place. +Rabelais soon took to preaching, and with the money he was paid for it, +he purchased books. His brother monks hated him for his eloquence in +preaching, and for his evident learning. He was persecuted by these men +and suffered a great deal, principally because he knew Greek. For some +alleged slight offered against the rules of the convent, they wreaked +their vengeance upon him by condemning him to the prison cell, and to a +diet of bread and water. They also applied their hempen cords +thoroughly, and this course of treatment soon reduced Rabelais to a very +weak condition. His friends were by this time powerful and they obtained +his release, and a license from the Pope for him to pass from this +convent to another. But he was thoroughly disgusted with convent life, +and fled from it, wandering <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>over the provinces as a secular priest. He +next gave up this employment altogether, and took to the study of +medicine. He went through the different steps of promotion and was made +a professor. He delivered medical lectures, and a volume of his—an +edition of Hippocrates—was long held in high estimation by the medical +faculty of France.</p> + +<p>A medical college of Montpellier had been deprived for some reason of +its privileges, and Rabelais was deputed to Chancellor Duprat to solicit +a restoration of them. The story is told—to illustrate his +learning—that when he knocked at the chancellor's house he addressed +the person who came to the door in Latin, who could not understand that +language; a man shortly presented himself who could, and Rabelais +addressed him in Greek. Another map was sent for, and he was addressed +in Hebrew, and so on. The singularity of the circumstance arrested the +attention of the chancellor, and Rabelais was at once invited to his +presence. He succeeded in restoring the lost honors to the college, and +such was the enthusiasm of the students that ever after, when taking +degrees, they wore Rabelais scarlet gowns. This usage continued till the +revolution.</p> + +<p>Rabelais now went to Lyons, and still later to Rome as the physician to +Du Ballay, who was ambassador at that court. Some writers claim that he +went as buffoon instead of physician, but this is unsupported by +evidence. Many stories are told of his buffooneries at the court of +Rome, but unquestionably the majority were entirely untrue. One story +told, however, is good enough to be true. The pope expressed his +willingness to grant Rabelais a favor. The wit replied that if such was +the fact, he begged his holiness to excommunicate him. The pope <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>wished +to know the reason. The wit replied that some very honest gentlemen of +his acquaintance in Touraine had been burned, and finding it a common +saying in Italy when a fagot would not burn "that it had been +excommunicated by the pope's own mouth," he wished to be rendered +incombustible by the same process. It is asserted that Rabelais offended +the pope by his buffooneries, but the assertion can scarcely be +believed. When he had resided for a time in Rome, Rabelais went to +Lyons, then returned to the holy city, and after a second visit went to +Paris, where he entered the family of Cardinal du Bellay, who had also +returned from Rome. He confided to Rabelais the government of his +household, and persuaded the pope to secularize the abbey of St. +Maurdes-Fosses, and conferred it upon the wit. He next bestowed upon him +the cure of Meudon, which he retained while he lived.</p> + +<p>One of the first of Rabelais' books was entitled "<i>Lives of the great +Giant Garagantua and his Son Pantagruel"</i>. To it he owes a great deal of +his reputation and popularity. It created a vast deal of talk, and was +both highly praised and bitterly attacked. The champions of the church +criticised his book with great severity. Calvin the reformer also wrote +against it with much earnestness. The Sorbonne attacked it for teaching +heresy and atheism, and it was condemned by the court of parliament.</p> + +<p>The subjects held up for ridicule were the vices of the popes, the +avarice of the prelates, and the universal debaucheries of the monastic +orders. It was a wonderful book for the times, and it required great +courage in Rabelais to venture upon its publication. He would have lost +position, and perhaps his liberty, had it not been for the monarch +Francis I., who sent for the volume, read it, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>declared it to be +innocent and good reading, and protected the author. The sentence +against the book amounted to nothing after this, and it was everywhere +read and admired. Rabelais was set down as the first wit and scholar of +his age.</p> + +<p>The character of the book we have noticed cannot be defended. Its +irreverent use of scripture quotations, and loose wit, are not to be +overlooked, but there was no advocacy of atheism in it. Indeed we must +look upon Rabelais as acting the part of a reformer. If he had sought +simply popularity and the favor of the court and church, he would +certainly not have written a book which is a scathing attack upon pope, +prelate, and monk. The book is full of dirty expressions—but the age +was a very impure one, and we should not judge him too severely. He was +a Frenchman, and French wit in all ages has taken great liberties with +decency.</p> + +<p>Among the other books which Rabelais wrote, we may mention "<i>Several +Almanacs</i>," "<i>The Powers of Chevalier de Longery</i>," "<i>Letters from +Italy</i>," "<i>The Philosophical Cream</i>," etc. etc. His greatest book, which +we have mentioned, went through a great number of editions and had a +tremendous sale. It was republished in several foreign states.</p> + +<p>Rabelais was a scholar, for he knew well fourteen languages, and wrote +with facility Greek, Latin, and Italian. He was a good physician, an +accomplished naturalist, a correct mathematician, an astronomer, an +architect, a painter, a musician, and last of all, a wit and +philosopher. He was a good pastor over the parishioners of Meudon, and +acted as physician to their bodies as well as souls.</p> + +<p>There are idle tales to the effect that he made his will as follows: "I +have nothing—I owe much—I leave the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>rest to the poor." And also that +he sent a message as follows, to Cardinal du Ballay. "Tell the cardinal +I am going to try the great 'perhaps'—you are a fool—draw the +curtain—the farce is done." These were fictions invented by the very +pious Catholics, who hated him for his satires upon the church.</p> + +<p>Rabelais must have been a great man. Even his learning alone would have +made him the most distinguished man in France at the time he lived. +Those who hated him have tried to cover his memory with shame, and have +represented him as merely a buffoon, but such was not the truth. He did +often descend to buffooneries and to almost obscene sayings, and these +things have had their influence upon France, and have contributed to +make the French people what they are to-day—a nation of professed +Catholics, but really a nation of infidels and atheists. But Rabelais +was more than a wit. He was a public benefactor. He improved medical +science, and was as much a reformer in his laughable attacks upon the +fat and lazy monks, as was Calvin himself.</p> + +<p>Rabelais died at the age of seventy, and was buried in the churchyard of +St. Paul, Rue des Jardins, at the foot of a beautiful tree which was +preserved in his memory. No monument was ever placed over his grave, but +he did not need one to perpetuate his memory.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_DRAMATIST" id="THE_DRAMATIST"></a>THE DRAMATIST.</h3> + + +<p>One of the men of the past who exerted and still exerts a wide influence +over French literature, is Racine. He was born in 1639, in the small +town Ferte-Milon, in Valois. The parents died while he was in infancy, +and he and a sister, their only children, were left orphans in the care +of their maternal grandfather. This sister remained in Ferte-Milon +during her life, which was not long. Racine was not happy while young, +and being neglected by his grandparents felt it keenly. He was a scholar +at Beauvais, and attached himself to one of the political parties which +at that time always sprang up in schools and colleges. He was in one of +their contests wounded upon his forehead, and bore the scar through +life.</p> + +<p>Racine was transferred from Beauvais to the school of the convent of +Port Royal, and the Jesuits noticing his natural quickness, bestowed +careful attention upon his education. He was so wretchedly poor that he +could not buy copies of the classics, and he was obliged to use those +owned by others, and which were much inferior to copies he could have +purchased had he possessed money. He was early struck with the beauty of +the Greek writers—and more especially the Greek tragedians. He wandered +in the woods with Sophocles and Euripides in his hands, and many years +after could recite their chief plays from memory. He got hold of the +Greek romance of Theogines and Chariclea, but the priests would not +tolerate such reading and committed the volume to the flames. He got +another copy and it shared the same fate. He concluded to purchase +another, kept it till he learned it by heart, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>and then took it to the +priests and told them they might have that also.</p> + +<p>At Port Royal Racine was happy. He was a gentle-hearted boy and his +masters loved him. He early began to compose verses and showed an +intense love of poetry. At nineteen he left Port Royal for the college +of Harcour, at Paris. When he was twenty-one Louis XIV. was married, and +invited every versifier in the kingdom to write in honor of the +occasion. Racine was an obscure student and was unknown as a poet. He +wrote a poem on the marriage, and it was shown to M. Chapelain, who was +the poetical critic of Paris at that time. He thought it showed a good +deal of promise and suggested a few alterations. It was carried to the +patron of the critic, who sent him a hundred louis from the king, and a +pension of six hundred livres. The poet's friends were anxious that he +should choose a profession, and that of the bar was strongly urged upon +him. He objected. An uncle who had a benefice at Uzes, wished to resign +it to his nephew. Racine concluded to visit his uncle in the provinces. +He remained for some time there, but he found there was little hope of +advancement and grew restless. The scenery around him was magnificent, +yet, though he was a poet, he had no eye for the grand and impressive in +scenery. He was too much of a Parisian for that. A Parisian is all +art—and cares nothing for nature. He prefers fine buildings and +paintings to fields, mountains, and majestic rivers.</p> + +<p>Racine wrote a poem entitled "<i>The Bath of Venus</i>," and began a play +upon the Greek one of Theogines and Chariclea, which had delighted him +so much when he was young. He returned to Paris somewhat discouraged, +after an absence of only three months. Here, through <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>the rivalry of two +play-writers, he was persuaded to write very hastily a new play. He +consented, and produced one which was well received by the Parisians. It +did not do justice to his powers, however, and he soon after wrote +"<i>Alexandre</i>," which was an advance upon the previous performance. He +was unacquainted with the English or Spanish drama, and had studied only +the French of Corneille, and the Greek. He attempted the Greek drama, +and of course found it very difficult to render dramas founded upon +Grecian national subjects, and with Grecian manners, interesting to a +Parisian audience. "<i>Alexandre</i>" was not successful upon the stage, but +the best critics did not hesitate to award the premium of great dramatic +genius to Racine, and he was encouraged to go on.</p> + +<p>While the dramatist was writing "<i>Andromaque</i>" he was bitterly attacked +by the leader of a sect of religionists for the wretched morality of his +play. He felt the attack keenly, and that it was just, no American will +deny, though Frenchmen will. The poet replied to the attack in a witty +and satirical letter.</p> + +<p>The "<i>Andromaque</i>" of Racine had a fine success, and one character was +so full of passion and was so well represented upon the stage, that it +cost the life of the actor who fell dead from excitement. Then followed +in quick succession "<i>Brittonicus</i>" and "<i>Berenice</i>," which were also +successful. His plays were full of intense passion and eloquence, and it +would not give the reader a fair idea of their influence over the +French, did we not admit that their representations of human life were +such as to undermine the morality of those who listened to them. The +plays of Racine have exerted a prodigious influence over the intelligent +classes of Paris, and their wretched <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>morality poisoned the nation. For +my part, when I consider the literature of France—and no one can judge +of a people without knowing its literature—I do not wonder that a very +low morality exists throughout the country, but more especially in +Paris. The great plays of past and modern times are saturated with +licentiousness—the great romances of past and present years, are foul +with impurities. Racine, living in an age of licentiousness, reflects it +in his plays, and his plays are admired to-day in Paris, as of yore; +hence it follows that those who go and see them acted must be somewhat +affected by their immorality. Madame Rachel has made the characters of +Racine familiar to all France, and has revived all his blemishes as well +as beauties.</p> + +<p>The poet met with much severe criticism after the representation of the +last mentioned of his plays. Madame Sevigne was one of Corneille's +warmest admirers, and did not join the company of Racine worshipers. A +benefice was now given the poet, but soon after it was disputed by a +priest; lawsuits began, and finally he relinquished it in disgust. +Racine, Moliere, Boileau, and others were in the habit of meeting and +having convivial suppers together, and on such occasions Racine +projected new plays, and characters were often suggested to him by his +fellow authors. In one of his after plays, which was not successful, he +showed a talent for comedy far above mediocrity. It was once represented +before the king, who laughed so hard that his courtiers were astonished.</p> + +<p>Racine was elected member of the Academy in 1673, and made a very modest +speech when the honor was conferred upon him. He brought out one after +another, "<i>Bajazet</i>," "<i>Mithridates</i>," "<i>Phœdra</i>," and "<i>Iphigenia</i>," +all of which had an excellent reception. The day <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>"<i>Phœdra</i>" was brought +out, another dramatist brought out a drama with the same title. He had +powerful friends who went so far as to pack his theater, and buy boxes +at the theater upon the stage of which Racine's play was to be enacted, +and leave them empty. This incident shows us the fierceness of rivalry +between authors at that time. To such an extent was the quarrel carried +by the friends of the respective authors, that Racine, who was a very +sensitive man, resolved to renounce the drama. His early religious +education tended to strengthen his resolution. He soon became a severe +and stern religionist, undergoing penances to expiate the guilt incurred +for his life of sin. His confessor advised him to marry some woman of +piety, to help him on in his good work, and he therefore married. The +woman was Catherine de Romenet. She was of a higher position, and was +wealthy. She knew nothing of the drama, was not fond of poetry, and was +a very strict religious woman. She was sincere and affectionate, and +wrought a wonderful change in Racine. Under her quiet tuition he became +very narrow in his religious convictions, but quite happy in his mind. +He brought up his children with the same views, and they all took +monastic vows. His daughters were, one after another, given to the +convent. He had seven children in all, and found it difficult to meet +all his family expenses.</p> + +<p>At this time he was made historiographer to the king, and witnessed many +important battles. His life at court was very pleasant to him, and +though he was a little too much inclined to be servile, yet he was +generally an upright man. The story is told of him, that once when in +the bosom of his little family, an attendant of the great duke came to +invite him to dinner at the Hotel de Conde.</p> + +<p>He sent back the reply, "I cannot go; I have returned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>to my family +after an absence of eight days; they have got a fine carp for me, and +would be much disappointed if I did not share it with them."</p> + +<p>Boileau and Racine were very intimate friends, and many anecdotes are +related of them. Boileau had wit—Racine humor, and a natural turn for +raillery. The contests of the two were often amusing. The king was much +pleased with the dramatist, and gave him a suit of apartments in the +palace, and the privilege of attending his parties. Madame de Maintenon +made a great favorite of him. He could recite poetry freely, and was +asked to declaim before a young princess. He found that she had been +learning some of his own plays. One of the best of his plays was +performed in the presence of Madame de Maintenon, who liked it so well +that she beseeched him to write a play which should contain no offensive +sentiments. Racine was in agony, for he feared to injure his reputation. +His vow prevented his return to his old employment, yet he feared to +refuse the request. He compromised the matter by dramatising the +touching bible history of Esther. At court the play had a wonderful +success, and the poet tried again upon the story of Atheliah of the +house of Judah; and in "<i>Athalie</i>" we have the best of all his dramas. +Singular as it may seem, this play was not well received at court, and +Racine felt mortified. Boileau told him, however, that posterity would +declare it the best of all his plays, and he was right.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that the dramatist received the keenest blow +which he had experienced hi his lifetime, and which broke his heart. +Madame de Maintenon was his warm friend, and was extremely fond of his +society. The country was at that time in great distress, and she +conversed with the poet upon the subject. She was much <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>pleased with his +observations, and asked him to commit them to paper, promising that what +he should write should be seen by no eye but her own. He complied with +her request, and while she was one day reading his essay, the king +suddenly entered, and casting his eye upon the paper, demanded the name +of the author. Madame de Maintenon broke her promise, and gave the name +of the writer. The king was very angry, and asked, "Does he think that +he knows everything because he writes verses?"</p> + +<p>Madame de Maintenon saw at once that the king was much displeased, and +felt it to be her duty to inform the poet, that he might stay away from +court for a while, until the monarch's anger died away. Racine was +plunged into the deepest distress, and grew daily weak and ill. He +wandered over the park of Versailles, hoping to accidentally meet Madame +de Maintenon, for she did not dare to receive him publicly. He at length +met her, and she promised that she would yet bring pleasanter days to +the poet—that the cloud would soon pass away. He replied with great +melancholy that no fair weather would return for him.</p> + +<p>One day, while in his study, he was seized with a sudden illness, and +was obliged to take at once to his bed. An abscess in his liver had +closed, though this was not known at the time. His disease grew very +painful, and he became more patient and resigned. As death drew near, +his original sweetness of disposition came back to him, and his deep +melancholy fled away. The nobles of the court gathered around his +bed-side, and the king sent to make inquiries as to his condition. He +arranged all his pecuniary affairs. Boileau was with him, and when he +bade him farewell, he said, "I look on it as a happiness that I die +before you."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the physicians had discovered the abscess in his liver, they +resolved upon an operation, and he consented, though with no hope of +saving his life. He said, "The physicians try to give me hope, and God +could restore me; but the work of death is done." In three more days he +expired, in his sixtieth year. Thus lived and died one of the most +brilliant men in the history of France.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h2>THE FABULIST—THE INFIDEL—THE COMIC WRITER</h2> + +<h3>THE FABULIST.</h3> + + +<p>La Fontaine, the fabulist, was buried by the side of Moliere, who died +long before him. He was born July 8th, 1621, at Chateau Thierry. His +father was keeper of the royal domains. While young, La Fontaine gave no +promise of his after distinction. His teachers declared him to be a +dunce. His father, who seems to have been an admirer of poetry, +persuaded him to attempt to write verses, but he could not make a rhyme. +Seeing at nineteen that he could not make a poet of his son, the old man +resolved to make a priest of him. After eighteen months of trial the +young man returned to society. His father then proposed that he should +take the keepership of the royal domains, and marry Marie d'Hericart, +the daughter of his friend. La Fontaine made no objection, though we +have no evidence that he loved the girl. She was both beautiful and +talented, however. The father still clung to the idea that his son could +write poetry, and with a kind of prophetic instinct.</p> + +<p>When La Fontaine was twenty-two, a French officer visited him, who was a +great admirer of poetry, and who brought the poems of Malherbe. La +Fontaine became excited by the poetry, or the passionate recitation, and +for days did nothing but read and recite poetry. He commenced writing +odes in imitation of Malherbe, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>when his father beheld his first +attempt, he cried for joy. The character of the poetry was certainly +different from that which afterward gave him his fame. He soon +discovered the secret of success. By studying the old authors, he +improved his taste, and acquired a disrelish for French literature. He +was very fond of the Italian authors, but not knowing Greek, he only +read the Greek authors through translations made by others. He was +exceedingly fond of Plato, and his favorite copy was entirely filled +with annotations.</p> + +<p>La Fontaine remained for several years at Thierry, indolent, except in +his reading, and neglecting his business and his family. His "<i>Adonis</i>" +was written at this time. His good nature and simplicity are well +illustrated by an anecdote which is told of him. An officer was in the +constant habit of visiting his house, and his friends told him that the +reputation of Madame La Fontaine was compromised, and that nothing was +left but for him to challenge the officer to a duel. Now the fabulist +cared little for madame, and less for his own reputation in connection +with hers; but he believed his friends, and so after a great effort +shook off his indolence, and early one morning went to the officer, who +was in bed, and demanded that he should rise at once and go out to +mortal combat. The officer rose and followed him, and easily disarmed +him. An explanation followed. The friends of La Fontaine had been joking +him, and when the officer declared that he would never cross the +threshold of Thierry again, La Fontaine told him that thenceforth he +should come more frequently than ever.</p> + +<p>But though Madame La Fontaine was guiltless in this affair, her +character was by no means above reproach. She was giddy and thoughtless, +and fond of the society of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>gentlemen, and made a poor wife for the +poet. But she had an excuse. La Fontaine bestowed upon her no attention, +deserted her for weeks together, and was guilty of amours with other +women. He possessed a wretched memory, and was given to astonishing +absences of mind. The duchess of Bouillon left him one morning walking +in the open air, with a favorite book in his hand. At night he was still +there, though it had been raining hard for some time.</p> + +<p>His acquaintance with the duchess of Bouillon was of great service to +him. Had it not been for her he would probably never have left Thierry. +She was at that time in the country, being disgraced and exiled from +court. She was gay, witty, and fond of poetry. Chancing to read some +lines of La Fontaine, she sent for him, and at once saw his genius, and +suggested that he should write tales and fables. When the duchess was +allowed to return to Paris she took La Fontaine with her, and he was at +once introduced into the most brilliant society. The duchess of Mazarin, +sister to the duchess of Bouillon, was also his warm friend; and with +the friendship of the two sisters he had no lack of attention. He became +acquainted with Moliere, Boileau, and Racine, and was warmly attached to +them until death invaded the circle.</p> + +<p>The circles which La Fontaine frequented were amused by his great +eccentricities. He was often seized with his absences of mind, and great +sport was made of him. But Moliere was in the habit of saying at such +times, "The good man will take a flight beyond them,"—a prediction +which proved perfectly true, for the name of La Fontaine will live +longer than that of any of his companions.</p> + +<p>Boileau and Racine remonstrated with La Fontaine for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>having separated +from his wife. Simple as he was, he believed what they told him—that it +was his duty to return to her. He very soon came back, and when he was +asked why he came back so soon, he replied, "I did not see her!"</p> + +<p>"How," they asked, "was she from home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied; "she was gone to prayers, and the servant not knowing +me, would not let me stay in the house until she returned."</p> + +<p>The fabulist and his wife were so extravagant and careless in their +habits, that in a very short time the property of La Fontaine was wasted +away. Foquet, the minister, pensioned him, and he remembered him always +after. When Foquet was banished, La Fontaine solicited his pardon, but +the king was incapable of forgiving an enemy, and changed the sentence +to solitary confinement for life. The succeeding minister took away La +Fontaine's pension, as might have been expected.</p> + +<p>In 1664 La Fontaine published his first collection of fables, and it +gave him immediately the very highest rank as a fabulist. Shortly after, +he published a tale entitled "<i>Psyche and Cupid</i>." He was now without +money and a home. The duchess of Orleans added him to her suite, and +gave him a pension. She soon died, however, and he was again left +homeless. A woman by the name of de la Sabliere now invited him to her +house, and with her he lived the next twenty years. She was a woman of +great refinement and taste, but was singularly situated. She lived apart +from her husband, and had her lover. She gave parties which the most +distinguished men in France attended, and La Fontaine was very happy +while in her house. He was oppressed by no care or anxiety, and had +nothing to do but to read and write when it suited <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>him. He wrote +several operas, and actually fell asleep during the first performance of +one of them at the theater!</p> + +<p>In 1683 he was elected a member of the French Academy. He had forgotten +his old friends at Thierry, and indeed did not know his own son. He +attended the funeral of a friend, one day, and ten days after it had so +completely escaped his memory, that he called to visit the man. He was +lionized, greatly to his displeasure. Attending one day at a dinner +given by somebody who cared nothing for his genius, but wished the +<i>eclat</i> that would result from entertaining a great man, La Fontaine +talked little, eat very heartily, and when dinner was over, got his hat +to go. The host remonstrated: "The distance is short—you will be too +early," he said. "I'll take the longest road," replied La Fontaine.</p> + +<p>After twenty years of easy existence, La Fontaine was suddenly deprived +of his home. Madame de la Sabliere had been living all this time with +her lover. He now deserted her. At the same time her husband was +deserted by his mistress, which so affected him that he took poison and +died. These events had so great an effect upon Madame de la Sabliere +that she also died.</p> + +<p>The duchess of Bouillon was now in England, and she invited La Fontaine +to join her there; but he was now too old, and could not undertake such +a journey. Madame d'Hevvart, the wife of a rich man, gave him an +apartment in her house, where he remained during the rest of his days. +He was now getting infirm, and the Jesuits turned their eyes toward him. +He had thus far lived without a profession of religion, and a life of +loose morality. The Jesuits cared little for his want of good morals, +but in many of his books he had ridiculed the church and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>clergy. It +was important, therefore, to make him confess his sins. Father Poujet, a +shrewd and subtle Jesuit, was sent to converse with him. In a very short +time he contrived to insinuate himself into the confidence of the simple +poet. He acknowledged, one after another, the truths of religion, and he +was called on to make expiations and a public confession. He was easily +persuaded to burn his operas, and to give up all the profits resulting +from the sale of a volume of his worst tales; but he rebelled against +public confession. Three doctors of the Sorbonne were sent to him, and +they argued long and well, but to no purpose. An old man who was angered +by their bull-dog pertinancy, said, "Don't torment him, my reverend +fathers; it is not ill will in him, but stupidity, poor soul; and God +Almighty will not have the heart to damn him for it."</p> + +<p>That La Fontaine finally made some kind of a confession, there is little +doubt; but that he made the shameful confession which Catholic writers +declare he did, no one now believes. He was probably worn out with their +entreaties, and came to a compromise with them.</p> + +<p>He added nothing to his reputation after this, but rather detracted from +it. He lived very quietly and devotedly, and died in 1695, in the +seventy-fourth year of his age. It was found after his death that he was +in the habit of mortifying himself with a shirt of sackcloth.</p> + +<p>La Fontaine was unquestionably the greatest fabulist of his or any other +time, and he has been exceedingly popular throughout France. His tales +and fables and light poems are full of beauty and grace. But we cannot +speak highly of their morality. They are, like almost all French +literature, corrupt. They took their character from the times, and have +had a bad influence upon later generations of France.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_INFIDEL" id="THE_INFIDEL"></a>THE INFIDEL.</h3> + + +<p>Perhaps no man has existed in the past history of France, who has had +such a wonderful influence over succeeding generations, as Voltaire. I +name him the <i>infidel</i>, not because his infidelity was the most +prominent characteristic, but because he is known more widely in America +for his scoffing skepticism. The effect of Voltaire's skeptical writings +is more perceptible in Paris than in the provinces, but in the capital +an amount of infidelity obtains which is perfectly frightful; and even +among those who frequent the church, and sometimes ostentatiously parade +an affection for it, this skepticism fills the intellects. No one writer +of past years unsettled the already shallow-rooted faith of the people +to such an extent as Voltaire. Yet he was by no means the man many of +his enemies suppose him to have been. No mere scoffer or reviler of the +bible could have obtained such an influence in France as Voltaire did. +He was really a great man, and gained the affections of the people by +his advocacy of liberty. It is more than probable that under a system of +religion as pure as now exists in America, Voltaire would never have +been an infidel. The condition of the Catholic church in France, in his +time, was sufficiently shocking to have startled every intelligent mind +into skepticism. It was filled with hypocrites and knaves, who professed +to be filled with the spirit of God, but who in reality were very +sensual and wicked men. The slightest independence in religious opinions +was punished by exile or imprisonment. How could a man with an +independent intellect succumb to such a church? And was it not very +natural <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>for it to jump from belief to infidelity? This should be borne +in mind when we estimate the character of Voltaire.</p> + +<p>Voltaire's real name was Francois-Marie Arouet, and he was born at +Chatenay, on the 20th of February, 1694. His father was a notary, and +had a lucrative situation. His mother was of noble extraction. When a +babe, he was so feeble that it was not expected he would live. An abbe +in the family educated him, and it is a singular fact, that when he was +a boy, a deistical ode was put into his hands. He entered the college of +Louis-le-Grand, and his, talents rendered him a general favorite with +the teachers. One of his tutors, however, in a religious argument found +himself so incompetent to defend the Catholic church, that in his anger +he exclaimed, "You will become the Coryphæus of Deism."</p> + +<p>On leaving college the young man entered into Paris society. Louis XIV. +was in his dotage, and at this time paid little attention to men of +genius. Arouet soon became popular in the highest circles for his wit +and genius. He resolved, much against his father's will, to devote +himself to a literary life. One of the first acts of the young man was +to fall in love with a rich but desperate woman's daughter, and amid +much opposition he by stealth kept up an intercourse with her; but he +was at last obliged to give way before so much ill will. His father was +very angry with him—so much so, that he consented at last to study the +law. He entered a law-office in Paris, and pursued his studies with +industry. He frequented society, but he could not content himself with +the prospect of an attorney's life. He beseeched his father to release +him from his course of study, and he consented that he should return to +the country-seat of a friend, and consider the matter. Here Arouet found +a large library, and fed upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>it. He staid there until the death of the +king, when he went up to Paris to witness the joy of the people. Some +verses were printed which were attributed to him, and he was instantly +thrown into the Bastille. He passed a year in prison, without society, +books, or pen and ink.</p> + +<p>While imprisoned, the idea occurred to him of writing a great French +epic, and he actually composed in his dungeon two cantos of it, which +afterwards were not altered. The poem was called "<i>Henriade</i>," and was +regarded with admiration by his contemporaries.</p> + +<p>Arouet was finally set free, his innocence being satisfactorily proved. +He now issued the tragedy of "<i>Œdipus</i>," which had a great success. This +success was only deserved in part. He still later wrote several letters +upon the tragedies of Sophocles, which gave him at once a high position +as a man of learning, and as a critic. His life alternated between work +and pleasure. He quarreled with Rosseau about this time, and a little +later visited England. He remained away from France three years. Upon +his return to Paris he again brought out plays, and was everywhere +admired and worshiped. But the priesthood hated him.</p> + +<p>He now bought the small estate of Voltaire, and took the name for his +own, as was customary at that time. His writings occasionally made light +of religion and the priests, and scoffed at their practices. An actress +in Paris was refused the rites of burial by the priests, because of her +life and profession. Voltaire thereupon wrote her apotheosis, and in +consequence was obliged to conceal himself for several months in a +little village in Normandy. When it was safe for him to emerge from his +retirement, he wrote a book on England, which raised another storm about +his head. He spoke too highly of English liberty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>in religious matters, +and took occasion to speak sarcastically of all religion. The volume was +burned in public, and Voltaire concealed himself in the country.</p> + +<p>He now retired to the house of Madam du Chatelet in the country, where +he remained for several years. She was a woman of fine intellect, but a +harsh nature, and worshipped Voltaire. He here wrote several plays; +labored at his essay "<i>On the Manners and Spirit of Nations</i>;" collected +materials for his "<i>History of the Age of Louis XIV</i>;" and wrote the +famous "<i>Pucelle d'Orleans</i>." It was while at this house that Voltaire +commenced the celebrated correspondence with Frederick the Great. Each +had the highest admiration for the other. The great king wrote to him as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"See in me only, I entreat you, a zealous citizen, a somewhat +skeptical philosopher, but a truly faithful friend. For God's +sake write to me simply as a man; join with me in despising +titles, names, and all exterior splendor."</p></div> + +<p>Voltaire replied; "This is a command after my own heart. <i>I know not how +to treat a king</i>; but I am quite at my ease with a man whose head and +heart are full of love for the human race."</p> + +<p>The two men met at Cleave. The king had been very anxious for Voltaire +to visit the court of Prussia, but he would not without Madame du +Chatelet; and Frederic cared not for the acquaintance of a French court +lady. Some time after this, Voltaire was sent on a secret mission to +Prussia, and startled Frederic by his sudden appearance. He tried to +persuade him to take up his abode with him, but the philosopher would +not consent. He sighed for his home, and the applause of a Parisian +audience.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>He brought out other plays, which were well received. A minister dying +at this time, who had been a bitter enemy of his, he ventured more +boldly before the world. He sought to be elected a member of the +Academy. A violent opposition arose. He had fought his enemies to the +death, never sparing sarcasm or ridicule, and these things could not be +forgotten. He lost his election, but was compensated by the success of a +new tragedy, which set all Paris into transports of delight.</p> + +<p>He was chosen by the duke de Richelieu to negotiate with the king of +Prussia in reference to a treaty. He was honored in the highest degree +by Frederic—was fêted, praised, and made as much of as if he had been a +king. He succeeded in his negotiations, manifesting great subtlety and +tact. He returned to the house of Madame du Chatelet. For a time he +lived either here or at Paris—until Madame du Chatelet died, when he +went to Paris to spend all his time. He was deeply affected by the death +of the only woman he ever loved with sincerity. He propitiated the +mistress of Louis XV.—Madame Pompadour—and was appointed to a place in +the court; and was also made historiographer of France. Soon after, he +was elected a member of the Academy, thus triumphing over his old +enemies at last. For a time he sacrificed his manly independence, and +was not unlike any other court flatterer. He had a rival in Crebillon; +and disgusted with the state of things, he accepted the invitation of +Frederic, and made him a visit. He was received with the greatest joy by +the monarch—who even kissed the poet's hand in a transport of +admiration.</p> + +<p>The king's cook awaited his orders when he wished to eat in his own +rooms, and the king's coach was ready for him when he would ride. He +spent two hours each day <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>in studying with the king, correcting his +works, etc. etc. He was tempted by so much attention to accept of the +king a pension and the office of chamberlain; and was obliged to resign +his places at the French court. He wrote to a friend in France:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"How can I forget the barbarous manner with which I have been +treated in my own country? You know what I have gone through. +I enter port after a storm that has lasted thirty years."</p></div> + +<p>He had a salary of twenty thousand francs for himself, and four thousand +for his niece, who bitterly opposed the acceptance of Frederick's offer. +She prophesied that in the end it would be his death. He went at work +correcting his tragedies and writing new plays. He soon thought he +discovered deceit in the king, and learned that he was despotic. The +keen remarks of each were treasured up. Voltaire heard from a friend +that the king had said of him: "I shall not want him more than a year +longer—one squeezes the orange and throws away the peel."</p> + +<p>The remark caused him much sorrow. The king also treasured up a remark +sarcastically made by Voltaire, which was as follows: "When I correct +the royal poems I am washing the king's dirty linen." They soon lost +their attachment for each other. Voltaire watched in vain for a way to +escape from Prussia. At last it came, and he was once more a free man in +Switzerland.</p> + +<p>He went into a Protestant region, where there were no Catholics, and +bought him a pretty estate, and determined to live in complete +independence. Persecution however followed him here, and he took up his +abode in a retired part of France. He wrote his "<i>Encyclopedia</i>" which +was severely condemned. In 1788, in his eighty-fourth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>year, he returned +to Paris, bringing with him a newly-written tragedy. His new life in +Paris was not good for him, and he died at the end of May.</p> + +<p>This was the man who, in the years that followed him, ruled, as it were, +the intellect of Paris and France. He was a mighty man, and the fact +that he was bitterly persecuted, gave him a hold upon the sympathies of +succeeding generations. The conduct of the church toward him was +shameful, and he made the sad mistake of rejecting all religion, the +true as well as the false.</p> + +<p>His plays and writings abound with shocking sentiments, and some of his +writings are exceedingly coarse. These scoffs, coming from an ordinary +man, would have wrought little harm; but from the great Voltaire, who +was worshiped by the French people, they possessed an astonishing power +to work iniquity. A New Englander can scarcely credit his senses in +Paris when he finds the estimation in which Voltaire and his writings +are held by a vast class of the most intelligent Parisians. In religious +America he is regarded as a monster of iniquity; in France as a great +poet, philosopher, and advocate of human liberty.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_GREAT_COMIC_WRITER" id="THE_GREAT_COMIC_WRITER"></a>THE GREAT COMIC WRITER.</h3> + + +<p>The place where Moliere, the great comic writer of France, lived in +Paris, was pointed out to me one day while near the Rue St. Honoré; and +I have often noticed on one of the prominent streets a very neat +monument to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>the memory of the great man. It is a niche, with two +Corinthian columns, surmounted by a half-circular pediment, which is +richly ornamented. A statue of Moliere is placed in the niche in a +sitting posture, and in a meditative mood. In front of the columns on +each side, there are allegorical figures—one representing his serious, +the other his comic plays. Each bears a scroll which contains—one, his +comic plays, arranged in chronological order; and the other, his serious +plays, arranged in like manner. The basement is beautifully sculptured. +The inscriptions are as follows: "<i>A. Moliere. Né à Paris, le 15 +Jauvier, 1622, et mort à Paris, le 17 Février, 1673</i>." The monument is +over fifty feet in height, and cost one hundred and sixty-eight thousand +francs. It was erected in 1844, with a great deal of attendant ceremony +when it was finished.</p> + +<p>Moliere is one of the names of which France is justly proud, and in +Paris his memory is half-worshiped. Not to know him well, would be in +the eyes of a Parisian the sure sign of intolerable stupidity. He was +the greatest comic writer of France, and perhaps of the world. It will +not be out of place, therefore, to give a slight sketch of his life.</p> + +<p>The real name of Moliere was Jean Baptiste Poguelin, and he was born in +a little house in the Rue St. Honore, in the year 1622. His father was a +carpet-furnisher to the king, and he was brought up to the same business +by his father. His mother died when he was only ten years old, and his +father was left with a large family of children to educate. The boy +passed his early days in his father's warehouse, but his grandfather was +accustomed to take him often to the play-house, where he listened to +some of the great Corneille's plays, to his thorough delight. Thus <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>in +his youth, even while a mere boy, the taste for the drama was created. +His father at one time remonstrated with the old man for taking the boy +thus early to the theater, and asked, "Do you mean to make an actor of +him?"</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted by this question, the grandfather replied, "Yes, if it +please God to make him as good a one as Bellerose"—who was the best +tragic actor of that time.</p> + +<p>The boy was discontented as he grew older, and panted for knowledge. As +he contemplated a life given up to trade, he grew melancholy. He was +finally sent as an out-student to the college of Clermont, and afterward +to the college of Louis-le-Grand, which was under the direction of the +Jesuits. The young prince of Conti was at school at that time. Gassendi, +the private tutor to the natural son of a man of fortune, named +Chapelle—the son at that time at school with Poguelin—discovered the +boy's talents, and taught him the philosophy of Epicurus, and gave him +lessons in morals. Another of his fellow-students was one de Bergerac, +of fine talents but wild disposition. Chapelle and de Bergerac became +afterward distinguished.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was through college, Poguelin entered into the king's +service as <i>valet de chambre</i>, and made the journey with his majesty to +Narbonne. After this he studied law in Orleans, and commenced practice +in Paris as an advocate. He here became associated with a few friends in +getting up a series of plays. The age was one full of enthusiasm for the +stage, and plays were enacted upon the stage and off of it, in private +circles. The club of young men who acted together for the amusement of +their friends, were so successful that they resolved to take to the +public stage; and as was the custom, each took an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>assumed name. +Poguelin assumed the name of Moliere, a name which he immortalized, and +by which he was ever afterward known.</p> + +<p>His father was very much displeased with his course, and sent a friend +to persuade him to relinquish it, but the deputy was so fascinated by +Poguelin's acting, that he became a convert to him, and was not fitted +to urge the arguments of the father. The family for a time refused in a +manner to acknowledge their son, being ashamed of his new profession; +but they are now known only through him.</p> + +<p>The masters under whom Moliere principally studied were Italians, and he +imbibed a love for the Italian comic art. He also read the Spanish +comedies, and learned to admire them.</p> + +<p>Moliere and his little band left Paris for the provinces. The times were +unpropitious, for the wars of the Fronde at that time made the whole +country a scene of confusion and danger. They had visited Bordeaux, and +were protected by the governor of Guienne. While here, Moliere wrote and +brought out a tragedy, which had so poor a success that he gave up +tragedy. After a short provincial tour he returned to Paris, and renewed +the acquaintance of the prince of Conti. The latter caused Moliere and +his fellows to bring out plays at his palace. But Paris was too full of +strife, and Moliere went to Lyons, where he wrote and brought out his +first comedy, "<i>L'Etouedi</i>." It met with a great success. There is an +English translation, entitled "Sir Martin Marplot." The next piece was +entitled "<i>Dépit Amourex</i>," and its genuine humor gave it a fine +reputation.</p> + +<p>The moral character of Moliere at this time was exceedingly bad. The +times were such that a band of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>players found every temptation before +them. The French biographers give an account of some of his +"gallantries," but they only lead the reader to feel disgust rather than +admiration. That plays written by such a man, and during times which +corrupted the whole people, should be pure, one could not expect. +Moliere's plays, therefore, bear the same character, in this respect, as +all the great performances of authors of France in those and succeeding +times. They were altogether loose in their morals.</p> + +<p>The company of players were invited to Paynas by the prince of Conti, +who was staying there at the time. They acted before him, and Moliere +wrote several little interludes for the special amusement of the prince, +which were afterward the ground-work of some of his best comedies. The +prince was so pleased with the comedian, that he invited him to become +his secretary. He declined, but whether from love of comedy, or fear of +the prince, we do not know. The prince possessed an awful temper, and +actually killed his former secretary by throwing the tongs at him.</p> + +<p>Paris at length became more quiet, and Moliere turned his steps toward +it. He obtained the protection of the king's brother, was introduced to +the king, and obtained permission to establish himself in the capital. +There was a rival theater at the Hotel de Bourgogue, at which +Corneille's tragedies were played. Moliere and his company acted before +Louis XIV. and his mother, in the Louvre. The play was that of +"Nicomede," and the success was very great. The play was a tragedy, but +Moliere knew very well that they could not rival the other +tragedy-theater, in that line; and he therefore introduced the custom +that night of concluding a tragedy with a farce. The farce acted was one +of his own, and was so well received <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>that the custom was ever after +kept up. The company finally settled down in the Palais Royal, which the +king had granted them.</p> + +<p>The next poem which Moliere wrote and brought out, was aimed at a +society of men, including many of the most talented in Paris, called the +"<i>Society of the Hotel de Rambouillet</i>." The peculiarities of this +society were too ridiculous to describe at this day, and Moliere's +comedy, which was aimed at them, was wonderfully successful. Paris at +once was in an uproar of laughter, and in the midst of the piece an old +man rose in the theater, crying out, "Courage, Moliere; this is a true +comedy!"</p> + +<p>The next piece was entitled "<i>Sganarelle</i>," and although it was quite +successful, it was inferior to those which preceded it. Moliere now +tried tragedy, but with no success. It was not his <i>forté</i>. He returned +to comedy, and brought out a piece entitled "<i>L'Ecoledes Maris</i>," which +achieved a brilliant success.</p> + +<p>At this time Foquet was the minister of finance, and gave a fête in +honor of the king; indeed he entertained the king at his villa. He was +in some respects another Cardinal Wolsey, in his magnificence and +recklessness of display. Foquet loved a beautiful girl, who rejected +him. He discovered that the girl loved the king, and that the passion +was reciprocated. In his anger he charged it upon the girl, who ran with +the secret to the king. Louis was resolved on the downfall of his +minister. The fête took place upon a scale of almost unparalleled +splendor. Le Brun painted the scenes, La Fontaine wrote verses for it, +and Moliere prepared a ballet for the occasion. The king concealed his +wrath at this display of wealth, and very much enjoyed Moliere's +amusements; and suggested a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>new comedy to the comedian, while talking +with him at the minister's. Foquet soon fell.</p> + +<p>Moliere was by this time so distinguished that he had troops of friends +among the wise, learned, and great. Among the warmest of them was the +great Condé, who was always pleased with his society. He told the +comedian that he feared to trespass by sending for him on peculiar +occasions, and therefore requested him to come to him whenever he had a +leisure hour; and at such times he would dismiss all other matters, and +give himself up to pleasant conversation. The king invariably defended +Moliere. A duke once attacked him, and the king reproved the noble. He +still attended to his duties as <i>valet de chambre</i> to the king, and was +constantly subjected to annoyance on account of his profession. The +other officers of the king's chamber would not eat with him, such was +their petty meanness and pride. The king determined to give them a +lesson, so one morning he addressed Moliere as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I am told you have short commons here, Moliere, and that the +officers of my chamber think you unworthy of sharing their +meals. You are probably hungry; I got up with a good appetite. +Sit down at that table where they have placed my +refreshments." The king sat down with him, and the two went +heartily at a fowl. The doors were opened, and the most +prominent members of the court entered. "You see me," said +Louis, "employed in giving Moliere his breakfast, as my people +do not find him good enough company for themselves."</p></div> + +<p>From this time Moliere had no trouble on the score of treatment from his +fellow <i>valets</i>.</p> + +<p>Everywhere except at court, before this, Moliere was treated with the +greatest consideration on account of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>brilliant genius. He was +intimate with Racine and with Boileau. The story for a time was believed +that Moliere married his natural daughter, but it has been proved a +falsehood. He became attached to the sister of Madeleine Bejaet, a very +witty and graceful woman, and married her; but he soon found that she +was too fond of admiration to make him happy. She was coquettish, and +without principle, and though Moliere bore with her long, they at length +separated. He said: "There is but one sort of love, and those who are +more easily satisfied, do not know what true love is."</p> + +<p>Moliere went on with the management of his theater, and writing and +bringing out new plays. One of them—"<i>L'Ecole des Femmes</i>"—was +translated and amended into the English by Wycherly, and was altogether +more licentious in plot than in the original language. It was very +popular in England, but not so much so in France.</p> + +<p>The next piece of Moliere's was entitled "<i>Impromptu de Versailles</i>," +and was written at the command of the king. The king and his courtiers +were accustomed to take parts in the ballets in those days, and Louis +and his court took parts in the ballets of Moliere's construction. The +soldiers who guarded the king were accustomed to go into the theater +free. They took up a large space, and Moliere represented his loss to +the king, who abolished the privilege. The soldiers were very angry, and +the next night they cut the door-keeper to pieces with their swords, and +forced their way into the house. Moliere made them a speech, and peace +was restored. The king offered to punish with severity the lawless +soldiery, but Moliere requested him not to do so, and the new order was +ever after obeyed without trouble.</p> + +<p>One of his next acts was to hold up to ridicule, in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>comedy, the +medical faculty. The condition of the medical art at that time was such +that it richly deserved ridicule. But no man can thus attack great +bodies of men without making enemies, and Moliere had them without +number.</p> + +<p>The comedian was now at the height of his prosperity, and still he was +unhappy. Separated from his wife, whose conduct was now shameful, he had +no domestic happiness. He spent much of his time at his country-house at +Antenil, where an apartment was always kept for his old school-fellow, +Chapelle, for whom he always retained a warm affection. He was often +alone, and preferred solitude, shutting himself away from society. A +supper was once given by him to all his brother wits. He alone was +indisposed, and as he took no wine or animal food, he went early to bed, +leaving his friends merry over their wine. At last they grew so affected +by the wine they had drank, that they were ready to follow a leader into +any absurdity. Chapelle was, when tipsy, always melancholy, and on this +occasion he addressed his companions in a strain of bathos which, had +they been free from the effects of wine, would only have excited their +laughter. But now they were in the same condition as himself. Chapelle +finally wound up by proposing that they all proceed to a neighboring +river, and end life together by plunging into it. He expiated upon the +heroism of the act, and the immortality it would give them, and they all +agreed to it. Moliere overheard them quitting the house, and suspecting +something wrong, followed them. He came up with them upon the bank of +the river, when they besought him also to die with them. He professed to +be struck with the heroism of their plan, but demanded that it should be +executed in the broad day. They fell in with his suggestion, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>and +returned to the house. Of course, the next morning they were ashamed to +look upon each other's faces.</p> + +<p>Moliere wrote many new plays and farces, but his days were fast drawing +to a close. He was overworked, and took little care of his health. The +king asked him one day what he did with his doctor. "We converse +together," he replied—"he writes prescriptions, which I do not take, +and I recover." He had a weak chest, and a constant cough.</p> + +<p>About this time his friends persuaded him to invite his wife again to +his house, and she urged him to a more generous diet, but he grew the +worse for it. He now brought out a new play, and could not be prevented +from taking a prominent part in it. On the fourth night he was much +worse, and friends gathered around him, beseeching him not to go on the +stage longer. He replied, "There are fifty poor workmen whose bread +depends on the daily receipts. I should reproach myself if I deprived +them of it." But while making others laugh, he was actually dying. He +was, while in the ballet, seized with a fit of coughing, and burst a +blood-vessel. A priest was sent for, but such was their antipathy to the +comedian, that it was long before one could be found willing to attend +him. He expired with but few friends around him. Two sisters of charity +whom he had been in the habit of receiving in his house while they were +collecting alms during Lent, remembered his generosity, and attended his +death-bed.</p> + +<p>The archbishop of Paris refused the rites of burial to the body. His +wife was much moved by this act, and exclaimed, "What! refuse burial to +one who deserves that altars should be erected to him!" She ran to the +king, who being offended by some indiscretion of hers, refused <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>to +interfere in the matter, though he privately ordered the archbishop to +take off the interdiction. When the funeral took place, a mob of low +people, excited by their priestly advisers, attended, intending to offer +insult to the body, but the comedian's widow propitiated them by +throwing a thousand francs among them. We see by this shameful treatment +of a man whom France honored, and who, though not irreproachable in +character, was as pure as those who persecuted him.</p> + +<p>Moliere was almost universally honored—always excepting those bodies +which he had ridiculed. He was very generous, and would, long before his +death, have given up acting on the stage, were it not for his companions +whose subsistence depended upon his appearance with them.</p> + +<p>Very many years after, the eulogy of Moliere was made the subject of a +prize; and when it was delivered, two persons by the name of Poguelin +were honored by a seat on the stage.</p> + +<p>At his death the band of comedians was broken up. His widow received a +pension, in after years, of one thousand livres. But one of his children +survived, and that one had no issue—so the race soon became extinct.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Paris: With Pen and Pencil, by David W. 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Bartlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Paris: With Pen and Pencil + Its People and Literature, Its Life and Business + +Author: David W. Bartlett + +Release Date: October 25, 2005 [EBook #16943] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARIS: WITH PEN AND PENCIL *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and +Distributed Proofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net + + + + + + + + PARIS: + + WITH + + PEN AND PENCIL + + + ITS + + PEOPLE AND LITERATURE, + + + ITS + + LIFE AND BUSINESS + + + + BY + + DAVID W. BARTLETT + + + AUTHOR OF "WHAT I SAW IN LONDON;" "LIFE OF LADY JANE GRAY;" + "LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC," ETC. ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATED. + + + + NEW YORK: + + HURST & CO., PUBLISHERS, + + 122 NASSAU STREET. + + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The contents of this volume are the result of two visits to Paris. The +first when Louis Napoleon was president of the Republic; and the second +when Napoleon III. was emperor of France. I have sketched people and +places as I saw them at both periods, and the reader should bear this in +mind. + +I have not endeavored to make a hand-book to Paris, but have described +those places and objects which came more particularly under my notice. I +have also thought it best, instead of devoting my whole space to the +description of places, or the manners of the people--a subject which has +been pretty well exhausted by other writers--to give a few sketches of +the great men of Paris and of France; and among them, a few of the +representative literary men of the past. There is not a general +knowledge of French literature and authors, either past or present, +among the mass of readers; and Paris and France can only be truly known +through French authors and literature. + +My object has been to add somewhat to the general reader's knowledge of +Paris and the Parisians,--of the people and the places, whose social +laws are the general guide of the civilized world. + +[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. SULSPICE.] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. + +LONDON TO PARIS, + +HISTORY OF PARIS, + + +CHAPTER II. + +RESTAURANTS, + +A WALK AND GOSSIP, + +THE BOURSE, + + +CHAPTER III. + +LAFAYETTE'S TOMB, + +THE RADICAL, + +A COUNTRY WALK, + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE CHURCHES, + +NOTRE DAME, + +L'AUXERROIS, + +SAINT CHAPELLE, + +EXPIATOIRE, + +MADELEINE, + +ST. FERDINAND, + +VINCENT DE PAUL, &C. + + +CHAPTER V. + +LAMARTINE, + +VERNET, + +GIRARDIN, + +HUGO, + +JANIN, + + +CHAPTER VI. + +PLACES OF BLOOD, + +PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE LOUVRE, + +PUBLIC GARDENS, + +THE LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS, + +THE GOBELINS, + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PEOPLE, + +CLIMATE, + +PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS, + +HOTEL DE INVALIDES, + +JARDIN D'HIVER, + + +CHAPTER IX. + +M. GUIZOT, + +ALEXANDER DUMAS, + +EUGENE SUE, + +M. THIERS, + +GEORGE SAND, + + +CHAPTER X. + +PERE LA CHASE, + +THE PRISONS, + +FOUNDLING HOSPITALS, + +CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS, + +LA MORGUE, + +NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA, + +THE BAPTISM OF THE PRINCE, + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MEN OF THE PAST, + +THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY, + +THE GREAT JESTER, + +THE DRAMATIST, + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE FABULIST, + +THE INFIDEL, + +THE GREAT COMIC WRITER, + + + + +WHAT I SAW IN PARIS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +LONDON TO PARIS--HISTORY OF PARIS. + +LONDON TO PARIS. + + +Few people now-a-days go direct to Paris from America. They land in +Liverpool, get at least a birds-eye view of the country parts of +England, stay in London a week or two, or longer, and then cross the +channel for Paris. + +The traveler who intends to wander over the continent, here takes his +initiatory lesson in the system of passports. I first called upon the +American minister, and my passport--made out in Washington--was _vise_ +for Paris. My next step was to hunt up the French consul, and pay him a +dollar for affixing his signature to the precious document. At the first +sea-port this passport was taken from me, and a provisional one put into +my keeping. At Paris the original one was returned! And this is a +history of my passport between London and Paris, a distance traversed in +a few hours. If such are the practices between two of the greatest and +most civilized towns on the face of the earth, how unendurable must they +be on the more despotic continent? + +The summer was in its first month, and Paris was in its glory, and it +was at such a time that I visited it. We took a steamer at the London +bridge wharf for Boulogne. The day promised well to be a boisterous +one, but I had a very faint idea of the gale blowing in the channel. If +I could have known, I should have waited, or gone by the express route, +_via_ Dover, the sea transit of which occupies only two hours. The fare +by steamer from London to Boulogne was three dollars. The accommodations +were meager, but the boat itself was a strong, lusty little fellow, and +well fitted for the life it leads. I can easily dispense with the +luxurious appointments which characterize the American steamboats, if +safety is assured to me in severe weather. + +The voyage down the Thames, was in many respects very delightful. +Greenwich, Woolwich, Margate, and Ramsgate lie pleasantly upon this +route. But the wind blew so fiercely in our teeth that we experienced +little pleasure in looking at them. When we reached the channel we found +it white with foam, and soon our little boat was tossed upon the waves +like a gull. In my experience crossing the Atlantic, I had seen nothing +so disagreeable as this. The motion was so quick and so continual, the +boat so small, that I very soon found myself growing sick. The rain was +disagreeable, and the sea was constantly breaking over the bulwarks. I +could not stay below--the atmosphere was too stifling and hot. So I +bribed a sailor to wrap about me his oil-cloth garments, and lay down +near the engines with my face upturned to the black sky, and the +sea-spray washing me from time to time. Such sea-sickness I never +endured, though before I had sailed thousands of miles at sea, and have +done the same since. From sundown till two o'clock the next morning I +lay on the deck of the sloppy little boat, and when at last the Boulogne +lights were to be seen, I was as heartily glad as ever in my life. + +Thoroughly worn out, as soon as I landed upon the quay I handed my keys +to a _commissaire_, gave up my passport, and sought a bed, and was soon +in my dreams tossing again upon the channel-waves. I was waked by the +_commissaire_, who entered my room with the keys. He had passed my +baggage, got a provisional passport for me, and now very politely +advised me to get up and take the first train to Paris, for I had told +him I wished to be in Paris as soon as possible. Giving him a good fee +for his trouble, and hastily quitting the apartment and paying for it, I +was very soon in the railway station. My trunks were weighed, and I +bought baggage tickets to Paris--price one sou. The first class fare was +twenty-seven francs, or about five dollars, the distance one hundred and +seventy miles. This was cheaper than first class railway traveling in +England, though somewhat dearer than American railway prices. + +The first class cars were the finest I have seen in any country--very +far superior to American cars, and in many respects superior to the +English. They were fitted up for four persons in each compartment, and a +door opened into each from the side. The seat and back were beautifully +cushioned, and the arms were stuffed in like manner, so that at night +the weary traveler could sleep in them with great comfort. + +The price of a third class ticket from Boulogne to Paris was only three +dollars, and the cars were much better than the second class in America, +and I noticed that many very respectably dressed ladies and gentlemen +were in them--probably for short distances. It is quite common, both in +England and France, in the summer, for people of wealth to travel by +rail for a short distance by the cheapest class of cars. + +I entered the car an utter stranger--no one knew me, and I knew no one. +The language was unintelligible, for I found that to _read_ French in +America, is not to _talk_ French in France. I could understand no one, +or at least but a word here and there. + +But the journey was a very delightful one. The country we passed through +was beautiful, and the little farms were in an excellent state of +cultivation. Flowers bloomed everywhere. There was not quite that degree +of cultivation which the traveler observes in the best parts of England, +but the scenery was none the less beautiful for that. Then, too, I saw +everything with a romantic enthusiasm. It was the France I had read of, +dreamed of, since I was a school-boy. + +A gentleman was in the apartment who could talk English, having resided +long in Boulogne, which the English frequent as a watering place, and he +pointed out the interesting places on our journey. At Amiens we changed +cars and stopped five minutes for refreshments. I was hungry enough to +draw double rations, but I felt a little fear that I should get cheated, +or could not make myself understood; but as the old saw has it, +"Necessity is the mother of invention," and I satisfied my hunger with a +moderate outlay of money. A few miles before we reached Paris, we +stopped at the little village of Enghein, and it seemed to me that I +never in my life had dreamed of so fairy-like a place. Beautiful lakes, +rivers, fountains, flowers, and trees were scattered over the village +with exquisite taste. To this place, on Sundays and holidays, the people +of Paris repair, and dance in its cheap gardens and drink cheap wines. + +When we reached Paris my trunks were again searched and underwent a +short examination, to see that no wines or provisions were concealed in +them. A tax is laid upon all such articles when they enter the city, and +this is the reason why on Sunday the people flock out of town to enjoy +their _fetes_. In the country there are no taxes on wine and edibles, +and as a matter of economy they go outside of the walls for their +pleasure. + +When my baggage was examined, I took an omnibus to the hotel Bedford, +Rue de l'Arcade, where I proposed to stay but a few days, until I could +hunt up permanent apartments. My room was a delightful one and fitted up +in elegant style. I was in the best part of Paris. Two minutes walk away +were the _Champs Elysees_--the Madeleine church, the Tuileries, etc., +etc. But I was too tired to go out, and after a French dinner and a +lounge in the reading-room, I went to sleep, and the next morning's sun +found me at last entirely recovered from my wretched passage across the +channel. + +My second trip to Paris was in many respects different from the +first--which I have just described. The route was a new one, and +pleasanter than that _via_ Boulogne. Our party took an express train +from the London bridge terminus for Newhaven, a small sea-port. The cars +were fitted up with every comfort, and we made the passage in quick +time. At three P.M. we went on board a little steamer for Dieppe, where +we arrived at nine o'clock. After a delay of an hour we entered a +railway carriage fitted up in a very beautiful and luxurious style. At +Dieppe we had no trouble with our passports, keeping the originals, and +simply showing them to the custom-house officials. Our ride to Paris was +in the night, yet was very comfortable. + +In coming back to London, we made the trip to Dieppe in the daytime, and +found it to be very beautiful. From Paris to Rouen the railway runs a +great share of the way in sight of the river Seine, and often upon its +banks. Many of the views from the train were romantic, and some of them +wildly grand. Upon the whole, this route is the pleasantest between +Paris and London, as it is one of the cheapest. There is one objection, +however, and that is the length of the sea voyage--six hours. Those who +dislike the water will prefer the Dover route. + + * * * * * + + + + +HISTORY OF PARIS. + + +The origin of Paris is not known. According to certain writers, a +wandering tribe built their huts upon the island now called _la Cite_. +This was their home, and being surrounded by water, it was easily +defended against the approach of hostile tribes. The name of the place +was Lutetia, and to themselves they gave the name of _Parisii_, from the +Celtic word _par_, a frontier or extremity. + +This tribe was one of sixty-four which were confederated, and when the +conquest of Gaul took place under Julius Caesar, the _Parisii_ occupied +the island. The ground now covered by Paris was either a marsh or +forest, and two bridges communicated from the island to it. The +islanders were slow to give up their Druidical sacrifices, and it is +doubtful whether the Roman gods ever were worshiped by them, though +fragments of an altar of Jupiter have been found under the choir of the +cathedral of Notre Dame. Nearly four hundred years after Christ, the +Emperor Julian remodeled the government and laws of Gaul and Lutetia, +and changed its name to _Parisii_. It then, too, became a city, and had +considerable trade. For five hundred years Paris was under Roman +domination. A palace was erected for municipal purposes in the city, and +another on the south bank of the Seine, the remains of which can still +be seen. The Roman emperors frequently resided in this palace while +waging war with the northern barbarians. Constantine and Constantius +visited it; Julian spent three winters in it; Valentian and Gratian also +made it a temporary residence. + +The monks have a tradition that the gospel was first preached in Paris +about the year 250, by St. Denis, and that he suffered martyrdom at +Montmartre. A chapel was early erected on the spot now occupied by Notre +Dame. In 406 the northern barbarians made a descent upon the Roman +provinces, and in 445 Paris was stormed by them. Before the year 500 +Paris was independent of the Roman domination. Clovis was its master, +and marrying Clotilde, he embraced Christianity and erected a church. +The island was now surrounded by walls and had gates. The famous church +of St. German L'Auxerrois was built at this time. For two hundred and +fifty years, Paris retrograded rather than advanced in civilization, and +the refinements introduced by the Romans were nearly forgotten. In 845 +the Normans sacked and burnt Paris. Still again it was besieged, but +such was the valor of its inhabitants that the enemy were glad to raise +the siege. Hugues Capet was elected king in 987, and the crown became +hereditary. In his reign the Palace of Justice was commenced. Buildings +were erected on all sides, and new streets were opened. Under Louis le +Gros the Louvre was rebuilt, it having existed since the time of +Dagobert. Bishop Sully began the foundations of Notre Dame in 1163, and +about that time the Knights Templars erected a palace. + +Under the reign of Philip Augustus many of the public edifices were +embellished and new churches and towers were built. In 1250 Robert +Serbon founded schools--a hospital and school of surgery were also about +this time commenced. + +Under Charles V. the city flourished finely, and the Bastille and the +Palace de Tourvelles were erected. The Louvre also was repaired. Next +came the unhappy reign of Charles VI., who was struck with insanity. In +1421 the English occupied Paris, but under Charles VII. they were driven +from it and the Greek language was taught for the first time in the +University of Paris. It had then twenty-five thousand students. Under +the reign of successive monarchs Paris was, from famine and plague, so +depopulated that its gates were thrown open to the malefactors of all +countries. In 1470 the art of printing was introduced into the city and +a post-office was established. In the reign of Francis I. the arts and +literature sprang into a new life. The heavy buildings called the Louvre +were demolished, and a new palace commenced upon the old site. In 1533 +the Hotel de Ville was begun, and many fine buildings were erected. The +wars of the sects, or rather religions, followed, and among them +occurred the terrible St. Bartholomew massacre. Henry IV. brought peace +to the kingdom and added greatly to the beauty and attractiveness of +Paris. + +Under Louis XIII. several new streets were opened, and the Palais Royal +and the palace of the Luxembourg begun. Under the succeeding king the +wars of the Fronde occurred, but the projects of the preceding king were +carried out, and more than eighty new streets were opened. The planting +of trees in the Champs Elysees, also took place under the reign of Louis +XIV. The palace of the Tuileries was enlarged, the Hotel des Invalides, +a foundling hospital, and several bridges were built. + +Louis XV. established the manufactory of porcelain at Sevres, and also +added much to the beauty of Paris. He commenced the erection of the +Madeleine. Theaters and comic opera-houses were speedily built, and +water was distributed over the city by the use of steam-engines. + +Then broke out the revolution, and many fine monuments were destroyed. +But it was under the Directory that the Museum of the Louvre was opened, +and under Napoleon the capital assumed a splendor it had never known +before. Under the succeeding kings it continued to increase in wealth +and magnificence, until it is unquestionably the finest city in the +world. + +I have now in a short space given the reader a preliminary sketch of +Paris, and will proceed at once to describe what I saw in it, and the +impressions I received, while a resident in that city. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +RESTAURANTS--A WALK AND GOSSIP. + +[Illustration: Boulevard du Temple.] + +RESTAURANTS, CAFES, ETC. + + +The first thing the stranger does in Paris, is of course to find +temporary lodging, and the next is to select a good _restaurant_. Paris +without its _restaurants, cafes, estaminets_, and _cercles_, would be +shorn of half its glory. They are one of its most distinguished and +peculiar features. Between the hours of five and eight, in the evening +of course, all Paris is in those _restaurants_. The scene at such times +is enlivening in the highest degree. The Boulevards contain the finest +in the city, for there nearly all the first-class saloons are kept. +There are retired streets in which are kept houses on the same plan, but +with prices moderate in the extreme. You can go on the Boulevards and +pay for a breakfast, if you choose, fifty or even sixty francs, or you +can retire to some quiet spot and pay one franc for your frugal meal. It +is of course not common for any one to pay the largest sum named, but +there are persons in Paris who do it, young men who with us are vulgarly +denominated "swells," and who like to astonish their friends by their +extravagance. + +[Illustration: PARIS & ARCH OF TRIUMPH.] + +Out of curiosity I went one day with a friend to one of the most +gorgeous of the _restaurants_ on the Boulevards. Notwithstanding the +descriptions I had read and listened to from the lips of friends, I was +surprised at the splendor and style of the place. We sat down before a +fine window which was raised, looking into the street. Indeed, so close +sat we to it that the fashionable promenaders could each, if he liked, +have peeped into our dishes. But Parisians never trouble strangers with +their inquisitiveness. We sat down before a table of exquisite marble, +and a waiter dressed as neatly, and indeed gracefully, as a gentleman, +handed us a bill of fare. It was long enough in itself to make a man a +dinner, if the material were only palatable. Including dessert and +wines, there were one hundred specifications! There were ten kinds of +meat, and fourteen varieties of poultry. Of course there were many +varieties of game, and there were eight kinds of pastry. Of fish there +were fourteen kinds, there were ten side dishes, a dozen sweet dishes, +and a dozen kinds of wine. + +The elegance of the apartment can scarcely be imagined, and the savory +smell which arose from neighboring tables occupied by fashionable men +and women, invited us to a repast. We called, however, but for a dish or +two, and after we had eaten them, we had coffee, and over our cups +gazed out upon the gay scene before us. It was novel, indeed, to the +American eye, and we sat long and discussed it. In this _restaurant_ +there were private rooms, called _Cabinets de Societe_, and into them go +men and women at all hours, by day and night. It is also a common sight +to see the public apartments of the _restaurants_ filled with people of +both sexes. Ladies sit down even in the street with gentlemen, to sup +chocolate or lemonade. There is not much eaves-dropping in Paris, and +you can do as you please, nor fear curious eyes nor scandal-loving +tongues. This is very different from London. There, if you do any thing +out of the common way, you will be stared at and talked about. _There_, +if you take a lady into a public eating-house, _her_ position, at least, +will not be a very pleasant one. + +There are many places in the Palais Royal, the basement floor of which, +fronting upon the court of the palace, is given up to shops, where for +two or three francs a dinner can be purchased which will consist of +soup, two dishes from a large list at choice, a dessert, and bread and +wine. There are places, indeed, where for twenty-five sous a dinner +sufficient to satisfy one's hunger can be purchased, but I must confess +that while in Paris I could never yet make up my mind to patronize a +cheap _restaurant_. I knew too well, by the tales of more experienced +Parisians, the shifts to which the cook of one of these cheap +establishments is sometimes reduced to produce an attractive dish. The +material sometimes would not bear a close examination--much less the +_cuisine_. + +[Illustration: JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL.] + +I was astonished to see the quantities of bread devoured by the +frequenters of the eating-houses, but I soon equaled my neighbors. Paris +bread is the best in the world, or at least, it is the most palatable I +ever tasted. It is made in rolls six feet long, and sometimes I have +seen it eight feet long. Before now, I have seen a couple dining near +the corner of a room, with their roll of bread thrown like a cane +against the wall, and as often as they wanted a fresh slice, the roll +was very coolly brought over and decapitated. The Frenchman eats little +meat, but enormously of the staff of life. The chocolate and coffee +which are to be had in the French _cafes_, are very delicious, and +though after a fair and long trial I never could like French cookery as +well as the English, yet I would not for a moment pretend that any cooks +in the world equal those of Paris in the art of imparting exquisite +flavor to a dish. It is quite common for the French to use brandy in +their coffee. + +People who take apartments in Paris often prefer to have their meals +sent to their private rooms, and by a special bargain this is done by +any of the restaurants, but more especially by a class of houses called +_traiteurs_, whose chief business is to furnish cooked dishes to +families in their own homes. In going to a hotel in Paris, the stranger +never feels in the slightest degree bound to get his meals there. He +hires his room and that is all, and goes where he pleases. The _cafes_ +are in the best portions of the town, magnificent places, often +exceeding in splendor the restaurants. They furnish coffee, chocolate, +all manner of ices and fruits, and cigars. At these places one meets +well-dressed ladies, and more than once in them I have seen well-dressed +women smoking cigarettes. Love intrigues are carried on at these places, +for a Paris lady can easily steal from her home to such a place under +cover of the night. A majority, however, of the women to be seen at such +places, are those who have no position in society, the wandering nymphs +of the night, or the poor grisettes. It is not strange that the poor +shop-girl is easily attracted to such gorgeous places by men far above +her in station. + +Outside of all the cafes little tables are placed on the pavement, with +chairs around them. These places are delightful in the summer evenings, +and are always crowded. A promenade through some of the best streets of +a summer night is a brilliant spectacle, and more like a promenade +through a drawing-room than through an American street. The proprietors +of those places do not intend to keep restaurants, but quite a variety +of food, hot or cold, is always on hand, and wines of all kinds are +sold. + +I well remember my first visit to a French _cafe_. It was when Louis +Napoleon was president, not emperor of France, and when there was more +liberty in Paris than there is now. I dropped into one near the +Boulevards, which, while it contained everything which could add to +one's comfort, still was not one of the first class. Several officers +were dining in it, and in some way I came in contact with one of them in +such a manner that he discovered I was an American. At once his conduct +toward me was of the most cordial kind, and his fellows rose and bade me +welcome to France. The simple fact that I was a republican from America +aroused the enthusiasm of all. I found, afterward, that the regiment to +which these officers belonged was suspected by the president of being +democratic in its sympathies. + +The reading-rooms of Paris are one of its best institutions. They are +scattered all over the city, but the best is Galignani's, which contains +over twenty thousand volumes in all languages. The subscription price +for a month is eight francs, for a fortnight five francs, and for a day +ten sous. + +There are reading-rooms furnished only with newspapers, where for a +small sum of money one can read the papers. These places are few in +comparison with their numbers in the days of the republic, however. +Under the despotic rule of Louis Napoleon, the newspaper business has +drooped. + +An anonymous writer in one of Chambers' publications, tells a good +story, and it is a true one, of Pere Fabrice, who amassed a fortune in +Paris. The story is told as follows: + +"He had always a turn for speculation, and being a private soldier he +made money by selling small articles to his fellow soldiers. When his +term of service had expired, he entered the employ of a rag-merchant, +and in a little while proposed a partnership with his master, who +laughed at his impudence. He then set up an opposition shop, and lost +all he had saved in a month. He then became a porter at the _halles_ +where turkeys were sold. He noticed that those which remained unsold, in +a day or two lost half their value. He asked the old women how the +customers knew the turkeys were not fresh. They replied that the legs +changed from a bright black to a dingy brown. Fabrice went home, was +absent the next day from the _halles_, and on the third day returned +with a bottle of liquid. Seizing hold of the first brown-legged turkey +he met with, he forthwith painted its legs out of the contents of his +bottle, and placing the thus decorated bird by the side of one just +killed, he asked who now was able to see the difference between the +fresh bird and the stale one? The old women were seized with admiration. +They are a curious set of beings, those _dames de la halle_; their +admiration is unbounded for successful adventurers--witness their +enthusiasm for Louis Napoleon. They adopted our friend's idea without +hesitation, made an agreement with him on the principle of the division +of profits; and it immediately became a statistical puzzle with the +curious inquirers on these subjects, how it came to pass that stale +turkeys should have all at once disappeared from the Paris market? It +was set down to the increase of prosperity consequent on the +constitutional _regime_ and the wisdom of the citizen-king. The old +women profited largely; but unfortunately, like the rest of the world, +they in time forgot both their enthusiasm and their benefactor, and Pere +Fabrice found himself involved in a daily succession of squabbles about +his half-profits. Tired out at last, he made an arrangement with the old +dames, and, in military phrase, sold out. Possessed now of about double +the capital with which he entered, he recollected his old friend, the +rag-merchant, and went a second time to propose a partnership. 'I am a +man of capital now,' he said; 'you need not laugh so loud this time.' +The rag-merchant asked the amount of his capital; and when he heard it, +whistled _Ninon dormait_, and turned upon his heel. 'No wonder,' said +Fabrice afterward; 'I little knew then what a rag-merchant was worth. +That man could have bought up two of Louis Philippe's ministers of +finance.' At the time, however, he did not take the matter so +philosophically, and resolved, after the fashion of his class, not to +drown himself, but to make a night of it. He found a friend, and went +with him to dine at a small eating-house. While there, they noticed the +quantity of broken bread thrown under the tables by the reckless and +quarrelsome set that frequented the place; and his friend remarked, that +if all the bread so thrown about were collected, it would feed half the +_quartier_. Fabrice said nothing; but he was in search of an idea, and +he took up his friend's. The next day, he called on the restaurateur, +and asked him for what he would sell the broken bread he was accustomed +to sweep in the dustpan. The bread he wanted, it should be observed, was +a very different thing from the fragments left upon the table; these had +been consecrated to the marrow's soup from time immemorial. He wanted +the dirty bread actually thrown under the table, which even a Parisian +restaurateur of the Quartier Latin, whose business it was to collect +dirt and crumbs, had hitherto thrown away. Our restaurateur caught +eagerly at the offer, made a bargain for a small sum; and Master Fabrice +forthwith proceeded to about a hundred eating-houses of the same kind, +with all of whom he made similar bargains. Upon this he established a +bakery, extending his operations till there was scarcely a restaurant in +Paris of which the sweepings did not find their way to the oven of Pere +Fabrice. Hence it is that the fourpenny restaurants are supplied; hence +it is that the itinerant venders of gingerbread find their first +material. Let any man who eats bread at any very cheap place in the +capital take warning, if his stomach goes against the idea of a +_rechauffe_ of bread from the dust-hole. Fabrice, notwithstanding some +extravagances with the fair sex, became a millionaire; and the greatest +glory of his life was--that he lived to eclipse his old master, the +rag-merchant." + +The same writer also gives a graphic description of one class of +restaurants in Paris--the pot-luck shops: + +"Pot-luck, or the _fortune de pot_, is on the whole the most curious +feeding spectacle in Europe. There are more than a dozen shops in Paris +where this mode of procuring a dinner is practiced, chiefly in the back +streets abutting on the Pantheon. About two o'clock, a parcel of men in +dirty blouses, with sallow faces, and an indescribable mixture of +recklessness, jollity, and misery--strange as the juxtaposition of terms +may seem--lurking about their eyes and the corners of their mouths, take +their seats in a room where there is not the slightest appearance of any +preparation for food, nothing but half-a-dozen old deal-tables, with +forms beside them, on the side of the room, and one large table in the +middle. They pass away the time in vehement gesticulation, and talking +in a loud tone; so much of what they say is in _argot_, that the +stranger will not find it easy to comprehend them. He would think they +were talking crime or politics--not a bit of it; their talk is +altogether about their mistresses. Love and feeding make up the +existence of these beings; and we may judge of the quality of the former +by what we are about to see of the latter. A huge bowl is at last +introduced, and placed on the table in the middle of the room. At the +same time a set of basins, corresponding to the number of the guests, +are placed on the side-tables. A woman, with her nose on one side, good +eyes, and the thinnest of all possible lips, opening every now and then +to disclose the white teeth which garnish an enormous mouth, takes her +place before it. She is the presiding deity of the temple; and there is +not a man present to whom it would not be the crowning felicity of the +moment to obtain a smile from features so little used to the business of +smiling, that one wonders how they would set about it if the necessity +should ever arise. Every cap is doffed with a grim politeness peculiar +to that class of humanity, and a series of compliments fly into the face +of Madame Michel, part leveled at her eyes, and part at the laced cap, +in perfect taste, by which those eyes are shrouded. Mere Michel, +however, says nothing in return, but proceeds to stir with a thick +ladle, looking much larger than it really is, the contents of the bowl +before her. These contents are an enormous quantity of thick brown +liquid, in the midst of which swim numerous islands of vegetable matter +and a few pieces of meat. Meanwhile, a damsel, hideously ugly--but whose +ugliness is in part concealed by a neat, trim cap--makes the tour of the +room with a box of tickets, grown black by use, and numbered from one to +whatever number may be that of the company. Each of them gives four sous +to this Hebe of the place, accompanying the action with an amorous look, +which is both the habit and the duty of every Frenchman when he has +anything to do with the opposite sex, and which is not always a matter +of course, for Marie has her admirers, and has been the cause of more +than one _rixe_ in the Rue des Anglais. The tickets distributed, up +rises number one--with a joke got ready for the occasion, and a look of +earnest anxiety, as if he were going to throw for a kingdom--takes the +ladle, plunges it into the bowl, and transfers whatever it brings up to +his basin. It is contrary to the rules for any man to hesitate when he +has once made his plunge, though he has a perfect right to take his time +in a previous survey of the _ocean_--a privilege of which he always +avails himself. If he brings up one of the pieces of meat, the glisten +of his eye and the applauding murmur which goes round the assembly give +him a momentary exultation, which it is difficult to conceive by those +who have not witnessed it. In this the spirit of successful gambling is, +beyond all doubt, the uppermost feeling; it mixes itself up with +everything done by that class of society, and is the main reason of the +popularity of these places with their _habitues_; for when the customers +have once acquired the habit, they rarely go anywhere else." + +[Illustration: Omnibus.] + + + + +A WALK AND GOSSIP. + + +One of my first days in Paris I sauntered out to find some American +newspapers, that I might know something of what had transpired in +America for weeks previous. I directed my steps to the office of Messrs. +Livingston, Wells & Co., where I had been informed a reading-room was +always kept open for the use of American strangers in Paris. The morning +was a delightful one, and I could but contrast it with the usual weather +of London. During months of residence in the English metropolis I had +seen no atmosphere like this, and my spirits, like the sky, were clear +and bright. + +On my way I saw a novel sight, and to me the first intimation that the +people of Paris, so widely famed for their politeness, refinement, and +civilization, are yet addicted to certain practices for which the +wildest barbarian in the far west would blush. I saw men in open day, in +the open walk, which was crowded with women as well as men, commit +nuisances of a kind I need not particularize but which seemed to excite +neither wonder nor disgust in the by-passers. Indeed I saw they were +quite accustomed to such sights, and their nonchalance was only equaled +by that of the well-dressed gentlemen who were the guilty parties. I +very soon learned more of Paris, and found that not in this matter alone +were its citizens deficient in refinement, but in still weightier +matters. + +I soon reached the American reading-room, and walked in. My first act +was to look at the register where all persons who call inscribe their +names, and I was surprised to notice the number of Americans present in +Paris. It only proved what I long had heard, that Americans take more +naturally to the French than to the sturdy, self-sufficient Englishman. +As it is in the matter of fashions, so it is regarding almost everything +else, save morals, and I doubt if the tone of fashionable society in New +York is any better than in Paris. + +I was heartily rejoiced to take an American newspaper in my hand again. +There were the clear open face of the plain-spoken _Tribune_, the +sprightly columns of the _Times_, and the more dignified columns of the +Washington journals. There were also many other familiar papers on the +table, and they were all touched before I left. It was like a cool +spring in the wide desert. For I confess that I love the newspaper, if +it only be of the right sort. From early habit, I cannot live without +it. Let any man pursue the vocation of an editor for a few years, and he +will find it difficult, after, to live without a good supply of +newspapers, and they must be of the old-fashioned home kind. + +I did not easily accustom myself to the Paris journals. Cheap enough +some of them were, but still the strange language was an obstacle. They +are worse printed than ours, and are by no means equal to such journals +as the _Times_ and _Tribune_. They publish continued stories, or novels, +and racy criticisms of music, art, and literature. The political +department of the French newspaper at the present day is the weakest +part of the sheet. It is lifeless. A few meager facts are recorded, and +there is a little tame comment, and that is all. There was a time when +the political department of a French newspaper was its most brilliant +feature. During the exciting times which presaged the downfall of Louis +Philippe, and also during the early days of the republic, the Paris +press was in the full tide of success, and was exceedingly brilliant. +The daily journals abounded, and their subscription lists were enormous. +Where there is freedom, men and women _will_ read--and where there is +unmitigated despotism, the people care little to read the sickly +journals which are permitted to drag out an existence. + +There is one journal published in Paris in the English language, +"_Galignani's Messenger_." It is old, and in its way is very useful, but +it is principally made up of extracts from the English journals. It has +no editorial ability or originality, and of course never advances any +opinion upon a political question. + +On my return home I passed through a street often mentioned by Eugene +Sue in his Mysteries of Paris--a street formerly noted for the vile +character of its inhabitants. It was formerly filled with robbers and +cut-throats, and even now I should not care to risk my life in this +street after midnight, with no policemen near. It is exceedingly narrow, +for I stood in the center and touched with the tips of my fingers the +walls of both sides of the street. It is very dark and gloomy, and +queer-looking passages run up on either side from the street. Some of +them were frightful enough in their appearance. To be lost in such a +place in the dead of night, even now, would be no pleasant fate, for +desperate characters still haunt the spot. Possibly the next morning, or +a few mornings after, the stranger's body might be seen at _La Morgue._ +That is the place where all dead bodies found in the river or streets +are exhibited--suicides and murdered men and women. + +Talking of this street and its reputation in Eugene Sue's novels, +reminds me of the man. When I first saw it he had just been elected to +the Chamber of Deputies by an overwhelming majority. It was not because +Sue was the favorite candidate of the republicans, but he stood in such +a position that his defeat would have been considered a government +victory, and consequently he was elected. I was glad to find the man +unpopular among democrats of Paris, for his life, like his books, has +many pages in it that were better not read. At that time he was living +very quietly in a village just out of Paris, and though surrounded with +voluptuous luxuries, he was in his life strictly virtuous. He was the +same afterward, and being very wealthy, gave a great deal to the poor. +His novels are everywhere read in France. + +I was not a little surprised during my first days in Paris to see the +popularity of Cooper as a novelist. His stories are for sale at every +book-stall, and are in all the libraries. They are sold with +illustrations at a cheap rate, and I think I may say with safety that he +is as widely read in France as any foreign novelist. This is a little +singular when it is remembered how difficult it is to convey the broken +Indian language to a French reader. This is one of the best features of +Cooper's novels--the striking manner in which he portrays the language +of the North American Indian and his idiomatic expressions. Yet such is +the charm of his stories that they have found their way over Europe. The +translations into the French language must be good. + +Another author read widely in Paris, as she is all over Europe, is Mrs. +Stowe. _Uncle Tom_ is a familiar name in the brilliant capital of +France, and even yet his ideal portraits hang in many shop windows, and +the face of Mrs. Stowe peeps forth beside it. _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ was +wonderfully popular among all classes, and to very many--what a +fact!--it brought their first idea of Jesus Christ as he is delineated +in the New Testament. But Mrs. Stowe's _Sunny Memories_ was very +severely criticised and generally laughed at--especially her criticisms +upon art. + +Walking one evening in the Champs Elysees, I found a little family of +singers from the Alps, underneath one of the large trees. You should +have heard them sing their native songs, so plaintive and yet so mild. +Father and mother, two little sisters and a brother, were begging their +bread in that way. They were dressed very neatly, although evidently +extremely poor. The father had a violin which he played very sweetly, +the mother sang, the two little girls danced, and the boy put in a soft +and melancholy tenor. I hardly ever listened to sadder music. It seemed +as if their hearts were in it, saddened at the thought of exile from +their native mountains. After singing for a long time, they stopped and +looked up appealingly to the crowd--but not a sou fell to the ground. +Once more they essayed to sing, with a heavier sorrow upon their faces, +for they were hungry and had no bread. They stopped again--not a +solitary sou was given to them. A large tear rolled down the cheek of +the father--you should have seen the answering impulse of the crowd--how +the sous rattled upon the ground. They saw instantly that it was no +common beggar before them, but one who deserved their alms. At once, as +if a heaven full of clouds had divided and the sunshine flashed full +upon their faces, the band of singers grew radiant and happy. Such is +life--a compound of sorrow and gayety. + +The Parisian omnibus system is the best in the world, and I found it +very useful and agreeable always while wandering over the city. The +vehicles are large and clean, and each passenger has a chair fastened +firmly to the sides of the carriage. Six sous will carry a person +anywhere in Paris, and if two lines are necessary to reach the desired +place, a ticket is given by the conductor of the first omnibus, which +entitles the holder to another ride in the new line. The omnibus system +is worked to perfection only in Paris, and is there a great blessing to +people who cannot afford to drive their own carriages. + + + + +THE BOURSE--GALIGNANI'S, ETC., ETC. + + +The Paris Exchange is on the Rue Vivienne, and is approached from the +Tuileries from that street or _via_ the Palais National, and a +succession of the most beautiful arcade-shops in Paris or the world. If +the day be rainy, the stranger can thread his way to it under the long +arcades as dry as if in his own room at the hotel. I confess to a +fondness for wandering though such places as these arcades, where the +riches of the shops are displayed in their large windows. In America it +is not usual to fill the windows of stores full of articles with the +price of each attached, but it is always so in London and Paris. A +jewelry store will exhibit a hundred kinds of watches with their +different prices attached, and the different shops will display what +they contain in like manner. There are, too, in Paris and London places +called "Curiosity shop". The first time I ever saw one of these shops +with its green windows and name over the door, memory instantly recalled +a man never to be forgotten. Will any one who has read Charles Dickens +ever forget his "Curiosity Shop," the old grandfather and little Nell? +When I entered the shop--the windows filled with old swords, pistols, +and stilettos--it seemed to me that I must meet the old gray-haired man, +or gentle Nell, or the ugly Quilp and Dick Swiveller. But they were not +there. + +[Illustration: Palais de la Bourse] + +But I have been stopping in a curiosity shop when I should be on my way +to the Bourse. The Paris Bourse, or Exchange, is perhaps the finest +building of its kind on the continent. Its magnificence is very properly +of the most solid and substantial kind. For should not the exchange for +the greatest merchants of Paris be built in a stable rather than in a +slight and beautiful manner? The form of the structure is that of a +parallelogram, and it is two hundred and twelve by one hundred and +twenty-six feet. It is surrounded by sixty-six Corinthian columns, which +support an entablature and a worked attic. It is approached by a flight +of steps which extend across the whole western front. Over the western +entrance is the following inscription--BOURSE ET TRIBUNAL DE COMMERCE. +The roof is made of copper and iron. The hall in the center of the +building where the merchants meet is very large--one hundred and sixteen +feet long and seventy-six feet broad. Just below the cornice are +inscribed the names of the principal cities in the world, and over the +middle arch there is a clock, which on an opposite dial-plate marks the +direction of the wind out of doors. + +The hall is lighted from the roof--the ceiling is covered with fine +paintings, or as they are styled "monochrane drawings." Europe, Asia, +Africa, and America are represented in groups. In one, the city of Paris +is represented as delivering her keys to the God of Commerce, and +inviting Commercial Justice to enter the walls prepared for her. + +The hall is paved with a fine marble, and two thousand persons can be +accommodated upon the central floor. There is a smaller inclosure at the +east end, where the merchants and stockholders transact their daily +business. The hours are from one o'clock to three for the public stocks, +and till half past five for all others. The public is allowed to visit +the Bourse from nine in the morning till five at night. A very singular +regulation exists in reference to the ladies. No woman is admitted into +the Bourse without a special order from the proper authorities. The +cause for this is the fact that years ago, when ladies were admitted to +the Bourse, they became very much addicted to gambling there, and also +enticed the gentlemen into similar practices. It is not likely that the +old stockholders were tempted into any vicious practices, but the +presence of women was enough to attract another class of men--idlers and +fashionable gamblers--until the exchange was turned into a +gambling-saloon. The matter was soon set to rights when women were shut +out. + +Paris was formerly without an Exchange, and the merchants held their +meetings in an old building which John Law, the celebrated financier, +once occupied. They afterward met in the Palais Royal, and still later, +in a comparatively obscure street. The first stone of the Bourse was +laid on the 28th of March, 1808, and the works proceeded with dispatch +till 1814, when they were suspended. It was completed in 1826. The +architect who designed it died when it was half completed, but the plan +was carried out, though by a new architect. It is now a model building +of its kind, and cost nearly nine millions of francs. In comprehensive +magnificence it has no rival in Paris--perhaps not in the world. The +Royal Exchange of London, though a fine building, is a pigmy beside this +massive and colossal structure. The best view can be obtained from the +Rue Vivienne. From this street one has a fine view of the fine marble +steps ascending to it, and which stretch completely across the western +part. + +The history of all the great panics which have been experienced on the +Paris Exchange would be an excellent history of the fortunes of France. +The slightest premonition of change is felt at once at the Bourse, and +as each successive revolution has swept over the country, it has +written its history in ineffaceable characters on Change. Panic has +followed panic, and the stocks fly up or down according to the views +outside. The breath of war sets all its interests into a trembling +condition, and an election, before now, has sent the thrill to the very +center of that grand old money-palace. + +On my way home from the Bourse, I stopped to go over Galignani's Reading +Room. It is a capital collection of the best books of all countries, +some of them in French, some in English, and others in German. I found +on the shelves many American republications, but Cooper was always first +among these. For a small sum the stranger can subscribe to this library, +either for a month or a year, and supply himself with reading and the +newspapers of the world. + +The Messrs. Galignani publish an English journal in Paris. It is a +daily, and has no opinions of its own. Of course, an original and +independent journal could not be allowed to exist in Paris. + +For this reason _Galignani's Messenger_ is a vapid concern. It presents +no thoughts to the reader. It is interesting to the Englishman in Paris, +because it gathers English news, and presents it in the original +language. As there are always a great many Englishmen in Paris, the +journal is tolerably well supported. Then, again, the Paris shop-keepers +and hotel-owners know very well that the English are among their best +customers, and they advertise largely in it. So far as my experience has +gone, I have found the _Messenger_ quite unfair to America. It quotes +from the worst of American journals, and is sure to parade anything that +may be for the disadvantage of American reputation. It also is generally +sure of showing by its quotations its sympathy with "the powers that +be." This may all be natural enough, for it is for their interest to +stand well with the despot who rules France, but to an American, and a +republican, it excites only disgust. At present the _Messenger_ is as +good, or nearly so, as any of the French journals, but when the latter +had liberty to write as they pleased, the contrast between the French +and English press in Paris was ludicrous. In one you had fearless +political writing, wit, and spice. In the other, nothing but selections. + +Once, while in Paris, during the days of the republic, I called upon the +editor of one of the prominent French journals. It was a journal which +had again and again paid government fines for the utterance of its +honest sentiments, both under Louis Philippe and the presidency of Louis +Napoleon. Before the revolution it had a very great influence over the +people, and in the days of the so-called republic. The struggle between +it and the government, at that time was continued. Its editor's great +aim was to express as much truth as was possible and escape the +government line, which in the end would suppress the journal. + +As I entered the building in which this journal was printed and +published, I felt a kind of awe creeping over me, as if coming into the +presence of a great mind. We entered the editor's office; a little green +baize-covered table by a window, pen and ink, and scissors, indicated +the room. One might indeed tremble in such a place. What greater place +is there in this world than an editor's office, if his journal be one +which sells by tens of thousands and sways a vast number of intelligent +men? A throne-room is nothing in comparison to it. Thrones are +demolished by the journals. Especially in Paris has such been the case. +The liberal press has in past years controlled the French people to a +wonderful extent. Kings and queens have physical power, but here in this +little room was the throne-room of intellect. A door opened out of it +into the printing-room, where the thoughts were stamped upon paper, +afterward to be impressed upon a hundred thousand minds. + +The editor sat over his little desk, an earnest, care-worn, yet hopeful +man. His fingers trembled with nervousness, yet his eye was like an +eagle's. He did not stir when we first entered, did not even see us, he +was so deeply absorbed in what lay before him upon his table. I was glad +to watch him for a moment, unobserved. He was no fashionable editor, +made no play of his work. He felt the responsibility of his position, +and endeavored honestly to do his duty. His forehead was high, his eye +black, and his face was very pale. Suddenly he looked up and saw us, and +recognized my friend. It was enough that I was a republican, from +America, and unlike some Americans, abated not a jot of my radicalism +when in foreign countries. + +I looked around the room when the first words were spoken, and saw +everywhere files of newspapers, old copy and that which was about to be +given to the printers. It was very much like an editorial apartment in +an American printing office, though in some respects it was different. +It was a gloomy apartment, and it seemed to me that the writings of the +editor must partake somewhat of the character of the room. + +We went into the printing-office, where a hundred hands were setting the +"thought-tracks." It seemed as if everyone in the building, from +editor-in-chief down to the devil, was solemn with the thought of his +high and noble avocation. There was a half sadness on every +countenance, for the future was full of gloom. I was struck with the +fact that the office did not seem to me to be a _French_ office. There +was a gravity, a solemnity, not often seen in Paris. The usual +politeness of a Parisian was there, but no gayety, no recklessness. +Anxiety trouble, or fixedness of purpose were written upon almost every +countenance. In one corner lay piled up to the ceilings copies of the +journal, and I half expected to see a band of the police walk in and +seize them. It seemed as if _they_ half expected some such thing, but +they worked on without saying a word. I became at that moment convinced +that a portion of the French people had been wronged by foreigners. +There is a large class who are not only intellectual, but they are +earnest and grave. They do not wish change for the sake of it. They love +liberty and would die for it. Many of this class were murdered in cold +blood by Louis Napoleon. Others were sent to Cayenne, to fall a prey to +a climate cruel as the guillotine, or were sent into strange lands to +beg their bread. These men were the real glory of France, and yet they +were forced to leave it. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +LAFAYETTE'S TOMB--THE RADICAL--A COUNTRY WALK. + +LAFAYETTE'S TOMB. + + +I am fond of being at perfect liberty to ramble where my fancy may lead. +If the sun shine pleasantly this morning, and I would like to hear the +birds sing and smell the flowers, I go to some pleasant garden and +indulge my mood. Or, if I am sad, I go to the grave of genius, and lean +over the tomb of Abelard and Heloise. + +When I lived in Paris, I had no regularity in my wanderings, no method +in my sight-seeing, following a perhaps wayward fancy, and enjoying +myself the better for it. + +One beautiful morning I sauntered out from my hotel, with a friend, who +was also a stranger in Paris. + +"Where shall we go?" he asked. + +"To a little cemetery called Picpus, far away from here." + +"Will it be worth our while to go so far to see a small cemetery?" + +"You shall see when we get there." + +We went part of the way by an omnibus, and walked the rest, and when the +morning was nearly spent, we stood before No. 15, Rue de Picpus. The +place was once a convent of the order of St. Augustine, but is now +occupied by the "Women of the Sacred Heart." Within the convent, which +we entered, there is a pretty Doric chapel with an Ionic portal. There +was an air of privacy about, the little chapel which pleased me, and a +chasteness in its architecture which could not fail to please any one +who loves simple beauty. Within the walls of the court, there is a very +small private cemetery, but though private, the porter, if you ask him +politely, will let you enter, especially if you tell him you are from +America. + +"Here is the cemetery which we have come to see," I said to my friend. + +"Certainly, it is a very pretty one," he replied; "still I see nothing +to justify our coming so far to behold it." + +"Wait a little while and you will not say so." + +The first group of graves before which we stopped, was that of some +victims of the reign of terror--poor slaughtered men and women. The +grass was growing pleasantly above them, and all was calm, and sunny, +and beautiful around. Perhaps the sun shone as pleasantly when, on the +"_Place de la Concorde_," they walked up the steps of the scaffold to +die--for _Liberty_! Oh shame! One--two--three--four--there were eight +graves we counted, all victims of the reign of terror. For a moment I +forgot where I was; the graves were now at my feet, but I saw the poor +victims go slowly up to their horrible death. The faces of grinning, +scowling devils, male and female, were before me, all clamoring for +blood. I could see the tiger-thirst for human flesh in every +countenance--the fierce eye--the flushed face--and yet, how still were +the winds, how cheerful the sky. + +Yet, though every pure-hearted man or woman must detest the horrible +cruelties of the great revolution must shudder at the bare mention of +the names of the leaders in it, is it not an eternal law of God, that +oppression at last produces madness? Have not tyrants this fact always +to dream over--_though you_ may escape the vengeance of outraged +humanity, yet your children, your children's children shall pay the +terrible penalty. Louis XVI. was a gentle king; unwise, but never at +heart tyrannical; but alas! he answered not merely for his own misdeeds, +but for the misdeeds, the tyrannical conduct of centuries of kingcraft. +It was an inevitable consequence--and it will ever be so. But I am +moralizing. + +"You came to see these graves?" remarked my friend. "They are +interesting places to ponder and dream over." + +"Not to see these, though, did I come," I replied. + +We soon came to the graves of nobility. There was the tomb of a +Noailles, a Grammont, a Montagu. Plain, all of them, and yet with an air +at once chaste and artistic. There was the tomb of Rosambo and Lemoignon +amid the tangled grass. All of these names were once noble and great in +France, and as I bent over them, I could but call up France in the days +of the _ancien regime_, when all these names called forth bows and +fawnings from the people. Dead and buried nobility--what is it? The +nobility goes--names die with the body. + +"You came out to see buried nobility," said my companion. + +"Me! Did I ever go out of my way to see even buried _royalty_? Never, +unless the ashes had been something more than a mere king. To see the +grave of genius or goodness, but not empty, buried names!" + +We went on a little farther--to a quiet spot, where the sun shone in +warmly, where the grass was mown away short, but where it was green and +bright. The song of a plaintive bird just touched our ears--where it was +we could not tell, only we heard it. It was a still, beautiful spot, +and there was a grave before us--yet how very plain! A pure, white +marble, a simple tomb. + +Now my companion asked no questions, but I saw that his lips quivered. +The name on the simple tomb was that of + +"LAFAYETTE." + +Here, away from the noise of the city, amid silence chaste and sweet, +without a monument, lie the remains of one of the greatest men of +France. Not in Pere la Chaise, amid grandeur and fashion, but in a +little private cemetery, with a cluster of extinguished nobles on one +side, and a band of victims of the reign of terror on the other! + +We sat down beside his tomb, grateful to the dust beneath our feet for +the noble assistance which it gave to the sinking "Old Thirteen," when +the soul of Lafayette animated it. How vividly were the days of our long +struggle before us. We saw Bunker Hill alive with battalions, and +Charlestown lay in flames. Step by step we ran over the bitter struggle, +with so much power on one side, and on the other such an amount of +determination, but after all so many dark and adverse circumstances, so +little physical power in comparison with the hosts arrayed against us. +It was when the heart of the nation drooped with an accumulation of +misfortune, that Lafayette came and turned the balance in the scales. +And we were grateful to him; not so much for what he really +accomplished, as for what he attempted--for the daring spirit, the noble +generosity! + +Then, too, I thought how Lafayette stood between the king and the +people, before and after the reign of terror--thought of his devotion to +France--of his stern patriotism, which would neither tremble before a +king nor an infuriated rabble. Yet he was obliged to fly for life from +Paris--from France. He lay in a felon's dungeon in a foreign land, for +lack of devotion to kingcraft, and could not return to France because he +loved humanity too well. Was it not hard? + +France has never been just to her great men. She welcomes to her bosom +her most dangerous citizens, and casts out the true and the noble. She +did so when she sent Lafayette away. She did so in refusing Lamartine +and accepting Louis Napoleon. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE RADICAL. + + +When I first visited Paris, while Louis Napoleon was president of the +republic instead of emperor, I became acquainted with a young man from +America who had lived seventeen years in Paris. He was thoroughly +acquainted with every phase of Parisian life, from the highest to the +lowest, and knew the principal political characters of the country. He +was a thorough radical, and an enthusiast. He came to Paris for an +education, and when he had finished it, he had imbibed the most radical +opinions respecting human liberty, and as his native town was New +Orleans, and his father a wealthy slaveholder, he concluded to remain in +Paris. When I found him, he was living in the Latin quarter, among the +students, at a cheap, though very neat hotel. He was refined, modest, +and highly educated, and was busy in political writing and speculations. +At that time he showed me a complete constitution for a "model republic" +in France, and a code of laws fit for Paradise rather than France. The +documents exhibited great skill and learning, but the impress of an +enthusiast was upon them all. By his conduct or manner, the stranger +would never have supposed that my friend was enthusiastic. He never +indulged in any flights of indignation at the existing state of things, +never was thrown off his guard so as to show by his speech or his manner +that he was passionately attached to liberal principles. It was only +after I had come to know him well, that I discovered this fact--that he +was a great enthusiast, and so deeply attached to the purest principles +respecting human freedom and happiness, that he would willingly have +died for them. Living in Paris, one of the most dissolute cities of the +world, he was pure in his morals, and as rigidly honest as any Puritan +in Cromwell's day. But with all his own purity he possessed unbounded +charity for others. His friends were among all classes, and were good +and bad. One day I saw him walking with one of the most distinguished +men of France. A few days after, while he was taking a morning walk, he +met a university student with a grisette upon his arm--his mistress. The +student wished to leave Paris for the day on business, and asked my +friend to accompany his mistress back to their rooms. With the utmost +composure and politeness the radical offered his arm, and escorted the +frail woman to her apartments. + +Of course, this man was carefully watched by the police. He was well +known, and the eye of the secret police was constantly upon him. He +still clung to his old American passport, for it had repeatedly caused +him to be respected when other reasons were insufficient. + +I one day wrote a note to a friend in a distant part of the city, and +was going to drop it into the post-office when my friend, who was with +me, remonstrated. "You can walk to the spot and deliver it yourself," +said he, "and you will have saved the two sous postage. I am going that +way; let _me_ have the postage and I will deliver it." + +"I will go with you," I said, at the same time giving him the two sous. +He took them without any remonstrance. On the way we met a poor old +family, singing and begging in the streets. "They must live," said my +friend, "and we will give them our mite in partnership." So he added two +sous to those I had given him, and tossed them to the beggars. This was +genuine charity, given not for ostentation, but to relieve suffering and +administer comfort. I found him at all times entirely true to his +principles, and became very much interested in him. + +We took a walk together one evening, to hear music in the Luxembourg +Gardens. As we approached them, the clock on the old building of the +Chamber of Peers struck eight, and at once the band commenced playing +some operatic airs of exquisite beauty. Now a gay and enlivening passage +was performed, and then a mournful air, or something martial and +soul-stirring. The music ceased at nine, and a company of soldiers +marched to the drum around the frontiers of the gardens, to notify all +who were in it that the gates must soon close. + +"What very fine drumming," I said to my companion. + +"Yes," he replied, "but you should hear a night _rappel_. I heard it +often in the days of the June fight. One morning I heard it at three +o'clock, calling the soldiers together for battle. You cannot know what +a thrill of horror it sent through every avenue of this great city. I +got up hastily, and dressed myself and ran into the streets. It was not +for me to shrink from the conflict. But the alarm was a false one. +Soldiers were in every street, but there was no fighting that day." + +A few months before, my friend ventured to publish a pamphlet on the +subject of French interference in Italy. He condemned in unequivocal +terms the expedition to Italy, and showed how it violated the feelings +of the French nation. A few days afterward, he received the following +laconic note: + +"M. Blank is invited to call on the prefect of the police, at his +office, to-morrow, Friday, at eleven o'clock." + +M. Blank sat down, first, and wrote an able letter to the minister for +the interior, for he well knew that the note signified the suppression +of the pamphlet, and very likely his ejection from France. He sent the +same letter to the American minister, and the next day answered the +summons of the prefect. This is the account of the interview which he +gave me from a journal he was in the habit of keeping at that time: + +"I read the word '_Refugies_' over the door, and it reminded me of the +inscription on the gates of hell--'Leave all hope far behind.' Everyone +knows that the very reason that ghosts are dreaded, is that ghosts were +_never seen_. It is the same for policemen--those 'Finders out of +Occasions,' as Othello styles them--those 'rough and ready' to choke +ideas, as the bud is bit by the venomous worm 'ere it can spread its +sweet leaves to the air.' I was about to encounter the assailing eyes of +knavery. A gentleman of the administration welcomed me in. 'Sir,' I +said, coldly, 'I was invited to meet the _prefect of the police_. I wish +to know what is deemed an outrage to the established government of +France?' + +"The reply, was, 'The procureur-general noticed several portions of +your book; sit down and we will read them!' + +"I listened to several extracts, where there were allusions to +_princes_, (Louis Napoleon had been formerly a prince, and this was +objected to,) and remarked to them that France recognized _no +princes_--that what I had written about the expedition to Italy, I had +the right, as a publicist, to write. The world had universally +repudiated that expedition, and the president had tacitly done the same +in his letter to Colonel Ney, and in dismissing the ministers who +planned the expedition. The president being quoted as authority, the +agent of the executive thought it useless to hold the argument any +longer, and backed out. The gentlemen of the police knew nothing of +bush-fighting, and might have exclaimed with the muse in Romeo, 'Is this +poultice for my aching bones?'" + +The upshot of the examination was, that the pamphlet was untouched, and +M. Blank remained in Paris. + +But he was watched closer than ever. When I left him, he was waiting in +daily expectation of a _coup de etat_ on the part of Louis Napoleon. I +asked him what hopes there were for France. He shook his head sadly--he +despaired of success. It might be that Napoleon would be beaten down by +the populace, if he attempted to erect a throne, but he had faint hopes +of it, for he had got the army almost completely under his influence. Or +it was possible that Napoleon might not violate his solemn oaths to +support the republic--not for lack of disposition, but fearing the +people. I could see, however, that my friend had little faith in the +immediate future of "poor France," as he called her, as if she were his +mother. He thought the reason why the republic would be overthrown, was +from the conduct of those who had been at its head in the early part of +its history. The republicans, soon after Louis Philippe's flight, acted, +he thought, with great weakness. If strong men had been at the helm, +then no such man as Louis Napoleon would have been allowed afterward to +take the presidential chair. I think he was more right than wrong. A +vigorous and not too radical administration, might have preserved the +republic for years--possibly for all time. Louis Napoleon should not +have been allowed to enter France, nor any like him, who had proved +themselves disturbers of the peace. + +About a year after the time I have been describing, while walking down +Nassau street, in New York, I very suddenly and unexpectedly met my +friend, the radical! + +"Aha!" said I, "you have left Paris. Well, you have shown good taste." + +"No! no!" he replied, "I did not leave it till Louis Napoleon forced me +to choose exile or imprisonment. I had no choice in the matter." + +He seemed to feel lost amid the bustle of New York. His dream was over, +and at thirty-five he found himself amid the realities of a +money-seeking nation. The look upon his face was sad, almost despairing. +I certainly never pitied a man more than I did him. Pure, guileless +generous--and poor, what could he do in New York? + + + + +A WALK INTO THE COUNTRY. + + +The summer and autumn are the seasons one should spend in Paris, to see +it in its full glory. The people of Paris live out of doors, and to see +them in the winter, is not to know them thoroughly. The summer weather +is unlike that of London. The air is pure, the sky serene, and the whole +city is full of gardens and promenades. The little out-of-door theaters +reap harvests of money--the tricksters, the conjurors, the street +fiddlers, and all sorts of men who get their subsistence by furnishing +the people with cheap amusements, are in high spirits, for in these +seasons they can drive a fine business. Not so in the winter. Then they +are obliged either to wander over the half-deserted _places_, gathering +here and there a sou, or shut themselves up in their garret or cellar +apartments, and live upon their summer gains. To the stranger who must +be economical, Paris in the winter is not to be desired, for fuel is +enormously high in that city. A bit of wood is worth so much cash, and a +log which in America would be thrown away, would there be worth a little +fortune to a poor wood-dealer. + +The country around Paris is scarcely worth a visit in the winter or +early spring months, but in the summer it is far different. I remember a +little walk I took one day past the fortifications. When I came to the +walls of the city, I was obliged to pass through a narrow gate. All who +enter the city are inspected, for there is a heavy duty upon provisions +of nearly all kinds which are brought from the provinces into Paris. The +duty upon wines is very heavy. Upon a bottle of cheap wine, which costs +in the country but fifteen sous, there is a gate-duty of five sous. +This is one reason why the poor people of Paris on _fete_ days, crowd to +the country villages near Paris. There they can eat and drink at a much +cheaper rate than in town, besides having the advantage of pure air and +beautiful scenery. I witnessed an amusing sight at this gate. A man was +just entering from the country. He was very large in the abdominal +regions, so much so that the gate-keeper's suspicions were aroused, and +he asked the large traveler a few leading questions. He protested that +he was innocent of any attempt to defraud the revenues of Paris. The +gate-keeper reached out his hand as if to examine the unoffending man, +and he grew very angry. His face assumed a scarlet hue, and his voice +was hoarse with passion, probably from the fact that he was sensitive +about his obesity. But the gate-keeper saw in his conduct only increased +proof of his guilt, and finally insisted upon laying his hand upon the +suspicious part, when with a poorly-concealed smile, but a polite "beg +your pardon," he let the man pass on his way. It is probable the +gate-keeper was more rigid in his examinations, from the fact that not +long before a curious case of deception had occurred at one of the other +gates, or rather a case of long-continued deception was exposed. A man +who lived in a little village just outside of the walls, became +afflicted with the dropsy in the abdominal regions. He then commenced +the business of furnishing a certain hotel in Paris with fresh +provisions, and for this purpose he visited it twice a day with a large +basket on his head or arm. The basket, of course, was always duly +examined, and the man passed through. He became well-known to the +gate-keeper, and thus weeks and months passed away, until one day the +keeper was sure he smelt brandy, and searched the basket more carefully +than usual. Nothing was discovered, but the fragrance of the brandy grew +stronger, and his suspicions were directed to the man. He was examined, +and it was found that his dropsy could easily be cured, for it consisted +in wearing something around his body which would contain several +gallons, for the man was really small in size, though tall, and he had +made it his business to carry in liquors to the city, and evade the +taxes. But at last, unfortunately, the portable canteen sprung a leak, +and this was the cause which led to the discovery. + +At another gate, a woman was detected in carrying quantities of brandy +under her petticoats, and only passing for a large woman. I knew of a +woman who, in passing the Liverpool custom house, sewed cigars to a +great number into her skirt, but was, to her great chagrin, detected, +and also to the dismay of her husband, whom she intended to benefit. + +Such taxes would not be endured in any American city, but the old world +is used to taxation. In the very out-skirts of London there are +toll-gates in the busiest of streets, but that is not so bad as the +local tariff system. + +I soon came, in my walk, to the fortifications of Paris. They were +constructed by Louis Phillippe, and are magnificent works of defense. +There is one peculiar feature of this chain of defense which has excited +a great deal of remark. It is quite evident that a part of the +fortifications were constructed with a view to defend one's self from +enemies _within_, as well as without. Louis Phillippe evidently +remembered the past history of Paris, and felt the possibility of a +future in which he might like to have the command of Paris with his +guns, as well as an enemy outside the wall. But the fortifications and +the cannon were of no manner of use to him. So, very possibly, the +grand army which Louis Napoleon has raised may be of no use to him, and +the little prince, the young king of Algeria, may end his days a +wanderer in the United States, as his father was before him. It is to be +hoped, if he does, that he will pay his bills. + +The fortifications of Paris extend entirely around the city, and are +seventeen miles in length. I went to the top of them, but I had not +stood there five minutes before the soldiers warned me off. The approach +to the city side of the wall is very gradual, by means of a +grass-covered bank. While standing upon the summit, a train of +cars--came whizzing along at a fine rate. I saw for the first time +people riding on the tops of cars as on a coach. The train was bound to +Versailles, and as the distance is short, and probably the speed +attained not great, seats are attached to the tops of the cars, and for +a very small sum the poorer classes can ride in them. In fine weather it +is said that this kind of riding is very pleasant. + +I passed out through the gates beyond the fortifications, and was in the +open country--among the trees, the birds and flowers, and the cultivated +fields. The contrast between what I saw and the city, was great. Here, +all was beautiful nature. There, all that is grand and exquisite in art. +The fields around me were green with leaves and plants; the branches of +the trees swayed to and fro in the restless breeze; the little peasant +huts had a picturesque appearance in the distance, and the laborers at +work seemed more healthy than the artisans of Paris. I approached a +peasant who was following the plow. I was surprised to find the plow he +used to be altogether too heavy for the use to which it was put. Yet I +was in sight of Paris, the city of the arts and sciences. Such a plow +could not have been found in all New England. I looked at the man, too, +and compared him with an American farmer or native workman. He was +miserably dressed, and wore shoes which might have been made in the +twelfth century. He had no look of intelligence upon his face, but +stared at me with a dull and idiotic eye. This was the peasant under the +walls of Paris--what must he be in the provincial forests? + +Leaving the plowman, I walked on, following a pretty little road, until +I came to a large flock of sheep in the care of a shepherd-boy and a +dog. While I stood looking at them, the boy started them off across the +fields and through the lawns to some other place. All that he did was to +follow the sheep, but I certainly never saw a dog so capable and +intelligent as that one. He seemed to catch from his master the idea of +their destination at once, and kept continually running around the +flock, now stirring them into a faster gait, then heading off some +wayward fellow who manifested a strong disposition to sheer off to the +right or left, and again turning the whole body just where the master +wished. It was an amusing sight, and well worth the walk from the city. +To be sure, the dog was rather egotistical and ostentatious. He knew his +smartness, and was quite willing that bystanders should know it too, for +he pawed, and fawned, and barked at a tremendous rate. The flock seemed +to know his ways, and while they obeyed his voice, they were not +particularly frightened at it. + +Leaving the flock and their master, I soon came to a little inn, and sat +down to dine. It was not much like the restaurants on the Boulevard, or +even like those within the city on retired streets, but I got a very +comfortable meal, and for a very small sum of money. I found that the +mere mention that I was an American, in all such places as this, insured +me polite attention, and I could often notice, instantly, the change of +manners after I had informed my entertainers of my country. It is but a +slight fact from which to draw an inference, but yet I could not help +inferring that the more intelligent of the common people of Paris are +yet, notwithstanding the despotism which hovers over France, in their +secret hearts longing for the freedom of a just republic. + +A young American was a few months since visiting Paris with a much +younger brother. The latter went out one day into the country, alone, +and seeing that a party of people from Paris were enjoying themselves in +the gardens connected with a small public house, he drew near to witness +their gayety. They were artisans, but of the most intelligent class. +They were neatly dressed, and their faces were bright and intelligent. +Whole families were there, down to the little children, and they were +enjoying a holiday. Seeing a young man (he was but sixteen years' old) +gazing upon them, and judging him to be a stranger, one of the party +approached him, and with great politeness asked if he would not come +into the garden and drink a glass of wine. The act was a spontaneous +one, and arose from good-nature and high spirits. The young American +entered, and in the course of a conversation told the company that he +was an American. Instantly the scene changed. He was loudly cheered, and +one man remarked, with very significant gestures and looks, that "_he +came from a republic_!" Nothing would do but that the guest must sit +down and accept of food and wine to an alarming extent. He was, in fact, +made so much of, that he became somewhat alarmed, for he was young and +inexperienced. I may as well finish the story by saying what was the +truth, that so many of the party begged the privilege of drinking with +him, that he became somewhat giddy and unfit to retrace his steps. He +was unused to wine, and the moment the Parisians saw it, they urged him +to drink no more, and asking his hotel, they took him carefully and +kindly to it in a carriage, after an hour or two had passed away and he +had pretty much recovered from his dissipation. Now there can be no +doubt that the enthusiastic politeness of the artisans, arose from the +fact that he was a republican, and from a great republican country, and +such facts which I have repeatedly witnessed, or heard of, assure me +that the old republican fire is not extinguished in the hearts of the +common people of Paris. + +After a frugal dinner at the inn, I sauntered still further into the +country, so as, if possible, to get a glimpse of the farm-houses. But +one cannot get any fair idea of French agriculture so near Paris. A +great deal of the land is used in cultivating vegetables for the Paris +markets, and this land is scarcely a specimen of the farms of France, it +is more like gardens. I found a few buildings which were occupied by +these gardeners, and one or two genuine farmers, and while there was +evidently scientific culture bestowed upon the land, the tools were +generally clumsy, and altogether too heavy for convenience and dispatch. +It struck me as very singular. Paris excels in the manufacturing of +light and graceful articles of almost every kind. Certainly, in jewelry, +cutlery, and all manner of ornamental articles, it is the first city in +the world. How comes it, then, that so near Paris, agricultural +implements are so far behind the age? I would by no means have the +reader infer that the best of agricultural tools are not manufactured in +France. Such is not the fact, as the Paris Exhibition proved, but _who +buys them_? Now is it not a significant fact, that within a bow-shot of +Paris I found tools in use, which would be laughed at in the free states +of America? The true reason for this, is to be found in the condition of +the French agricultural laborer. He is ignorant and unambitious. Where +the laborer is intelligent, he will have light and excellent tools to +work with. This is a universal fact. The slaves of the southern states +are in a state of brutal ignorance, and their agricultural implements +are heavy and large. Such is the fact with all those men and women who +are in a condition somewhat similar. After looking upon the plowman I +have before alluded to, I could easily believe what reliable Frenchmen +told me--that in the famous (shall I call it _in_famous?) election, very +many of the farmers of the interior supposed they were voting for +Napoleon the Great, instead of Louis Napoleon! + +I passed, in returning to my hotel, one of the finest buildings in +Paris--the _Palace d' Orsay_. It was begun in the time of Napoleon, and +is a public building. + +[Illustration: Palais de Quai D'Orsay.] + +[Illustration: CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME.] + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +CHURCHES--NOTRE DAME--L'AUXERROIS--SAINT CHAPELLE--ST. +FERDINAND--EXPIATOIRE--MADELEINE, ETC. + +NOTRE DAME. + + +The churches of Paris are full of gorgeous splendor--how much vital +religion they contain, it is not, perhaps, my province to decide. But in +beauty of architecture, in the solemnity and grandeur of interior, no +city in the world, except Rome, can excel them. The church of the +Madeleine is the most imposing of all; indeed, it seemed to me that in +all Paris there was no other building so pretentious. But Notre Dame has +that mellow quality which beautifies all architecture--hoary age. + +I started out one morning to see it, crossing on my way one of the +bridges to _Isle la Cite_, and was soon in sight of the two majestic +towers of the old cathedral. You can see them, in fact, from all parts +of Paris, rising magnificently from the little island city, like beacons +for the weary sailor. + +The morning was just such an one as Paris delights to furnish in the +month of June--fair, clear, and exhilarating--no London fog, mud, or +rain, but as soft a sky as ever I saw in America. We stopped a moment +before the church, to gaze at the high-reaching columns, and admire the +general architecture of the church. Workmen were scattered over +different portions of the building and towers, (this was on my first +visit to Paris,) engaged in renewing their ancient beauty. My first +emotion upon entering, was one of disappointment, for although +externally Notre Dame is the finest church in Paris, internally it is +gloomy, exceedingly simple, and has an air of faded beauty. Still, the +"long-drawn aisles" were very fine. Gazing aloft, the eye ached to watch +the beautiful arches meet far above. Then to look away horizontally on +either hand through the graceful aisles, filled one with pleasure. + +I scarcely know how, but as I was passing a little altar where a priest +was saying mass, I unaccountably put my cap upon my head. I was +instantly required to take it off. I was reminded of the fact that but a +few days before, when entering a Jewish synagogue, upon taking off my +hat, I was instantly required to replace it. Such is the difference +between the etiquette of a Catholic church and a Jewish synagogue. + +I noticed that the threshold of Notre Dame, like that of St. Germain +l'Auxerrois, was very much worn away by the feet of the crowds who have +crossed it during many centuries. The organ is an excellent one. It is +forty-five feet high, thirty-six broad, and has three thousand four +hundred and eighty-four pipes. Its power is great, and as the organist +touched some of the lower notes, the cathedral walls reverberated with +the sound. + +The _Porte Rouge_ is a splendidly sculptured door-way. Under the +arch-way there is a sculpture of Jesus Christ and the Virgin crowned by +an angel. Behind it there are bas-reliefs representing the death of the +Virgin--Christ surrounded by angels, the Virgin at the feet of Christ +in agony, and a woman selling herself to the Devil. The interior of the +church abounds with sculpture of every description, and some of it was +executed in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. + +There now remains only one of the old peal of bells which used to exist +in Notre Dame--but one has escaped the fury of French revolutions. It +was hung in the year 1682, and was baptized in the presence of Louis +XIV. and Queen Theresa. Its weight is thirty-two thousand pounds--the +clapper alone weighing a thousand pounds. A clock in one of the towers +is world-renowned for the intricacy and curiosity of its mechanism. The +feats it performs every time it strikes the hour and quarter-hour, can +hardly be credited by one who has not seen them. + +It is supposed that the first foundations of a church on this spot were +laid in the year 365, in the reign of Valentian I. It was subsequently +several times rebuilt, a portion of the work which was executed in the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries still remaining. The other portions +were built in 1407, by the duke of Burgundy, and are of a deep red +color. The _Porte Rouge_ was built under his special superintendence. He +assassinated the duke of Orleans, and built this red portal as an +expiation for his crime. + +In 1831, when the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois was sacked, the mob +crowded into Notre Dame and completely destroyed everything within its +reach, including, among other things, the coronation robes of Napoleon. +The archbishop's palace was next attacked, and in one short hour all its +rich stores of ancient and modern literature were thrown into the Seine. +The palace itself was so completely ruined, that the government +afterward removed every vestige of it. Nothing is more terrible in this +world than a mob of maddened people. And though such Vandal acts as +these cannot be defended, still it be hooves us to remember, that the +conduct of the inhabitants of these palaces was such as to bring down on +their heads the just indignation and censure of the people. + +Slowly passing through the aisles of the cathedral, I passed again the +threshold into the street. The majestic towers and turrets were bright +beneath the gaze of the sun, and it seemed to me that I could stand for +hours to look at them. It is not so with the Madeleine. Its +architectural beauty is great, but it is new--it has no age. Notre Dame +has seen centuries, and is full of historical associations, and I could +have lingered about it and dreamed over them till the sunlight faded +into night. + + * * * * * + + + + +ST. GERMAIN L'AUXERROIS. + + +The oldest church in Paris, is called the St. Germain l'Auxerrois. It is +one of the quaintest specimens of architecture I ever saw. A church was +founded on the spot, many centuries ago, by Childebert. It was of a +circular form, and was destroyed by the Normans, in 886. A monastery was +established here in 998, and the church at that time was dedicated to +St. Germain l'Auxerrois. The ecclesiastics were formed into a college, +to which were attached upwards of forty clergymen. It was for many years +one of the most celebrated schools in France. In 1744 the college was +united to that of Notre Dame, and it was considered to be the college of +the royal parish. + +This church passed through the terrible scenes of the revolution +unscathed, and it would have been perfectly preserved until now, but for +a foolish attempt of the royalists to celebrate in it the death of the +duke de Berry. This occurred on the 13th of February, 1831. A great +tumult arose, and the interior of the church was entirely destroyed. It +was with the greatest difficulty that the furious mob was prevented from +tearing it down. On the same day, the palace of the archbishop was also +completely devastated. St. Germain l'Auxerrois was now closed, and +remained so until 1838. It was then restored, and reopened for public +worship. At one time it was one of the finest interiors in Paris, the +royal painters and artists vying with each other in its adornment. It is +now, however, only as a third-rate church in its decoration. It is +cruciform in shape, with an octagonal termination. At one corner there +is a tower which was built in 1649, and some portions of the building +were erected in 1400. The western front has a finely sculptured portico, +with five low, but rich Gothic arches. The three central ones are higher +than the others, and crowned with a parapet The porch was built in 1431, +by Jean Gossel. The other parts of the church were built before the +regency of the duke of Bedford. The door-ways are splendidly sculptured, +and the church has a rich and ancient appearance. + +We entered at one of the little side doors, the friend who was with me +remarking, + +"See how the feet of centuries have worn away these solid stones." + +It was true. A path two feet deep had been worn into the stepping-stone +at the entrance. It was a striking exhibition of the power of time. + +The interior of this church afforded me one of the most impressive +sights I ever witnessed. It had recently been painted in the Byzantine +style, and the fresco paintings were as varied and beautiful as the +traceries of the frost upon our autumnal woods. You can scarcely +conceive the effect it had upon me, just emerged from the ever busy +street. The beauty overwhelmed me. + +There was a large fresco painting of Christ upon the cross, which +particularly arrested my attention. You saw in it every feature of the +man, united with the holiness and majesty of the Divine. The face +expressed every shade of sweetness and agony; yet it was only a fresco +painting. Another represents Christ preaching on the Mount of Olives, +with his disciples and the people gathered about him. I was struck with +a series of frescoes which were executed to illustrate the most +important precepts of Christ. One is that of a warrior, sheathing his +sword in the presence of his deadly enemy. It would well grace the walls +of a non-resistant, but not those of a French church, which ever +reverberate to the music of the drum. The church has generally +illustrated that precept of Christ by pictures, not by works. Another of +the frescoes represents two brothers embracing each other. Still +another, a beautiful young woman giving alms in secret to a poor old +blind man. A painting to the right represents Christ issuing the +command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every +creature." The Magdalen kneels below, in devout admiration, and still +lower is the Virgin surrounded by a group of pious women. + +On the keystone of one of the vaults, "The Last Supper" is sculptured in +solid stone; on another, "The Ordination of the Shepherd." Within the +church there are several chapels. The first in the southern aisle +contains a magnificent fresco by M. Duval, representing Christ crowning +the Virgin. Not far from it there is a fine fresco by Guichard, +representing the descent from the cross. The windows upon this side are +magnificently decorated with figures of saints and stained glass. + +In the center of one transept there is a marble basin for holy water, +surmounted by a finely sculptured group of three children supporting a +cross. The design is by the donor--the wife of Alphonso de Lamartine, +the poet. I noticed in one compartment some admirable traceries in solid +oak, and before the high altar an elaborate gilt-bronze lamp--the gift +of the wife of Louis Phillippe; but the most brilliant portion of the +ulterior is the fresco painting. + +As we walked slowly from chapel to chapel, and transept to transept, I +could see men and women--principally the latter--with great apparent +devotion kneeling before the altar, or at the confessional. It was not +Sunday, yet many people were constantly passing in and out. I might +perhaps infer from this fact, that the French possess much religious +feeling--but I cannot believe it. Art and literature swallow up +religion. + +The war-spirit soon eats out vital religion--and revolution and blood +sap the morals of any people. The reader will remember that even our +revolution rapidly dissipated the good morals of the nation. Never was +there a time in the history of New England when vice of every sort made +such progress as in the time of the revolution. This is not strange, for +war necessarily blunts the religious sensibilities, and opens the door +of almost every vice. + +We left the interior of the church and stood upon its steps. The Louvre +in all its magnificence stood before me. I looked up at the tower of the +church, and listened to the very bell which, more than three hundred +years ago, gave the signal for the commencement of the massacre of St. +Bartholomew. While I stood there it seemed to me that I could go back +to the past--to that night of horror when the Protestants were gathered +at the fete of St. Bartholomew. When twelve had struck, in the dead of +night, the bell in St. Germain l'Auxerrois gave out the solemn signal, +and there ensued a scene of horrible atrocity, such as the world has +rarely witnessed, and which will make the names of its perpetrators +infamous so long as the world lives. + +It was in the house of the dean of St. Germain l'Auxerrois that the +beautiful Gabriel d'Estrees lived for awhile and died. + + * * * * * + + + + +SAINTE CHAPELLE. + + +The Sainte Chapelle is one of the finest specimens of florid Gothic +architecture in the world, and I went with a Frenchman one day to see +it. It is impossible to give the reader any adequate idea of its +peculiar beauty, but I can briefly sketch it, and at least point out +some of its most striking features. It was erected by St. Louis in 1248, +and set apart for the reception of relics bought of the emperor of +Constantinople. The Chapelle consists of an upper and a lower +chapel--the upper communicating with the old palace of the ancient kings +of France. It was formerly appropriated to the king and court. The lower +chapel opens into the lower courts of the palace, and was appropriated +to the use of the common people in and around the palace. The interior +has of late undergone extensive repairs, and it is now thoroughly +restored. + +The entrance is unpleasant, for it is very narrow--so much so that a +good view of the front cannot be had. It has a portico of three Gothic +arches with intersecting buttresses, and in connection with lateral +buttresses there are two spiral towers with spiral stair-cases. Between +the towers there is a splendid circular window, which was constructed by +Charles VIII. The spires of the church are octagonal, and are adorned +with mouldings and traceries, and also at about half-height with a crown +of thorns. The different sides of the Chapelle are in the same +style--with buttresses between the windows, gables surmounting these, +and a fine open parapet crowning all. The roof is sloping, and the +height is over a hundred feet. The spire measures, from the vaulting, +seventy feet. We entered by a stair-case the upper chapel, and an +exquisite view presented itself. A single apartment, a half-circular +chair, with fine, large windows, detached columns with bases and +capitals, and fine groining--these all strike the eye of the visitor as +he crosses the threshold. The whole is gorgeously painted and +interspersed with _fleur de lis_. In the nave there is a carved wooden +stair-case of the thirteenth century. The windows are filled with +stained glass of 1248, which has escaped destruction during two great +revolutions. + +Near the altar there is a side chapel, to which access is had from +below. Here Louis XI. used to come, amid the choicest relics, and say +his prayers. Some of the relics are still preserved, and consist of a +crown of thorns, a piece of the cross upon which Christ was crucified, +and many antique gems. The Chapelle and the relics cost Louis two +millions eight hundred thousand francs--the relics alone costing an +enormous amount. + +There was a richly endowed chapter in connection with the Chapelle and +what is a little singular, the head of it became renowned for his +litigous disposition. The poet Boileau, in _Lutrin_, satirized this +character--and was, after death, buried in the lower chapel. + +At the time of the great revolution, this ancient and beautiful building +escaped destruction by its conversion by the government into courts of +justice. The internal decorations were, however, many of them destroyed. +The church, as it exists now, in a state of complete restoration, is one +of the finest church interiors in Paris, and the best specimen of its +peculiar kind of architecture in the world. + +My friend was a little surprised at the enthusiasm I manifested. _He_ +seemed to look as coolly upon the exquisite architectural beauty, and to +contemplate the age of the building as quietly, as a farmer would survey +his promising wheat-field. I reminded him that I came from a land where +such things do not abound, and where one cannot gratify the desire to +look upon that which is not only ancient, but around which cluster the +choicest historical associations. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPELLE EXPIATOIRE. + + +While wandering one day though the Rue d'Anjou St. Honore, I came +unexpectedly upon one of the most beautiful chapels my eyes ever +beheld--the _Chapelle Expiatore_. It was originally a burial-ground in +connection with the Madeleine church, but was afterward set apart to +commemorate the sad fate of the elder Bourbons. When Louis XVI. and his +queen were executed, in 1793, they were obscurely buried on this spot. A +friend, M. Descloseaux, at once cared for their remains, else they would +have been lost amid other victims of the bloody revolution. It is a +singular fact, that Danton, Herbert, and Robespierre were also buried +in this same place, together with the Swiss Guard. + +An early entry in the parish records of the Madeleine, still shows to +any one who has the curiosity to see, the plainness with which the queen +was buried. It is as follows: "_Paid seven francs for a coffin for the +Widow Capet_." + +M. Descloseaux watched carefully over the graves of the king and queen, +purchased the place containing their bodies, and converted it into an +orchard, with the view of shielding them from the fury of the populace. +His plan was successful, and it is said that he sent every year a +beautiful bouquet of flowers to the duchess d'Angouleme, which were +gathered from the ground beneath which her royal parents were sleeping. + +The restoration came, and the orchard was purchased from M. Descloseaux. +The bodies were transferred to St. Denis, with great pomp. The earth +which had surrounded the coffins was preserved, as also were all remains +of the Swiss Guards, and buried on the spot. Over it an expiatory chapel +was built, with buildings adjoining, the whole forming a very beautiful +structure. An inscription on the front informs the gazer of the +principal facts I have enumerated. The adjoining garden is filled with +cypresses. + +The interior of the chapel is simple, but gives a pleasant impression. +It contains two statues, one of Louis XVI., and the other of Marie +Antoinette. Each is supported by an angel, and on the pedestal of the +king his will is inscribed in letters of gold, upon a black marble slab. +On the pedestal of the queen's statue are extracts, executed in a like +manner, from her last letter to Mme. Elizabeth. + +There are several niches in the chapel which contain very fine +candelebra, and on a bas-relief the funeral procession to St. Denis is +represented. + +I was struck while here (as indeed I was in many other places) with the +fact, that the whole past history of Paris and France is written in her +chapels and churches. The stranger cannot, if he would, shut out the +fact from his sight. It glares in upon him from every street. The +revolutions of France have imprinted themselves upon Paris in +ineffaceable characters. + +As I stood in this chapel, the sad history of Marie Antoinette came into +my thoughts, and she stood before me as she stood before the crowd on +the day of her execution. Her downfall, the wretched neglect with which +her poor body was treated, and the obscure burial, were all before me. +Only "seven francs," for the coffin of "Widow Capet!" What a contrast to +the pomp and ceremony of her second burial, aye what a contrast to her +life! + +I had seen enough for that day, and set out sadly on my way back to my +apartments. The gayety in the streets, the bright and balmy air, could +not take the hue of melancholy from my thoughts. For always to me the +history of Marie Antoinette has been one of the most sorrowful I ever +read. I have few sympathies for kings, and much less for kingly tyrants, +but I could never withhold them from her, queen though she was. And I +never wish to become so fierce a democrat that I can contemplate such +sorrows as were hers, such a terrible downfall as she experienced, with +a heartless composure. + + + + +THE MADELEINE. + +[Illustration: Eglise de la Madeleine.] + + +The Madeleine looks little like a church to the stranger, but more like +a magnificent Grecian temple. Its impression upon me was by no means a +pleasant one, for the style of its architecture is not sufficiently +solemn to suit my ideas of a place where God is publicly worshiped. It +is, however, one of the finest specimens of modern architecture in the +world, and is so widely known that I can hardly pass it over without a +slight sketch of it. + +An edifice was erected on the spot where the Madeleine stands, in 1659, +by Mademoiselle d'Orleans. That building was soon found to be too small +for the accommodation of the people in its neighborhood, and in 1764, +the present building was commenced by the architect of the duke of +Orleans. The revolution put an end for a time to the work upon the +church, but Napoleon, after his Prussian campaign, determined to +dedicate the Madeleine as a Temple of Glory, "to commemorate the +achievements of the French arms, and to have on its columns engraved the +names of all those who had died fighting their country's battles." The +necessary funds were given and architects were set at work immediately +upon it. But Napoleon's plans were frustrated, and in 1815 Louis XVIII. +restored the building to its original destination, and ordered that +monuments should be erected in it to Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, Louis +XVII., and Mme. Elizabeth. The revolution of 1830, however, interrupted +this work, and it was not till the reign of Louis Phillippe, that it was +completed. The entire cost of the Madeleine was two millions six hundred +and fifteen thousand and eight hundred dollars. It stands on a raised +platform, three hundred and twenty-eight feet long and one hundred and +thirty-eight broad, and has at each end an approach consisting of +twenty-eight steps, the entire length of the facade. The architecture is +Grecian, a colonnade of fifty-two Corinthian columns entirely +surrounding the building, giving to it a grandeur of appearance to which +few structures in Europe attain. Between the columns there are niches, +and a row of colossal statues stand in them. They represent St. Bernard, +St. Raphael, and a score of others. The colonnade is surmounted by a +beautiful piazza, and a cornice adorned with lion's heads and palm +leaves. + +The pediment of the southern end contains a large altorelievo by +Lemaire. It is one hundred and twenty-six feet long and twenty-four feet +high. In the center is a figure of Christ; the Magdalene is beneath in a +suppliant attitude; while HE is pardoning her sins. On the +right hand the angel of Pity gazes down upon the poor woman, with a look +of deep satisfaction. On the other hand is the figure of Innocence, +surrounded by the angels, Faith, Hope, and Charity. In the angle of the +pediment is the figure of an angel greeting the new-born spirit, and +raising his hand, points to the place prepared for him in heaven. + +On the left of the pediment the angel of Vengeance is repelling the +Vices. Hatred is there with swollen features; Unchastity, with +disheveled hair and negligent dress, clings to her guilty paramour; +Hypocrisy, with the face of a young woman, a mask raised to her +forehead, looks down upon the spectator; and Avarice is represented as +an old man clinging to his treasures. + +The pediment is filled completely by the figure of a demon, which is +forcing a damned soul into the abyss of woe. This is the largest +sculptured pediment in the world, and occupied more than two years in +its execution. The figure of Christ is eighteen feet in length, which +will give the reader an idea of the size of the sculpture. + +The doors of the Madeleine are worthy of particular notice. They are of +bronze, measuring more than thirty feet by sixteen. They are divided +into compartments each of which illustrates one of the Ten Commandments. +In the first, Moses commands the tables to be obeyed; in the second, the +blasphemer is struck; in the third, God reposes after the creation; in +the fourth, Joshua punishes the theft of Acham, after the taking of +Jericho, etc. etc. The doors were cast in France, and are only surpassed +in size by the doors of St. Peter's. + +On entering the Madeleine, the magnificent organ meets the eye of the +visitor. On the right, there is a chapel for marriages, with a +sculptural group upon it, representing the marriage of the Virgin. On +the left, there is a baptismal font, with a sculptured group, +representing Christ and St. John at the waters of the Jordan. There are +twelve confessionals along the chapels, which, together with the +pulpit, are carved out of oak. The walls of the church are lined with +the finest marbles, and each chapel contains a statue of the patron +saints. The architecture of the interior it is useless for me to attempt +to sketch, it is in such a profusely ornamented style. Fine paintings +adorn the different chapels. One represents Christ preaching, and the +conversion of Mary Magdalene; another the Crucifixion; still another, +the supper at Bethany, with the Magdalene at the feet of her Lord. Over +the altar there is a very fine painting by Ziegler, which intends to +illustrate, by the representation of persons, the events which, in the +world's history, have added most to propagate the christian religion, +and to exhibit its power over men. + +The Magdalene, in a penitent attitude, stands near Christ, while three +angels support the cloud upon which she kneels, and a scroll, upon which +is written, "_She loved much_." The Savior holds in his right hand the +symbol of redemption, and is surrounded by the apostles. On his left, +the history of the early church is illustrated. St. Augustine, the +Emperor Constantine, and other personages, are painted. Then follow the +Crusades, with St. Bernard and Peter the Hermit, with a group of +noblemen following, filled with holy enthusiasm. + +Near the Magdalene there is a group of men who figured in early French +history--the Constable Montmorenci, Godefroy de Bouillon, and Robert of +Normandy. The struggles of the Greeks to throw off Mussulman rule, are +represented by a young Grecian warrior, with his companions in arms. + +On the left of the Savior, some of the early martyrs are painted--St. +Catherine and St. Cecelia. The Wandering Jew's ghostly form is upon the +canvas, and, to come down to a later day, Joan of Arc, Raphael, Michael +Angelo, and Dante each occupies a place in the mammoth picture. + +The choir of the Madeleine forms a half-circle, and is very richly +ornamented. The great altar is splendidly sculptured. The principal +group represents the Magdalene in a rapturous posture, borne to heaven +on the wings of angels. A tunic is wrapped around her body, and the long +hair with which she wiped her Savior's feet. This group of sculpture +alone cost one hundred and fifty thousand francs. + +I have thus given the reader a sketch of the most gorgeous church in +Paris, that he may get an idea of the style of religion which obtains at +present there. It is like this church. It is pretentious, imposing, in +bad taste, without simplicity and a real sanctity. I was disgusted with +the Madeleine from the moment I knew it to be a church. At first I saw +it only as a fine building--an imitation of the Parthenon--and I was +struck with admiration. But when I was told that it was a temple for the +warship of God, I was shocked, and still more so when I entered it. The +interior, as a collection of fine paintings and statues, as a specimen +of gorgeous Gothic architecture, is one of the best in the world; but I +would as soon think of attending public worship amid the nakedness of +the Louvre, as in the Madeleine. Had Napoleon's idea been carried out, +and this modern Parthenon been dedicated to Mars, it would adorn Paris, +and add much to the pleasure of the stranger; but as it is now, it only +serves to illustrate one of the weak points in the French character. + +The genuine Parisian is so fond of appearance, that he cares little for +the substance. The churches of Paris, therefore, abound with all that +can impress the eye, however repugnant to a refined taste. For I dare +to hold, that the French love not the true refinement in matters of +religion. Having little vital piety, it is impossible for them to judge +of church architecture. Solemn old St. Paul's in London, will always +linger in my memory as a fit temple of the living God. Its impressive +grandeur contrasts strongly with the rich magnificence of the Madeleine. +The latter inspires only admiration, as the figure of a Greek warrior, +but St. Paul's inspires awe; and that is just the difference between +them. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPEL OF ST. FERDINAND. + + +The interior of this chapel is one of the most beautiful in Paris. It +was the scene of the death of the duke of Orleans in 1842. He left Paris +in the forenoon of the 13th of July, in an open carriage, with but one +postillion, intending to call upon the royal family at Neuilly, and +proceed to the camp at St. Omer. As he approached Porte Maillot, the +horses became frightened. The driver began to lose his control of the +horses. + +"Are you master of your horses?" asked the duke. + +"Sir, I guide them," was the reply. + +"I am afraid you cannot hold them," again cried the duke. + +"I cannot, sir," was the reply. + +The duke then endeavored to get out of the carriage, but his feet became +entangled in his cloak, and he was thrown with great force to the +ground, his head striking first. It was dreadfully fractured, and he was +carried into the house of a grocer near at hand, where he expired at +four o'clock the same day, entirely unconscious. The royal family were +with him when he died. The house with the adjacent property was bought, +and two distinguished architects were commanded to erect a commemorative +chapel on the place. In July, 1843, it was consecrated by the +archbishop, in the presence of the royal family. + +The building is fifty feet long, twenty in height, is built in the +Lombard-Gothic style, and resembles an ancient mausoleum. + +Opposite the entrance there stands an altar to the Virgin, on the very +spot where the duke breathed his last, and over it there is a strikingly +beautiful statue of the Virgin and child. Beyond, there is a Descent +from, the Cross in marble. On the left, is another altar dedicated to +St. Ferdinand, and on the right a marble group, which represents the +duke on his death-bed. An angel kneels at his head, as if imploring the +Divine Mercy upon the sufferer. It is a fine figure, and is doubly +interesting from the fact that the Princess Marie, sister of the duke, +with her own hands wrought it, long before he was still in death. +Beneath this marble group there is a bas-relief, representing France +leaning over, and near, the French flag drooping at her feet. There are +four circular windows of stained glass, with St. Raphael, Hope, Faith, +and Charity, upon them. There are fourteen pointed windows, stained with +the patron saints of the royal family. Behind the altar the very room is +preserved in which the duke died--the sacristy of the chapel now. The +oaken presses, chairs, and prayer-desk are all clothed in black, giving +an air of gloom to the whole apartment. Opposite the entrance there is a +large painting by Jacquard, representing the death of the duke. He is +lying upon a couch with his head supported by physicians; his father is +opposite, apparently stupefied by his deep emotions. On the left is a +group, consisting of the queen and Princess Clementine, the Dukes +Aumale, and Montpensier, Marshals Soult, Gerard, and the cure of Mery. +The picture is a touching one. There is a small apartment detached from +the chapel, which was fitted up for the accommodation of the royal +family--the family now exiled from the land. In another room there is a +clock with a black marble case, on which France is represented as +mourning for the death of the duke. The hands of the clock mark ten +minutes to twelve, the exact moment when the prince fell; and in another +apartment there is a clock with the pointers at ten minutes past four, +the moment when he died. + +The interior of this chapel impressed me as the saddest I ever was in. +Everything in it was in perfect keeping with the sentiment of complete +melancholy, though it was rather too luxurious to express deep grief. +Sorrow which is poignant, is not expressed in so sensuous a manner. But +the chapel is unique; there is nothing else like it in the world, and +that is quite a recommendation. + + + + +ST. VINCENT DE PAUL. + + +In my enumeration of the splendid churches of Paris, it would never do +to omit that of St. Vincent de Paul. It is in the Rue Lafayette, and is +now a Protestant church. + +The approaches to the building are fine, and the structure forms a +parallelogram of two hundred and forty-three feet by one hundred and +eighty. At the southern end, there are two large towers with Corinthian +pilasters. The church stands upon the brow of a hill, and presents a +striking appearance from the streets Lafayette or Hauteville. + +The interior of this church is profusely decorated, and is, in fact, so +richly ornamented as to detract from its beauty. Over the portal, there +is a stained window representing St. Paul surrounded by the sisters of +charity. The choir is semi-circular, and has a fine skylight. A richly +sculptured arch, over sixty feet in height, gives access to it. The +altar-piece is a crucifix on wood. Behind it is a stained window, +representing the Virgin and the Savior. The chapels have also +beautifully stained windows. There are no oil-paintings in St. Vincent +de Paul, but in other respects it is as faulty as the Madeleine. It may +be the result of early education, but I sickened of this excess of +ornament. It was too forced--too unnatural. If I had never entered the +church I should have received a good impression, for its exterior is +everything of which the Ionic order is capable, and its situation is the +finest of any church in Paris. + +I will simply allude to a few of the other churches in Paris. The _Notre +Dame de Lorette_, is a very beautiful church in the street _Fountain +St. George_. It is built in the renaissance style, and the sculptures of +the interior are of the highest order. The gorgeous decorations of the +church are unsurpassed. The interior is one blaze of splendor, and the +feelings inspired by a contemplation of it, are not the ones appropriate +for a place of worship. The choir of the church is fitted up with +stalls, a gilt balustrade separating it from the rest of the nave. The +walls are adorned with rich marbles. The altar is executed in the +highest style of magnificence. Behind it is a piece entitled "The +Crowning of the Virgin," wrought on a background of pure gold. The +Parisians boast a great deal of this church, as a gem of the renaissance +style, and with reason, when it is regarded simply as a work of art, but +the less they boast of it as _a church_, the better. The cost was one +million eight hundred thousand francs. + +_St. Roch_, in the _Rue St. Honore_, was built under the patronage of +Louis XIV. and Anne of Austria, in 1653. The renowned financier, Law, +gave one hundred thousand livres toward its completion. The steps are +high, and from them crowds of people during the revolution saw the +executions which took place but a short distance away. A mob once filled +the steps, and were cleared away by Napoleon's cannon. The duke of +Orleans, and Corneille, the poet, lie buried in it, together with other +distinguished persons. St. Roch is not beautiful in its architectural +decorations, but is, nevertheless, the richest church in Paris. + +_St. Eustache_ is the largest church, except Notre Dame, in Paris, and +is very old. The style is a mixed Gothic. + +The _St. Paul et St. Louis_, is a church built in the Italian style, and +is a fine edifice. + +All the churches of Paris are open every day of the week, from early in +the morning till five or six o'clock. They have bare pews or slips, and +no seats. There are a plenty of chairs which may be had on Sundays and +festival days, for two cents each, of an old woman who attends them. +This custom is a singular one to the American, accustomed as he is to +well-cushioned, and even luxurious pews. The pulpits, too, are nothing +but upright boxes, with a spiral stair-case leading to them--not like our +broad platforms, with rich sofas and tables in front. + +[Illustration: Church of St. Eustache.] + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +LAMARTINE--HORACE VERNET--GIRARDIN--HUGO--JANIN + +LAMARTINE + +[Illustration: LAMARTINE.] + + +Lamartine is a poet, a historian, and a statesman. He has not been +successful in the last-mentioned capacity, but take his qualities +together, he is, perhaps, the most distinguished of living French +authors. + +Alphonse de Lamartine was born on the 21st of October, 1791, at Mecon. +His father was captain in a regiment of cavalry. Refusing to join with +the terrorists in 1794, he fled from Paris into the country with his +wife and two children. But he did not escape the spies of his enemies, +who arrested and put him at once into a dungeon. Some months after, the +terrorists having lost power, he was released. Resolving to provide for +the future peace of his family, he purchased the chateau of Milly, a +spot in the open, and nearly wild country. Lamartine gives us sketches +of his life here. His mother was a good, pious soul, and taught him out +of the old family bible lessons from the sacred scriptures. She often +made visits to the poor, and Alphonse accompanied her on these +benevolent errands, and thus very early in life learned to be gentle and +good. He left the grounds of Milly at eight years of age, to enter the +school of Belley, under the care of the Jesuits. + +He took the prizes with ease, and his teachers discovering that he had a +talent for poetry, encouraged it. His parents took counsel as to what +should be done with their son. The father wished to make a soldier of +him, but the mother was opposed to this plan--she did not care to make a +human butcher of her boy. He paused some time at Lyons, on his return +from school, and afterward he traveled over Italy. He here met a young +man who was an excellent singer, and became quite intimate with him, so +much so, that he often slept upon his shoulder. When the two friends had +arrived at Rome, Lamartine was called down to the breakfast-room one +morning, to behold--_not_ his male companion, but a young woman of +beauty, who greeted him familiarly. It was his friend who had been +traveling in male costume, and who now said blushingly, "Dress does not +change the heart." + +Lamartine went to Naples and his purse ran low, when he chanced to meet +an old classmate who had plenty of money, and together the young men +enjoyed their good fortune. At Naples, Graziella, the daughter of a poor +fisherman, fell in love with the poet. The story of this girl he tells +very touchingly. When he returned home he was welcomed very warmly. The +family had removed to Macon. His mother grew pale and trembling, to see +how long absence and agony of heart had changed her son. She told him +that their fortune had been considerably affected by his travels and +imprudences, and she spoke not by way of reproach, for said she, "You +know that if I could change my tears into gold, I would gladly give them +all into your hands." + +He wished to go to Paris, and his father gave him, for his maintenance, +the moderate sum of twelve hundred francs a year. The mother pitied her +son, and going to her room, she took her last jewel and put it into his +hands, saying, "Go and seek glory!" He took a plenty of recommendations +with him, but was resolved to accept nothing from the emperor. When a +young man he had dreamed of a republic, but now, after coming to Paris, +he became a Bonapartist. He entered the most aristocratic circles, and +changed again to a legitimist. He now made a second voyage to Italy, +following the inclinations of his dreamy nature. During his stay there, +he composed the first volume of his _Meditations_, which afterward won +him so much fame. + +He was on the borders of the gulf of Naples, when he heard of the +establishment of the Bourbon dynasty, and he hastened home and solicited +a place in the army, to the great joy of his father. During the Hundred +Days he threw aside the sword, and would not take it again when Louis +XVIII. regained the throne. + +Lamartine now loved a young woman devotedly, but she died, to his +excessive grief. He was severely ill from this cause, and it wrought a +great change in his character. When recovered from his illness, he +destroyed his profane poetry, and kept only that which bore the impress +of faith and religion. He published his first volume of _Meditations_ +in 1820. He sought in vain two years for a publisher, until at last a +man by the name of Nicoll, as a personal favor, issued the volume. It +made his fortune. France welcomed the new poet as a redeemer, who had +dispelled the materialism of Voltaire. He became an _attache_ of the +ambassador in Tuscany, and there met a young English woman, who was in +love with him before she saw him, from reading his _Meditations_. This +woman he shortly married. She brought him beauty, goodness, and a large +fortune. + +In 1823 the second volume of _Meditations_ appeared, and had the same +success as the first. An uncle died at this time, leaving him a fortune, +and he was now independent of the world. He lived alternately in London +and in Paris, occasionally accepting the post of secretary to a foreign +ambassador, and finally becoming charge d'affaires at an Italian court. +Like almost all the distinguished authors of France, Lamartine fought +his duel. He had written something disparaging to modern Italy, and one +Colonel Pepe, an Italian, challenged him to fight a duel. He accepted +the challenge and was wounded. For six months he hung between life and +death. All Florence condemned with severity the brutal colonel, who had +taken offense at one of the poet's verses, and they came to inquire for +his health every hour of the day, as if he had been a monarch. When he +left Florence, great was their sorrow. In the midst of his diplomatic +labors he continued to write poetry, and on his return to Paris in the +month of May, 1829, he published "_Harmonies Poetiques et +Reliegieuses_," and this book created for him such a reputation, and +gave him so much honor, that in 1830 he was elected a member of the +Academy. + +The government about this time was resolved upon sending a minister +plenipotentiary to Greece, and Lamartine was chosen as the man; but at +the juncture the revolution broke out, and the project fell to the +ground. The poet was discouraged, and went to live in the country, on an +estate bequeathed to him by one of his uncles. He soon became tired of +his quiet life, and took ship at Marseilles, with his wife and his +daughter Julia, for the Orient. The vessel was his own, and he sailed at +pleasure. France lost for a time her brilliant son, but gained there-for +a beautiful book--_Le Voyage en Orient_. It achieved a great success, +and if he would have been content with literary renown, he now could +have wished for nothing more to add to his happiness. While he was +absent in the East, he kept an eye upon the politics of home. + +His daughter Julia was taken very ill at Beyrout, and died. She was +brought back to Marseilles in her coffin. This was a terrible blow to +the poet, who possessed as soft a heart as ever throbbed in the breast +of woman. + +During his absence, the electors of Dunkirk decided to offer Lamartine a +seat in the Chamber of Deputies, and he was elected. Well had it been +for the poet if he had rested satisfied with his literature, but he +entered the field of politics to become distinguished, but to win no +laurels. He was unsuccessful, at first, in the Chamber. He became a +radical, and that party flattered him. They were poor--he was rich and +generous. He gave freely for his party, and found himself almost +penniless. He gave to all who needed, so long as he had anything to +give. At this time a man wrote to him--"I die of hunger." The poet sent +five hundred francs, and begged pardon for not sending more, adding--" +You have all my heart." + +At this time the _History of the Girondins_ appeared, and had a +remarkable success. Lamartine was severely blamed by many for writing +it, but none disputed the wonderful literary merit of the work. The next +revolution came--and Louis Phillippe fled from France. The people +flocked around Lamartine. They had been charmed by his grand words for +humanity; they were now fascinated by his commanding mien and noble +countenance. They thought because he sang sweetly, wrote nobly, that he +was a statesman. They mistook. The author had no talents for +statesmanship, and he fell. He was too ideal--not sufficiently +practical; and he could not hold the position which the populace had +given him. For a short time his ambition--never an impure one--was +gratified, for he saw France turn toward him as a deliverer; but he has +ever since had the bitter reflection that he was unequal to the +occasion, and that he had acted wisely never to have invaded the domain +of politics. + +The history of Lamartine during the revolution of 1848 is everywhere +known, and we need not repeat it. He soon gave up politics forever. +Since that time he has attended only to literature. Recently, he +ventured into speculations, and lost his fortune. I had the good luck to +meet him last June, in the office of the editor of _L'Illustration_, in +the Rue Richelieu. He was in good health, and I was much struck with his +general appearance. He looks to be what he has always been--one of +nature's noblemen. His hair is almost white, but his figure is erect +and noble. He is tall and dignified, and his manners are pleasing. +Lamartine has struggled hard to save from the hands of his creditors his +estate of Saint Point, where the bones of his ancestors lie. Every +autumn he repairs thither with Madame Lamartine, and spends a few months +in the golden quiet of the country. His wife is the angel of his +household, and has proved a treasure far above earthly riches. Both +husband and wife are exceedingly generous. A friend of theirs, who was +very intimate with the family, was so angered at their liberality, that +he one morning entered the house, demanding all the keys, and declaring +that he would for a time take charge of their expenses. They willingly +acceded to his demand. He locked up everything valuable, and left the +house. Soon a sister of charity came, and sought alms for the poor. +Madame Lamartine tried the desk for money--it was locked. She called the +valet and had it broken open, and gave the sister eight hundred francs. +Lamartine smiled, and kissed her for the generous act. The friend +returned and found that there was not money enough left for dinner! + +Lamartine possesses a noble heart, a conscience, and is a christian. He +is a bright example, but alas! a rare one, among the authors of France. + + + + +HORACE VERNET + +[Illustration: HORACE VERNET.] + + +Horace Vernet, the great modern painter of France, was born in the +Louvre on the 30th of June, 1789. The kings of France were in the habit +of giving to distinguished artists a domicile in the Louvre, and the +father of Horace Vernet, at the time of his birth, had apartments in the +palace. He is descended from a dynasty of artists. + +Antoine Vernet, the great-grandfather of Horace, lived in the time of +Mademoiselle de L'Enclos, a very celebrated courtesan, and it is said by +some that he was the author of the portrait of her which exists at this +day, but it is proved that he never left Argnon, where he lived as an +artist. The grandfather of the subject of this sketch--Claude-Joseph +Vernet--studied in Rome, and became a distinguished marine painter under +the reign of Louis XV., who commissioned him to paint a series of +pictures. Carle Vernet, the father of Horace Vernet, was also an artist. +When quite young, he fell violently in love with the daughter of an +opulent furnisher. The marriage was impossible, and his friends, to wean +him from his love, sent him to Italy, where he studied the art of +painting, and took a high prize--but he could not forget the woman he +had loved. In his grief he resolved to give himself up to a monastic +life, and his letters from Italy apprised his friends of that fact. His +father hastened to Italy and brought him back to France, where he at +once acquired distinction as a painter, and was elected a member of the +Academy of Painting. He painted several grand battle-scenes under the +empire, and in 1789 became the father of the Horace Vernet, so justly +distinguished in modern times. + +Horace was taught the art of his father, and he learned to draw at the +same time that he learned to read. In 1793 the family of artists +experienced many dangers, and on the 18th of August, while his father +and Horace were crossing the court of the Tuileries palace, Horace was +shot through the hat, while a ball pierced the clothes of the father. +Carle Vernet was about to hasten from France when new terrors detained +him. His sister had married M. Chalgrin, an architect, who adhered to +the fortunes of the court of Provence. For this, the mob had revenge +upon his beautiful wife, who was thrown into the Abbaye prison. Carle +Vernet hastened to his brother artist, David, who was in favor with the +revolutionists, and who could easily save his sister's life. He +besought David to save his sister, but he coolly replied: + +"She is an aristocrat, and I will not trouble myself about her." She +perished, and the reason was, that in early life she had refused the +matrimonial offers of the painter. + +The youthful Horace was reckoned very beautiful by all his friends, and +especially by his father. He was a model, in fact, and as he grew up, he +showed that he had inherited the artist-genius of his father, and added +to it a wit peculiarly his own. His sallies were often exceedingly +amusing to the people in whose company he chiefly spent his time. He +entered college, and as soon as he had quitted it he was already +distinguished as an artist. Instead of going back to ancient times, he +painted his own age. He was enthusiastic in all his efforts, and +catching the spirit of the times, grew rapidly popular. He did not live +in the past, but in the living present, and endeavored to glorify the +men, deeds, and places of to-day. + +The figure of Vernet was small, his face was fine-looking, his hand +white, and his foot very small. He went to masked balls and arrayed +himself as a woman, and was constantly importuned by suitors. On one +occasion a marshal of France was so pressing in his suit, that he put +himself under the care of his wife, who took the supposed lady home with +her in the family carriage! + +From 1811 to 1815 Vernet appeared at court and was quite popular. He +painted portraits of the different members of the royal family. He was +so celebrated for his drawings, that the editors disputed for them, and +paid him the highest prices. In 1814 he was decorated with the cross of +the Legion of Honor. At the restoration, he for a time was under a +cloud. He was not idle, but such were his subjects that he was shut out +of the Louvre. He, however, executed many paintings, which subsequently +became celebrated. Disgusted with the treatment he received, he +journeyed with his father into Italy. + +The Louvre continued shut against Vernet's pictures, but the peers took +up his cause with great unanimity and enthusiasm. A list of his best +pictures was published and warmly eulogized, and as they could be seen +at his studio, the crowd of artists and critics, and others, wended +their way thither. The painter was recompensed. In the midst of this +crowd, and the confusion necessarily consequent upon their visit, Horace +Vernet went on quietly in his work, in their presence, and executed that +series of grand paintings, which in after years brought him so wide a +renown. The duke of Orleans was his warm friend. He bought many pictures +of him, and ordered himself painted in every style. Charles X. grew +jealous, and concluded it wise to withdraw his persecution of the +artist. He ordered a portrait of himself, and the Louvre was open to +him. + +He now wrought a revolution in the art of painting in Paris, and +established a new school. It was his desire to triumph over David, and +he boasted that he would do so. The public pronounced him the first +painter of the age. Some of his best pictures at this time were painted +at Rome. Upon his return he found his old friend king, under the title +of Louis Philippe. He was, of course, a favorite at court. The king gave +him the use of a studio at Versailles, of a magnificent description, in +which he wrought at great national pictures. He was an indefatigable +worker. He never hesitated to make the longest journey to study the +scene of his pictures. He traveled up and down the Mediterranean, +visited Arabia, Africa, and other distant spots, lived in tents, put up +with privation and suffering, that he might paint from nature. His +memory was so excellent that having once looked upon a spot, nothing was +afterward forgotten; every characteristic of the place was sure to +reappear upon the canvas. The least detail of position or gesture, he +remembered for years with ease. Indeed, his faculty for daguerreotyping +such things upon his mind, was wonderful. He met his friend, the marquis +de Pastorel, one day, who said: + +"How are you, Horace; where have you kept yourself for these two years? +I have not met you for years." + +"You are mistaken," replied the artist; "I met you six months since in +the garden of the Tuileries." + +"You are dreaming," said the marquis. + +"No," said Vernet, "a lady was with you--wait a moment and I will sketch +her face." + +He drew a few hasty lines upon a bit of paper, and lo! the marquis +beheld the face of an intimate lady friend of his, and at the same +instant remembered that he had escorted her across the Tuileries gardens +six months before. + +"It is well for you that you live _now_" said the marquis, "for two +centuries earlier they would have burned you for a sorcerer." + +Horace Vernet has been a great student of the scriptures, and he +maintains that in painting historical scenes from the bible, the +costumes should be such as the Arabians use at this time, and in his +scripture paintings he has followed out this plan. + +In 1834 and 1835 he was principally on the coast of Africa, engaged in +painting. But he returned to his studio at Versailles, and in 1836 +produced several grand battle-pictures. The king desired that he should +fill an entire gallery with his pictures at Versailles, and Vernet went +at his giant work. He occupied six years, and the gallery was called _la +Galerie de Constentine_. The king came into his studio one day, and +offered to make Vernet a peer. The painter declined the honor, saying +"the _bourgeois_ rise--the nobles fall--leave me with the arts." + +He was one day painting _the Siege of Valenciennes_ for the king, when +the latter requested that the painter would represent Louis XIV. as +prominent in the siege. Vernet consulted history, and found that during +the siege the king was three leagues away with one of his mistresses. He +therefore utterly refused to lie upon canvas. The king was very angry, +and several persons were sent to persuade Vernet to consent, _for pay_, +to make the concession. He however remained firm, and picking up his +effects and selling his pictures, started for St. Petersburgh, where he +was received with open arms by Nicholas. While at the Russian court, +Vernet spoke freely his sentiments, and condemned the taking of Poland. +"Bah!" said the Czar, "you look from a French point of view--I from the +Russian. I dare say, now, you would refuse to paint me _the taking of +Warsaw_." + +"No, sire," replied the painter, sublimely; "every day we represent +Christ upon the cross!" + +Louis Philippe sent by his ambassador for Vernet to return to Paris. +"You may paint the Siege of Valenciennes without any Louis XIV. in it, +if you please," he said. The painter was received warmly, and the old +quarrel was forgotten. He at once commenced a picture of immense +size--the taking of Smala, which in eight months he finished. + +The repose of Horace Vernet is in his travels, and he is one of the +greatest of modern travelers. It is said that the Arabian tribes love +and respect him, and that he returns gladly to their society whenever +duty requires it. + +Horace Vernet has been blessed with but one child, a daughter, who +married Paul Delaroche, a distinguished artist. This only child died in +1846. + +In the later revolutions which have passed over France, Vernet has not +participated. He has lived only in his profession and among his personal +friends. He resided for years at Versailles, where he had a splendid +mansion, but he removed to Paris a few years since. He is one of the +greatest of modern artists, and is revered as an honor to the nation. + + + + +EMILE DE GIRARDIN. + +[Illustration: EMILE DE GIRARDIN.] + + +Girardin has been for so many years one of the leading minds of Paris, +has been so distinguished as a journalist, that I have thought a slight +sketch of his life and character would be acceptable to my readers. + +It is said that he never knew the day of his birth, but it occurred in +the year 1802. He does not appear to be as old as he in reality is, for +his forehead is unwrinkled, his eye sparkles with a fascinating fire, +and his hair is not gray. He carries almost always an eye-glass, which +gives him the reputation--undeserved--of impertinence. His manners are +those of a gentleman of the most refined cast, and, as editor of _La +Presse_, he has long wielded a powerful influence over a class of minds. + +Girardin was the illegitimate child of a count of the empire; his +mother, taking advantage of the absence of her husband from France, +conducted herself in a shameful manner with her lovers, and before her +husband had returned, she had presented one of them with the subject of +this sketch. Many scandalous stories have been coined by the enemies of +Girardin respecting his birth, but the facts we have stated are +undeniable. He was placed out at nurse with a woman named Choiseul, who +took illegitimate children to the number of ten, from the wealthy and +high-born, to care for and nurse. Had it not been for the shrewdness of +this old nurse, Girardin would never have known his parents. For a time +they came to see their child, in stolen visits, but gradually their +visits died away, and were finally given up altogether. But the nurse in +her walks about the streets met and recognized the familiar faces of the +parents, and ascertained their condition in life. + +The father was at this time unmarried, but at the instigation of his +master, Napoleon, he wedded a young wife, and soon neglected his +illegitimate child. Fearing that his wife would discover his secret, and +take revenge upon him, he had the boy secretly removed to the care of an +old servant of his, who was furnished with the means to take care of him +and teach him all he knew himself, which was but little. He was strictly +enjoined to call the child _Emile Delamothe_. This occurred in 1814. The +father now thought that he had acquitted himself of his duty to the boy, +and cared no more for him. But he was not blessed in his union--he had +no legitimate children. + +The man into whose care Emile was given, was a harsh man, and gave the +youth no rest from his severe discipline. He allowed him none of the +pastimes of other children, and under this regime he suffered. At +fourteen he had bad health, and a bilious color overspread his face, +which never left it. Seeing that his health was suffering, the master +sent him, under the care of his brother, into Normandy. This brother was +a kind old soul, and gave the boy pleasant words, and a healthy, homely +fare. In the country Emile enjoyed himself heartily. He wandered among +the fields, played among the animals, and slept at night upon a litter +of straw, and grew well again. In his ramblings he was oftenest alone, +and pondered over his wretched fortunes. At eighteen he left the country +for Paris. His first care was to visit his old nurse, and try to +discover the condition of his parents. She could only give him a clew, +but there had been such great changes since he left Paris, that she had +no idea where his father dwelt, if he was alive. Emile then went to see +the old man who first had care of him--his guardian--and plied him with +questions. But he was impenetrable, and would reveal nothing. More than +this--he read the law respecting illegitimate children, to Emile. It was +a heavy blow upon his hopes. His guardian showed him proof of his birth, +and a paper which gave to him, at twenty-one, the command of a small sum +of money, the interest of which had heretofore supported him. In his +anger he tore up the proof of his birth. Perhaps naturally, he at once +took up against the laws of marriage, and became a bitter reformer. He +frequented a reading-room, where he met several literary men who were in +the habit of speaking of their books with pride. Emile was excited to +try his own capabilities, and soon presented to his friends the +manuscript of _Emile_, a story, the principal parts of which were true +records of his own life. The literary friends were at variance in their +criticisms upon the manuscript. Some declared it worthless, and advised +him to get a style, while others praised the effort. Finding no +publisher, our hero learned from a court directory the secret he had +struggled after so long--the address of his father--and sent to him his +story, written in a manner calculated to move the paternal heart. He +received no direct reply, but eight days after, he was presented with an +excellent situation with the secretary of Louis XVIII. Undoubtedly he +was indebted to his father's recommendation for the place. So his +story--afterward published--though it did not appear as he had intended +when he wrote it, was not without its effect. + +His time not being wholly occupied in the bureau, Girardin employed his +spare moments in writing one or two novels, which appeared some time +afterward. He has not been a voluminous author, _Emile_ being his +principal book. But his career has been that of a journalist, and though +he has been everything by turns, yet he has had fame and influence. + +By a turn in the wheel of fortune Girardin lost his place with the +secretary, and went upon the exchange and solicited an humble office for +the purpose of studying the chances there. As soon as he considered +himself fit to decide, he ventured in buying very heavily certain +stocks, and lost nearly all his little property. He was in despair and +wrote to his father, who sent back an unfeeling letter. It is told of +him that he presented himself before his father with a loaded pistol in +either hand, and threatened to shoot him, and then himself, if he would +not give him his name. This tale was undoubtedly invented by his +enemies. He tried to enter the army but was rejected on account of his +sickly appearance. He was go discouraged at this, that he attempted to +commit suicide, and was saved from death as it were by a miracle. He +resolved never again to give way to a similar rashness, and tried once +more to succeed in life. He boldly took the name of Girardin, and though +it was against law, yet his father feared scandal too much to institute +legal measures against him. He now offered his book--_Emile_--to the +publishers. It was eagerly caught up and sold rapidly. In the midst of +his success he went to the minister and demanded employment, naming his +father as reference! This bold application was successful, and he had a +sinecure given him, as a kind of inspector of the fine arts. + +He started a weekly journal with a friend, which was made up of +selections. It was called _The Voleur_, and at the end of a month had a +circulation of ten thousand. It was a dishonest mode of getting money, +as no original writing was given. The name, _Voleur_, means thief. One +of the authors whose writings were often quoted from in the _Voleur_, +loudly remonstrated against the injustice of the procedure, and gaining +no satisfaction, he fought a duel with Girardin, who was wounded in the +shoulder, but the wound was not dangerous. It was not his first duel--he +had fought with pistols in 1825. He withdrew from the conductorship of +the _Voleur_, and under the patronage of the duchess de Berri, started a +new journal, called _la Mode_. It had a great success, but as it waxed +more and more liberal, the duchess repented her patronage, and finally +withdrew it. The act gave the journal three thousand new subscribers. He +foresaw the revolution of 1830, and sold out both his journals, thus +taking excellent care of his property. Under the new _regime_ he started +a weekly paper, which acquired a circulation of one hundred and twenty +thousand copies. He soon fell in love with Madamoiselle Delphine Gay, a +talented and beautiful young woman, and married her. + +After his marriage Girardin for several years turned his attention more +particularly to philanthropic projects, which should benefit the people. +He advocated savings banks, and gave much of his time to their +establishment. He also founded an agricultural school. His wife turned +him somewhat from his political and speculative plans, to more practical +ones of this kind. + +In 1833 he started _le Musee des Familles_, and to get subscribers, he +placarded the walls of Paris with monstrous bills, initiating a nuisance +which has ever since been used by all kinds of impostors. In 1834 he was +elected to the Chamber of Deputies, and a year later he fought his third +duel. + +In 1836 _La Presse_ was established, the journal with which his greatest +fame is connected. In starting this new paper Girardin intended to ruin +all the other Paris journals. His plan was to furnish more matter for +one-half the ordinary price of a journal than the usual dailies gave to +their readers. He made, as he might have expected, bitter enemies out of +his contemporaries. They attacked him, and with such unfairness, and in +such a personal manner, that he flew to the courts for relief, or +revenge. The journalists then accused him of cowardice--of fearing to +trust his reputation to public discussion. It was at this time that he +had his sad and fatal quarrel with Armand Carrel--a brother editor. +Girardin shot Carrel in the groin. He died the next day. Girardin was +wounded in the thigh. The loss of Carrel was deeply felt, and his +funeral was attended by multitudes of the Parisians. For a time Girardin +was exceedingly unpopular in Paris, and his enemies knew well how to +make use of his unpopularity. They attacked him with redoubled severity +and criticised all his questionable acts. He, however, replied to their +fire with so much spirit, and with such terrible bitterness, that they +were in the end if not conquered, willing to let him alone. + +In his journal Girardin defended the throne, and was generally the +friend of good morals. He is accused of signing his own name to all the +most brilliant articles which appeared in his journal, whether he was in +reality the author or not, for the sake of his reputation. He made +enemies in all quarters, but his paper gained an immense circulation. +His wife became his disciple, and rendered him great assistance in his +literary labors. She has rendered her own name illustrious in France by +her writings. She was entirely devoted to her husband, and not only +loved the man but espoused his cause and principles. Whenever her +husband was attacked she resented it, and often used a bitter and witty +pen in his defense. Her verses upon Cavaignac are yet remembered in +Paris. When that general arrested her husband, she flew to his house and +demanded if she were living in the reign of terror. + +"No," replied Cavaignac, "but under the reign of the sword." + +"Attach a cord to your sword and you will be a guillotine!" replied the +intrepid woman. + +The drawing-rooms of Madame Girardin were among the most celebrated of +the French capital. There might be seen the most distinguished authors, +political celebrities, and soldiers of the time, and she was the leading +spirit among them. Her husband rarely condescended to attend their +_reunions_, as he had no taste for society and conversation. In the late +revolutions which have swept over France, Girardin continued to save +himself from exile or imprisonment. The truth is, he always loved money +and power too well to make a sacrifice of himself for the cause of the +people, and his course has been too much that of a demagogue from the +first. His great object, during the latter part of his life, seems to +have been to gain the portfolio of a minister--and without success, for +from the days of the 1848 revolution, his influence rapidly declined. + + + + +VICTOR HUGO + +[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO.] + + +France has given birth to few men, in modern times, who exceed Victor +Hugo in all that is noble and great. He is not simply a man of genius, a +poet, and an orator, he is in its full sense _a man_. Too many of the +brilliant men of France have lacked principle, have been ready to sell +themselves to the highest bidder. It has not been so with Victor Hugo, +and for that reason he is now an exile from the shores of his native +land. His passionately eloquent orations, delivered on various sad +occasions since he was exiled, have awakened the interest of the world, +and people who cared little for him as the successful author, feel a +deep sympathy for the noble exile. + +Victor Hugo was born at Besancon in 1803, and of a rich family. His +father was a general in the service of Joseph Bonaparte, who was then +king of Naples. He followed him into Spain, where he distinguished +himself by his valor. He returned in 1814, and journeyed through Italy. +Victor was then very young, but accompanied his father on his Italian +tour. When but fourteen years old, Victor wrote a poem, to compete with +many older persons for a prize, and though his poem was undoubtedly +deserving of the reward, yet from his extreme youth, only honorable +mention was made of his effort. This early poetical ambition, however, +was an indication of his future career. + +When he was twenty-two years of age, Charles X. gave him an audience, +and Victor Hugo presented his majesty with some of his poetry. The king +handed it to Chateaubriand, who was near, and demanded his opinion. + +"Sire," said he, "the youth has a sublime genius!" + +Hugo was displeased with the judgment of the Academy, which had not +given him the prize for his first verses, and he wrote for an Academy at +Toulouse, won several prizes, and was honored with a degree in the +presence of Chateaubriand. He lived during this time in Paris, with his +mother, who loved him to idolatry, and the affection was as warmly +returned on the part of her son. She was a royalist and suggested his +first poems. When she died he was overwhelmed with grief, and wrote a +sad romance entitled _Han d' Glande_, which was severely attacked by the +critics, many of whom knew his youth. But he triumphed over them all, as +genuine genius is always sure to do. He now fell in love with a +beautiful young girl, named Mademoiselle Foucher, and they married. He +was twenty, and she was but fifteen years of age. They loved each other +fondly, and if they were poor in gold, they were "very rich in virtues." + +The publisher who brought out Hugo's romance, says that he visited the +young family to purchase the second edition, and found them living in a +pleasant little dwelling with two children to grace their fireside. Here +came troops of friends, for Hugo had already made them among the wise +and great. The politicians of the day, Thiers and others, were his +companions. He often took his wife and children and went out to saunter +in the public gardens or on the Boulevards, and wherever they went they +carried happiness with them. + +Hugo was still a royalist. It was more a sentiment than a principle with +him, for he had not yet regarded politics with conscientious study. In +1826 a publisher made a collection of his poems, and issued them in one +volume. It brought him wealth and renown. But though all this while Hugo +was very happy in his family, yet the critics were bitter in their +attacks upon him. He was accused of plagiarism, and especially when a +new romance of his came out, he was accused of stealing it from Walter +Scott. + +The poet lost his first-born, and Madame Hugo took it so much to heart +that he thought it wise to close their residence. Besides, changes had +been made in the street so as to render it less pleasant as a residence. +After one or two changes he finally settled down in the Place Royale, +where he spent many years of his life. This dwelling was furnished to +suit the taste of a poet, and was beautiful in every respect. It was +filled with statues, paintings, and exquisite furniture, and his study, +especially, was a charming apartment. Here his friends came--and they +were numerous as the leaves upon a tree. Young authors flocked to his +rooms and received counsel, and old men came to enjoy his conversation. + +He next published _The Last days of the Condemned, and Notre Dame de +Paris_, which had a fine success, and covered his name with glory in +France. He now wrote _Marion Delorme_ for the theater, but the censor +would not allow it to be played. The king himself was appealed to, and +confirmed the decision of his officer, and it appeared after his fall. +This was the play which Dumas stole. When this play was rejected by the +censor, Hugo wrote another for the theatrical manager who had engaged +it, entitled _Hernani_, which had a splendid success. The opposition +which he met from the actors and actresses was at first great, but he +conquered all obstacles. The king, as if to appease him for the conduct +of his censor, gave him a pension of six thousand francs a year, but he +nobly refused to take a franc of it. + +The success of _Delorme_ was very great, and the Parisian public wept +over it in dense crowds. One peculiarity of Hugo has been, that having +once written a book or play he never recalls a sentence. Not to please +managers, censors, or friends even, has he ever recalled a line, though +it were to save himself from severe penalties. He has always been too +proud and too conscientious to stoop in this way to either the populace +or the government. In the meantime his house was besieged with +publishers and theatrical managers, who besought him to use his pen for +them. + +He wrote, when once at a piece of work, with rapidity, and applied +himself very closely. In writing _Notre Dame_, he was occupied for six +months, and during that time he did not leave his house for a day, such +were the urgent demands of his publisher upon him. He wrote for his +publishers and for the managers and constantly increased his +reputation. _Lucretia Borgia_ appeared on the stage and had an almost +unheard of success. It eclipsed all of his plays which had preceded it. +He also published two or three volumes of songs at this time, which were +enthusiastically received by the French people. He was always the warm +friend of the poor. In 1834 he petitioned the duke of Orleans in favor +of a poor family he chanced to know, and the duke gave a hundred louis +to relieve them. In return the poet addressed the duke in song. + +The manager who had brought out _Lucretia Borgia_ offered him ten +thousand francs for another, and very soon _Marie Tudor_ made its +appearance. There seems to have been trouble in its representation, from +quarrels between rival actors. The manager acted dishonorably toward the +poet. He announced his new play in an objectionable manner. Hugo +complained, and he promised amendment the next day. But when the next +day's announcement came Hugo saw no change, and what was worse still, +the manager tried to deceive him by asserting that the bills were +altered according to his wish. Hugo upbraided him for his falsehood, and +demanded the play back. The manager would not give it up, for he had +announced it. Said he: + +"To-morrow your play will appear, and I will cause it to prove a +failure." + +"Instead of that," replied Hugo, "I will make your theater bankrupt." + +The representation came on, and it proved eminently successful. But Hugo +would not forgive such deception and insolence. He wrote a new +play--_Angelo_--for a rival theater. In vain the old manager offered a +high price for it. In a few months he and his theater were bankrupt, +and he found, too late, that it was unwise to attempt to deceive and +insult a man like Victor Hugo. + +It is said that M. Hugo has a talent of high order for music, and also +for drawing. During the cholera of 1832, he filled an album with +caricatures to amuse his wife and children, and draw their attention +from the dreadful ravages of the epidemic. + +In 1841 Victor Hugo was elected a member of the Academy. Two years later +he was raised to the dignity of peer of the realm. The duke of Orleans +congratulated him upon the event. + +A short time previous to this, Barbes was condemned to death. An +application for a reprieve had been made to the king without being +granted. A sister of Barbes came to Hugo, and besought him to use his +influence with the king. Marie Wirtemburg had just died and the count de +Paris was but a few weeks old. Hugo addressed a few touching lines of +poetry to the king, and with allusions to the dead and the newly born, +besought a pardon. It was instantly granted. + +The history of Hugo from this time forward the whole world knows. He was +an honest and hearty reformer. He was not content with glory as a man of +letters--he wished to be of service to his suffering fellow-men. He was +to a certain extent a communist, and a thorough republican. He hated the +man Louis Napoleon, and was exiled. Belgium would not hold him, nor +London--the latter was too full of smoke and fog to be endured. He said, +after trying London, "The good Lord will not take the sunshine, too, +from us." + +He lives now in the island of Jersey, in a simple English mansion, but +very comfortable. Behind it there is a beautiful garden terminated by a +terrace, upon which the sea lashes its foam when the wind is high. From +the window the sad exile beholds the distant shores of his native +France. + +In his retreat he has occupied himself with literary labors. He has been +writing a volume of poetry to appear in the epic form. He has also been +busy upon a volume of philosophy, a drama of five acts in which Mazarin +is to figure as the principal character, two volumes of lyrical poetry, +and a romance upon a modern subject, for which he has been offered one +hundred and twenty thousand francs. + +Madame Hugo and the children partake of exile with Victor Hugo, together +with ten grandchildren. Charles Hugo, his son, who is with him, is +distinguished as an author, but busies himself principally on the island +in taking daguerreotype views. He has already made a hundred different +pictures of his illustrious father, and sent them to his admirers in +France. + +Victor Hugo is a little over fifty years of age, and is full of life and +animation. Let us hope that by political changes, or the clemency of the +tyrant who sits upon the French throne, that he may soon return to the +land he loves so well. + + + + +JULES JANIN + +[Illustration: JULES JANIN.] + + +"Oh! what a year in which to be born!" exclaims Janin of the year +1804--the year in which Napoleon, conqueror at the Pyramids and Marengo, +placed upon his head the imperial crown--and the year which gave birth +to the prince of French critics--Jules Janin. His parents were poor and +humble, but honest and intelligent, and resided in Saint Etienne, near +Lyons. At Lyons he entered school and became distinguished. At fifteen +he imagined himself well versed in Greek and Latin, and in short, was a +young egotist. His family fostered this self love. An uncle said, "Let +me send the prodigy to college in Paris!" An aunt paid the expenses of +the first year--for he entered the college of Louis-le-Grand. This aunt +loved the boy dearly, and for a week before he left, could not see him, +such was her tenderness. + +The whole family expected great things of him, and thought that his +talents would be immediately recognized. But they were doomed to +disappointment. He gained no prize in college, and no honors. His aunt +had expected that after one year, such were his talents, that the +college would gladly give him the rest of his education, but she was +obliged to support him for two years more. + +He made himself unpopular with his teachers in college from fighting the +Jesuits. When he left college he would not return to Saint Etienne, +where his companions would mock him. He resolved to stay in Paris, even +if he starved. He wrote to his kind old aunt, who at once came to Paris +and made a quiet home for him. But this would not do--the rent of the +house was half her income. He first took a class of pupils and taught +them Latin, Greek, and history. This was a slight addition to their +income. Summer came and his pupils left. He now was forced to engage +with a professor of a boarding-school, at the rate of ten dollars a +month, to teach. The professor was unfortunate and his furniture was +attached, he, at the time, owing Jules for three months' work. He was an +honest and good man, and Jules offered to give him the sum due, though +he had not money enough left to get him a dinner. But he contrived a +plan by which he cheated the law officers of a part of their goods, and +got his pay. He was noted at this time more for his appetite than +anything else, and would sacrifice more for a good dinner, probably, +than for aught else. But in the absence of good living he took to +solitary reading, and acquired a taste for literature. + +He one day chanced to meet a college-friend who was a journalist. + +"I am miserable," said Janin. + +"Become a journalist, then," the friend replied, "if you have not an +income" + +That very night he was invited to dine with his friend, and made his +resolution to live by his pen. He commenced his articles in the +journals, writing at first criticisms upon theatrical performances. He +at once commenced his system of flattering those who paid him well +either in praise or gold, and denouncing authors and actors who were +independent of him. + +His kind aunt now died, after having expended her last franc, and Janin +took up a new residence. He soon acquired such fame in his critical +writings, that he was at ease. He engaged with the _Figaro_ journal, and +contributed powerfully to its success. He was, of course, well paid for +his services. He fell in love with a young girl in humble life. An +artist did the same. The two men quarreled about her, and Janin wrote a +book in which the woman was the heroine. But he was unsuccessful--the +young woman married the painter and was happy. Janin rose to the highest +position as a fashionable critic in Paris, and still he has never +acquired beyond France the reputation of a profound critic and scholar. + +In October, 1841, he was married, and instead of spending a pleasant +evening, he celebrated his marriage by going to his room and writing a +newspaper article, greatly to his prejudice amongst his friends. Of late +it has been remarked, that Jules Janin is less imperious in his +criticisms than he was formerly. He has been very severely reviewed by +Dumas and Roqueplan, and has behaved more wisely since. + +We have not sketched Jules Janin as a great man, but as a man who makes +great pretensions, and who has long been acknowledged, in Paris and +France, as the prince of critics. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +PLACES OF BLOOD--PLACE DE LA CONCORDE. + + +Almost every fine square in Paris has a high-sounding name, For +instance, that spot which has been the theater of so much tragedy, upon +which so much human blood has been poured, is called the _Place de la +Concorde_. It much more appropriately might be called the Place of +Blood. So there are other, many other spots in Paris, which deserve a +scarlet title, and when wandering a stranger through its streets, +whenever I came to one of these, I was strongly inclined to stop and +indulge in reverie. The past history of France and Paris arose before my +mind, and I could not, if I would, away with it. The characters who +acted parts in Paris and perished in those places were before me, and +their histories lent a powerful interest to the spot upon which they +suffered and died. The reader can have no adequate idea of the feelings +with which a stranger visits these places of sad memories, unless he +recalls them to mind, nor will it be out place for me to do so. + +A prison was often pointed out to me in which the celebrated Madame +Roland was confined, and the spot upon which she suffered death. I gazed +long at the grim walls which shut out the sunlight from that noble +woman--long upon the stones which drank her blood in the Place de la +Concorde. Her whole history was as vividly before me as if I were living +in the terrible days of blood. Her maiden name was Manon Philipon, and +her father was an engraver. They lived in Paris, where she grew up with +the sweetest of dispositions, and one of the finest of intellects. Her +mother was a woman of refinement and culture. She was excessively fond +of books and flowers, so much so that many years later she wrote, "I can +forget the injustice of men and my sufferings, among books and flowers." +Her parents gave her good masters, and she applied herself to her +studies with ardor and delight. They were never harsh in their treatment +of her, but always gentle and kind. She acted nearly as she pleased, but +seems not to have been spoiled by such a discipline as we might have +expected. When she was only nine years old, Plutarch fell into her +hands, and she was intensely interested in it--more so than with all the +fairy tales she had ever read. From him she drank in republicanism at +that early age. She also read Fenelon and Tasso. She spent nearly the +whole of her time in reading, though she assisted her mother somewhat in +her household duties. The family belonged to the middle-classes, and +despised the debaucheries of the higher and lower orders of the people. +The mother was pious, and Manon was placed for a year in a convent. She +then spent a year with her grandparents, and returned to her father's +house. Her course of reading was very much enlarged, and her attention +was now specially directed to philosophical works. She was thus a great +deal alone, and gave little of her time to gossip and promenade. She +went, however, once to Versailles, and saw the routine of court, but +returned with a great delight to her old books and the heroes in them. +She was dissatisfied with France and Frenchmen. She says: "I sighed as I +thought of Athens, where I could have equally admired the fine arts +without being wounded by the spectacle of despotism. I transported +myself in thought to Greece--I was present at the Olympic games, and I +grew angry at finding myself French. Thus struck by all of grand which +is offered by the republics of antiquity, I forgot the death of +Socrates, the exile of Aristides, the sentence of Phocion." + +She began, at last, to repine at her situation. She felt conscious of +her abilities, and that her thoughts were high and noble, and she longed +for a higher position, in which she might use her talents. Her father +grew more and more poor and unable to care for his family, and her +mother was anxious that she should be married. She did not lack offers. +She was beautiful and accomplished, and many suitors presented +themselves, but not one whom she could love. Her mother now died, to her +great sorrow. She now persuaded her father to retire from the business +which he was ruining, and save the little property he had left, and she +retired to a little convent. She prepared her own food, lived very +simply, and saw only her own relations. + +It was about this time that Manon became acquainted, through a +school-friend, with M. Roland, who was the younger son of a poor, but +noble family, and whose lot in life was not an easy one. He was now +considerably advanced in years, and was superintendent of the +manufactories at Rouen and Amiens. He had written several works upon +these subjects, and was somewhat celebrated. She took great pleasure in +his society, and after five years of friendship, respected, and perhaps +loved him. He offered himself and was finally accepted. She says: "In +short, if marriage was as I thought, an austere union, an association in +which the woman usually burdens herself with the happiness of two +individuals, it were better that I should exert my abilities and my +courage in so honorable a task, than in the solitude in which I lived." + +The married couple visited Switzerland and England, and then settled +down near Lyons, with her husband's relations. She had one child--a +daughter--and her life and happiness consisted in taking care of her and +her husband. She thus gives a beautiful picture of her life: + +"Seated in my chimney corner at eleven, before noon, after a peaceful +night and my morning tasks--my husband at his desk, and his little girl +knitting--I am conversing with the former, and overlooking the work of +the latter; enjoying the happiness of being warmly sheltered in the +bosom of my dear little family, and writing to a friend, while the snow +is falling on so many poor wretches overwhelmed by sorrow and penury. I +grieve over their fate, I repose on my own, and make no account of those +family annoyances which appeared formerly to tarnish my felicity." + +The revolution came amid all their sweet and quiet pleasure, but found +her ready for it. M. Roland was elected to the National Assembly, to +represent Lyons. The family at once repaired to Paris, and the house of +Roland was at once the rendezvous for the talented, the men of genius, +but more especially the Girondists, as the more conservative of the +republicans were called. The genius and beauty of Madame Roland soon +became known, and made her house the fashionable resort of the _elite_ +of Paris. The arrest of the king filled her with alarm. She was not +willing to push matters to such extremes. She was one of the noblest of +republicans, out she was merciful and moderate in some of her views. Her +husband again retired to the country--to-Lyons. Amid the solitude of +their own home she grew discontented. She could not, having tasted the +sweets of life in Paris, abandon it without a pang of sorrow. The +following winter a new ministry was formed of the Girondists, and her +husband was named minister for the interior. They again returned to +Paris, and now in greater state. Roland was one of the most honest men +of the revolution, but was so precise and methodical in his papers which +were prepared for the public, that without the assistance of his wife, +his success would have been far less than it was. + +M. Roland wishing to save the king, if possible, determined upon +remonstrating with him upon his course. Madame Roland wrote the letter +of remonstrance, though, of course, it appeared in his name. It was bold +and severe, and accomplished no good. The result of it was, that Roland +was dismissed from the office, and retired to private life. Soon after, +however, he was recalled under the republic, and endeavored to do his +duty. Madame Roland writes in September of this year: "We are under the +knife of Marat and Robespierre. These men agitate the people and +endeavor to turn them against the National Assembly." She and her +husband were heartily and zealously for the republic, but they were +moderate, and entirely opposed to those brutal men who were in favor of +filling Paris and France with blood. Madame Roland writes, later: +"Danton leads all; Robespierre is his puppet; Marat holds his torch and +dagger: this ferocious tribune reigns, and we are his slaves until the +moment when we shall become his victims. You are aware of my enthusiasm +for the revolution: well, I am ashamed of it; it is deformed by monsters +and become hideous." Madame Roland now struggled to overthrow the +Jacobins--but was only overthrown herself. She was at this time +celebrated for her wit and beauty. A writer of that time says of her: + +"I met Madame Roland several times in former days: her eyes, her figure, +and hair, were of remarkable beauty; her delicate complexion had a +freshness and color which, joined to her reserved yet ingenuous +appearance, imparted a singular air of youth. Wit, good sense, propriety +of expression, keen reasoning, _naive_ grace, all flowed without effort +from her roseate lips." + +During the horrible massacres of September Roland acted with great +heroism. While the streets of Paris ran with human blood, he wrote to +the mayor, demanding him to interfere in behalf of the sufferers. Marat +denounced him as a traitor, and from that moment his life was in danger. +Madame Roland was charged with instigating the unpopular acts of her +husband by the radicals, and she was in equal danger with her husband. +After the execution of the king, Roland became discouraged, and +convinced that he could do no more for France, and he retired with his +wife to the country. Here they lived in constant danger of arrest. +Roland finding the danger so great, made good his escape, but she was +arrested a short time after. She had retired to rest at night, when +suddenly her doors were burst open and the house filled with a hundred +armed men. She was instantly parted from her child and sent off to +Paris. One of the men who had her in charge, cried out, "Do you wish the +window of the carriage to be closed?" "No, gentlemen," she replied, +"innocence, however oppressed, will never assume the appearance of +guilt. I fear the eyes of no one, and will not hide myself." + +She was shut up in prison at once. She asked for books--for Plutarch, +and Thompson's Seasons. On the 24th of June she was liberated, and then +suddenly rearrested. This deception was more than cruel, it was +infamous. She was placed in the prison of St. Pelaige--a filthy and +miserable place. The wife of the jailor pitied her and gave her a neat, +upper apartment, and brought her books and flowers, and she was +comparatively happy again. It was in this prison that she wrote her own +memoirs. She usually kept a stout heart, but at times when thoughts of +her husband and child came over her, she was overwhelmed with grief. + +The chief Girondists now began to fall under the stroke of the +guillotine, and her turn was quickly coming. The day that her friend +Brissot perished, she was transferred to the _Conciergerie_ the prison +which suggested this sketch of her to my mind. I went over this prison, +and the very apartment was pointed out to me in which Madame Roland was +confined. Here she spent her last days, and wretched days they were, +indeed. But she conducted herself nobly and courageously through all. +The mockery of a trial was held, and she wrote her own defense, a most +eloquent production. She was sentenced to death in twenty-four hours. +Twenty-two victims had just poured out their blood, and she was to +follow their example. A French writer speaks of her at that time as +"full of attractions, tall, of an elegant figure, her physiognomy +animated, but sorrow and long imprisonment had left traces of melancholy +on her face that tempered her natural vivacity. Something more than is +usually found in the eyes of woman, beamed in her large, dark eyes, full +of sweetness and expression. She often spoke to me at the grate, with +the freedom and courage of a great man. This republican language falling +from the lips of a pretty French woman, for whom the scaffold was +prepared, was a miracle of the revolution. We gathered attentively +around her in a species of admiration and stupor. Her conversation was +serious, without being cold. She spoke with a purity, a melody, and a +measure which rendered her language a soul of music of which the ear +never tired. She spoke of the deputies who had just perished with +respect, but without effeminate pity; reproaching them even for not +having taken sufficiently strong measures. Sometimes her sex had +mastery, and we perceived that she had wept over the recollection of her +daughter and husband." + +She was led out to execution on the 10th of November, on that place of +blood--_La Concorde_. She was dressed in white, and inspired the +multitudes who saw her with admiration. Another victim accompanied her. +She exhorted him to ascend first, that his courage might not be shaken +by witnessing her death. She turned to the statue of Liberty, +exclaiming, "Oh, Liberty! how many crimes are committed in thy name." +She was thirty-nine years of age, and though she ended her life thus +young, she had achieved immortality. + +M. Roland was at this time in safety in Rouen, but when he heard of the +death of his noble wife, he resolved to give himself up at once to the +authorities. The interests of his child, however, tempted him to another +course. Should he give himself up he would certainly perish, and by the +law of France his possessions would be confiscated, and would not, +therefore, descend to his child. Were he to die, even by his own hand, +the case would be different--he would save the property for his child. +Five days after his wife perished upon the scaffold, he fell upon his +sword on a high road near Rouen. The following lines were found upon his +person: + +"The blood that flows in torrents in my country dictates my resolve: +indignation caused me to quit my retreat. As soon as I heard of the +murder of my wife, I determined no longer to remain on an earth tainted +by crime." + +I had occasion often while in Paris to cross the street of the _Ecole de +Medicine_. It is a rather pleasant street, and leads into the street of +_Ancienne Comedie_, named so after the _Theater Francaise_, which was +formerly located upon it. Just opposite it is a _cafe_ which Voltaire +used to frequent, and I have stopped to take a cup of chocolate in it. +But one day I hunted up number eighteen of the street of _Ecole de +Medicine_. The house was one which Marat used to occupy in the time of +the great revolution. We paused a moment upon the threshold, and then +passed up a flight of stairs and entered the room where Marat used to +write so many of his blood-thirsty articles. A little room at that time +opened out of it, and in the apartment was a bath-room. He often wrote +in his bath in this room. + +The last day Marat lived, was the 13th of July, 1793, and it was spent +in this little room. He was the monster of the revolution, loved the +sight of blood as a tiger does, and his influence over the multitude +gave him power to sacrifice whoever he pleased. If he but pointed his +long finger at a man or woman, it was death to the victim. No one was +safe. Under his devilish prompting, already some of the truest +republicans in France had been beheaded, and every hour some unfortunate +man or woman fell beneath his hellish ferocity. Should a fiend be +allowed to personate liberty longer? Should a wretch whose very touch +scorched and blistered, whose breath was that of the lake of fire, any +longer be allowed to pollute France with his presence? These were the +questions which presented themselves to the mind of a young +country-girl. Who would have thought that the young and beautiful +Charlotte Corday would have taken it upon herself to answer these +questions and avenge the murdered innocents? + +She had learned to love, to adore liberty, among the forests and hills +of her native country. She saw Marat perpetrating murders of the +blackest die in the name of liberty. He went further still, he +sacrificed her friends--the friends of liberty. She resolved that _the +wretch should die_. No one could suspect the dark-haired girl. +Enthusiastic to madness, she flew to Paris with but one thought filling +her breast--that she was amid the terrors of that time, in the absence +of all just law, commanded by God to finish the course of Marat. +Everything bent to this idea. She cared nothing for her own +life--nothing for her own happiness. She came to the threshold of the +house many a time and was turned away--she could not gain admittance. +Marat's mistress was jealous of him, and Charlotte Corday had heard of +this and feared that it would be impossible to see him alone. She +therefore wrote to the monster, and with great eloquence demanded a +private interview. The request was granted. + +On the morning of the 13th of July she came in person, and Marat ordered +that she be shown into his room. He lay in his bath, with his arms out +of water, writing. He looked up at her as she entered, and asked her +business. She used deception with him, declaring that some of his +bitterest enemies were concealed in the neighborhood of her country +home. She named, with truth, some of her dearest friends as these +enemies. "They shall die within forty-eight hours," said Marat. This was +enough--in an instant she plunged a dagger, which she had concealed +about her person, to the center of his heart. + +She was executed for this deed upon the _Place de la Concorde_. They +tell the story in France, to show how modest she was, that after her +head had fallen from the body a rough man pushed it one side with his +foot, _and her cheeks blushed scarlet_. Marat was interred with great +pomp in the Pantheon, but a succeeding generation did better justice to +his remains, for they were afterward, by order of government, +disinterred and thrown into a common sewer. I scarcely ever stopped on +the _Place de la Concorde_ without thinking of Charlotte Corday, and +bringing up the dreadful scene in Marat's house, and her own execution. +I fancied her as she appeared that day--a smile upon her face, a wild +enthusiastic joy in her eyes, as if she had executed her task, and was +willing, glad, to leave such a horror-stricken land. No man can doubt +the purity of Charlotte Corday's character. She was no ordinary +murderer. She did not act from the promptings of anger, or to avenge +private wrongs. She felt it to be her duty to rid France of such an +unnatural monster, and undoubtedly thought herself God's minister of +vengeance. + +Another spot which may justly be denominated a place of blood, is the +Conciergerie. It is yet as grim and awful as ever, in its appearance. +The spot is still shown in the stones where the blood ran from the +swords of the human butchers. If the history of this prison were +written, it would make a dozen books, and some of the most heart-rending +tragedies would be unfolded to the world. The great and good, and the +wretchedly vile, have together lived within its walls and lost their +hopes of life, or their desire for it. I could never pass it without a +shudder, for though it was not so much a place of execution as a +prison, yet so terrible a place was it that many a prisoner has +joyfully emerged from its dark walls to the scaffold. It has witnessed +the death of many a poor man and woman, stifled with its foul air, its +horrid associations, and the future with which it terrified its inmates. +Many a noble heart has been broken in its damp and dimly-lighted cells, +for it has existed for many centuries. As early as 1400 it was the scene +of wholesale butchery, and on St. Bartholomew's night, its bells rang +out upon the shuddering air, to add their voice with the others, which +filled every heart with fear. + +Paris is one of the most singular cities in the civilized world for one +thing--for the atrocities which it has witnessed. Certainly, in modern +times no city in the world has been the scene of such hideous acts as +the city of the fine arts. Deeds have been done within a century, which +would put a savage to the blush. The place is still pointed out where a +poor girl was burned by a slow fire. She had wounded a soldier, and as a +punishment, she was stripped naked, her breasts cut off, her skin +slashed by red hot sabres, while she was being burned. Her yells could +be heard over half Paris. + +Think, too, of later times--when Louis Napoleon aimed his cannon at the +houses of inoffensive people, and shot down, in cold blood, some of the +best inhabitants of Paris. A more hellish act was never perpetrated in +this world of ours than that--yet he is the patron of modern +civilization, and is on excellent terms with the amiable Queen Victoria. +I do not wonder that Rousseau argued that the primitive and savage +condition of man is to be preferred to French civilization. This is one +phase of Paris life as it is to-day, and as it always has been, and it +is right that the stranger should not pass it by. + +Paris is crowded with such places as these I have been describing--spots +to which bloody histories cling. The paving-stones are, as it were, red +to this day with the blood they drank in the times of the revolution. + + * * * * * + + + + +PLACE DE LA CONCORDE. + + +There is no public square or place in the world, which in broad +magnificence surpasses the _Place de la Concorde_. The stranger can form +little idea of it, except by personal inspection. Stand in the center +and look which way you will, something grand or beautiful greets the +eye. Look toward the south, and see the fine building which contains the +senate chamber, the bridge over the Seine, and the _Quai de Orsay_. To +the north, and see the row of buildings named Place de la Concorde, with +their grand colonnades and the pretentious Madeleine. To the east, and +there the green forest of the Tuileries gardens, with its rich array of +flowers and statuary--and the palace--greets you, and farther away the +grand towers of Notre Dame. Or look where the sun sets--the Elysian +fields are all before you with their music and dancing and shows; their +two long promenades, and in the distance Napoleon's grand triumphal +arch. + +To look at the Place de la Concorde itself, you should stand upon the +bridge across the Seine--from its center look down upon the great open +_plaza_, see the wonderful fountains, gaze up at the obelisk of Luxor in +the center, and you will be struck with admiration of the grand scene +before you. + +But I confess that I was attracted to the Place de la Concorde more by +the historical associations connected with it, than by its present +magnificence. Leaning upon the parapet of the bridge and looking down +upon the Seine, a pleasant July morning was present to my imagination, +and a crowd was gathered upon the place to witness an execution. The +slight form of a beautiful woman passes up yonder winding steps to the +block. Her hair is dark--not so dark, though, as her genius-lighted eyes +-and her forehead is white and nobly pure. She kneels, bows down her +head to the block, and is forever dead. It was Charlotte Corday, the +enthusiast, who assassinated Marat in his bath. I have seen the place +where she killed him--have looked at the very threshold where she waited +so long before she gained admittance. The house is standing yet, and the +room where Marat lay in his bath writing--where he looked up from his +manuscript at Charlotte Corday and promised death to some of her dearest +friends in a provincial town--where she plunged her dagger to the center +of his black heart! + +It was on the Place de la Concorde that Louis XVI expiated the crimes of +his ancestors upon the scaffold. One still October day the sweet though +proud Marie Antoinette came here, also, to die. The agony that she +suffered during her trial, and the day that she perished upon the +scaffold, no human thought can reckon. The French revolution taught a +fearful lesson to kings and queens; that if they would rule safely, it +must be through the hearts of their subjects, otherwise the vengeance of +an insulted and oppressed people will be sure to overtake them. + +One April day, amid sunshine and rain, that man of dark eyes, lofty +brow, and proud stature, the magnificent Danton, walked up the fatal +steps and knelt down to death. How strange! The man before whose nod +all Paris had trembled as if he had been a god--the man whose eloquence +could thrill the heart of France, was now a weak creature beneath the +iron arm of Robespierre. He had sentenced hundreds to death upon this +spot, and was now condemned himself, by his old associate, to taste the +same bitter cup which he had so often held to the lips of others. This +act alone will fix the stain of ferocious cruelty upon the character of +Robespierre, however conscientious he may have been. + +And here, too, on that same day, Camille Desmoulins, the mad author and +revolutionist-editor, ended his young life. Many a time with his +comic--yet sometimes awfully tragic--pen, had he pointed with laughter +to the Place de la Concorde, and its streams of human blood. And now the +strange creature who one day laughed wildly in his glee and another was +all tears and rage, followed Danton, the man he had worshiped, to the +block. Robespierre was his old friend, he had written his praises upon +many a page, yet now he stood aloof, and raised not a hand to save the +poor editor, though he besought his aid with passionate eloquence. + +Three months later, and the Place de la Concorde witnessed the closing +scene of the revolution. On the 28th of the following July, Robespierre +and St. Just perished together on the scaffold. He whose very name, +articulated in whispers, had made households tremble as with a +death-ague, had lost his power, and was a feeble, helpless being. Cruel, +stern, without a feeling of mercy in his heart, awful to contemplate in +his steel severity, he was, after all, almost the only man of the +revolution who was strictly, sternly, rigidly honest. No one can doubt +his integrity. He might have been dictator if he would, and saved his +life, but the principles which were a part of his very nature, would not +allow him to accept such power, even from the people. His friends plead +with streaming eyes; it was a case of life or death; but he said, +"Death, rather than belie my principles!" and he perished. + +As I looked down upon the very spot where stood the scaffold, and saw +that all around was so peaceful, I could hardly realize that within half +a century such a terrible drama had been enacted there--a drama whose +closing acts illustrate the truth of that scripture which saith, "Whoso +taketh the sword shall perish by the sword." + +Louis XVI. first ascends the scaffold, looking mournfully at Danton, but +saying never a word; and then Vergniaud, the pure of heart, executed by +his friend Danton; then Danton, thinking remorsefully of Vergniaud and +cursing Robepierre; and last, Robespierre! + +The Place de la Concorde was originally an open spot, where were +collected heaps of rubbish, but in 1763 the authorities of the city of +Paris determined to clear it up and erect upon it a statue in honor of +Louis XV. The statue was destroyed by the populace in 1792, and the +place named _Place de la Revolution_. In 1800 it took the name it at +present retains. In 1816 Louis XVIII. caused the statue of Louis XV. to +be replaced, though still later that of Louis XVI. was erected here, and +the former placed in the Champs Elysees. + +The obelisk of Luxor is perhaps the most prominent feature of the place. +It is a magnificent relic of Egypt, and is one of two obelisks which +stood in front of the temple of Thebes. It was erected fifteen hundred +and fifty years before Christ, by Sesostris, in the eighteenth Egyptian +dynasty. Mehemet Ali made a present of the obelisk to the French +government. On account of its enormous size, great difficulty was +experienced in removing it to Paris. A road was constructed from the +obelisk to the Nile, and eight hundred men were occupied three months in +removing it to the banks of the river, where was a flat-bottomed vessel +built expressly for it. A part of the vessel had to be sawed off to +receive it, so great was its size. It descended the Nile, passed the +Rosetta bar, and with great care was towed to Cherbourg. It must be +remembered that the obelisk is a single stone, seventy-two feet high, +and weighs five hundred thousand pounds. On the 16th of August, 1836, it +was drawn up an inclined plane to the top of the pedestal where it now +stands. In the following October, the public ceremony of placing it +occurred, in the presence of the royal family, and more than a hundred +and fifty thousand other persons. + +[Illustration: Place de la Concorde.] + +The cost of removal from Thebes to Paris was two millions francs, but +not a life was lost from the beginning to the end of the transaction. It +stands upon a single block of gray granite, the total height of obelisk +and pedestal being about a hundred feet. + +There are two fountains upon the Place, dedicated, one to Maritime, the +other to Fluvial navigation. The basin of each is fifty feet in +diameter, out of which rise two smaller ones, the latter inverted. Six +tall figures are seated around the larger basins, their feet resting on +the prows of vessels, separated from each other by large dolphins which +spout water into the higher basins. But the beauty of the Place de la +Concorde is not so much the result of any one feature as the combination +of the whole, and as such it is unequaled in Europe. + +From the Place de la Concorde one has a fine view of the Arch of +Triumph, which was erected by Napoleon in honor of his great victories. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE LOUVRE--PUBLIC GARDENS--LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS--THE GOBELINS. + +THE LOUVRE. + + +The subject is hackneyed and old--what can _I_ say about the Louvre +which will be new to the reader? However, to write a book on Paris, and +make no mention of the Louvre, would be like acting the play of Hamlet, +with Hamlet omitted. I make no pretensions to critical skill in +reference to paintings or architecture, I only give the impressions of a +man who loves both when they seem beautiful to him. I am no such art +enthusiast that I love to wander through galleries of naked and sensual +pictures, though they do show great genius. Nor can the glitter and +grandeur of a thousand public buildings hide from my eyes the squalor +and wretchedness of the common people. + +I will not give a precise description of the Louvre, but record the +things which struck me most forcibly. + +The foreigner by showing his passport is admitted any day into the +Louvre, though certain days are specified for the public to enter, and +upon others the artists of Paris are busy in studying and copying the +works of the masters. + +[Illustration: THE LOUVRE.] + +It was one of those days, when the Louvre was occupied by the artists, +that I presented my American passport at one of the entrances, and was +politely invited to pass in. My companion was a French artist, who +had kindly offered to guide me over the renowned collection of +paintings. The visit was much pleasanter to me from the fact that no +crowd of visitors was present, and it was a novel sight to behold the +young artists of Paris engaged in their work. I have mentioned in +another part of this book that no pictures of living artists are allowed +a place in the Louvre. The Luxembourg Gallery is the place for all such, +and the Louvre collection is therefore made up of paintings from the +hands of all the old masters. It is for this reason that the Parisian +artists fill the rooms of the Louvre so constantly--either to copy some +gem in the vast collection, or by practice, to catch some of the genius +of the master-hand. + +The first picture-room we entered is represented to be the finest for +the exhibition of pictures in the world. Its splendor was really very +great. The pictures in it are of immense size, and they require a strong +and clear light. It is called the Grand Saloon, and is divided by +projecting arcades which are supported by fine marble columns. The +length is one thousand three hundred and twenty-two feet, and the +breadth forty-two feet. The ceilings and the walls are completely +covered by pictures, the number of them being one thousand four hundred. +Those by French masters number three hundred and eighty, by the Flemish +and German five hundred and forty, and by the Italian four hundred and +eighty. The greater part of the collection was made by Napoleon, and +though many of the finest pictures were taken away by the allies in +1815, yet it is still one of the largest collections in the world. To +stand in this room and gaze at leisure upon some of the finest paintings +in the world, was a delight I had never before felt. It is +indescribable, yet it was none the less real. I could not, as my friend +the artist did, point out the peculiar excellences of each, and the +faults, nor compare one with another critically, but I could feel the +same thrill of pleasure which he did, and I found that the picture which +he declared to be the finest, was that before which I delayed longest. +It certainly is no more necessary for a man to be an art-critic to love +pictures, than it is to be a botanist to love flowers. I admit that one +must be a critic, to a degree, to _thoroughly_ appreciate the art of +painting, but that is another thing. The common people in France are +universally fond of pictures, much more so than the English. The +Americans are next to the French in ideality, notwithstanding their +great practicality. The common people of England are far behind those of +America in their fondness for the beautiful--at least I judge so from a +pretty fair experience. America as yet, to be sure, can show few works +of art, but the vast number of enlightened Americans who continually +visit Europe, and many for the purpose of seeing the grand and beautiful +in art, tells the story. The English upper-classes are undoubtedly +well-educated in art, but not the other classes. But I must not digress. + +The second room we visited was the _Salle des Bijoux_, and was entirely +occupied by vases, jewels, and rare and costly cups. I was much pleased +with an Arabian basin of splendid workmanship. There were also articles +of toilette given by the ancient republic of Venice to Marie de Medicis, +one casket alone being worth many thousands of dollars. + +The next apartment we entered contains copies of Raphael's frescoes in +the Vatican at Rome; but the next room interested me more, for it +contains Grecian statuary and antiquities. The southern part of Italy +and Etruria, Herculaneum and Pompeii, are all represented in the +collection. One striking feature of this hall is, that the ceilings are +covered with paintings of the best artists. One represents Vesuvius +receiving fire from Jupiter to consume Herculaneum and Pompeii; another, +Cybele protecting the two cities from the fires of Vesuvius. + +The _Hall du Trone_, which we next visited, contained a great variety of +beautiful pictures. One is a representation of the Genius of Glory +supported by Virtue, with a scroll on which are written the names of the +heroes of France--the warriors, statesmen, and great writers. There are +in this apartment many exquisite vases, and among them four of Sevres +porcelain, and one of Berlin porcelain, a present from the king of +Prussia. There are, also, two very fine Chinese side-boards and +specimens of Chinese sculpture. + +We next looked into the _Musee Egyptian_, which contains Egyptian +curiosities, and the ceilings are painted, but, of course, by modern +authors, as they are executed not upon canvas, but upon the hard +ceiling. One of the paintings represents Egypt as being saved by +Joseph--another, and one of the finest of the ceiling decorations in the +Louvre, is by Horace Vernet. It represents Julian II. giving orders to +Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Bramante to construct St. Peters. + +The _Galerie Francaise_ is filled with paintings of the French school, +but none of them are by living painters. Many of them are unquestionably +fine specimens of art, but as they were principally portraits of men +more distinguished by their position than by any genius, I was not +interested in the collection. + +Very near the French gallery, there is an alcove in which Henry IV. used +often to sleep, and where he at last died. His portrait is now +exhibited in it. In another little recess the suit of armor which Henry +II. wore on the day of his death, is shown to the stranger. It was in +the year 1559. The day was very hot and the king let down his helmet for +fresh air. The royal party were engaged in a tournament, when the +tilting-spear of the count de Montgomerie pierced the king's eye, and +through it his brain, and he died. + +The Spanish gallery contains many fine specimens of the works of the +Spanish masters, Velasquez, Murillo, and others. + +The Standish Collection is so called, because it was given to Louis +Phillippe in 1838, by an Englishman by the name of Standish. It includes +many first-class paintings, and a bible once owned by Cardinal Ximenes, +now valued at twenty-five thousand francs. Before Louis Phillippe died, +he claimed this collection as his private property. He had no intention +of taking it away, but wished to test his claim to it. It was +acknowledged, and he then bequeathed it to the Louvre. + +It is impossible for me in a brief sketch to even mention _all_ the +apartments in the Louvre, and I must pass by many. The upper floor is +devoted to a Marine museum. It contains fourteen rooms, all well-filled +with curiosities. Among them I noticed some excellent models of brigs, +ships, men-of-war, Chinese junks, etc. There is in this suite of rooms a +fine display of American curiosities. It first struck me that Colton's +collection must be before me, but I soon discovered my mistake. + +The Louvre contains a spacious museum of antiquities beneath the +painting-galleries. There is also a museum of modern sculpture on the +ground-floor. It contains the finest specimens of French sculpture, as +well as the master-pieces of foreign sculptors. In the first room there +is one of Michael Angelo's best pieces--the Master and his Slave. It is, +indeed, a master-piece. One of Canova's pieces--a Cupid and a +Psyche--thrilled me with its exceeding beauty. + +But I must say a few words respecting the building of the Louvre. The +eastern facade is one of the finest specimens of architecture that any +age can boast. The colonnade is composed of twenty-eight Corinthian +columns. There is a gallery behind them in which you may promenade, +looking out upon the streets below. The southern front of the Louvre, +seen from one of the bridges of the river, with its forty Corinthian +pilasters and sculptures, is a magnificent sight. + +The building of the Louvre forms a perfect square, and after visiting +the different galleries, the stranger will find that he has completed +the circuit. The gateways are fine and richly ornamented with +sculptures, and the court is a pleasant one. Each side of the building +measures four hundred and eight feet. + +In the year 1200, Phillip Augustus used a castle which existed on the +present site of the Louvre, for a state prison. Charles V. made +additions to the building and placed the Royal Library in it. The +present building was begun by Francis I., in 1528, and the southern side +of the Louvre as it now exists was his work. Henry II., Henry IV., and +Louis XIII., successively added to it, and in still later time, Louis +XIV., Louis XV., Charles X., Louis Phillippe, and Napoleon III., have +done the same. + +Charles X. stood in one of the windows of the Louvre overlooking the +Seine, and fired upon the poor victims of the massacre of St. +Bartholomew. In July, 1830, the people made a terrible attack upon it, +and it was courageously defended by the Swiss Guards, until everyone +of them perished. + +The Louvre is one of the noblest piles in Europe, and as a +painting-gallery, it reflects great credit upon France. I used to +frequent it, yet I must, to be honest, confess that many of its pictures +are too sensual and licentious to suit my taste. Are such pictures as +can be found in the French gallery, pictures which express sensuality +and debauchery, productive of good? + +Is it well to look at so much nakedness, even if it be executed with the +highest art? In portions of the Louvre there is altogether too much +nakedness, and I humbly hope that American ladies will never get so +accustomed to such sights that they can stare at them in the presence of +gentlemen without a blush. I now allude to the most licentious pictures +in the collection. I saw French women stop and criticise pictures which +I could not look at, in their presence, at least--pictures which +exhibited the human form in a state of nudity, and at the same time +expressed the most shameful sensuality and portrayed the most licentious +attitudes. I cannot believe a woman of perfectly pure mind can delight +to look at such pictures in a public gallery. But this nakedness is all +of a piece with many other things which characterize French society, and +but shows the corrupt state of the morals of the French people. + +[Illustration: JARDIN DES TUILLERIES.] + + + + +PUBLIC GARDENS. + + +The gardens of Paris are almost numberless. Some of them are free, and +others are open only to those who pay an entrance fee. The latter class +is great in numbers, from the aristocratic _Jardin d' Hiver_ down to La +Chaumiere. In the first you meet the fashionable and rich, and in the +last, the students with their grisettes, and the still poorer classes. +But I will not describe this class of gardens in this article. + +The Tuileries gardens are perhaps as aristocratic as any in Paris, if +that term can be appropriately applied to a _free_ garden, and they are +certainly among the finest in the world. They are filled with statues +and fountains, trees and flowers. The western part is entirely devoted +to trees, almost as thickly planted as our American forests. The care +which is taken of this grove of trees surprised me, and I think would +any new-world visitor. The trees grow closely to the southern wall of +the gardens, yet do not protrude their branches over the line of the +wall. The sight is a singular one from the banks of the Seine, outside +the walls of the garden, for the whole grove looks exactly as if it had +been _sheared_ like a hedge. The branches have been so cared for and +trimmed, that the side presented is perfectly even and a mass of green. +Still this, though curious, is not beautiful. Trees need to grow +naturally for that. Art cannot surpass nature in this way. The grove is +full of beauty. Walks run every way over it, and the trees are so +trimmed and cultivated that beautiful arches are formed over nearly all +the paths. This constitutes the forest, one of the most singular in +Paris, and it is a novel sight to the stranger. On the north side of the +groves there is a collection of orange trees, and in among them are set +a large quantity of chairs, which are rented by a person in attendance +for two sous an hour. So for two cents, a man can sit and rest himself +in one of the most delicious spots in Paris. This is a peculiar feature +of all the gardens of Paris. No free seats are furnished, but an old +woman is sure to select some shady and enchanting spot whereon to +arrange her chairs, which are for rent. Indeed, there are many places on +the Boulevard where this practice obtains, to the great joy of +numberless tired pedestrians. + +In front of the _Tuileries palace_ there is a choice garden of flowers +and plants enclosed by an iron railing. The flowers were in bloom when +last I saw it, and were exceedingly beautiful. Directly in front of this +garden a fine fountain is always playing, and scattered in every +direction is a profusion of statuary. There are some magnificent groups, +but again others are disgusting in their sensuality. There are several +pieces of statuary scattered among the trees of the grove. One of them, +a statue of Venus, is an exquisite conception, and so very pure that I +wondered it should have found a place in a French garden. But not far +from it there were two nude figures which were so shockingly sensual, +and so clearly were intended by the sculptor to be so, that I turned +away half indignant. Yet while I walked in the grove more than one +French lady stopped leisurely to look at them through her glass. + +When the weather is warm, the fashionable pedestrians flock to the trees +of the Tuileries gardens, and among its cool recesses sit and talk the +hours away. When the weather is colder and sunshine is desirable, the +grounds immediately in front of the palace are more pleasant, as there +the cold winds come not. + +The Luxembourg gardens I have spoken of with some particularity in +another place. + +The _Jardin d' Hiver_ is a winter garden, and contains many roofed +hot-houses. The public are admitted by the payment of one franc. There +are occasional displays of flowers and plants. + +The _Champs Elysees_ form one of the most delightful promenades in +Paris. They contain no plants or flowers, but are so thickly planted +with trees, that they may be called gardens. It was originally a +promenade for Marie de Medici. It runs along the banks of the Seine, +from the Place de la Concorde to the Triumphal Arch. The length is a +mile and a quarter, the breadth three hundred and seventy-three yards. +All the public fetes take place on these fields. On the right is the +promenade, and on the left under the trees and in open spaces are fairs, +instrumental performances, shows, etc. etc. It is one of the most +dazzling scenes in the night that ever eye beheld. I well remember that +on my first visit to Paris, I wandered out of my hotel and saw the +Champs Elysees in the evening. The sight was almost overpowering. The +whole place was a scene of splendor. The trees and grounds were one +blaze of lamps. Scattered over it were little theaters, concerts in the +open air, every kind of show, coffee-houses, restaurants, and every kind +of amusement. The concerts charge nothing. But if you enter within the +ring you pay for a seat a trifle, and also for your refreshments. Almost +everyone who entered, (it was all in the open air,) bought a glass of +something to drink, and sat down to enjoy it with the music. Fiddlers +and mountebanks abounded in every direction, and beggars were more +numerous if possible than the spectators. But not one _solicited_ alms. +It would jar too coarsely upon the Parisian refinement. A beggar sings, +looks piteously, plays his flageolet or harp, but never _asks_ for +money! The whole scene presented to me was one of the most brilliant I +ever witnessed, and it probably impressed me more from the fact that I +was unprepared for it. I have often since frequented it in the evening, +but never wearied of it. + +The _Jardin des Plantes_ is the most beautiful free garden in the world. +It was founded in 1635 by Louis XIII. Buffon was its most celebrated +superintendent. He devoted himself enthusiastically to its cultivation +and development. It was at periods, during the revolutionary times, much +neglected, but it continued to prosper through everything, unlike many +of the other gardens. It consists of a botanical garden with several +large hot-houses and green-houses attached; several galleries with +scientific natural collections; a gallery of anatomy; a menagerie of +living animals; a library of natural history; and lastly, a theater for +public lectures. Everything is open to the people--lectures and +all--and take it altogether, it is the finest and noblest garden in the +world. + +The _Jardin des Plantes_ in the summer is one of the favorite resorts of +Parisians, and although I frequented the spot, I never left it without a +wonder that so much is thrown open free to the public. This is a +remarkable feature of Paris and French institutions and public +buildings. If possible, that which the people wish to see they can see +for nothing. Painting-galleries, gardens, churches, and lectures are +open to the crowd. This is in striking contrast with London. There +nothing is free. The stranger pays to go over Westminster Abbey and St. +Paul's. He cannot see anything without paying half a crown for the +sight. To _look_ at a virgin or butler is worth at least a shilling. + +[Illustration: JARDIN DES PLANTES.] + +The stranger usually enters the _Jardin des Plantes_ by the eastern +gate. The gallery of zoology is seen at the other end of the garden, +while on either hand are beautiful avenues of lime trees. Beyond, on the +right, is the menagerie, and on the left is a large collection of forest +trees. Scattered all around in the open space, are beds containing all +manner of medicinal and other plants from all parts of the earth. This +part of the garden is to the botanist a very interesting spot. The +flowering-shrubs are surrounded by a rail fence, and the level of the +ground is sunk beneath that of other parts of the garden. There is a +special "botanical garden," which is much frequented by students. On +another avenue there are plantations of forest shrubs, and near them a +cafe to accommodate visitors. Then stretching still further on, are new +geological, mineralogical, and botanical galleries, all warmed in winter +and summer, if necessary, by hot water, and capable of receiving the +tallest tropical plants. Between the conservatories there are two +beautiful mounds--one a labyrinth, and the other a collection of +fir-trees. The labyrinth is one of the best and most beautiful I ever +saw, far surpassing the celebrated one at Hampton court. The mound is of +a conical shape, and is completely covered by winding and intricate +paths. The whole is surmounted by a splendid cedar of Lebanon. On the +summit there are also seats covered with a bronze pavilion, and taking +one of them the visitor can look over all the garden portions of Paris, +and several of the villages near Paris. It is an exquisite view, and I +know of no greater pleasure in the hot months than after walking over +the garden to ascend the labyrinth and sit down in the cool shade of the +pavilion, and watch the people wandering over the gardens, Paris, and +the country. The western mound is a nursery of fir-trees, every known +kind being collected there. There is another inclosure entered by a door +at the foot of this mound, which in warm weather contains some of the +most beautiful trees of New Holland, the Cape of Good Hope, Asia Minor, +and the coast of Barbary. The amphitheater is here, also, where all the +lectures are delivered. It will hold twelve hundred students but more +than that number contrive to hear the lectures. In the enclosure there +are twelve thousand different kinds of plants, and at the door stand two +very beautiful Sicilian palms more than twenty-five feet in height. + +The menagerie of the garden is one of the finest in the world, and is in +some respects like the menagerie in London, though arranged with more +taste. The cages are scattered over a large inclosure, and it seems like +wandering over a forest and meeting the animals in their native wilds. +After passing beneath the boughs of dark trees, it is startling to look +up and see a Bengal tiger within a few feet of you, though he is caged, +or to walk on further still, and confront a leopard. This part of the +garden is a continual source of amusement to the younger portions of the +community of Paris, to say nothing of the children of larger growth. + +The cabinet of comparative anatomy is one of the finest parts of the +garden, and we owe its excellence mainly to the great exertions of +Cuvier. Every department is scientifically arranged, and the whole form, +perhaps, the best collection of anatomical specimens in the world. In +the first room are skeletons of the whale tribe, and many marine +animals; in the next, are skeletons of the human species from every part +of the globe. A suite of eleven rooms is taken up for the anatomy of +birds, fishes, and reptiles. Several rooms are taken up with the +exhibition of the muscles of all animals, including man. Others exhibit +arms and legs; others still, brains and eyes, and the different organs +of the body all arranged together, distinct from the remaining parts of +the frame. In one room there is a singular collection of skulls of men +from all countries, of all ages, and conditions. Celebrated murderers +here are side by side with men of ancient renown. + +The gallery of zoology is three hundred and ninety feet in length, and +fronts the east end of the garden. The other galleries are all equally +spacious and well arranged. + +The library is composed of works on natural history, and it is an +unrivaled collection. It contains six thousand drawings, thirty thousand +volumes, and fifteen thousand plants. This fine library is free on +certain days to the world. + +The good which results from such _free_ exhibitions as that of the +_Jardin des Plantes_ is incalculable. The _people_ become educated, +enlightened to a degree they can never attain, upon the subjects +illustrated, without them. This is one reason why Parisians are +universally intelligent, even to the artisans. The poorer classes can +scarcely help understanding botany, anatomy, zoology, and geology, with +such a garden free of access. This is but a specimen of many like places +in Paris. Lectures upon the sciences and arts are free to all who will +hear, and whoever will may learn. + + + + +THE LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS. + + +When France was governed by Louis Phillippe, the Palace Luxembourg was +occupied by the Chamber of Peers, and it is now occupied by the Senate. +It is a fine old building, and the impression it makes upon the stranger +is an agreeable one. There is nothing in its history of particular +interest, though its architecture is ancient. + +I was better pleased with the Luxembourg gardens than with the palace. +They are more beautiful than the Tuileries gardens and are much more +democratic. Trees, plants, and flowers seemed to me to abound in them to +a greater extent than in any other garden in Paris. On beautiful days +they are full of women and children. Troops of the latter, beautiful as +the sky which covers them, come to this place and play the long hours of +a summer afternoon away, with their mothers and nurses following them +about or sitting quietly under the shade of the trees, engaged in the +double employment of knitting and watching the frolicsome humors of +their children. I was very fond of going to these gardens in the +afternoon, just to look at the array of mothers and children, and it was +as pretty a sight as can be seen in all Paris. It is a sight which New +York--be it spoken to her shame--does not furnish. + +[Illustration: JARDIN ET PALAIS DU LUXEMBOURG.] + +In the summer evenings a band of music plays for an hour to a vast +multitude. Four of the finest bands in Paris take turns in playing at +seven o'clock, four evenings in the week, and their music is of the +highest order. Perhaps fifty thousand people are gathered at once, men, +women, and children, to listen to the delicious music and the +gathering in itself is a sight worth seeing. The great majority +promenade slowly around the band, some stand still, and a very few rent +chairs and sit. Nearly all the men smoke, and occasionally a woman does +the same. But the flavor of the tobacco is execrable. What substitute +the French use I know not, but the villainous smells which come from the +cigars smoked by the majority of Frenchmen indicate something very bad. +Cabbage leaves--so extensively used to make cigars with in England--do +not give forth so vile a stench. + +I always noticed in the Luxembourg gardens many fine looking men, and +some elegantly dressed and lady-like women, but the majority of the +latter were grisettes, or mistresses. Many students were promenading +with their little temporary wives, not in the least ashamed to make such +a public display of their vices. The women present might be divided into +four classes; the gay but not vicious, students' mistresses, ordinary +strumpets, and the poor but virtuous, by far the majority belonging to +those classes which have a poor reputation. Yet the conduct of those +women was in every respect proper. There were no indecent gestures, and +not a loud word spoken which would have been out of place in a +drawing-room. Not a woman addressed one of the opposite sex. + +Directly in front of the Luxembourg palace there is a bower of orange +trees and statues railed off from other portions of the garden. It +presents an extremely beautiful appearance. In front of it there is a +fine basin of water and a fountain. Four nude marble boys support a +central basin, from which the water pours. The ground directly in front +of the palace is lower than it is on either side, and a row of fine +orange trees extends out on either hand from the palace, and flowers of +every description mingle their fragrance with that of the orange +blossoms. Groves of trees extend far to the right and left, and to the +south, there are fine gardens devoted to the cultivation of rare plants +and every variety of fruit trees. + +The best thing I know about the Luxembourg palace is, that it has a +gallery of paintings. It formerly was used to exhibit paintings by the +old masters, but now nothing is allowed a place in the Luxembourg +gallery but pictures of living artists. As soon as the artist dies, his +pictures which hang in the Luxembourg, and which have been purchased by +the government, are at once removed to the Louvre, where only paintings +of men now dead are on exhibition. + +The collection in the Luxembourg is in many respects a very fine one, +but it has the fault of all the modern French and continental +pictures--there is too much sensuality exhibited upon the canvas. The +school is too voluptuous--too licentious. I can put up with anything not +positively indecent for the sake of art, but I cannot put up with French +pictures. Their nakedness is too disgusting, for it is not relieved by +sentiment, unless of the basest kind. This remark of course does not +apply to all the pictures I saw. Some of them are very fine, especially +those of Delaroche and the war pictures of Horace Vernet. Near the +entrance there is a beautiful group by Delaistre, representing Cupid and +Psyche. + +One of the pictures in this gallery haunts me still. It is an +illustration of one of Dante's immortal verses--his visit to the lake of +Brimstone. The poet with a wreath of laurel round his brow stands in the +center of a little boat, while his conductor in the stream propels the +craft with one oar over the boiling and surging sea of hell. His +countenance is filled with mingled astonishment and horror, yet he +preserves his wits and observes very critically all that is about him. +One poor wretch lifts his head from the liquid fire, and fastens his +jaws upon the rim of the boat in his terrible agony, while one of the +attendants of the boat with an oar endeavors to beat him back. On the +other side a ghostly wretch has fastened his long teeth into a +fellow-sufferer. The shades of light and darkness are so mingled that +the effect is very striking. It is the most horrible picture I ever +looked at, and I would much rather sleep in Madame Tassaud's chamber of +horrors, than look at it again. In the next apartment there is a picture +of Christ, which struck me as the best I ever looked at. The divine +sweetness of the human and the grandeur of the God were united with +wonderful skill. The face was half-sorrowful, as if the heart were +filled with thoughts of a sinful, suffering world, and still upon the +brow the very sunshine of heaven rested. The impression which that face +made upon me will never be entirely obliterated, and its effect was far +different from the illustration of Dante. The two pictures, it seemed to +me, teach a useful lesson. It is that men are to be saved through love, +and not through fear. Let men see God's beauty and loveliness, and you +will more surely win them from error than by showing them the horrors of +hell. + +The origin of the Luxembourg palace was as follows: about the middle of +the sixteenth century, one Robert de Harley erected a large house in the +middle of the gardens. In 1583 the house was bought and enlarged by the +duke of Luxembourg, and in 1612 Marie de Medicis bought it for ninety +thousand francs, and then commenced the present palace. During the first +year of the revolution it was used for a prison; then for an +assembly-room for the consuls; still later as the chamber for the peers, +and now the French senate meet in it. It contains a large library, but +the people cannot have access to its well-stored shelves. Students can, +however, by making proper application, consult the library. + +One evening while walking in the Luxembourg gardens, the band playing +exquisite music, and the crowd promenading to it, I met a friend, an +American, who has resided in Paris for seventeen years. Taking his arm +we fell into the current of people, and soon met a couple of quite +pretty looking ladies arm-in-arm. They were dressed exactly alike and +their looks were very much of the same pattern, and as to their figures, +I certainly could not tell one from the other with their faces turned +away. + +"They are sisters," said my friend, "and you will scarcely believe me +when I tell you that I saw them in this very garden ten years ago." I +replied that I could hardly credit his story, for the couple still +looked young, and I could hardly think that so many years ago they would +have been allowed by their anxious mamma to promenade in such a place. I +told my friend so, and a smile overspread his countenance. He then told +me their history. Ten years ago and they were both shop-girls, very +pretty and very fond of the attentions of young men. As shop-girls, they +occasionally found time to come and hear the music in the gardens of an +evening, and cast glances at the young students. Soon they were +student's mistresses. Their paramours were generous and wealthy young +men, and they fared well. For four years they were as faithful, +affectionate, and devoted to the young men as any wives in all France. +They indulged in no gallantries or light conduct with other men, and +among the students were reckoned as fine specimens of the class. Four +happy years passed away, when one morning the poor girls awoke to a sad +change. The collegiate course was through, and the young collegians were +going back to their fathers' mansions in the provinces. Of course the +grisettes could not be taken with them, and the ties of years were +suddenly and rudely to be snapped asunder. At first they were frantic in +their grief. When they entered upon their peculiar relations with the +students, they well knew that this must be the final consummation, but +then it looked a great way off. That they really loved the young men, no +one can doubt. It would not be strange for a little shop-girl to even +adore a talented university student, however insignificant he might be +to other people. To her he is everything that is great and noble. These +girls knew well that they were not wives, but mistresses, yet when the +day of separation came, it was like parting husband and wife. But there +was no use in struggling with fate, and they consoled themselves by +transferring their affections to two more students. Again after a term +of years they were forsaken, until the flower of their youth was gone, +and no one desired to support them as mistresses. Then a downward step +was taken. Nothing but promiscuous prostitution was before them--except +starvation. And still they could not forget their old life, and came +nightly to this public promenade to see the old sights, and possibly +with the hope of drawing some unsophisticated youth into their net. +While my friend repeated their story, the couple frequently passed us, +and I could hardly believe that persons whose deportment was so modest +and correct, could be what he had designated them; but as the twilight +deepened, and we were walking away, I noticed that they were no longer +together, and one had the arm of a man, and was walking, like us, away +from the gardens. + +I do not know as I could give the reader a better idea of a great class +of women in Paris, than by relating the brief history of these girls, +and certainly I could not sketch a sadder picture. To the stranger the +social system of France may seem very pleasant and gay, but it is in +reality a sorrowful one. While the mistress is young, she has a kind of +happiness, but when she loses her beauty, then her wretchedness begins. +But I will dwell upon this whole subject more fully in another place. + + + + +THE GOBELINS. + + +One of the interesting places which I visited in Paris, is the famous +Tapestry and Carpet Manufactory in the Rue Mouffetard. The walk is quite +a long one from the Garden of Plants, but the wonders of art and +industry which are shown to the visitor, amply repay for the trouble and +toil in getting to the manufactory. + +I first passed through several rooms, upon the walls of which were hung +some of the finest of the tapestries which are finished. I was +astonished to see the perfection to which the art is carried. Some of +the tapestries, were quite as beautiful as some of the paintings in the +Louvre. Each piece was a picture of some spot, scene, or character, and +the workmanship is of such an exquisite kind, that it is extremely +difficult to believe that real paintings of the highest order are not +before you. Yet all the shades and expressions are wrought into the web, +by the hands of the skillful workmen. I visited six of the work-rooms, +where the men were manufacturing the tapestries. It was a wonderful +sight. The workman stands immediately behind the web, and a basket +containing woolen yarn, or a thread of every variety or color, is at his +feet. The design, usually an exquisite picture, stands behind him in a +good light. A drawing of the part of the landscape or figure first to be +made is sketched by pencil upon the web, and with the picture to be +copied constantly in sight, the workman or artist, as he should be +called, works slowly upon his task, glad if in a day he can work into +the tapestry a branch, a hand, or an eye. In some of the work-rooms, the +finest tapestries were being manufactured, and in others only very fine +rugs and carpets. + +In 1450 a man by the name of Jean Gobelin acquired considerable property +in the region of Rue Mouffetard by dyeing and making carpets. His sons +carried on the business in his name, and the manufactory was celebrated; +hence the name, Gobelins. Louis XIV. erected it into a royal +manufactory, and it has continued such ever since. Between one and two +hundred men are constantly in the employ of the government, in the +manufactory, and as men of great skill and refined tastes are required, +a good rate of wages is paid. The workmen seemed to be very intelligent, +and were dressed, many of them, at least, like gentlemen. The +tapestries, carpets, &c. &c., which are manufactured at this place, are +intended for the emperor, the palaces, and for other monarchs to whom +they may be presented in the name of the French emperors. They are the +finest specimens of their kind in the world. There is another +manufactory connected with the Gobelins, for dyeing wools, and they are +dyed better than in any other place, or at least none can be purchased +elsewhere so fitted for the wants of the tapestry workers. There is also +a school of design connected with it, and a course of lectures is +delivered by able and accomplished men. + +The carpet manufactory is one of the best, and perhaps _the_ best, in +the world. The Parisian carpets are not equal to those manufactured +here. It often takes five and ten years to make a carpet, and the cost +is as high sometimes as thirty thousand dollars. None are ever sold. One +was one made for the Louvre gallery, consisting of seventy-two pieces, +and being over thirteen hundred feet in length. + +I have never been more astonished with any exhibition of the fruits of +industry and art, than with the carpets and tapestries in the Rue +Mouffetard. Some of the latter excel in beauty the best pictures in +Europe, and when one reflects that each tint is of wool, worked into the +web by the careful fingers of the workman, that every line, every +muscle, is wrought as distinctly and beautifully as upon canvas, it +excites admiration and wonder. The rooms are open for four Hours two +days in the week, and they were crowded when I was there, and +principally by foreigners. + +On my way back, I stopped in the Garden of Plants, and seated myself +upon the benches beneath the shade of the trees. After resting awhile, I +entered a restaurant and ordered dinner, as I could scarcely wait to +return to the hotel, and in Paris, where a bargain is made at so much +per day for hotel charges, including meals, if one is absent at dinner +the proper sum is deducted from the daily charges. + +I did not succeed in getting a good dinner for a fair price, which I +always could do at the hotel. It was so poor that a little while after, +I tried a cup of coffee and a roll upon the _Champs Elysees_, which were +delicious enough to make up for the poor dinner. + +In front of me there was an orchestra, and some singers, who discoursed +very good music for the benefit of all persons who patronized the +restaurant. A multitude of ladies and gentlemen were ranged under the +trees before them, sipping coffee, wine, or brandy. The sight was a very +gay one, but not uncommon in Paris. + +I went one day outside the walls of Paris, and took dinner in a +beautiful spot where the sun was almost entirely excluded by the trees +and shrubs, in gardens attached to a restaurant. I had a capital dinner, +too, for a small price, better than I could have had for double the +money at a London hotel. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PEOPLE--CLIMATE--PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS--HOTEL DES INVALIDES. + +THE PEOPLE. + + +The French people, so far as one may judge from Paris, are very +difficult to study and understand. They are easy of access, but it is +difficult to account for the many and strange anomalies in their +character. + +The intense love of gayety and the amount of elegant trifling which +shows itself everywhere as a national characteristic, does not prepare +one to believe that some of the greatest of mathematicians, +philosophers, and scientific men are Frenchmen and Parisians; but such +is the fact. The French are fickle, love pleasure, and one would think +that these qualities would unfit men for coolness, perseverance, and +prolonged research; and I am sometimes inclined to think that the +proficiency of the French in philosophy, the arts, and sciences, is not +so much the result of patient investigation and laborious and continued +study, as a kind of intuition which amounts to genius. The French mind +is quick, and does not plod slowly toward eminence; it leaps to it. +Certainly, in brilliancy of talents the French surpass every other +nation. I will not do them the injustice to speak of them as they are at +this moment--crushed under the despotism of Louis Napoleon--but as they +have been in the last few years, and indeed for centuries. Paris is a +city of brilliant men and women. A French orator is one of the most +eloquent speakers, one of the most impressive men, any country can +furnish. The intelligence of the Paris artisans would surprise many +people in America. We have only to examine the journals which before the +advent of the empire were almost exclusively taken by the +working-classes of Paris, to see the proof of this. Their leaders were +written in the best essay-style, and were the result of careful thought +and application. Such journals could never have gained a fair support +from the artisans of New York. They were not mere news journals, nor +filled up with love-stories. They contained articles of great worth, +which required on the part of the reader a love of abstract truth and +the consideration of it. Such journals sold by thousands in Paris before +Napoleon III. throttled the newspapers. These very men were fond of +pleasure and pursued it, and I have been told by residents, that often +persons of a foppish exterior and fashionable conduct, are also +celebrated for the extent of their learning. At home we rarely look for +talent or learning among the devotees of fashion, or at least, among +those who exalt fashion above all moral attributes. + +It seems to me that the French are more gifted by nature than the +English. The English mind is more sluggish, but in all that is +practical, it gains the goal of success, while the French mind often +fails of it. In theory, the French have always had the most delightful +of republics--in fact, a wretched despotism. So, too, they have had an +idea of liberty, such as is seldom understood even in America, but real +liberty has existed rarely in France. + +The laboring men of Paris perhaps never saw the inside of a school-room, +but they are educated. They know how to read, and through the +newspapers, the library, the popular lecture and exhibition, they have +gained what many who spend most of their earlier years in school never +gain. From an experience which justifies it, I believe the soberest part +of Paris is its class of artisans. They may possess many wrong and +foolish opinions, but they are a noble class of men. They are a majority +of them republicans, and though they consent to the inevitable +necessity--obedience to the monarch and endurance of a monarchy--yet +they indulge in hopes of a brilliant future for France. They know very +well how their rights are trampled upon, and feel keenly what a +disgraceful condition Paris and all France occupies at the present time, +but are by no means satisfied with it. They well know that there is no +real liberty in Paris to-day; that no journal dares to speak the whole +truth for fear of losing its existence; and that the noblest men of the +republic are in exile. The trouble is, that the lower classes of the +provinces are grossly ignorant, and do not desire a republic, nor care +for liberty. Thus, those who are intelligent and have aspirations after +freedom, are borne down by the ignorant. + +One of the characteristics of the people of Paris, for which they are +known the world over, is their politeness. I noticed this in all circles +and in all places. In England John Bull stares at your dress if it +differs from his own, and hunts you to the wall. Or if anything in your +speech or manners pleases him, he laughs in your face. But in Paris, the +Frenchman never is guilty of so ill-bred an action as to laugh at +anybody in his presence, however provoking the occasion. If you are lost +and inquire the way, he will run half a mile to show you, and will not +even hear of thanks, I remember once in Liverpool asking in a +barber's-shop the way to the Waterloo hotel. A person present, who was +so well-dressed that I supposed him a gentleman, said that he was going +that way and would show me. I replied that I could find the spot, the +street having been pointed out by the barber. The "gentleman" persisted +in accompanying me. When we reached the hotel I thanked him, but he was +not to be shaken off. He raised his hat and said, "I hope I may have the +happiness of drinking wine with you!" I was angry at such meanness, and +I gave him a decided negative. "But," he persisted, "you will drink ale +with me?" I replied, "I never drink ale." "But," said he, "you will give +_me_ a glass?" This persistence was so disgusting that I told the man I +would give him in charge of the police as an impostor if he did not +leave, which he did at this hint, instantly. + +The only time that I ever experienced anything but politeness in Paris, +was when in a great hurry I chanced to hit a workman with a basket upon +his head. The concussion was so great that the basket was dashed to the +pavement. He turned round very slowly, and with a grin upon his +countenance said, "Thank you, sir!" This was politeness with a little +too much sarcasm. It was spoken so finely that I burst into a laugh, and +the Frenchman joined me in it. + +The shop-keepers of Paris are a very polite class, and are as avaricious +as they are polite. The habit which they have of asking a higher price +than they expect to get is a bad one. It is a notorious fact that +foreigners in Paris can rarely buy an article so cheaply as a native. +There are always quantities of verdant Englishmen visiting Paris, and +the temptation to cheat them is too great to be resisted by the +wide-awake shop-keepers. Besides, it satisfies a grudge they all have +against Englishmen. I always found it an excellent way not to buy until +the shop keeper had lowered his price considerably. Sometimes I state my +country, and the saleswoman would roguishly pretend that for that reason +she reduced the price. I remember stopping once in the Palais Royal to +gaze at some pretty chains in the window. A black-eyed little woman came +to the door, and I asked the price of a ring which struck my fancy. She +gave it, and I shook my head, telling her that in the country which I +came from I could get such a ring for less money. She wanted to know the +name of my country, and when I told her it was America, she said in a +charming manner, "Oh! you come from the grand republic! you shall have +the ring for so many francs," naming a sum far less than she had at +first asked. Of course, I did not suppose she sacrificed a _sou_ for the +sake of my country, but it showed how apt are the Paris shop-keepers at +making excuses. An Englishman or American would have solemnly declared +he would not take a penny less--and then very coolly give the lie to his +assertion; at any rate, I have seen English and American tradesman do +so. + +A majority of the shop-keepers of Paris are women, and many of them +young and pretty. I certainly have seen more beauty of face in the shops +than on the Boulevards of Paris. Young girls from the ages of fifteen to +twenty-five, are usually the clerks in all the shops, which are often +presided over by a grown-up woman who is mistress of the establishment, +her husband being by no means the first man in the establishment, but +rather a silent partner. + +The grisettes are often girls of industry and great good-nature, but the +morals of the class are lamentably low. They are easily seduced from the +path of right, and are led to form temporary alliances with men, very +often the students of the Latin Quarter. They rarely degrade themselves +for money or for such considerations, but it is for love or pleasure +that they fall. They are given to adventures and intrigues, until they +become the steady paramours of men, and then they are true and constant. +Often they are kept and regarded more like wives than mistresses. I +should not do entire justice to this class if I were to convey the idea +that all of them are thus debauched. Many marry poor young men, but such +is not usually the case; a poor young man seeks a wife with a small +dowry. They have little hope of wedded life--it will never offer itself +to them. Their shop-life is dreary, monotonous, and sometimes exacting. +If they will desert it, pleasure presents an enticing picture; a life of +idleness, dancing, and a round of amusements. + +I was very much struck by a remark made to me by one of the purest men +in France--that a Frenchman is more apt to be jealous of his mistress +than his wife, and that as a general rule, a mistress is more true to +her lover than a wife is to her husband. This is horrible, yet to a +certain extent I am convinced it is true. And it may be so, and women be +no more to blame in the matter than the other sex. To-day, in the +fashionable society of our great cities, how much does it injure a +wealthy young man's prospects for matrimony, if it is a well-known fact +that he is a libertine? And how long can such a state of things continue +without dragging down the women who marry such men? If a lady cares not +if her lover is a libertine, she cannot possess much of genuine virtue. +The fashionable men of Paris keep mistresses--so do those of all +classes, the students, perhaps, according to their numbers, being worse +in this respect than all others. It is not strange, such being the +case, that the women are frail. + +One thing is specially noticeable among the ladies of Paris--the care +with which they are guarded before marriage, and the freedom of their +conduct after. In countries where there is almost universal virtue among +women, the faith in them is strong, and a freedom of intercourse between +the sexes is allowed previous to marriage, which is never tolerated in +such a place as Paris. In New England it is not thought improper for a +young gentleman and lady to enjoy a walk together in the country, and +alone, but in France it would ruin the reputation of a woman. A friend +of mine in London warmly invited a young friend of his in Paris to come +over and make his family a visit on some special occasion. The Parisian +wrote back that he should like nothing better than such a trip, but that +business would not allow of it. "Then," wrote back my friend, "let your +sister come." The reply was decided: "Oh, no! it would never do for the +young lady to make such a trip alone, for the sake of her reputation." +It would have struck this Frenchman as a very singular fact, if he had +known that in America a young lady will travel thousands of miles alone, +without the slightest harm to her reputation. + +But when the French woman _marries_, the tables are turned. Then she +possesses a freedom such as no American lady, thank heaven, wishes to +enjoy. She may have half a dozen open lovers, and society holds its +tongue. Her husband probably has as many mistresses. It is not +considered improper in Paris either for a husband and father to love his +mistress, or a wife and mother to love her acknowledged lover, and that +man not her husband. The intrigues which are carried on by married +people in Paris, would shock sober people in America, or at least, +outside our largest and wickedest cities. + +The social state of France is exceedingly bad, and when American +religious writers profess to be shocked at the theories of the French +Socialists, I am inclined to ask them what they think of the _actual +condition_ of the French people. Some of the Socialists have been driven +to extremes, because Paris has no conception of the home and the family. +The enemies of Socialism in France are, in practice, worse than their +enemies in theory. Who is the man now ruling France? Does the world not +know him to have long been an open and thoroughly debauched libertine? +The same is true of other distinguished friends of "law and order." + +The outward condition of the streets of Paris often deceives the +stranger as to the morality of the city. Said one gentleman to me, who +had spent several weeks at a fashionable Paris hotel, "Paris is one of +the quietest, pleasantest towns in the world, and as for its morals, I +can see nothing which justifies its bad reputation abroad." After a +week's stay in it, such was my own opinion. Things which are tolerated +in London and New York streets, are not permitted in the streets of +Paris. A street-walker ventured to accost an Englishman in Paris at +night, and was taken in charge by the police. But this outward fairness +only indicates that in Paris, even the vices are regulated by the state. +Bad women cannot make a display and accost men in the street, but they +abound, and what is far worse, in all the circles and gradations of +society. It is society which is corrupt there. One need but to look at +the morals of its great men, to see this at once. What is the moral +character of the first men in the empire? Bad, as no Frenchman will +deny. Some of the very men who have won in America golden opinions for +their noble and eloquent advocacy of liberty, have been in their private +lives devoid of all virtue. It only shows the social condition of the +country. Some writers deny these allegations against Paris, but no man +will who has lived in it, and is honest and candid. Paris abounds with +illegitimate children. The statistics tell the story. Ten thousand +illegitimate children are born every year in that city! What can be the +morality of any town, while such facts exist in reference to its +condition? + +I hate all cant, but am satisfied that the chief reason why France does +not succeed better in her revolutions is, because she lacks the +steadiness which a sincere devotion to religion gives to a nation. The +country needs less man-worship and more God-worship. It needs less +adulation of beautiful women, and more real appreciation of true +womanhood. + +There is a great deal of art-worship in Paris, but it does not seem to +really elevate the condition of the people. The pictures and the statues +are generally of the most sensuous kind. Do these things improve the +morals of a city or nation? If so, why is it that wherever naked +pictures and sensual statuary abound, the people are licentious and +depraved? In America such things are not tolerated by the mass of the +people, and there prevails a higher style of virtue than in any other +land. But in France and in Italy, the beauty of the human form upon +canvas or in marble, in however offensive a manner, is adored--and in +those countries the people have little morality. + +The French _home_ is not the home of England or America. The genuine +Parisian lives on the street, or in the theater or ball-room. He never +lives at home. Hence, the mothers and daughters of England and America +are not there to be found. "Comparisons are odious" but I cannot express +my meaning so plainly without making them, and I state but the simple +truth. Young men and women are not taught to seek their pleasure at the +family fireside, but beyond it, and a man marries not to make a home, +but to make money or a position in society. Women, too, often marry +simply to attain liberty of action. + +Another characteristic of the French, and especially of Parisians, is +that they educate their sons to no such independence as is everywhere +common in America. The young Parisian is dependent upon his father--he +cannot support himself; and men of thirty and forty, who are helpless, +are to be seen in all classes throughout the great cities of France. + +Whether there is just ground for expecting that France will very soon +throw off the despotism which now weighs her down, I am incompetent, +perhaps, to judge; but I fear not. There is a very noble class of men in +Paris--I know this by experience--who hate all despotism and love +freedom, but I fear they will for centuries be overcome by ignorance and +the love of pleasure, on the part of the people, and knavery and brute +force on the part of rulers. + + + + +CLIMATE--POPULATION--POLICE, ETC. + + +The weather of Paris during the summer months is warm and usually +delightful, but in winter it is very cold--much colder than it is in +London. But Paris escapes the horrible fogs which envelop London in +November and December. The weather, too, though cold, is wholesome and +often conducive to health. The two months of fog in London are often +termed the suicidal months, because of the number of persons who destroy +their own lives in those months. The people of Paris with their +mercurial temperaments would never endure it for a long time, at least. + +Fuel is exceedingly dear in Paris, and the buildings are not made for +in-door comfort. If they were as warmly made as the houses of New York, +they would be comfortable in winter, but such not being the case, and +fuel being costly, comfort in private apartments is rarely to be had by +any but the rich. Coal is not used to any great extent, though charcoal +is burned in small quantities, but wood is the fuel principally used. It +is sold in small packages, and is principally brought up from the +distant provinces by the canals. The amount of wood required to make +what a Frenchman would call a glowing fire, would astonish an American. +A half a dozen sticks, not much larger or longer than his fingers, laid +crosswise in a little hearth, is sufficient for a man's chamber. A log +which one of our western farmers would think nothing of consuming in a +winter's evening, would bring quite a handsome sum in Paris on any +winter day. The truth is, the economical traveler had better not spend +his winter in Paris, for comfort at that time costs money. The houses +admit such volumes of cold air, the windows are so loose and the doors +such wretched contrivances, and that, too, in the best of French cities, +that the stranger sighs for the comforts of home. Nowhere in the world +is so much taste displayed as in Paris, in the furnishing of apartments. +This is known as far as Paris is, but it is always the _outside +appearance_ which is attended to, and nothing more. It is like the +Parisian dandy who wears a fine coat, hat, and false bosom, but has no +shirt. The homes of Paris are got up, many of them at least, upon this +principle. The rooms are elegantly furnished, and in pleasant weather +are indeed very pleasant to abide in, but let a cold day come, and they +are as uncomfortable as can be, and the ten thousand conveniences which +a New York or London household would think it impossible to be without, +are wanting. + +The longest day in Paris is sixteen hours, the shortest eight. The +cities of Europe are distant from it as follows: Brussels, one hundred +and eighty-nine miles; Berlin, five hundred and ninety-three; Frankfort, +three hundred and thirty-nine; Lisbon, one thousand one hundred and +four; Rome, nine hundred and twenty-five; Madrid, seven hundred and +seventy-five; Constantinople, one thousand five hundred and +seventy-four; St. Petersburgh, one thousand four hundred and five. These +places are all easily reached from Paris in these modern days of +railways and steamers. + +The situation of Paris is much more favorable to health than that of +London. London is a low plain--Paris is upon higher ground; yet London +is the healthiest city. The reason is, that the latter is so thoroughly +drained, and the tide of the Thames sweeping through it twice a day, +carries away all the impurities of the sewers. Paris might surpass +London in its sewerage easily, but as it is, some of its narrow streets +in warm weather are fairly insupportable, from the intolerable stench +arising in them. + +The population of Paris is considerably more than a million. The number +of births in a year is a little more than thirty thousand, and of these, +ten thousand are illegitimate. This fact speaks volumes in reference to +the morals of Paris. The deaths usually fall short of the births by +about four thousand. The increase of population in France is great, +though it is now a very populous country. + +The increase in forty years is more than nine millions. The births in +France in one year are about eight hundred and ninety-seven thousand, +and the deaths eight hundred and sixty-five thousand. Of the births, +more than seventy thousand are illegitimate. This fact shows that the +morals of Paris, in one respect, are worse than those of the provinces. + +It is calculated that one-half of the inhabitants of Paris are _working_ +men; the rest are men who live by some trade or profession, or have +property and live upon it. Paris has more than eighty thousand servants, +and at least seventy thousand paupers. The latter class, as a matter of +course, varies with the character of the times; sometimes, a bad season +enlarging the number by many thousands. There is an average population +of fifteen thousand in the hospitals; five thousand in the jails; and at +least, twenty thousand foundlings are constantly supported in the city. +The annual number of suicides in France is nearly six thousand. Yet the +French are a very gay people! + +The police regulations of Paris are very good, but not so good as those +of London, though New York might learn from her many useful lessons. +Rogues thrive better in Paris than in London. The Paris policeman wears +no distinctive dress, and there are streets in which if you are attacked +by night, your cries will call no officer to the rescue. The police have +been proved often to be in league with bad men and bad women, and these +cases are occurring from day to day. I should not like to walk alone on +a winter's night, after midnight, anywhere for half a mile on the +southern side of the Seine. Some of the streets are exceedingly narrow, +and are tenanted by strange people. Still, one might have many curious +adventures in them, and escape safely--but _La Morgue_ tells a +mysterious tale every day of some dark deed--a suicide or a murder, +perhaps. + +Getting lost after midnight in one of the narrow streets of Paris, is +not particularly pleasant, especially if every person you meet looks +like a thief. The police system of Paris is in one respect far more +strict than that of London--in political matters. Every stranger, or +native, suspected in the least of tendencies to republicanism, is +continually watched and dogged wherever he moves. While in Paris, my +whereabouts was constantly known to the police, and though I made +several changes in my abode, I was followed each time, and my address +taken; yet I was but an in offensive republican from America. A man must +be careful to whom he talks of French despots, or despotism. For +speaking against Louis Napoleon in an omnibus, a Frenchman was sentenced +to two years imprisonment, and men have been exiled for a less offense. +The police are everywhere to detect conspiracy or radicalism, but are +more slack in reference to the safety of people in the streets. + +One pleasant feature of Paris is its great number of baths, public and +private. The artisan who has little money to spare can go to the Seine +any day, and for six cents take a bath under a large net roofing. A +gentleman, to be sure, would hardly like to try such a place, but the +working people are not particular. It is cheap, and in the hot weather +it is a great luxury to bathe, to say nothing of the necessity of the +thing. To take a bath in a first-rate French hotel is quite another +matter. Every luxury will be afforded, and the price will be quite as +high as the bath is luxurious. + +Pleasure trips are getting to be quite common in France, in imitation of +the English, on a majority of the railways. The fares for these pleasure +trips are very much reduced. I noticed the walls one day covered with +advertisements of a pleasure trip to Havre and back for only seven +francs. The second and third class carriages on the French railroads are +quite comfortable, but the first are very luxurious. Trains run from +Paris to all parts of the country, at almost all hours of the day and +night. + + + + +PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. + + +There is no city in the world so blessed with educational institutions +of the first class as Paris, and no government fosters the arts and +sciences to such an extent as the French government, whether under the +administration of king, president, or emperor. The government constantly +rewards discoveries, holds out prizes to students and men of genius. The +educational colleges are without number, and the lectures are free. +There is one compliment which the stranger is forced to pay the French +government--it encourages a republicanism among men of genius in +learning, the arts and sciences, if it does put its heel upon the +slightest tendency toward political republicanism. + +And not Paris, or France alone, reaps the advantage of this +liberality--the whole civilized world does the same. Go into the +university region, and you will always see great numbers of foreigners +who have come to take advantage of the public institutions of Paris. The +English go there to study certain branches of medicine, which are more +skillfully treated in the French medical schools than anywhere else in +the world. Many young Americans are in Paris, at the present time, +studying physic or law. + +The difference between the cost of education in England and France is +great. Three hundred dollars a year would carry a French student in good +style through the best French universities. To go through an English +college five times that sum would be necessary. + +[Illustration: Palais de l'Institut.] + +The _Institut de France_ lies upon the southern branch of the Seine, +just opposite the Louvre, which is north of the river. The _Institute_ +is divided into five academies, and the funds which support the +institution are managed by a committee of ten members, two from an +academy, and the minister of public instruction, who presides over the +committee. The academies are--first the _Academie Francaise_; second, +the _Academie Royale des Inscriptions et Belle-Lettres_; third, the +_Academie Royale des Sciences_; fourth, the _Academie Royale des Beaux +Arts_; and fifth, the _Academie Royale des Sciences Morales et +Politiques_. Members of one academy are eligible to the other four, and +each receives a salary of three hundred dollars. The Institute has a +library common to the five academies, the whole number of members +amounting to two hundred and seventeen. If a member does not attend the +proceedings and discussions, and cannot give a good reason for his +absence, he is liable to expulsion. + +The _Academie Francaise_ consists of forty members, who are devoted to +the composition of the dictionary and the purification of the French +language. An annual prize is awarded of two thousand francs for poetry, +a prize of ten thousand francs for the best work of French history and +fifteen hundred francs is given every other year to some deserving but +poor student, for his attainments. + +The Belle-Lettres Academy is composed of forty members, and ten free +academicians--the latter receive no salary. It has many foreign +associates or honorary members. Its members pursue the study of the +learned languages, antiquities, etc. etc. A yearly prize of ten thousand +francs is awarded by it for memoirs, and another for medals. + +The Academy of Sciences has sixty-five members, beside ten free +academicians. It is divided into eleven sections, as follows: six +members are devoted to geometry, six to mechanics, six to astronomy, six +to geography and navigation, three to general philosophy, six to +chemistry, six to minerology, six to botany, six to rural economy and +the veterinary art, six to anatomy and geology, six to medicine and +surgery. Prizes are awarded by this academy, yearly, for physical +sciences, statistics, physiology, mechanics, improvements in surgery and +medicine; for improvements in the art of treating patients, for +rendering any art or trade less insalubrious, for discoveries, for +mathematical studies, and also a prize to the best scholar in the +Polytechnic school. + +The Academy of Fine Arts has forty members, who are divided into five +sections--painting, sculpture, architecture, engraving, and musical +composition. It awards prizes to the best students in the arts, and +sends to the French Academy at Rome, free of all expense, the successful +students, who are educated at the expense of the state. + +The Academy of _Sciences Morales et Politiques_ has thirty members, +divided into the following sections: philosophy, moral philosophy, +legislation, jurisprudence, political economy, history, and the +philosophy of history. + +The building of the Institute is surmounted by a splendid dome, and it +presents a striking appearance to the stranger. It immediately fronts +the foot-bridge which crosses the Seine to the Louvre. + +The university of France it is supposed was founded by Charlemagne. It +is a magnificent and truly liberal institution, and is under the +authority of the minister of public instruction. It has five +departments, an immense library and funds for aged or infirm teachers. + +The Academy of Paris consists of five faculties--science letters, +theology, law, and medicine. In the department of sciences, which +includes that of mathematical astronomy, Leverrier occupies a +professor's chair--the man who demonstrated the existence of another +planet by mathematical Calculations, and pointed out the place where it +must be found. + +The Faculty of Law has seventeen professors. Four years of study are +necessary to gain the highest honors, or the title of _Docteur en +droit_. + +The Faculty of Medicine has twenty-six professorships, with salaries +varying from two thousand to ten thousand francs a year. Every student +before taking his degree must serve the government one year, at least, +in a hospital. This is an admirable regulation. The lectures are all +gratuitous, and what is better still, they are open to the people and +the world. Any foreigner can attend the course of lectures of the most +celebrated men in France, and indeed in the world, for nothing. The law +students number about three thousand; those studying medicine about +three thousand; and those studying the sciences about fifteen hundred. +Foreign students are admitted upon the same terms as French, and a +diploma given by an American college, if it be of high repute, will put +the student upon the same footing as a French _bachelier et lettres_ +when the object is to study law or medicine. + +The College Royal has twenty-eight professors, who give gratuitous +lectures on astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, medicine, chemistry, +natural history, law, ethics, etc. etc. There is a college of Natural +History, connected with the _Jardin des Plantes_, with fifteen +professors. The _Ecole Normale_ is an institution for the education of +students who intend to become candidates for professorships. There are +in Paris besides these, five royal colleges where a student is boarded +as well as educated. The charge for board is two hundred dollars a +year; the additional charges, educational and otherwise, are only twenty +dollars, which the published terms state, "_does not include music or +dancing!_" + +Among the literary and scientific societies is the _Institut +Historique_, where public and gratuitous lectures are given. A journal +is published, and all that members pay for it, and the advantages of the +institution, is about four dollars a year. There is a flourishing +agricultural society, a society for the encouragement of national +industry, one for the improvement of national horticulture, one for the +civilization and colonization of Africa, one for the promotion of +commercial knowledge, etc. etc. + +Besides the many colleges to which I have barely alluded, and the +societies, there are twenty or thirty literary and scientific societies +of note in Paris. + +It will not be necessary to be more particular to convince the reader +that no other city in the world has the educational advantages of Paris. +What a privilege it must be to a poor Parisian to live near such schools +and colleges, we can at once perceive. If a young man has talents or +genius, his poverty need be no bar to his advancement. He is taken up at +once. He is not the charity student of America, for the very fact that +without money and friends he has by sheer force of native genius made +his way into the places given only to students poor and talented, adds +to his fame, and he is quite as well if not better liked for it. What an +advantage the many kinds of lectures, which are given to all who please +to attend gratuitously, must be to all inquiring minds in Paris, we can +feel at once. The artisan if he can spare an hour can listen to one of +the most brilliant lectures upon history, either of the sciences, or +medicine, side by side with the young aristocrat. Nothing higher in +character is to be had in Paris or out of it than that which he listens +to without cost. The effect of this vast system of public instruction is +very great, and the influence of the colleges and learned societies upon +society is wonderful. There is no spirit of exclusiveness, such as +characterizes the English and some of the American colleges, and the +people are not prejudiced against them. This system of instruction is +almost perfect, _of its kind_ but France lacks one thing which America +has--a system of common schools, which shall educate _the children_. Far +better have this system and lack the one she has now, but if she only +had our common school system together with her colleges and academies, +she would surpass, by far, any other nation. America very much needs +such a system. It is free, broad, and liberal, and with ordinary care +will make any country glorious in the sciences and arts. Certainly until +America cares less for mere cash and more for the arts and sciences, +until she is generous enough to foster them and appropriate money to +help young men of genius, and offer prizes to men of talent, the fine +arts will not prosper with us. Only the arts which in a pecuniary sense +_pay_, will thrive, and the rest will live a starveling life. Can we +rest content with such a prospect? No country is better able to be +generous in such matters than America. + +While in Paris I made the acquaintance of several students of law and +medicine from America, and from them I learned that the professors in +all the different institutions are exceedingly polite and kind to +foreign students, and especially to Americans. Foreign diplomas are +granted by the different colleges, and no difference is made between a +native and a foreign scholar. + +The students of Paris are an intellectual class, and as a body are +inclined at all times to be democratic. In England and in America +learning seems always to incline to conservatism. The great schools and +colleges are opposed to radicalism. This is generally true in America, +in the old institutions of learning, and it is emphatically true of +England. Cambridge and Oxford are the strong-holds of the blindest +toryism. They are two hundred years behind the age. But in Paris this is +not the case. The colleges are reformatory and radical. The Academies +have the same disposition, only it is modified. Many of the members of +the French academy are sincere republicans. I cannot account for this +singular fact, unless it be that the French mind is so active and so +brilliant that it easily arrives at the truth. A Frenchman, if he +considers the matter of government and politics, very soon arrives at +his conclusion--that man has rights, and that a form of government which +comes least in collision with them is the best. It is entirely a matter +of theory with him. Everything tends to theory. The practical is +ignored. Hence, while Paris abounds with theoretical democrats and +republicans, there are few men in it capable of administering the +affairs of a democratic republic. + +[Illustration: HOTEL DES INVALIDES] + +The Hotel des Invalides is visited by a vast crowd of people, Parisians, +provincials, and foreigners, for it is the final resting place of +Napoleon the Great. It is an imposing structure, and aside from the +interest felt in it as the receptacle of the remains of Napoleon, it is +well worth a visit. It is situated on the south side of the Seine, not +far from the chamber of deputies, its front facing the south. It +presents a magnificent appearance from the street, perhaps the finest of +any like building in Europe. It has long been a celebrated military +hospital for the reception of disabled and superannuated soldiers. Under +Louis XIV. the present hospital was instituted, and building after +building was added, together with a fine church, until the vast pile +covers sixteen acres of ground, and encloses fifteen courts. At the time +of the revolution, the hospital was called the Temple of Humanity, under +Napoleon the Temple of Mars, and now the Hotel des Invalides. It is +under the control of the minister of war, has a governor and a +multiplicity of inferior officers. It is divided into fourteen +sections, over each of which an officer is appointed. All soldiers who +are disabled, or who have served thirty years in the army, are entitled +to the privileges of the institution, and are boarded, clothed, and +lodged. For breakfast they have soup, beef, and vegetables, for dinner, +meat, vegetables, and cheese. They have but two meals a day. They also +receive pay at the rate of two francs a day, and the officers higher in +proportion to their rank. Before the northern face of the building there +is a large open space, in which many trophies of war are placed, and +there are beds of flowers interspersed among them. On the southern front +there is a fine statue of Napoleon. The library of the hospital contains +fourteen thousand volumes, and is of course open to all the inmates. The +church is a very important part of the great pile of buildings, and is +filled with statues of great military men, trophies of different +campaigns, etc. etc. The dome of this church is one of the finest in +Paris, and is decorated in the interior in a gorgeous style. + +Beneath the dome lies the tomb of Napoleon, the great attraction of the +place. It is, for a wonder, simple and massive in its style, and upon it +are laid Napoleon's hat, sword, imperial crown, etc. etc. To this tomb +thousands of admirers have come and will come to the latest generations, +for whatever were the faults of the great military hero, he had the +faculty of making passionate admirers. The old soldiers in the +institution seem to regard the tomb as an object of adoration, and guard +it as carefully as they would the living body of the hero. + +Across the Seine from the Hotel des Invalides, on the avenue des Champs +Elysees, is the fashionable Jardin d'Hiver, a roofed garden of +hot-houses, and which is open in winter as a flower-garden. The +admittance is not free, but costs a franc. It often contains very fine +collections of the costliest and rarest of plants and flowers. The +French exquisites in the cold and chilly weather are fond of frequenting +its exhibitions, and to the stranger who would like to see the higher +classes of Paris, in a public garden, it is an interesting place. + +[Illustration: Jardin d'Hiver.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GUIZOT--DUMAS--SUE--THIERS--SAND. + +[Illustration: M. GUIZOT.] + +M. GUIZOT + + +Pierre Francois Guillaume Guizot, was born at Nismes in 1787. At the age +of seven years he saw his own father guillotined during the reign of +terror, and without doubt this fact made a deep impression upon his +heart, and led him ever after instinctively to dislike the people and a +popular government. His mother took refuge in Switzerland. She was a +strong Calvinist, and from her the son imbibed his rigid Calvinistic +sentiments. He had no youth, properly speaking, for he was apparently +devoid of youthful feeling and passions. He was educated in the strict +and formal school of Geneva, and his education, together with his +nature, made him a stoic, a man with no sympathies for the people, +lacking heart, possessing a great intellect, and rigidly honest. + +At the age of nineteen he left Geneva for Paris, to study law, and his +poverty was such that he was obliged to seek employment. M. Stopper, an +old minister of the Helvetic confederation, took him as a tutor for his +children. His pride rebelled against his situation, for the children of +the minister were spoiled, and whenever he went into the street they +made him stop before every confectioner's shop to satisfy their depraved +appetites. This he refused to do, and the children made loud complaints, +the result of which was, that Guizot left his place, declaring that it +was not his mission to buy candies for the minister's children! In +endeavoring to teach these children the grammar of their language, M. +Guizot made a _Dictionary of Synonymes_, which he sold to a bookseller +for a reasonable price. This was his first attempt at authorship. He +made the acquaintance of M. Luard, who was the chief censor of new +books, before whom his little dictionary came. M. Luard discovering in +the young Guizot great talents and capacity, prevailed upon him to give +up writing of synonymes, and devote himself to more honorable and +lucrative labors. + +Recommended by his friend, he wrote for nearly all the public journals +in turn, giving them specimens of his cold, unimpassioned style, which +was never after changed. He wrote _himself_ upon his paper, and like +himself was his style--cold and dignified. But his style had admirers, +though not many readers. He was accorded genius and an exalted +intellect, but he was not loved. His first books were the _Annals of +Education_, _Lives of the French Poets of the Age of Louis XIV._, and a +translation of _Gibbon's Fall of the Roman Empire_. These volumes were +noticed in a flattering manner by all scholars and critics, and the +young author very soon occupied a high position in Paris. After this he +did not seem to succeed, and he wrote a couple of pamphlets upon the +condition of French literature and fine arts. He failed as a critic, and +was appointed to the chair of modern history in the university. His +political fortunes now commenced. His manners, his dress, which was +severe in style, and his pale face, all combined to make him for the +time a lion, and he drew crowds to his lectures. This was in 1812. M. +Guizot was one of the first to foresee and prepare for the restoration. + +M. Guizot met in society a Mademoiselle Meulan, a literary woman of +note, and fancied her. She was utterly poor, and during a severe fit of +illness he wrote articles which she signed, and thus earned enough for +her support. When she had recovered, she gave him her heart and hand in +marriage, though she had not a _sou_ of dowry. She was older than he, +but was a woman of many virtues. Madame Guizot was an intimate friend of +the Abbe Montesquieu, who was the principal secret agent of Louis XVIII. +As soon as Guizot was married, he was let into these secrets, and became +private secretary to the abbe. He was in the habit of meeting the +friends of the restoration every evening at a club, and he did not +hesitate to take a bold part in its proceedings. Royer-Collard said to +him after one of these meetings, "Guizot, you will rise high." Guizot +demanded an explanation He replied, "You have ambition; you have much +head but no heart; you will rise high. When the restoration comes the +abbe will be minister, and he will make you secretary-general." Such was +the fact eighteen months after. The Calvinistic religion of Guizot was +no bar to his promotion, so long as his conscience permitted him to +serve with unquestioned zeal his master, and he was never troubled on +that score. The return of Napoleon from Elba was a sudden blow to the +fortunes of Guizot, and he became the friend of the new minister, who +kept him provisionally in office. He was suddenly dismissed, however, +because, he declares, he would not sign an additional act to the +constitution, but the minister denied this. He returned to Ghent, where +in the _Moniteur_ he published bitter articles against Napoleon and his +government. The columns were filled with criticisms of this nature. He +endeavored afterward to disown some of these articles, but the +authorship clung to him. + +Napoleon was vanquished, but Guizot continued to write books. Some of +them were as follows: _"Some Ideas upon the Liberty of the Press;" "Of +the Representative Government;" "Essay upon the state of Public +Instruction."_ He was a _busy_ man--he was never idle. This is in his +favor, and undoubtedly he honestly sought the good of the nation, though +mixed with this desire there was a strong love of fame, and great +ambition. He wrote a book upon the elections, and the king created a new +department for him--that of director-general of the communes and +departments. He made use of his position to extend his influence. He +became chief of the doctrinaire school, which included many eminent men +of that time, and acquired great political power. It occupied a kind of +middle ground between the _ancien regime_ and pure liberalism. There +came a reaction, and Guizot again took to his pen, leaving office and +emolument. The king did not like his writings, and even his office of +professor of history in the university was taken from him. He was a man +who was not dejected through misfortune, and grew stronger as he was +persecuted. His wife was taken very ill, and finally died. The Catholic +priests endeavored to gain access to her bed-side, but were not +permitted. She died a convert to Protestantism. Guizot was to her a good +husband, but she always felt keenly the fact that she was older than her +husband. He married a young and beautiful English woman, of whom he was +passionately fond, if so cold a man ever possessed passions. His first +wife, it is said, knew who was to succeed her. He now wrote a _History +of Representative Government_, in which he gave the administration +repeated blows. + +He issued new books often enough to keep his name constantly before the +public, and these volumes were loudly praised by the opposition +journals. The administration modified its conduct toward him, and he +again participated in public affairs. But he foresaw the great change +which was coming, and this time made sure to make no blunders. Perhaps, +indeed, it is probable that he was honest in desiring a government like +that of Louis Phillippe--at any rate, he saw with great shrewdness the +revolution, and profited by his foresight. + +Guizot became the minister of Louis Phillippe. He commenced a system of +corruption which long after ruined his fortunes and those of his master. +It is, perhaps, difficult to say who was the soul of this system--the +king or the minister; but both were heartily in it and approved it, and +M. Guizot, of course, is responsible for it. He did not forget his +friends during his good fortune, but imitating Louis Phillippe, he gave +place to all his old companions. His _valet de chambre_, even, was made +_sous-prefet_, but this appointment raised such a storm that the king +made a change in the ministry. But during his short retirement from +office he never for a moment lost the ear of his royal master, who well +knew the capabilities of the man--and too well to spare his services for +any great length of time. The two men were suited to each other, and +united their fortunes. The queen was conscious of Guizot's ambition, and +it is said spoke of it to the king. But Louis Phillippe could not have +expected pure devotion without hope of reward. He ruled through bribery, +and could not blame a minister for being animated in his service by +personal considerations. The plan of Guizot seemed to be to buy up all +malcontents who could not be awed into subjection, or in fact, all who +were _worth_ buying. This corrupt system he carried as far as it was +possible, and avoid too much scandal. He bought up constituencies for +the king, and with his fellows he successfully silenced the opposition. +One of his enemies was M. Thiers, who constantly persecuted him through +a long course of years. The bearing of Guizot while minister, was +dignified, calm, and indeed grand. He could never, by passionate attacks +or bitter persecutions, be tempted into any undignified displays of +temper. He was a stoic everywhere--in politics as well as in his +religion, and at home. It is a singular fact that M. Guizot, who was a +great minister of corruption, who bought votes by the wholesale, never +allowed himself to profit pecuniarily, in the slightest degree, by his +position. He did not amass a franc save by his honest earnings, and so +well was his character known in this respect, that he was above all +suspicion. He did not love money--but power. He was economical in his +habits, caring nothing for idle pomp or extravagant show. While +ambassador in London he walked the streets with a plain umbrella, +instead of riding in his carriage, and such were his general habits of +economy that he amassed a fine property. + +His second wife now died, and it is said that after the event, he +carried on intrigues with women; it is certain that he was very +susceptible to female beauty and accomplishments. He was thought +fine-looking by the ladies, and did not lack admirers among them. It is +said by his enemies that he greatly admires himself, and that his home +abounds with portraits of himself from chamber to kitchen. It is also +told of him, to illustrate his hatred of M. Thiers, that when he was +ambassador in London, he would not receive his instructions from his +enemy, who was the minister in power, but received secret notes from +Louis Phillippe, and in the king's own hand. + +But the system adopted by the king and M. Guizot, ended in ruin. The +latter saved himself by ignominious flight. He clothed himself as a +peasant, and in this manner crossed the frontier. He afterward gave an +eloquent description of his escape. So hurried was his departure from +Paris, that he could not even bid his mother good-bye. He loved her +fondly; indeed his affection for her was the strongest sentiment of his +heart. It was the link which connected him with humanity. His mother set +out to rejoin him in London, and died on the way. It was unquestionably +the hardest trial, the most dreadful shock of his life, but he was true +to his stoical nature, and manifested not the sign of an emotion when +the news came to him. + +The king and the minister were together in England, in exile, but they +did not visit each other. They had had both learned a lesson--that a +system of corruption will in the end defeat itself. Since his flight to +London, M. Guizot has written two or three works, but they have not had +a marked success, and only prove that he clings tenaciously to his old +conservative opinions. + + + + +ALEXANDER DUMAS. + +[Illustration: Alexander Dumas.] + + +Alexander Dumas, one of the most celebrated authors of France, was born +on the 24th of July, 1802, in the village of Villars-Coterets. His +grandfather, the marquis de la Pailletrie, was governor of the island of +St. Domingo, and married a negress called Tiennette Dumas. Some declare +that this woman was his mistress, and not his wife, but we will not +pronounce upon this point. The marquis returned to France, bringing with +him a young mulatto--the father of the subject of this sketch. The youth +took the name of his mother, and entered the army as a private soldier. +He soon achieved renown and rose step by step to the rank of general of +a division. Under the empire, he died without fortune, leaving his +son--Alexander Dumas--to the care of his widow, who was quite poor. +Alexander commenced his studies under the Abbe Gregoire, who found it +impossible to teach him arithmetic, and with great difficulty beat a +little Latin into him. This arose, not from the boy's stupidity, but +because he did not apply himself. He was exceedingly fond of out-door +sports and exercise, and to such an extent did he follow his +inclinations in this particular, that he laid the foundation for a +vigorous health, that years of labor have never impaired. He was very +handsome when a boy, with long, curling hair, blue eyes, and a skin a +little tinged with the tropical hue, to denote his African descent. At +the age of eighteen, he entered a notary's office in his native village, +with the purpose of studying law. + +Leuven, exiled from Paris until the return of the Bourbons, resided in +the village, and forming the acquaintance of young Dumas and noticing +that he was ambitious, he counseled him to write dramas, and he would +make money. Dumas followed his advice--wrote three, which were offered +to the directors of the Paris theaters, and were each rejected by all. +But Dumas was made of stuff of the better sort, and was not thus to be +discouraged. Leuven soon returned to Paris, and Dumas longed to follow +him there. But he was too poor. He formed a plan, however, of gaining +his point, for he was anxious to see and know the actors of Paris, and +with a fellow-clerk he set out on foot for the great city. The two +young men were without money, but each carried a gun. They shot hares +and partridges as they journeyed toward Paris, and sold them to dealers +in game, and thus paid their expenses from day to day. + +Leuven received him with open arms, and gave the delighted youth a +ticket to hear Talma. He was privileged to go behind the scenes between +the acts, and converse with the actors. He was filled with delight. +Talma saw him, and at once pronounced him a genius. In his memoirs, he +declares that he said, "Alexander Dumas, I baptize you a poet, in the +name of Shakspeare, Corneille, and Schiller. Return to your native +village, enter your study, and the angel of Poesy will find you there, +and will raise you by the hair, like the Prophet Habakkuk, and transport +you to the spot where duty lies before you." + +Alexander soon came to Paris again, not this time supporting himself by +his gun, but with money which his mother gave him. He had letters of +recommendation to some of the old generals of the empire, and installed +himself comfortably in the _Place des Italiens_. Some of the men to whom +he had letters received him coldly, but in General Foy he found a warm +friend and protector. He introduced him to the notice of the duke of +Orleans, who finding that the young man possessed a good hand-writing, +which, by the way, he preserves to this day, he made him one of his +secretaries, and gave him a salary of twelve hundred francs. Alexander +now considered himself on the high road to fortune. He was in Paris--and +with a salary! It was small, to be sure, but he was where he could +frequent the theaters, and his patron was a man of eminence. He had +little to do, and read Shakspeare, Scott, Goethe, and Schiller. He said +to General Foy, "I live now by my hand-writing, but I assure you that +one day I will live by my pen." This shows that he looked forward to a +literary life--that he foresaw, in a measure, his after success in +literature. He soon began to write, and some of his plays were so well +liked by the managers of different theaters, that they bought them and +brought them out. He had already, while a secretary, begun to receive +money for his writings. He wrote for his mother who came up to Paris, +and the couple took up their residence in a humble apartment in the +faubourg St. Denis. For a time after this, his efforts were attended +with poor success, but he had the good fortune to please the +director-general of the theaters by a tragedy, and he promised him that +it should be brought out. Before this was done the director left for the +east, and in his absence the man who took his place refused to bring out +the play. Dumas made loud complaint. The censor asked him if he had +money, and he replied that he had not a _sou_. He demanded of him what +he depended upon for his support, Dumas referred to his salary of twelve +hundred francs, as secretary to the duke of Orleans. The censor advised +him to stick to his writing-desk. This was not only cruel, but very +unjust treatment of an author of great promise. In this play, it is but +right to state, Dumas exhibited the weakness which has almost uniformly +characterized his career--that of plagiarism. His situations, and +sometimes his language, were stolen from Goethe, Scott, etc., etc. His +next play was entitled _Henry III._, and was brought out under the +protection of the duke of Orleans. It was very successful, and he +received for it the sum of fifty thousand francs. It was, like the play +which preceded it, filled with stolen passages and scenes, but this did +not detract from its success. He now left his humble lodgings and took +up his residence in the Rue de l'University, where he lived in splendid +style. He was not a man to hoard his money, but to enjoy it as it was +earned. + +His life at this time was almost a ludicrous one. He lived in the most +luxurious manner, dressed fantastically, and loved a great number of women. +After the great success of _Henry III._, the play--_Christine_--which had +previously been rejected, was brought forward with success. + +In the revolution of July Dumas acted bravely, and has himself told the +story of his conduct with not a little boasting. He brought out the +drama of _Napoleon Bonaparte_, and that of _Charles VII._, after Louis +Phillippe was upon the throne. These dramas he had the fame of writing, +but other persons wrote largely in them. He adopted the plan of +employing good writers upon the different parts of a drama, and while +himself superintending the whole and writing prominent parts, yet +entrusting to his assistants a great portion of the composition. It was +his genius which arranged the plot and guided the selection of +characters, but the glory should have often been divided with his +humbler co-laborers. Victor Hugo wrote a play which the censors would +not allow to be brought out. He read it to Dumas. The latter soon issued +a play which was so very like that of Hugo, that when sometime after the +interdict was taken off from the play of Hugo, he was accused of +stealing from Dumas. But the truth was easily to be proved--that Hugo's +play was _first_ written--and Dumas declared in the public newspapers +that if there was any plagiarism in anybody, himself was the guilty +party! A new play now appeared which was principally written by +assistants, and which was also defaced by plagiarisms. Like some of +those which preceded it, it made light, indeed glorified, vices of the +darkest dye. + +A person by the name of Gillardet wrote a play, and presented it to the +manager of a theater, who not liking it, asked Jules Janin, the critic, +to revise it. Not liking it any better after the work of Janin upon it, +he handed it over to Dumas for a similar revision. He rearranged it and +brought it out as his own play! M. Gillardet went to law upon the matter +and recovered his rights. A duel was the result of the quarrel. Many +plays after this were written, until at last Janin, the critic, wrote a +severe article upon one of Dumas' plays. The author was wroth, and +replied. Janin made a second attack, and Paris laughed at the author. +Dumas swore that he would have blood, and author and critic went on to +the field for combat. Dumas demanded to fight with the sword--Janin with +the pistol--and finally not coming to agreement upon this point, the +parties made up their quarrel and became friends. + +The reader will have seen by this time where Dumas' genius lies--it is +in the arrangements for a drama--in working a subject up for the stage. +It is not so much in the matter, as the manner. Give him incidents, and +he will group them so as to produce a great effect. This is his power. + +Dumas' income grew large, and he took a new and more princely residence. +He associated himself with the great, and even went so far as to take an +actress to a ball given by his patron, the duke of Orleans. The woman +acted in his plays, and his relations with her were too intimate, but he +soon afterward married her. They lived so extravagantly that a +separation soon followed, and though Dumas' income was two hundred +thousand francs a year, yet he was constantly in debt from his +astonishing extravagance. He built at St. Germain his villa of Monte +Christo, which required enormous sums of money. He imported two +architects from Algiers, to decorate at a great expense one room after +the fashion of the east, and pledged them not to execute any similar +work in Europe. He has twelve reception-rooms in his house, and it is +magnificently furnished throughout. He keeps birds, parrots, and +monkeys, and a collection of fine horses. + +From 1845 to 1846 he issued sixty volumes, the majority, of course, +written _for_, not by him. As a matter of course, if these volumes sold +successfully, his income was enormous, and his name upon the cover of a +book seemed to insure its success. A theater was erected for the express +purpose of representing his plays alone, called the Theater of History. +He now visited Spain, and was present at the marriage of the duke of +Montpensier. Coming home, he made a short tour in Africa, where he +engaged in rare sports. He was accompanied by his son Alexander, who is +a distinguished author. + +After the revolution of 1848 Dumas appeared among the people, who +welcomed him as a pure democrat. He started a journal which soon died. A +good story is told of him about this time. A great admirer said to him +that there was a gross historical error in one of his romances. "Ah!" +said Dumas, "in what book?" The volume and error were pointed out, when +he exclaimed, "Ah! I have not read the book. Let me see--the little +Augustus wrote it. I will cut his head off!" + +He got so rapidly in debt soon after' this, that he left France for +Brussels. Monte Christo was seized to pay his debts. + +He broke off with one of the most eminent of his assistants, and since +then, his romances and plays have lacked much of the interest and +ability which they formerly possessed, and he is not regarded to-day as +he once was in Paris. This may be owing in part to the sickly condition +of literature under the despotism of Louis Napoleon. In his personal +appearance he is burly; he has large, red cheeks, his hair is crisped +and piled high upon his forehead. His eyes are dark, his mouth a +sensuous one; his throat is generally laid bare, and in short, he is a +good looking man. It is said that he has thought of visiting the United +States, and would do so, were it not for the prejudice against color in +America. + + + + +EUGENE SUE. + +[Illustration: EUGENE SUE.] + + +Marie-Joseph Sue, was born on the first day of January, 1801, in Paris. +His family was from Provence. His great-grandfather, Pierre Sue, was a +professor of medicine in the faculty of Paris, and was the author of +several excellent works, but died poor. His grandfather was not a +learned man, but was exceedingly wealthy. He was physician to the family +of Louis XVI. His father was professor of anatomy, and was appointed by +Napoleon surgeon of the Imperial Guard, and was, later, physician to the +family of Louis XVIII. He was married three times, and his wives each +bore him children. The second wife was the mother of the great novelist, +and she died soon after giving birth to her child. The Prince Eugene and +the Empress Josephine stood sponsors at the baptism of the child, and in +after life he relinquished his two given names for that of Eugene--after +the prince--by which he is now universally known. + +While at school, Eugene and an intimate companion were noted for the +mischief they wrought. One of their mischievous acts was, to raise +Guinea pigs and then turn them loose in the botanical garden of the +elder Sue, where, of course, they destroyed many of the plants. + +A tutor was engaged to school the refractory boys--one that was very +poor, and who dreaded above all things else, to lose his situation. +Whenever the tutor required that the boys should study their Latin, they +threatened him with a dismissal from his place, and so intimidated him +by this and other means, that he was content to let them alone. The +elder Sue asked him how the boys progressed in their Latin. He was +compelled to reply that they were excellent scholars, whereupon the old +gentleman demanded a specimen of the Latin they had acquired. They at +once manufactured a torrent of atrocious sentences, and palmed them off +upon him as genuine Latin, he not knowing enough to detect the +imposition, but the remorseful tutor had to listen to it in silence! The +father was delighted. + +The elder Sue was a very easy, good-natured man, but had no learning, +though he was reckoned a _savan_ of the first water. Eugene knew this, and +wickedly took advantage of it. His father--the doctor--was in the habit of +delivering a course of botanical lectures to a circle of very select +ladies, and Eugene suspected that his father, notwithing his voluble +discourse, had little knowledge of botany. He, therefore, with one or two +of his companions, took occasion (as it was their task to prepare plants +and flowers in vases, with their names written upon the vases for +examination) to insert new and unheard of names to puzzle the old man. He +entered the hall one day, smiling to the ladies on either hand, and stood +before them. He took up a vase, and for an instant was staggered by the +name, but it would not do to let his ignorance be known, so he very coolly +said, "This, ladies, is the _concrysionisoides_." He hemmed a little, and +then for more than an hour descanted upon the character and nature of the +fabulous plant, it is needless to add, fabricating all the way through. +Eugene was unkind enough not only to enjoy the scene, but to go and tell +the ladies of the joke. + +About this time, the since celebrated Dr. Veron became a fellow-pupil of +Sue's, and made the fourth of this band of youthful jokers. They were +now assistant surgeons in one of the Paris hospitals. Eugene one day +made the discovery that in his father's cabinet there was an apartment +in which he kept a very choice collection of wines, which were presents +from the allied sovereigns, when they were in Paris. There were among +others, sixty bottles of delicate Johannisberg, a present from Prince +Metternich. The students soon found the way, led by Eugene, to this +wine, and drank time after time. The question came up as to what should +be done with the bottles. Eugene proposed that the empty ones be +concealed, but Dr. Veron remarked that their absence would bring +detection. So a plan was hit upon which was far better--the bottles were +half-filled with wine and then water was added. The doctor was fond on +great occasions of bringing out this old wine and telling the story +connected with it, and drinking a few bottles. He thus ordered it on the +table one day, and prepared his guests to expect a remarkable wine. They +drank in silence, while the doctor exclaimed, "Delicious!--but _it is +time it was drunk_." Eugene was present and drank his wine and water +without any emotion. But not long after, while the students were +drinking the pure wine, the old doctor entered the cabinet and caught +them at their wicked work. It was an act never to be forgotten by him, +and he was astounded beyond measure. About this time he also discovered +that Eugene had been borrowing money at usurious interest to pay debts +he had contracted, and he was so indignant that he ordered him to leave +his house. Eugene joined the army and went to Spain. His father became +anxious for his safety, and had him attached to the staff of the duke of +Augouleme. But young Sue took good care not to expose himself to much +danger. He passed through the siege of Cadiz, the taking of Trocadero, +and returned to Paris in safety. His father was delighted to see him, +and received him kindly. But the doctor did not open his purse. + +Young Sue found his old companion faring sumptuously, being attached to +a liberal man named De Forges, who also supplied Sue occasionally with +money. Dr. Veron drove a fine horse and tilbury, and Sue was not content +until he could do the same. He applied to the Jewish money-lenders, who +replied that if he would sell a lot of wines for them, they would allow +him a handsome commission. As a last resort he sold the wine, and +procured a fine horse and phaeton. Driving out one day very rapidly in +the streets, he ran down a pedestrian, and looking at the unfortunate +man he discovered that it was his own father! The old man was +exceedingly angry and caned him on the spot. He demanded an explanation +of his son for this apparent wealth, and commanded him at once to go to +Toulon and enter the military hospital there, in the practice of his +profession. In Toulon his personal appearance was so fascinating that +the women fell in love with him, and he carried on many shameful +intrigues. + +In 1825 he returned to Paris, and found an old friend of his the +director of a little journal. He commenced writing articles for this +little journal, some of them light and others of a _spirituel_ +character, which were highly admired. In Paris he was also given to +intrigues with women. In 1826 he made many aristocratic conquests, and +frequented the home of a celebrated female novelist. In his first +romances, his high-born mistresses figure as his principal characters. +The elder Sue now formally declared that he would pay no more debts of +his son, and he was again reduced to poverty. He had recourse to the +Jews, who lent him money upon his expectations from his grandfather. He +plunged again into extravagance, and this time his father placed him as +surgeon in the navy, and in this capacity he made voyages round the +world. Soon after his return, his maternal grandfather died, and his +father a little later left him a large fortune, and he commenced a life +of gorgeous extravagance and sensuality, which has often been described. +From 1831 to 1833, he published a series of sea-romances, which had a +great success, and the French critics called him the French Cooper. He +was very proud, frequented the most gay and fashionable circles, and +assumed airs above his station. He was, however, one day excessively +mortified by the sarcastic allusion of one of his noble friends to the +business or profession of his father. He once more tried the pen to +achieve a name for himself, and this time in history. For the Naval +History of France which he wrote, he received eighty thousand francs, an +enormous price for a poor book. The more renown he acquired, the less +pains he took with his books, but he always made good any losses +incurred by publishers in publishing his works. + +Finding himself in years, he bethought himself of marriage, and turned +his attention to a relative of Madam de Maintenon, who refused him +upon the pretext of the disparity in their ages. He had his revenge in +writing against marriage, and against all aristocracies in his romances. +His _Mysteries of Paris_ appeared in the _Debats_, and the _Wandering +Jew_ in the _Constitutionel_. He endeavored through his fiction to teach +Socialistic doctrines, and so far carried them into practice that he +appeared in the streets in a blouse. There can be no question that his +later novels were written with a far higher aim than the early ones, +which were reeking with a refined, yet none the less loathsome +sensuality. An enormous price was paid for the _Wandering Jew_ by the +editor of the _Constitutionel_, who was none other than his old +companion of the wine-closet--Dr. Veron. The latter made a bargain with +the author to write ten small volumes a year for fourteen consecutive +years, for which he agreed to pay one hundred thousand francs a year, or +nearly a million and a half for the whole engagement. He presented Dr. +Veron with the manuscript of the _Seven Capital Sins_, when the worthy +editor found himself drawn to the life, under the title of the Gourmand. +He protested against it, but Sue pleading the bargain, would not abate +one sentence. Dr. Veron would not, of course, publish it, and finally +the contract was annulled. The Gourmand--Dr. Veron--was published in the +_Seicle_, and the others of the _Capital Sins_, were published in the +_Presse_. + +Sue had at this time a splendid chateau in the environs of Orleans--the +chateau des Bordes. Here he lived in great luxury and splendor. In the +days of the republic he was elected a member of the legislative +assembly, which office at first he was backward in assuming. In 1852 +Sue sold his Orleans property, and removed to a beautiful place in +Savoy, where his life was described as follows: "He rises in the morning +and receives from a servant a long bamboo cane, and walks in the region +of his house until breakfast. A pretty house-keeper waits upon him while +he partakes of a sumptuous meal, and when it is finished, he enters his +study to write. The servant presents him with a spotless pair of kid +gloves in which he always writes. At each chapter a new and perfumed +pair is presented him. He writes five or six hours steadily, without +correcting or reading. His income is from sixty to eighty thousand +francs a year from these writings. After laborious writing, Sue makes +his toilet in the best style, and prepares for dinner, which is +everything that an epicure might desire. After dinner he mounts a fine +horse and rides among the hills which surround his home, until his +digestion is completed. He returns, smokes tobacco from an amber pipe, +and enjoys himself at his leisure." + +Of Eugene Sue's character it is, perhaps, needless for me to make any +criticisms. He has many admirers in all parts of the world--and also +many enemies. That he is a romancer of astonishing powers nobody will +deny, but we well may question the use he has made of those powers. +Nearly all of his earlier romances are unfit for the eyes of pure men +and women, and now that he is dead, let us hope that they too will +perish. In later years, M. Sue has endeavored to advocate the cause of +the poor, and with great eloquence, in his fictions. But he has probably +caused as much harm by the licentiousness of his style, as he has +accomplished good by his pleas for the poor. It is stated that he has +given very liberally to the poor, and in practice exemplified his +doctrine. His books give an indication of the present fashionable +morality of Paris and France, and though they have sold largely in +America, their influence cannot be good. + + + + +M. THIERS + +[Illustration: M. THIERS.] + + +M. Thiers has figured prominently in French politics, was a minister of +Louis Phillippe, and is a historian. He is a man of a singular nature, +witty and eccentric, rather than profound and dignified, and it will not +do to pas him by without a notice. He was born in Marseilles, in the +year 1797. His father was a common workman, but his mother was of a +commercial family which had been plunged into poverty by a reverse of +fortune. The young Thiers was educated through the bounty of the state, +at the school of Marseilles, and was, when a boy, known principally for +his rogueries. He sold his books to get apples and barley-sugar. +Punishments seemed never to have any terror for him. At one time he +concealed a tom-cat in his desk in the school, with its claws confined +in walnut shells, and suddenly in school hours let him loose, to the +great astonishment and anger of his teachers. He was condemned to a +dungeon for eight days, and received a terrible reprimand. The effect of +either the lecture or the imprisonment was decided. He became docile and +obedient, and paid attention to his studies. For seven years he studied +with unremitting attention, and during all that time took the first +prizes of his class. He now went to Aix to study law, where his old +habits returned to him, and he became wild and mischievous in his ways. +At eighteen Adolphe Thiers was a favorite with the liberals and a terror +to the royalists, and was the leader of a party at Aix. He already +showed fine powers of oratory and composition, which later conducted him +to power. He spoke and wrote in the interest of the enemies of the +restoration. He wrote for the newspapers whose columns were open to him, +and increased the vigor and eloquence of his style by this constant +practice. + +There was at Aix an academy which awarded prizes to the best writers +upon given subjects. Thiers wrote for the prize, but was foolish enough +to reserve a copy of his treatise and read it to his companions, who +loudly proclaimed that he must win. The persons who were to award the +prizes were royalists, and hated Thiers for his liberalism, and when +they heard the vauntings of Thiers' friends, they were prepared to +decide against him, which they did when the day of examination came. The +prize was reserved, and another trial was instituted. Thiers put in his +old treatise, and this time the judges awarded to it the second prize, +and gave _the first_ for a treatise which came to them from Paris. Judge +of their chagrin when they found that this treatise was written by +Thiers! The little student had fairly taken them in his net. Great were +the rejoicings of the liberals in Aix. + +Among the friends of Thiers was Mignet, since a historian, and the young +men full of hope came together to Paris, where, poor as they were +hopeful, they took lodgings in a miserable street. Mignet determined to +follow literature and by it gain a living and fame, but Thiers resolved +upon intrigue. He made himself known to the liberal leaders, and with +great tact exhibited his abilities. He was instantly offered employment +of various kinds, and chose that of editor. He took charge of the +_Constitutionel_, and plunged into the heat and strife of party +politics. His witty, hornet-like nature fitted him well for the +position. He attained great influence and power, and the great men of +the time, even Talleyrand, came to him, while he exclaimed bombastically +and blasphemously, "Suffer little children to come unto me." + +He went into society, made the acquaintance of the old men of the +revolution, and gathered the materials for the _History of the +Revolution_, which afterward carried him to the height of his +popularity. He fought two duels about this time--one with the father of +a young lady whom he had seduced. He started a new journal called the +_National_, which should be more fully under his control than the +_Constitutionel_ had been, and which should entirely meet his views of +what a journal should be. But the new journal seriously offended the +government, the officers of which attempted to put it down, for on the +morning of the 26th of July, they nearly destroyed the presses of the +establishment. The opposition journalists had a meeting to express their +opinions upon this outrage upon the rights of the press. During the +three troublous days of fighting, Thiers left Paris for the suburbs, and +came back in time to make his fortune, for he was soon named +secretary-general to the government. He had the principal management of +the finances, which at that time were in a state of great disorder. +Thiers delivered a public speech upon the law of mortgages, and +Royer-Collard approached him with open arms, exclaiming, "Your fortune +is made!" + +In the meantime, M. Thiers, as the holidays were approaching, thought it +wise to run down to Aix, which he represented in the chamber of +deputies. Since he was last there he had changed his course upon many of +the important questions of the day. Formerly he was extremely liberal, +but for the sake of power he had deserted the cause of Poland and Italy. + +He let the inhabitants of Aix know that he was coming, that no excuse +might be wanting for a grand reception. Surely the people of Aix would +feel proud of their fellow-citizen who had been so highly honored by the +government! + +He arrived before the gates of the town and was surprised at the silence +everywhere. No crowd came out to greet him--the people were about their +business. A few officials alone met and welcomed him back to the scene +of his early triumphs. He went to his hotel, and when night came, it was +told him that crowds of people were gathered in the street below. He +went to the window--ah! now the people were come to do him honor! What +was his chagrin to hear the multitudes commence a serenade of the vilest +description. Tin horns were blown, tin pans were pounded, and every +species of execrable noise was made, and M. Thiers came to the +conclusion that the people of Aix did not admire his late political +conduct. To satisfy him, the leaders cried aloud, "Traitor to Poland, +to Italy, and France!" He was satisfied, and hurried back to Paris, +where Louis Phillippe met him, and as if to console him for his +reception in Aix, gave him a portfolio--and he was the king's minister. + +One of his first acts was to destroy the character of the duchess of +Berri, who pretended that the French throne belonged to her son. Louis +Phillippe gave him almost unlimited power to accomplish this object, and +he set to work coolly and with deliberate calculation. It is said he +bribed an intimate friend of the duchess, who knew where she was, with a +million of francs to betray her, and she was thrown into prison. Once +there, he found means to ruin her fame and destroy her influence, though +the measures he took excited the indignation of France. He extorted from +her a secret confession, under the promise that it should always remain +strictly secret, and then coolly published it in the government organ. + +Under M. Thiers the finances of the country improved, and many of the +public works were completed. The splendid Quai d'Orsay and the Place +Vendome were finished, and the Madeleine begun. At the ceremonies which +attended the inauguration of the column upon the Place Vendome, a good +thing was said in the ears of the minister by a Parisian wit. Thiers was +at the foot of the column--the statue of Napoleon at the top. The height +of the column is one hundred and thirty-two feet. Said the wit aloud, +"There are just one hundred and thirty-two feet from the ridiculous to +the sublime!" + +But M. Thiers was not in reality a ridiculous man. Under his management +France saw prosperity. He developed its resources and exhibited great +abilities. He was constantly subjected to attacks from his old radical +associates and he deserved them. The great quarrel of his life, +however, was with Guizot. These two men were constantly by the ears with +each other, and the king gave one a certain office and the other +another. He changed these officers from time to time, until at last both +saw that one alone must triumph. Guizot was the triumphant man, and +Thiers fell. He became more radical as he lost office, and published (in +1845) two volumes of his _History of the Consulate_. They had a splendid +success; he sold the whole work for five hundred thousand francs--an +enormous price. But the concluding volumes were not forthcoming, and the +publisher demanded them--but in vain. For the last thirty years M. +Thiers has lived in a beautiful house in the place Saint Georges. He is +wealthy, and has always lived in good style. + +It is currently reported that M. Thiers has been guilty of treating +certain members of his family with great meanness, and in society many +scandalous stories have been repeated illustrating his miserly economy. + +When the revolution of 1848 broke out, M. Thiers ran away from Paris, +but afterward returned, and has since lived a very quiet life. + + + + +GEORGE SAND + +[Illustration: GEORGE SAND.] + + +One of the most distinguished of the living writers of France is Madam +Dudevant, or GEORGE SAND, which is her _nom de plume_. She is by no +means a woman either after my ideal or the American ideal, but is a +woman of great genius. Her masculinity, and, indeed, her licentious +style, are great faults: but in sketching some of the most brilliant of +French writers, it would not do to omit her name. + +The maiden name of George Sand was Amantine Aurore Dupin, and she is +descended from Augustus the Second, king of Poland. Her ancestors were +of king's blood, and the more immediate of them were distinguished for +their valor and high birth. She was born in the year 1804. She was +brought up by her grandmother, at the chateau Nahant, situated in one of +the most beautiful valleys of France. The old countess of Horn, her +grandmother, was a woman of brilliant qualities, but not a very safe +guide for a young child. Her ideas were anti-religious, and she was a +follower of Rousseau rather than of Christ. When Aurore was fifteen +years old, she knew well how to handle a gun, to dance, to ride on +horseback, and to use a sword. She was a young Amazon, charming, witty, +and yet coarse. She was fond of field sports, yet knew not how to make +the sign of the cross. When she was twenty years old she was sent to a +convent in Paris, to receive a religious education. She loved her +grandmother to adoration, and the separation cost her a great deal of +suffering. She often alludes in her volumes to this grandparent, in +terms of warm love and veneration. In her "_Letters of a Traveller_" she +gives us some details of her life with her grandmother at the chateau de +Nahant. She says: + + "Oh, who of us does not recall with delight the first, books + he devoured! The cover of a ponderous old volume that you + found upon the shelf of a forgotten closet--does it not bring + back to you gracious pictures of your young years? Have you + not thought to see the wide meadow rise before you, bathed in + the rosy light of the evening when you saw it for the first + time? Oh! that the night should fall so quickly upon those + divine pages, that the cruel twilight should make the words + float upon the dim page! + + "It is all over; the lambs bleat, the sheep are shut up in + their fold, the cricket chirps in the cottage and field It is + time to go home. + + "The path is stony, the bridge narrow and slippery, and the + way is difficult. + + "You are covered with sweat, but you have a long walk, you + will arrive too late, supper will have commenced. + + "It is in vain that the old domestic whom you love will retard + the ringing of the bell as long as possible; you will have the + humiliation of entering the last one, and the grandmother, + inexorable upon etiquette, will reprove you in a voice sweet + but sad--a reproach very light, very tender, which you will + feel more deeply than a severe chastisement. But when, at + night, she demands that you account for your absence, and you + acknowledge, blushing, that in reading in the meadow you + forgot yourself, and when you are asked to give the book, you + draw with a trembling hand from your pocket--what? _Estelle et + Nemorin_. + + "Oh then the grandmother smiles! + + "You regain your courage, your book will be restored to you, + but another time you must not forget the hour of supper. + + "Oh happy days! O my valley Noire! O Corinne! O Bernardin de + Saint Pierre! O the Iliad! O Milleroye! O Atala! O the willows + by the river! O my departed youth! O my old dog who could not + forget the hour of supper, and who replied to the distant + ringing of the bell by a dismal howl of regret and hunger!" + +In other portions of her books George Sand refers to her early life, and +always in this enthusiastic manner. + +Her grandmother exercised no surveillance upon her reading--she perused +the pages of Corinne, Atala, and Lavater, and the two former would raise +strange dreams in the head of a girl only fourteen years old. She read +everything which fell in her way. + +In reading Lavater's essays upon Physiogomy, she noticed the array of +ridiculous, hideous, and grotesque pictures, and wished to know what they +were for. She saw underneath them the words--drunkard--idler--glutton, etc. +etc. She very soon remarked that the drunkard resembled the coachman, the +cross and meddling person the cook, the pedant her own teacher, and thus +she proved the infallibility of Lavater! + +Once, when in the convent at Paris, she was misled by the poetry of +Catholicism, and abandoned herself to the highest transports of +religious fervor. She passed whole hours in ecstasy at the foot of the +altar. This shows the susceptibility of her imagination. About this time +her grandmother died, and she left the convent to close the eyes of her +much-loved grandparent. She returned, with the full determination of +becoming religious. All the authority of her family was required to +break this resolution, and, six months after, to prevail upon her to +marry M. le baron Dudevant, the man they had sought out to be her +husband. He was a retired soldier and a gentleman farmer. The union was +a very unhappy one. She was sensitive, proud, and passionate, while he +was cold, and entirely swallowed up in his agricultural pursuits. The +dowry of Aurore amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, and this money +M. Dudevant spent with a lavish hand upon his farm, but bestowed little +attention upon his wife. At first she endured this life, for two +children were given to her to alleviate her sorrows. But finding her lot +grow more sad, and her health failing, she was ordered to taste the +waters of the Pyrenees, whither she went, but without her husband. She +rested at Bordeaux, and there made her entrance into society, through +some kind friends residing in that city. She was received with praises. +A wealthy shipping merchant fell deeply in love with her; she did not +give way to it, however, but returned to her family, where she found no +affection to welcome her. + +Jules Sandeau, a student of law, spent one of his vacations at the +chateau Nahant, and was the first person who turned Madame Dudevant's +attention to literary pursuits. He returned to Paris profoundly in love +with the lady, though he had not dared to mention it. M. Nerard, a +botanist, came also to the chateau, to give lessons to M. Dudevant, and +his wife was charmed with him, and they spent happy hours together. But +in time love grew out of the intimacy--a love which of course was +wicked, but which according to French ideas, was innocent. The husband +was justly suspicious, and a voluntary separation took place, he +retaining all her property in exchange for her liberty, which he gave +her, and she set out for Bordeaux. She recounts a part of her subsequent +history in "_Indiana_." She found her lover in Bordeaux, but he had +changed, and was on the eve of marriage, and she went to Paris. She +returned to the same convent where she had spent a part of her youth, to +weep over her lot. She soon left the convent for an attic in the Quai +St. Michel, where Jules Sandeau, the law-student, soon discovered her. +She was in very destitute circumstances, and Sandeau was also very poor. +She knew a little of painting, and obtained orders of a toyman to paint +the upper part of stands for candlesticks, and the covers of +snuff-boxes. This was fatiguing but not remunerative, and they wrote to +the editor of the _Figaro_ newspaper. He replied, and invited them to +visit him at his home, where he received them with kindness. When Aurore +spoke of her snuff-boxes, he laughed heartily; "but," said he to +Sandeau, "why do not you become a journalist? It is less difficult than +You think." + +Sandeau replied, "I am too slow for a journalist." + +"Good!" replied Aurore; "but I will help you!" + +"Very good!" replied the editor; "but work, and bring me your articles +as soon as you can." + +Madame Dudevant laid aside her pencil and took up the pen--not to lay it +down again. She commenced a series of articles which puzzled the +Parisian press. The editor liked them, but desired that she should try +her hand at romance. In about six weeks Madame Dudevant and Jules +Sandeau had completed a volume entitled "_Rose and Blanche, or the +Comedian and the Nun_;" but they could find no publisher. The editor +came to their aid, and persuaded an old bookseller to give them four +hundred francs for the manuscript. When the book was to be published, +they deliberated upon the name of the author. _She_ disliked the scandal +of authorship--_he_ feared his father's curse; and the editor advised +that the name of the law-student should be divided, and no friend would +recognize the name. So the story came out as written by Jules Sand. + +The young people thought their fortunes made--that the four hundred +francs were inexhaustible. Madame Dudevant now adopted a man's costume +for the first time, that she might go to the theater with advantage--at +least this was her excuse. The young couple visited the theater at +night, and Sandeau slept the days away. The money soon was gone, and +Madame Dudevant in her new extremity was advised to return to the +chateau Nahant, and endeavor to get a legal separation from her husband, +and an annual allowance. When she set out, she left with Sandeau the +plan of "_Indiana_." They were to divide the chapters of the new story; +but when she came back he had not written a line of his task. To his +great surprise Aurore put into his hands the whole of the manuscript of +the book. + +"Read," said she, "and correct!" He read the first chapter, and was full +of praise. "It needs no revision," he said; "it is a master-piece!" He +then declared that as he had not written any of the book, he would not +allow the common name to be used. She was greatly troubled, and had +recourse to the editor. He proposed that she still keep the name of +Sand, but select another first name. "Look in the calendar," said he; +"to-morrow is the day of St. George; take the name of George--call +yourself George Sand!" And this is the origin of that distinguished +name. + +"_Indiana_" was purchased for six hundred francs, but it sold so well +that the publisher afterwards gave her a thousand francs more. The +editor of _Figaro_ put two of his critics upon the book to review it. +They both condemned it as mediocre and without much interest. But the +book had a wonderful success, and Paris was thrown into a state of +excitement about the author. The journals added fuel to the fire by +their remarks and criticisms, and at once Madame Dudevant was a great +authoress. She took elegant apartments, where she received the artists +and authors of the gay city, herself arrayed in a man's costume, and she +astonished her male friends by smoking and joking with them like a man. +She was known only by the name of George Sand, and preferred to be +called simply George. She walked the Boulevards in a close fitting +riding coat, over the collar of which fell her dark, luxuriant curls. +She carried in one hand her riding whip and in the other her cigar, +which from time to time she would raise to her mouth. Jules Sandeau was +forgotten, and fled to Italy. In after years George Sand bitterly +repented her neglect of this friend, and she has written very touchingly +in one of her books her repentance. She now wrote two or three other +stories which were caught up eagerly by the publishers. She wrote +against the institution of marriage and the critics at once attacked +her, and with justice. Story followed story from 1835 to 1837--each +filled with passionate, magnificent writing, and selling with great +rapidity. Her style was brilliant and elegant, and appealed to the +French taste with great success. + +In 1836 George Sand assumed her old name, that she might demand from her +husband her fortune and children. It was proved upon trial that he had +treated her with brutality in the presence of her children, and in her +absence had lived shamefully, and the judge gave back to Madame Dudevant +her children and her fortune. The children accompanied their mother to +Paris, where she superintended their education. She now became intimate +with M. Lamnenais and went so far as to repudiate the bad sentiments of +many of her books. An end however soon came to her friendship for +Lamnenais, and they separated in anger, and hating each other heartily. +She now wrote and published several Socialistic novels, which met with a +poor sale in comparison with that of some of her previous works. In +fact, for the last ten years, her works have been decreasing in sale. In +the revolution of 1848, George Sand took side with the republicans. At +present she resides almost entirely at the chateau Nahant, where she has +erected a little theater in which her pieces (for she wrote for the +stage) are acted previous to their being brought out in Paris. Her +income is from ten to twelve thousand francs a year, and her life is +pleasant and patriarchal. She gathers the villagers round her, invites +them to her table, and instructs them. She once took into her house a +woman covered with leprosy, who was cast off by all others, and with her +own hand ministered to her wants, dressed her sores, and nursed her +until she was cured. George Sand lives in a plain style, clinging to +everything which recalls her early life and her love of early friends. +She sleeps but five or six hours. At eleven the breakfast bell rings. +Her son Maurice presides at the table in her absence. She eats little, +taking coffee morning and evening. The most of her time she devotes to +literary labors. After breakfast she walks in the park; a little wood +bordering upon a meadow is her favorite promenade. After half an hour's +walk she returns to her room, leaving everyone to act as he pleases. +Dinner takes place at six, which is a scene of more careful etiquette +than the breakfast table. She walks again after dinner, and returns to +the piano, for she is fond of music. The evening is spent in pleasant +intercourse with her guests. Sunday is given up to a public theatrical +representation for the people. Such is a specimen of the life of this +woman. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +PURE LA CHAISE--PRISONS--FOUNDLINGS--CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS--LA +MORGUE--NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA--THE BAPTISM. + +PERE LA CHAISE. + + +Pere la Chaise is not a cemetery which suits my taste, but it is +unquestionably the grandest in all France, and I ought not to pass it by +without a few remarks upon it. I visited it but once, and then came away +displeased with its magnificence. It seems to me that a cemetery should +not be so much a repository of art, as a place of great natural beauty +and quiet, where one would long to rest after "life's fitful fever." + +The cemetery is beyond the eastern limits of the city, upon the side of +a hill which commands a very fine view of the country, and is surrounded +by beautiful hills and valleys. It was much celebrated in the fourteenth +century, and during the reign of Louis XIV. Pere la Chaise resided upon +the spot, and for a century and a half it was the country-seat of the +Jesuits. Hence its name. It was purchased by the prefect of the Seine +for one hundred and sixty thousand francs, for a cemetery, it then +containing forty-two acres of ground. It was put into competent hands, +and was very much improved by the planting of trees, laying out of +roads, etc. etc. In 1804 it was consecrated, and in May of that year the +first grave was made in it. It is now filled with the graves of some of +the most distinguished men of Paris and France, and is by far the most +fashionable cemetery in France. It is distinguished for the size, +costliness, and grandeur of its monuments. There are temples, sepulchral +chapels, mausoleums, pyramids, altars, and urns. Within the railings +which surround many of the graves, are the choicest of flowers, which +are kept flourishing in dry seasons by artificial supplies of water. A +canal conducts water from a distance to the cemetery. + +The day was fine, the sky cloudless when I visited the spot, and though +I could not but contrast it with Mount Auburn near Boston, or Greenwood +near New York, yet I was much impressed with the natural beauty of the +situation. Art is, however, too profusely displayed upon the spot, and +the original beauty is covered up to a certain extent. The gateway +struck me as being rather pretentious. Passing through it and by the +guardian's lodge, which is at its side, one of the first spots I sought +was the grave of Abelard and Heloise. The stranger always asks first for +it, and visits it last when returning from the cemetery. It is the most +beautiful monument in the cemetery. It consists of a chapel formed out +of the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, which was founded by Abelard, +and of which Heloise was the first abbess. It is fourteen feet in +length, by eleven in breadth, and is twenty-four feet in height. A +pinnacle rises out of the roof in a cruciform shape, and four smaller +ones exquisitely sculptured stand between the gables. Fourteen columns, +six feet high, support beautiful arches, and the cornices are wrought in +flowers. The gables of the four fronts have trifoliate windows, and are +exquisitely decorated with figures, roses, and medalions of Abelard and +Heloise. In the chapel is the tomb built for Abelard by Peter the +Venerable, at the priory of St. Marcel. He is represented as in a +reclining posture, the head a little inclined and the hands joined. +Heloise is by his side. On one side of the tomb, at the foot, are +inscriptions, and in other unoccupied places. I lingered long at this +tomb, and thought of the singular lives of that couple whose history +will descend to the latest generations. It seemed strange that two +lovers who lived in the middle of the twelfth century, should, simply by +the astonishing force of their passions, have made themselves famous +"for all time." It seemed wonderful that the story of their love and +shame should have so burned itself into the forehead of Time, that he +carries it still in plain letters upon his brow, that the world may +read. It shows how much the heart still controls the world. Love is the +master-passion, and so omnipotent is it, that yet in all hearts the +story of a man or woman who simply _loved each other_ hundreds of years +ago, calls forth our tears to-day, as if it occurred but yesterday. Bad +as Abelard's character must seem to be to the careful reader--cruel as +was his treatment of Heloise--he must have had depths of love and +goodness of which the world knew not. Such a woman as Heloise could not +have so adored any common man, nor a wonderful man who had a hard heart. +She saw and knew the recesses of his heart, and pardoned his occasional +acts of cruelty. Having known what there was of good and nobleness in +his nature, she was willing to die, nay, to live in torture for his +sake. + +The tomb is constantly visited, and flowers and immortalities are heaped +always over it. Had it no history to render the spot sacred, the beauty +of the monument alone would attract visitors, and I should have been +repaid for my visit. The French, who magnify the passion of love, or +pretend to do so, at all times above all others keep the history of +Abelard and Heloise fresh in their hearts. + +One of the best monuments in Pere la Chaise, is that erected in memory +of Casimir Perier, prime minister in 1832. It consists of an excellent +statue of the statesman, placed upon a high and noble pedestal. There is +a path which winds round the foot of the slope, which is by far the most +beautiful in the cemetery. It is full of exquisite views, and is lined +with fine monuments. Ascending the hill west of the avenue, I soon was +among the tombs of the great. One of the first which struck my eye was +the column erected to the memory of viscount de Martignac, who is +celebrated for the defense of his old enemy, the Prince Polignac, at the +bar of the chamber of peers, after the 1830 revolution. Next to it, or +but a short distance from it, I saw the tomb of Volney, the duke Decres, +and the abbe Sicard, the celebrated director of the deaf and dumb school +of Paris, and whose fame is wide as the world. Many others follow, each +commemorating some great personage, but the majority of the names were +unfamiliar to me. Among those which were known, were those of the +Russian countess Demidoff. It is a beautiful temple of white marble, the +entablature supported by ten columns, under which is a sarcophagus with +the arms of the princes engraved upon it. Manuel, a distinguished orator +in the chamber of deputies, and General Foy, have splendid monuments. +Benjamin Constant has a plain, small tomb, as well as Marshal Ney. + +West of these tombs lie the remains of marchioness de Beauharnais, +sister-in-law of the Empress Josephine. Moliere has also near to it a +fine monument; La Fontaine a cenotaph with two bas-reliefs in bronze, +illustrating two of his fables. Madame de Genlis has a tomb in this +quarter. Her remains were transported here by Louis Phillippe. Laplace, +the great astronomer, has a beautiful tomb of white marble. An obelisk +is surmounted by an urn, which is ornamented with a star encircled by +palm-branches. The marquis de Clermont has a fine monument--he who +gallantly threw himself between Louis XVI. and the mob, to save his +sovereign. + +In one part of the cemetery I noticed many English tombs, of persons, I +suppose, who were residents of Paris, or who visiting it were stricken +by death. + +One of the most superb monuments in the cemetery is that of M. Aguado, a +great financier, but it smacks too strongly of money to suit my taste. +He was a man of enormous wealth, therefore he has a magnificent +monument. According to this method, the rich men of the world shall have +monuments which pierce the skies, while the men of genius and of great +and noble character, shall go without a slab to indicate their final +resting-place. + +This plan of turning a cemetery into a field for the display of splendid +marbles, is certainly not consonant with good taste. It is calculated +that in forty years not less than one hundred millions of francs have +been spent in the erection of monuments in Pere la Chaise, the number of +tombs already amounting to over fifteen thousand. + +In 1814, when the allied forces were approaching Paris, heavy batteries +were planted in Pere la Chaise, commanding the plain which extends to +Vincennes. The walls had loop-holes, and the scholars of Alfort occupied +it and defended it against three Russian attacks. The last was +successful, and the Russians were masters of the field. The city of +Paris capitulated that very evening, and the Russian troops encamped +among the tombs. + +[Illustration: PARIS FROM MONTMARTRE.] + +[Illustration: COLUMN OF JULY 8--PLACE JUILLET.] + +In coming back from Pere la Chaise, I saw the Column of July, erected in +memory of the victims of the July of the great revolution. Upon this +spot the old Bastille stood, and the column indicates it. + + + + +THE PRISONS. + + +The public prisons of Paris are nine in number: for persons upon whom a +verdict has not been pronounced, and against whom an indictment lies; +for debt; for political offenses; for persons sentenced to death or the +hulks; for criminals of a young age; for females; and for offenders in +the army. + +In the penal prisons, the inmates are allowed books and the privilege of +writing, but are all obliged to labor, each, if he wishes, choosing the +trade in which he is fitted best to succeed. The men receive a pound and +a half of bread per day, and the women a fraction less. + +The prison La Force is in the Rue du Roi de Sicile. The buildings of +which it is composed were once the hotel of the duke de La Force--hence +the name. It was converted into a prison in 1780. A new prison for +prostitutes was erected about the same time, and was called La Petite +Force. In 1830 the two prisons were united, and put under one +management, and the whole prison is given up to males committed for +trial. The prisoners are divided into separate classes; the old +offenders into one ward, the young and comparatively innocent into +another; the old men into one apartment, and the boys into another. The +prisoners sleep in large and well ventilated chambers, and the boys have +each a small apartment which contains a single bed. The prisoners have +the privilege of working if they wish, but they are not obliged to do +so, inasmuch as they are not yet _convicted_ of crime. There is a +department for the sick, a bathing-room, a parlor, and an advocate's +room, where the prisoners can hold conversations with their legal +defenders. The number of prisoners is very great--ten thousand being +under the annual average confined in the prisons. + +St. Lazare is a prison for women under indictment and those who have +been sentenced to a term less than one year. One department of the +prison, which is entirely separated from the rest, is devoted to +prostitutes, and another distinct department is devoted to girls under +sixteen years of age. Each department has its own infirmary, and a new +plan has been adopted to stimulate the inmates to industry. They are +allowed two-thirds pay for all the work they will perform in the prison. +Every kind of manufacture is carried on in the prison--the preparation +of cashmere yarn, hooks and eyes, etc. etc. The number confined in this +prison in a year, is over ten thousand. The service of the prison is +carried on by the sisters of charity. + +La Nouvelle Force is a new prison in a healthier quarter than La Force, +and is used for the same purposes. It contains twelve hundred and sixty +separate cells. + +Depot de Condemnes is in the Rue de la Roquette, and is a prison for the +confinement of persons condemned to forced labor and to death. It is a +very healthy prison and one of the strongest in the world. A double +court surrounds the prison, in which sentinels are constantly kept on +guard; the walls are very thick and solid, and each prisoner has a +separate cell. A fountain in the center dispenses water to all parts of +the prison. The number of the inmates is at least four hundred on the +average. + +The Prison of Correction, situated also in Rue de la Roquette, is for +the confinement and correction of offenders under the age of sixteen, +who have been pronounced by the judge incapable of judgment. They are +subjected to a strict, but not cruel discipline, in this prison. It is +very healthy, and all its appointments are such as to facilitate the +education of the morals and intellect of the inmates. It is well +supplied with water and wholesome diet, and books and religious +teachers. It is divided into separate departments, and one grade of boys +is never allowed intercourse with another. This is a very wise +regulation, as under it a fresh, ignorant, and wicked inmate cannot have +influence over those who have long been under the discipline of the +place. + +The Conciergerie is used to confine persons before trial, and it is one +of the most famous (or infamous) prisons in the world. Its historical +associations are full of interest. Its entrance is on the Quai de +l'Horloge. In visiting this prison, the stranger from the new world is +struck with the terrible outlines of some of the apartments. The Salle +des Gardes of St. Louis, has a roof which strikes terror into the heart, +it is so old and grim. In one part of the building there is a low +prison-room, where those persons condemned to death spend their last +hours, fastened down to a straight waistcot. The little room in which +Marie Antoinette was confined, is still shown to the visitor. There are +now three paintings in it which represent scenes in the last days of her +life. The prison-room which confined Lourel, who stabbed the duke de +Barry, and the dungeons in which Elizabeth, the sister of Louis XVI., +was imprisoned, are shut up and cannot be seen. There are many +histories connected with this old prison, which to repeat, would fill +this volume. + +The Prison de l'Abbaye is a military prison, and is situated close to +St. Germain des Pres. It was formerly one of the most famous in Paris, +and the horrors which it witnessed during the bloody revolution were +never surpassed in any city of the world. Many of the atrocities which +were committed in it are now widely known through the histories of those +times of blood. Many of its dungeons are still under ground, and wear an +aspect of gloom sufficient to terrify a man who spends but a few moments +in them. The discipline of this prison is very rigid, as it contains +only military offenders. + +The prison for debtors is in Rue de Clichy, and is in an airy situation, +is well constructed, and holds three or four hundred persons. The +officers of this prison still remember the modest-faced American editor, +who spent a few memorable days in it--I mean Horace Greeley of the +_Tribune_. France is not sufficiently enlightened yet to abolish +imprisonment for debt, but the time will soon come. Such a barbarity +cannot for any great length of time disgrace the history of any +civilized nation. + +The prison of St. Pelagie, in Rue de la Chef, was formerly a prison for +debtors, but is now used for the imprisonment of persons committed for +trial, or those persons sentenced for short terms. Nearly six hundred +persons are confined in it. + +Connected with the prisons of Paris are two benevolent institutions, the +object of which is to watch over and educate the young prisoners of both +sexes during their terms of imprisonment, and after they have left +prison. As soon as they have left prison they are cared for, and if they +conduct themselves well, they are generally furnished with good places. +Prisoners are also taken from the Correctional House before their terms +have expired, in cases of excellent conduct, and the government pays the +society a sum toward the expenses of such persons until the time of +their sentence shall have expired. Lamartine, the poet, was at one time +president of one of these truly benevolent societies. + +The prisons of Paris, take them as a whole, compare favorably with those +of any city in the world. Their administration is characterized by an +enlightened liberality and philanthropy, and though it may seem strange, +yet it is true, that Paris abounds with the most self-sacrificing +philanthropists. The prisoner, the deaf and dumb, the blind and the +idiotic, are cared for with a generosity and skill not surpassed in any +other land. + + * * * * * + + + + +FOUNDLING HOSPITALS. + + +There are at least one hundred and fifty foundling hospitals in France, +and Paris has a celebrated one in the Rue d'Enfer. It was established by +St. Vincent de Paul, in 1638, but has been very much improved since. +The buildings are not remarkable for their architectural beauty, for +they are very plain. The chapel contains a statue of the founder. It is +now necessary for a mother who desires to abandon her child, to make a +certificate to that effect before the magistrate. The latter is obliged +to grant the desire of the woman, though it is a part of his duty to +remonstrate with her upon her unnatural conduct, and if she consents to +keep the child, he is empowered to help her to support it from a public +fund. The infants received at the hospital are, if healthy, put out at +once to nurse in the country, and the parentage of the child is +recorded. Unhealthy children are kept under hospital treatment. Nurses +from the country constantly present themselves for employment, and do +not usually receive more than one or two dollars a month for their +trouble. After two years of nursing, the child is returned and +transferred to the department for orphans. There are a little short of +three hundred children in the hospital, and as many as thirteen thousand +constantly out at nurse in the country. The internal arrangements of the +hospital are very ingenious and good. Every convenience which can add to +the comfort of the infants is at hand, and the deserted little beings +are rendered much more comfortable than one would naturally suppose to +be within the range of possibility. + +The hospital for orphans is in the same building, and is well arranged. +The orphan department and the foundling hospital, are under the special +care of the sisters of charity. + +There is, perhaps, no more strange sight in all Paris, than the +assemblage of babies in the apartments of the Foundling Hospital. To see +them ranged around the walls of the rooms in cradles, attended by the +nurses, will excite a smile, and yet, when we reflect how sad is the lot +of these innocents, the smile will vanish. They are deprived of that to +which, by virtue of existence, every human being is entitled--a home, +and the affectionate care of father and mother. To be entirely shut out +from all these blessings, really makes existence a curse, and it were +better if these thousands had never been born. + +On visiting the hospital, I rang a bell and was admitted by a polite +porter, and a female attendant conducted us through the various +apartments. I was at once struck with the exceeding tidiness of +everything. The floors were of polished oak, and the walls of plaster +polished like glass. One of the first rooms we were shown into contained +forty or fifty babies, ranged in rows along the wall. The cradles were +covered with white drapery, and their appearance was very neat. Four +long rows stretched across the apartment, and in the center there was a +fire, round which the nurses were gathered, attending to the wants of +the hungry and complaining babies. But if the sight of the cradles was +pleasant, the noise which greeted my ear was far otherwise. At least +twenty-five of the children were crying all at once, and _one_ is as +much as I can usually endure, and not that for any length of time. Among +the children round the fire, there was one which was very beautiful. It +had black hair and eyes, and when we stopped before it, it laughed and +crowed at a great rate. I could not help wondering that any human mother +could have abandoned so beautiful a babe--one that would have been "a +well-spring of pleasure" in many a home. + +I was next shown into the apartment for children afflicted with diseases +of the eye. The room was carefully shaded, and the cradles were covered +with blue or green cloth. There was quite a number of children in this +department, and all of them seemed to be well cared for. I was shown +into another apartment devoted entirely to the sick children, and its +appointments were excellent. It was wholesome and clean, the air was +pure as that of the country, and the rooms were high and commodious. +Other apartments are shown to the visitor which contain the linen used +in the hospital, and where all kinds of work are performed, and +finally, the pretty little chapel which I have alluded to before. + +In former times the government made it easy for any mother to resign her +infant to the care of the state. This was done properly and with a good +object in view, which was to prevent infanticide. It was intended that +mothers should not only find it easy to cast off their children in this +manner, but that it might be done with secrecy. A box was placed outside +of the hospital and a bell-handle was near it, and all that the mother +had to do was, to place her babe in the box and pull the bell. No one +saw her, no questions could be asked, and the box sliding upon grooves +was drawn inside the wall. The mother could leave some mark upon the +dress of the child, or if this was not done, an exact inventory of the +effects of the little stranger was always recorded in the hospital, that +in after years the child might be identified by its parents if they +wished. The numbers that were deposited in the Paris hospital were very +great under those pleasant regulations. It is not strange, and one +cannot escape the conviction, that such a system afforded a temptation +to the women, and indeed men of the good classes to sin. A woman might +escape to a great extent the penalty of a wicked deed. It held out a +premium to immorality. But on the other hand it prevented infanticide to +a great extent. The reasons why the government revoked the regulations +were, first, that they encouraged the increase of illegitimate children, +and second, the great expense to the state, and the last consideration +was the one which had most weight. + +It was found upon trying the new system, that infanticide increased with +considerable rapidity, as the morning exhibitions at La Morgue greatly +indicated. When we consider, too, that the majority of the infanticides +are unquestionably not detected, the body of the child being hid from +the sight, and the vast amount of injury which results to the mothers +from the attempt to destroy unborn children, we cannot wonder that +French philanthropists have been inclined to return to the old system. +Infanticide is one of the most horrible of crimes, and its growth among +a people is accompanied by as rapid a growth of vice of every other +kind. In England where a foundling hospital could not be endured for a +moment, the crime of infanticide is increasing every year, and the +number of murdered children is already an army of martyrs. + +The safest way is, perhaps, for the government to leave the whole matter +with the people, and not either encourage illegitimacy or attempt to +prevent infanticide, except by punishment. Upon the heads of the guilty +ones be their own blood. But there certainly should be asylums for those +children who cannot be supported by their poverty-stricken parents. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS. + + +Paris abounds with charitable societies and institutions. Until the +latter part of the last century, the city was full of objects of +compassion, the blind, the deaf and dumb, the sick and suffering. The +prisons too, and the madhouses, were scenes of cruelty and violence. But +a controversy arose upon the whole matter, and under Louis XVI. four new +hospitals were ordered to be erected, but in the excitement which +preceded the great revolution, they were not completed. After the +revolution the subject came up from time to time to the consideration of +the governing powers, and new hospitals were erected, and great +improvements made in the old ones. At the beginning of this century, +they were placed under the direction of a general administration. All +the civil hospitals and the different institutions connected with them, +are under the control of an administrative committee. The regulations of +the hospitals are nearly the same as they are in London and New York. In +cases of severe wounds, persons are admitted into the hospitals without +any order, by simply presenting themselves at the doors. Medical advice +is given at some of the hospitals on certain days to poor persons. The +hospitals of Paris are of three kinds; the general, open to all +complaints for which a special hospital is not provided; the special +hospitals, for the treatment of special diseases; and the alms-houses. +The hospitals support more than twelve thousand aged men and women, +receive more than eighty thousand patients, and have constantly under +treatment six thousand persons. + +Among the hospitals I may mention Bricetre, situated on the road to +Fontainbleau. It is upon very high ground, and is the healthiest of all +the hospitals from its position and arrangements. It is used as an +asylum for poor old men, and for male lunatics. The old men have every +encouragement to work, for they receive pay for their labor, slight, of +course, and the money is devoted to giving them better food and clothes +than the usual hospital allowance, which is some soup, one pound and a +quarter of bread, four ounces of meat, vegetables, cheese, and a pint of +wine each day. When seventy years old, the quantity of wine is doubled, +and when a person has been thirty years an inmate of the house, the +quantity of everything is doubled. Three thousand beds are made up for +the indigent, and eight hundred for lunatics. The latter, of course, +occupies a distinct part of the building. + +There are two hospitals appropriated entirely to the use of men who have +no hope of immediate cure, and are troubled with chronic ailments. The +buildings are large and airy, and will accommodate four or five hundred. + +The hospital of St. Louis, in Rue des Recollets, is very large, +containing eight hundred beds. It is used for the special treatment of +scrofula and cutaneous diseases. Persons able to pay, do so, but the +poor are received without. It has very spacious bath accommodations, and +it is estimated that as many as one hundred and forty thousand baths +have been served in the establishment in the course of a year. The baths +are in two large rooms, each containing fifty baths. The water is +conducted to them in pipes, and every variety of mineral and sulphurous +bath is given, as well as vapor and all kinds of water baths. The +institution is very well managed, its work being all done within its +walls, and so far is this principle carried, that the leeches needed for +the diseased are cultivated in an artificial pond upon the premises. + +In the Rue de Sevres is a hospital for incurable women It will +accommodate six hundred women and seventy children. There are a few +pictures in this establishment which are worth noticing. The +Annunciation, the Flight into Egypt, and a Guardian Angel, possess great +beauty. + +The Louecine Hospital is for the reception of all females suffering with +syphilitic diseases. It makes up three hundred beds, fifty of which are +for children. The number of persons treated in Paris is more than two +thousand every year, and the mortality is very slight. + +Medical men dislike this hospital, for the diseases are such as to +render their duties very unpleasant, but to insure proper attendance, a +regulation exists that every physician before making an application for +a place in any of the hospitals, shall serve in the Louecine. + +The Rouchefoucald Hospital is principally for the reception of old and +worn-out servants, and is of course not kept up by state funds, though +it is overseen by the government. Persons who enter the institution pay +a sum of money, and are entitled to a room, fire, and food, so long as +they live, and some enter even as young as the age of twenty. There is +another establishment in Paris where only the middling classes are +received, and who pay for the attention they receive. Single men who +have no homes of their own, when attacked by violent diseases, can by +paying a moderate sum enter this institution and be well cared for. + +I cannot even mention a tenth part of the hospitals or charitable +institutions of Paris, and will only allude to one or two more which are +a little peculiar. There are, for example, _nurseries_, where poor women +who must leave home for work in factories or similar places, can in the +morning leave their babies, return occasionally to nurse them, and take +them away at night. If a child is weaned, it has a little basket of his +own. A very small sum of money is paid for this care, and as the +nurseries have the best of medical attention, some mothers bring them +for that purpose alone. There are public soup establishments to which +any person with a soup-ticket can go and demand food. The tickets are +dispensed with some care to persons in needy circumstances. In each of +the twelve arrondissements of Paris there is a bureau for the relief of +poor women having large families. When proper representations are made +by such females struggling to keep from the alms-house, an allowance is +made of bread, firing, meat, and clothing, and sometimes money is given. +There are sometimes as many as thirty thousand dependent in this manner +for a part of their income upon the state. Hence, bureaus are excellent +institutions, inasmuch as prevention is always easier than cure. To save +struggling families from the humiliation of a complete downfall to the +poor-house, small weekly allowances are made, and in such a way that +their pride need not be touched, for it is often done with such secrecy +that even the intimate friends of the recipients are unaware of the +relation existing between them and the state. Such an arrangement as +this is needed in all the great cities of the world. London suffers from +the want of it. In some places the parish authorities are at liberty to +make grants to poor families, but it is nowhere done with such a system +and with such a delicacy as in Paris. + +Another of the charitable institutions of Paris lends money upon movable +effects, the interest charged being very low. This is an excellent +provision for emergencies in the lives of poor persons. There are at +least a million and a half of articles pledged at this institution +yearly, and its receipts are from twenty-six to twenty-eight millions a +year. In winters of famine the public are sometimes allowed to pledge +property without paying any interest upon it when redeemed. The Mont de +Pietie, is the name of this institution, and it has branches all over +Paris, and has in its employ, as clerks and otherwise, three hundred +persons. + +There are savings' banks in Paris specially adapted to the wants of the +poor, and to encourage in them the habit of accumulating property, +though in very small sums. A deposit of one franc is received, and one +person cannot hold but two thousand francs at one time in one bank of +the kind. This institution, however, is not superior to those of its +kind in many other countries. + + * * * * * + + + + +LA MORGUE. + + +On the southern side of Isle la Cite, there is a small stone building +which is certainly one of the "sights" of Paris. I saw it one day when I +had been to look at Notre Dame, and was on my way home. I was filled +with admiration of the magnificence of the great city, for with Notre +Dame and the Louvre in sight, I could not easily entertain other +sentiments. A little building arrested my attention, and I saw quite a +crowd of persons standing in front of it. It was _La Morgue_. I entered +it, not that I have a penchant for horrors, but to see a sight strangely +contrasting with all I had heretofore seen in Paris. It was a long, low +interior, and one end of the room was fenced off from the rest, and in +it a row of dead bodies was arranged against the wall. Jets of water +were playing constantly upon them, and upon hooks the garments of the +deceased were hung. The use of _La Morgue_ is to exhibit, for +twenty-four hours, the dead bodies which are found in the streets and +the river. If no friend in this time recognizes and claims the body, it +is buried. There were five bodies when I was there--four men and one +woman. The men were evidently suicides and the woman was probably +murdered, as there were marks of violence upon her body, which could +not have been self-inflicted. There are several hundred persons +exhibited in La Morgue in the course of a year, and they tell strange +stories of the misery and crime which abound in the finest city in the +world. The majority of the bodies which are found, are suicides, but +many are those of persons who have been murdered. The French commit +suicide for reasons which appear frivolous to the American or +Englishman. The loss of a favorite mistress, an unsuccessful +love-intrigue, the bursting of a bubble of speculation, and sometimes a +mere trifle is enough to induce self-destruction. Sometimes a man and +his mistress, or a whole family shut themselves up in a room with +burning charcoal, which is a favorite method of committing suicide. A +great many bodies are fished out of the Seine, for it is very easy for a +poor and wretched man or woman to leap into it in the darkness of night. +The next day the body lies for recognition in La Morgue, and if no good +friend claims it it is borne by careless hands to a pauper burial. + +[Illustration: LE PONT-NEUF] + +I crossed the Seine by the Pont Neuf--a fine bridge, completed in 1604 +by Henry IV. Near the center of it, standing upon a platform and +pedestal of white marble, is a splendid bronze statue of Henry IV. upon +horseback. The height of the statue is fourteen feet, and its cost, +somewhat above sixty thousand dollars, was defrayed by public +subscription in 1818. + +The Place Vendome, too, lay in my path, so called from having been the +site of a hotel belonging to the Duke de Vendome, illegitimate son of +Henry IV. and Gabrielle d'Estrees. The Place is now ornamented by a +magnificent pillar, erected by Napoleon in honor of his German campaign. + +I passed also the beautiful Fountain des Innocents, whose sculptor, the +celebrated Jean Goujon was shot during the massacre of St. Bartholomew, +while working at one of the figures. + +[Illustration: Fontaine des Innocents.] + + * * * * * + + + + +NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA. + + +On my second visit to Paris, I found that many changes had taken place, +and some of them striking ones. It was especially true of the +architectural condition of Paris. In the years which elapsed between my +visits, the Louvre had assumed a new appearance, and was now connected +with the Tuilleries Palace. Other changes of a similar character had +occurred. + +[Illustration: COLUMN DE PLACE VENDOME.] + +When I was first in Paris, Louis Napoleon was president, but he was +preparing for the empire, and there was in reality no more liberty in +France than now, and in many respects a residence in Paris was then more +uncomfortable than at present. Everybody was expecting a change, and +Louis Napoleon, as president, was actually more despotic in little +things than he is as emperor. He was then ready to hunt down any man +against whom a suspicion could lie, while now his rule is, after a +manner, established. He has as fair prospects to remain emperor of +France till he dies, for aught that I can see, as any European monarch +has of retaining his throne. + +When I entered Paris, under the presidency, I was more closely watched +than under the empire. As an American, from a republic, I was, perhaps, +naturally an object of suspicion to the spies of a man who was planning +a _coup d'etat_; at any rate I was tracked everywhere I stirred, by the +police, while on my last visit I experienced nothing of the sort. + +The people of Paris are divided into many classes in politics--some are +the friends of Louis Napoleon, while others are his enemies. But he has +few distinguished friends in Paris. The shop-keepers are pleased with +the pomp and magnificence of his court, for it gives them custom and +money. Many of the wealthy business men desire him to live and rule +because they want a stable government, and they deprecate above all +things else, change. They are more for money, as we may expect, than for +freedom. Then there are the partisans of the Orleans and Bourbon +families, who fear the republicans and accept Napoleon as a temporary +ruler, and who much prefer him to anarchy. So that there is a strong +body of men in Paris and in France--a majority of the people--who upon +the whole prefer that the rule of a man they all dislike should be +perpetuated for years to come. + +And there is something in the character of Louis Napoleon which excites +admiration. He is intensely selfish, but he is a very capable man. He +understands the French people thoroughly, and rules them shrewdly. He is +one of the ablest statesmen in Europe, and the world knows that he lead +England in the late war with Russia. Yet he possesses some ridiculous +qualities, as his conduct previous to his last entrance into France +shows. He relies upon his destiny in the blindest manner, and is not +possessed of genuine courage of the highest character. He is so reckless +that he will never flinch from the prosecution of any of his schemes, +either from personal danger or the dread of shedding human blood. He +seems to have no heart, and his countenance is like adamant, for it +gives no clue to the thoughts which fill his brain. He is certainly a +very remarkable character and one worth studying. His early history is +laughable. His various descents upon France were too ridiculous for +laughter, and they only excited the pity of the world. His private +conduct, too, was such as to disgust moral people. There seems to have +come over the man a great change about the time of the Louis Phillippe +revolution. I well remember that in the spring of 1848 I saw him +parading one of the streets of London, arm-in-arm with a son of Sir +Robert Peel, both sworn in as special constables to put down the +chartists should they attempt a riot. It was, on that memorable first of +April, quite fashionable for members of the best families to be sworn in +as special constables to preserve order, and Louis Napoleon who was +living with his mistress and children in London, had so far put away the +democratic opinions which he once held, that he was ready and eager to +show where his sympathies were in the Chartist agitation. + +That Louis Napoleon was very shrewd in entering France, and seating +himself in the presidential chair, no one will deny, but it is equally +true that in violating his oath and shooting down the people of Paris as +he did, that he might gain a throne, he also proved himself to be a +great villain. The mere fact that he was successful will not atone for +perjury and murder with people of common morality. But aside from these +atrocities, his shameful censorship of the press, and conduct toward +some of the noblest men of France, he has acted for the best interests +of the country. He has understood the wants of the people, and his +decrees and provisions have met the wishes of the nation. France has not +had the material prosperity for many years that she has at this time. +But the press is dumb. Literature is in a sickly condition. Many of the +first men of France are either in exile or are silent at home. It is +astonishing to see how few of the really eminent men of France are the +friends of Louis Napoleon. Lamartine does not like him; Eugene Sue was +his enemy; the same is true in a modified sense of Alexander Dumas; +George Sand dislikes him; Arago while living did the same; and Jules +Janin the brilliant critic is no friend of the administration. Victor +Hugo, Ledru Rollin, Louis Blanc, and a score of other brilliant men are +in exile, and of course hate the man who exiled them. It is certainly +one of the most singular facts of modern history that Louis Napoleon has +few friends, yet is firmly seated upon his throne. His enemies are so +divided, and so hate anarchy, that they all unite in keeping him where +he is. But Paris laughs in its sleeve at all the baptismal splendors +over the prince and the sober provisions for the regency made by the +emperor. No one that I could find has the faintest expectation that the +baby-boy will rule France, or sit upon a throne. When the emperor is +shot or dies a violent death, then chaos will come, or something better, +but not Napoleon IV. I am confident that this is the universal +sentiment, at least throughout Paris, if not over France. I have asked +many a Frenchman his opinion, and the same reply has been given by +republican and monarchist. This is one secret of Napoleon's strength. It +is thought that with his death great changes must come, and very likely +confusion and bloodshed. No one believes in a Napoleon succession, and +therefore all bear his despotism with equanimity. Those who hate him say +his rule will not last forever, while those who wish to advance their +own political interests through other royal families, bide their time. + +It is possible that Louis Napoleon will live many years yet, or at least +die a natural death, but there are those who have a reputation for +shrewdness who do not believe it. They think that as he has taken the +sword so he will perish by the sword, or in other words that a bullet +will one day end his life. It would not be strange, for he has many +bitter enemies, and there would be poetic justice in such a fate, to say +the least. + +The empress is quite popular in France, but not so much so as the +journalists and letter-writers would make out. She is exceedingly +handsome, and this fact goes a great way with the Parisians. Her conduct +since her marriage has been irreproachable, which should always be +mentioned to her credit. But that she is naturally a very lovely woman, +gentle, and filled with all the virtues, few who know her early history +will believe. She is, like the emperor, shrewd, and acts her part well. +She is certainly equal to her position, and in goodness is satisfactory +to the French people. It has been thought by many that if Louis Napoleon +had married a French woman it would have better satisfied the people, +but this is by no means certain. + +The emperor and empress seem to live together happily, or at least rumor +hath nothing to the contrary; and he would be a brute not to be +satisfied with the woman who has presented him with what he desired +above everything else--a male heir. + +Portraits of the empress abound in all the shops and in private houses. +Her great beauty is the passport to the French heart. It is not of the +dashing, bold style, but is delicate and refined. Louis Napoleon has in +his provisions for the prince calculated largely upon the popularity of +the empress, in case of his own death. + +He confides the boy-prince to the Empress Eugenia, and thinks her +popularity is such, and the gallantry of the people so great, that they +will gather round her in the day of trouble. But though the French are a +gallant people they estimate some things higher than politeness or +gallantry. There is no loyalty in France. The only feeling which +approaches to it is the veneration which is felt in some of the +provinces for the elder Napoleon. But that sentiment of loyalty which is +felt in all ranks and circles in England is unknown to France. Who +carries in his bosom that sentiment towards the man who procured his +throne by perjury? Not a single Frenchman. Many admire his intellect, +his daring, and many others accept his rule with pleasure, but nobody +has the feeling of loyalty toward him. It has died out in France, and I +must confess that this is a good sign. While it is true, France cannot +really _like_ a monarchical despotism, though she may for a long time +endure it. + + + + +THE BAPTISM OF THE PRINCE. + + +The 14th of June was a great day in Paris, for it witnessed the baptism +of the prince and heir to the French throne. It was not because Paris +was or is devoted to the present Napoleonic dynasty, not because the +birth of an heir to Louis Napoleon was or is regarded with any +remarkable enthusiasm, but simply for this reason: Paris loves gayety, +and above all things is fond of a public _fete_. + +Louis Napoleon well knew how to make the day memorable. All that was +wanting was money--a prodigious pile of Napoleons. With this he could +easily make a pageant. + +The young baby-prince was baptized in the ancient church of Notre Dame, +which was fitted up in a magnificent style expressly for the occasion. +On each side of the grand nave, between the main columns hung with gold +and crimson drapery, a series of seats were erected, also covered with +crimson velvet and gold decorations. Around the altar seats were erected +for the legislative body, the senate, the diplomatic corps, and officers +of state. Above these, galleries were formed, hung with drapery, for the +occupation of ladies. The appearance of the interior was grand in the +extreme, but it needed the splendid concourse soon to be present, to add +a wonderful beauty to it. + +A few minutes past six o'clock a burst of drums announced the arrival of +the grand cortege in the ancient city, and the archbishop of Paris, with +his assistants, went to the door or grand entrance of Notre Dame, to +receive Napoleon and Eugenia. The princes and princesses had already +alighted, and were ready with the clergy to receive the emperor and +empress. + +The procession was in something like the following order: First came the +cross, followed by the archbishop and his vicar-generals. Next came the +military officers of the imperial household. Then what are called the +honors of the imperial infant, as follows--the wax taper of the Countess +Montebello; the crimson cloth of Baroness Malaret; and the salt-cellar +of the Marquess Tourmanbourg. Then came the sponsorial honors. These +ladies all walked in couples, and were dressed in blue, veiled in white +transparent drapery. The grand duchess of Baden and Prince Oscar of +Sweden immediately preceded the prince. + +The royal babe wore a long ermine mantile, and was carried by a +gouvernante with two assistants, one on each side of her. The nurse +followed, clad in her native costume--that of Burgundy. Marshals +Canrobert and Bosquet followed the infant, and their majesties next +appeared under a moving canopy. + +The cardinal-legate had appeared and been welcomed before, and took his +seat upon a throne erected expressly for him. Immediately in front of +the altar there was erected a crimson platform, on which two crimson +chairs were placed for the accommodation of Napoleon and Eugenia. Far +above there was a crimson canopy lined with white, and spotted with +golden bees. + +Napoleon advanced up the aisle on the right of Eugenia, and a pace in +advance. He did not offer her his arm, as that is considered improper in +a church, according to Parisian notions of propriety. Eugenia was +dressed in a light blue, covered with an exquisite lace, and she was +covered with dazzling diamonds. The jewels she wore were worth nearly +five millions of dollars. The blue color worn by nearly all the ladies +present, was considered the appropriate color for the ruder sex of the +baby. Napoleon wore the uniform of a general officer, but with white +knee pants and silk stockings. He wore several orders. + +Everything being ready, the cardinal-legate left his throne, went to the +foot of the altar, and commenced the _Veni Creator_, which was taken up +and executed by the fine orchestra. The music was inexpressibly grand. +When it was concluded the masters of ceremonies saluted the altar and +their majesties, and then waited upon the legate, who at once catechised +the sponsors. He then conducted the royal babe to the font, holding the +baptismal robe. Napoleon and Eugenia ascended the throne. The duchess of +Baden, representing the god-mother, advanced to the font. The god-father +was the pope, represented by the legate. The baptism was then proceeded +with. + +When the rite was performed, the gouvernante presented the babe to its +mother, who at once handed it over to its royal papa, who held it up to +the crowd of gazers, and then the cries of "_Vive le Prince Imperial!_" +came near destroying the solid masonry of Notre Dame. After this the +royal pair soon took their departure, though there were many ceremonies +after they had left. + +A magnificent banquet was at once given to their majesties by the city +of Paris, in the _Hotel de Ville_, and it was probably one of the most +luxurious the world ever witnessed. All the male guests were in official +costume, and the ladies were dressed with great richness. + +The next day--Sunday--was the great day for out-door _fetes_, though +this was widely celebrated. The day was given up to all kinds of +enjoyment, and the emperor gave immense sums to make the people +good-humored and enthusiastic. There was a display of fire-works in the +evening rarely equaled, and probably never surpassed. The theaters were +all open, free to all who came, and could gain entrance. In the course +of the day more than three hundred balloons were sent up, laden with +confectionary and things to tickle the palate, and showered down upon +the multitude. The whole of Paris was gay, and the stranger had a fine +sample of a grand Parisian _fete_, and Sabbath--both in one! + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY--THE JESTER--THE DRAMATIST. + +MEN OF THE PAST. + + +During my residence in Paris I became very much interested in the +history of the great men of France, not only in the present day, but in +past years. I was not so well acquainted with the great French masters +in literature, especially of the past, as with the great men of English +history. I believe this to be the fact with most Americans. I soon found +that to know France, to know Paris to-day, I needed to have by heart the +history of her heroes of to-day and yesterday, and especially of those +great men who made Paris their home and final resting-place. The +influence of these men over the minds, manners, and even the morals of +the people of Paris, is still very great. Nowhere is genius more +praised, or adored with a greater devotion, than in Paris. Rank must +there doff its hat to genius, which is the case in no other country but +the American republic. It will then not be out of place for me to sketch +a very few of the most brilliant men who in the years which have fled +away lighted with their smiles the saloons of Paris. I will commence +with + + + + +THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY. + + +In the Rue d'Argenteuil, number 18, there is a small quiet house, in +which Corneille, the father of French tragedy, breathed his last. It +has a black marble slab in front, and a bust in the yard with the +following inscription: + + "_Je ne dois qu'a moi seul toute ma renommee_." + +The great man lies buried in the beautiful church of St. Roch, where a +tablet is erected to his memory. + +Corneille was the son of Pierre Corneille, master of forests and waters +in the viscounty of Rouen. His mother was of noble descent, but the +couple were somewhat poor. The dramatist was born in 1606, and early +became a pupil of the Jesuits of Rouen. He was educated for the law, but +had no taste for that profession, and although he attempted to practice +it he was unsuccessful. It was well for France that such was the fact, +for had it been otherwise, she would have lost one of her most brilliant +names. + +When Corneille entered upon life, there was no theater in France, though +there were exhibitions of various kinds. At last a few wretched plays +were written by inferior men, and they were acted upon the stage by +inferior actors. Corneille, while vainly endeavoring to win success at +the bar, was incited to write a comedy, and produced one under the title +of "_Melite_." The plot was suggested by an incident in his own life. A +friend of his was very much in love with a lady, and introduced him to +her, that he might, after beholding her charms, indite a sonnet to her +in the name of his friend. The poet found great favor in the eyes of the +lady, and the original lover was cast into the shade. This incident was +the reason Why Corneille wrote "_Melite_." The success of the piece was +very great, a new company of players was established in Paris, and at +that time it was fully equal to any comedy which had been written in the +French language, though it reads dull enough at the present day. The +poet traveled up to Paris to witness his play upon the stage, and was so +well pleased with its reception, that he went on writing plays. They +were without merit, however. He had not yet struck the key-note of his +after greatness. + +With four other authors, Corneille was appointed to correct the plays of +Richelieu. Parties quickly sprung into existence in the _salons_ of +Paris. Some of them espoused the cause of Corneille--others openly +traduced his plays and were his enemies. He had the independence to +correct one of Richelieu's plays without the consent of his comrades, +and Richelieu reprimanded him for it. He became disgusted and left Paris +for Rouen. He was quite willing, too, to return to the lady who had +inspired his sonnet. She was very beautiful, and he continued to love +her until his death, and this may be said to be the only lasting passion +of his life. + +The poet was not much of a scholar, though well informed. He next wrote +a tragedy entitled "_Media_," and then another comedy called "_The +Illusion_." But he had not yet hit upon the note of success. Soon after, +when about thirty years of age, he commenced the study of the Spanish +language. + +An Italian secretary of the queen counseled him to this course, and +advised him to read the "_Cid_" of de Castro, with an idea of making it +a subject for a drama. Corneille followed his advice, and produced a +tragedy which roused all France to enthusiasm. Paris was one prolonged +storm of applause, and when one praised an object, he said "It is fine +as the _Cid!_" The play was translated into the different languages of +all the civilized nations. Fontenelle says: "I knew two men, a soldier +and a mathematician, who had never heard of any other play that had +ever been written, but the name of Cid had penetrated even the barbarous +state in which they lived." + +The dramatist had enemies--no man can quickly achieve renown without +making them--and some of them were exceedingly bitter in their attacks +upon him. Richelieu, the cardinal, was excessively annoyed that the man +he had reprimanded should have achieved success, and the French Academy +of Criticism, which was deeply under his influence, after discussions +decided somewhat against "The Cid." This suited the cardinal, but the +poet kept a wise silence, making no reply. + +The next effort of Corneille was that resulting in the tragedy of +"_Horace_," which was a master-piece, and was received with unbounded +applause. He surpassed this effort, however, in his next piece, called +"_Cinna_." After this--which many consider his best drama--came +"_Polyeceute"_, a beautiful piece. In it the Christian virtues are +illustrated, and when read before a conclave of learned men, they +deputied Voiture to the poet, to induce him, if possible, to withdraw +it, for the christianity in it the people would not endure. But the play +went to the people without amendment, and so beautiful was its +character, and so delightful the acting, that it carried away the hearts +of the listeners. + +Corneille now tried again to write comedy, but did not succeed so well +as in tragedy. He triumphed, however, over a rival, and that to him was +something, though the play is an inferior one. From this time the poet +wrote no better, but in truth worse and worse. He did not fail to write +beautiful scenes, but failed in selecting good subjects. He established +himself in Paris, and could do so with comfort, for the king bestowed a +pension upon him. Before this he had resided at Rouen, running up to +Paris quite often. In 1642 he was elected a member of the French +Academy. He was never a courtier, and was not fitted to shine in gay +Parisian circles. His tastes were very simple, and he was in his manners +like a rustic. To see him in a drawing-room you would not think the man +a genius, nor even a bright specimen of his kind. Some of his friends +remonstrated with him, and tried to rouse him from his sluggishness in +society. He always replied, "I am not the less Pierre Corneille." + +La Bruyere says of him, "He is simple and timid; tiresome in +conversation--using one word for another--he knows not how to recite his +own verses." It is strange that he came to Paris, for he loved the +country better, and many attribute the remove to his brother, who was +also winning success as a dramatist. + +It had been well if after this Corneille had been content to write no +more plays, for everyone he now produced only proved that his genius +had decayed. The old cunning was gone. A young rival sprung up, the +graceful Racine, and for awhile the old favorite was forgotten, or +laughed at. + +Racine took a line from one of his pieces and used it in such a manner +as to excite laughter. Corneille said: "It ill becomes a young man to +make game of other people's verses." Unfortunately he was tempted into a +duel with Racine. The latter triumphed as a writer for the time, and +Corneille stopped his pen, as he should have done a long time before. +But often he had the pleasure of seeing some of his best pieces enacted +upon the stage, and they always excited great enthusiasm. He also knew +that the refined and critical loved his best plays--the better the more +they read them. + +The conduct of the poet through his whole life was, in the main, such +as to excite great admiration in after generations. He was no sycophant +in that age of fawning courtiers. He was simple and manly. He was always +melancholy and cared little for the vanities of life. Though poor in +early life, he cared but little about money. The king gave him a pension +of two thousand francs, which at that time was a good income. He was +generous and died utterly poor. One evening when age had bowed his form +he entered a Paris theater. The great _Conde_ was present, and prince +and people as one man rose in honor of the great dramatist. He died in +his seventy-ninth year, and Racine pronounced a high eulogy upon him, +before the academy. Such was its beauty that the king caused it to be +recited before him. In it he extolled the genius of the man who had at +one time been his rival, and he taught his children to revere his +memory. + +In France, much more in Paris, the name of Corneille is to-day half +sacred. The house he lived and died in has many visitors, and to his +tomb many a pilgrim comes. And it is not strange that Parisians adore +him, for he was the father of comedy as well as tragedy. It was his +plays that caused the erection of commodious theaters. His plays have +continued to hold their place in the affections of the nation, and he is +reverenced more to-day than he was while living. The foreigner cannot +understand fully the character of modern French dramatists, and that of +their works, without knowing something of Corneille, nor can he wander +long among the streets of Paris, without becoming aware of the +estimation in which he is held at the present time by the intelligent +classes. + + + + +THE GREAT JESTER + + +Rabelais was born in 1483. He was a learned scholar, a physician, and a +philosopher. He was called "the great jester of France," by Lord Bacon. +Many buffooneries are ascribed to him unjustly, and he was a greater man +than certain modern writers make him out to be. + +His place of birth was Chinon, a little town of Touraine. His father was +a man of humble means. He received his early education in a convent near +his home. His progress was very slow and he was removed to another. He +promised poorly for future distinction, but at the second convent he was +fortunate in making the acquaintance of Du Ballay who afterward became a +bishop and cardinal, and whose friendship he retained to the day of his +death. + +He was again removed to another convent, where he applied himself to the +cultivation of his talents. There was, however, no library in the place. +Rabelais soon took to preaching, and with the money he was paid for it, +he purchased books. His brother monks hated him for his eloquence in +preaching, and for his evident learning. He was persecuted by these men +and suffered a great deal, principally because he knew Greek. For some +alleged slight offered against the rules of the convent, they wreaked +their vengeance upon him by condemning him to the prison cell, and to a +diet of bread and water. They also applied their hempen cords +thoroughly, and this course of treatment soon reduced Rabelais to a very +weak condition. His friends were by this time powerful and they obtained +his release, and a license from the Pope for him to pass from this +convent to another. But he was thoroughly disgusted with convent life, +and fled from it, wandering over the provinces as a secular priest. He +next gave up this employment altogether, and took to the study of +medicine. He went through the different steps of promotion and was made +a professor. He delivered medical lectures, and a volume of his--an +edition of Hippocrates--was long held in high estimation by the medical +faculty of France. + +A medical college of Montpellier had been deprived for some reason of +its privileges, and Rabelais was deputed to Chancellor Duprat to solicit +a restoration of them. The story is told--to illustrate his +learning--that when he knocked at the chancellor's house he addressed +the person who came to the door in Latin, who could not understand that +language; a man shortly presented himself who could, and Rabelais +addressed him in Greek. Another map was sent for, and he was addressed +in Hebrew, and so on. The singularity of the circumstance arrested the +attention of the chancellor, and Rabelais was at once invited to his +presence. He succeeded in restoring the lost honors to the college, and +such was the enthusiasm of the students that ever after, when taking +degrees, they wore Rabelais scarlet gowns. This usage continued till the +revolution. + +Rabelais now went to Lyons, and still later to Rome as the physician to +Du Ballay, who was ambassador at that court. Some writers claim that he +went as buffoon instead of physician, but this is unsupported by +evidence. Many stories are told of his buffooneries at the court of +Rome, but unquestionably the majority were entirely untrue. One story +told, however, is good enough to be true. The pope expressed his +willingness to grant Rabelais a favor. The wit replied that if such was +the fact, he begged his holiness to excommunicate him. The pope wished +to know the reason. The wit replied that some very honest gentlemen of +his acquaintance in Touraine had been burned, and finding it a common +saying in Italy when a fagot would not burn "that it had been +excommunicated by the pope's own mouth," he wished to be rendered +incombustible by the same process. It is asserted that Rabelais offended +the pope by his buffooneries, but the assertion can scarcely be +believed. When he had resided for a time in Rome, Rabelais went to +Lyons, then returned to the holy city, and after a second visit went to +Paris, where he entered the family of Cardinal du Bellay, who had also +returned from Rome. He confided to Rabelais the government of his +household, and persuaded the pope to secularize the abbey of St. +Maurdes-Fosses, and conferred it upon the wit. He next bestowed upon him +the cure of Meudon, which he retained while he lived. + +One of the first of Rabelais' books was entitled "_Lives of the great +Giant Garagantua and his Son Pantagruel"_. To it he owes a great deal of +his reputation and popularity. It created a vast deal of talk, and was +both highly praised and bitterly attacked. The champions of the church +criticised his book with great severity. Calvin the reformer also wrote +against it with much earnestness. The Sorbonne attacked it for teaching +heresy and atheism, and it was condemned by the court of parliament. + +The subjects held up for ridicule were the vices of the popes, the +avarice of the prelates, and the universal debaucheries of the monastic +orders. It was a wonderful book for the times, and it required great +courage in Rabelais to venture upon its publication. He would have lost +position, and perhaps his liberty, had it not been for the monarch +Francis I., who sent for the volume, read it, and declared it to be +innocent and good reading, and protected the author. The sentence +against the book amounted to nothing after this, and it was everywhere +read and admired. Rabelais was set down as the first wit and scholar of +his age. + +The character of the book we have noticed cannot be defended. Its +irreverent use of scripture quotations, and loose wit, are not to be +overlooked, but there was no advocacy of atheism in it. Indeed we must +look upon Rabelais as acting the part of a reformer. If he had sought +simply popularity and the favor of the court and church, he would +certainly not have written a book which is a scathing attack upon pope, +prelate, and monk. The book is full of dirty expressions--but the age +was a very impure one, and we should not judge him too severely. He was +a Frenchman, and French wit in all ages has taken great liberties with +decency. + +Among the other books which Rabelais wrote, we may mention "_Several +Almanacs_," "_The Powers of Chevalier de Longery_," "_Letters from +Italy_," "_The Philosophical Cream_," etc. etc. His greatest book, which +we have mentioned, went through a great number of editions and had a +tremendous sale. It was republished in several foreign states. + +Rabelais was a scholar, for he knew well fourteen languages, and wrote +with facility Greek, Latin, and Italian. He was a good physician, an +accomplished naturalist, a correct mathematician, an astronomer, an +architect, a painter, a musician, and last of all, a wit and +philosopher. He was a good pastor over the parishioners of Meudon, and +acted as physician to their bodies as well as souls. + +There are idle tales to the effect that he made his will as follows: "I +have nothing--I owe much--I leave the rest to the poor." And also that +he sent a message as follows, to Cardinal du Ballay. "Tell the cardinal +I am going to try the great 'perhaps'--you are a fool--draw the +curtain--the farce is done." These were fictions invented by the very +pious Catholics, who hated him for his satires upon the church. + +Rabelais must have been a great man. Even his learning alone would have +made him the most distinguished man in France at the time he lived. +Those who hated him have tried to cover his memory with shame, and have +represented him as merely a buffoon, but such was not the truth. He did +often descend to buffooneries and to almost obscene sayings, and these +things have had their influence upon France, and have contributed to +make the French people what they are to-day--a nation of professed +Catholics, but really a nation of infidels and atheists. But Rabelais +was more than a wit. He was a public benefactor. He improved medical +science, and was as much a reformer in his laughable attacks upon the +fat and lazy monks, as was Calvin himself. + +Rabelais died at the age of seventy, and was buried in the churchyard of +St. Paul, Rue des Jardins, at the foot of a beautiful tree which was +preserved in his memory. No monument was ever placed over his grave, but +he did not need one to perpetuate his memory. + + + + +THE DRAMATIST. + + +One of the men of the past who exerted and still exerts a wide influence +over French literature, is Racine. He was born in 1639, in the small +town Ferte-Milon, in Valois. The parents died while he was in infancy, +and he and a sister, their only children, were left orphans in the care +of their maternal grandfather. This sister remained in Ferte-Milon +during her life, which was not long. Racine was not happy while young, +and being neglected by his grandparents felt it keenly. He was a scholar +at Beauvais, and attached himself to one of the political parties which +at that time always sprang up in schools and colleges. He was in one of +their contests wounded upon his forehead, and bore the scar through +life. + +Racine was transferred from Beauvais to the school of the convent of +Port Royal, and the Jesuits noticing his natural quickness, bestowed +careful attention upon his education. He was so wretchedly poor that he +could not buy copies of the classics, and he was obliged to use those +owned by others, and which were much inferior to copies he could have +purchased had he possessed money. He was early struck with the beauty of +the Greek writers--and more especially the Greek tragedians. He wandered +in the woods with Sophocles and Euripides in his hands, and many years +after could recite their chief plays from memory. He got hold of the +Greek romance of Theogines and Chariclea, but the priests would not +tolerate such reading and committed the volume to the flames. He got +another copy and it shared the same fate. He concluded to purchase +another, kept it till he learned it by heart, and then took it to the +priests and told them they might have that also. + +At Port Royal Racine was happy. He was a gentle-hearted boy and his +masters loved him. He early began to compose verses and showed an +intense love of poetry. At nineteen he left Port Royal for the college +of Harcour, at Paris. When he was twenty-one Louis XIV. was married, and +invited every versifier in the kingdom to write in honor of the +occasion. Racine was an obscure student and was unknown as a poet. He +wrote a poem on the marriage, and it was shown to M. Chapelain, who was +the poetical critic of Paris at that time. He thought it showed a good +deal of promise and suggested a few alterations. It was carried to the +patron of the critic, who sent him a hundred louis from the king, and a +pension of six hundred livres. The poet's friends were anxious that he +should choose a profession, and that of the bar was strongly urged upon +him. He objected. An uncle who had a benefice at Uzes, wished to resign +it to his nephew. Racine concluded to visit his uncle in the provinces. +He remained for some time there, but he found there was little hope of +advancement and grew restless. The scenery around him was magnificent, +yet, though he was a poet, he had no eye for the grand and impressive in +scenery. He was too much of a Parisian for that. A Parisian is all +art--and cares nothing for nature. He prefers fine buildings and +paintings to fields, mountains, and majestic rivers. + +Racine wrote a poem entitled "_The Bath of Venus_," and began a play +upon the Greek one of Theogines and Chariclea, which had delighted him +so much when he was young. He returned to Paris somewhat discouraged, +after an absence of only three months. Here, through the rivalry of two +play-writers, he was persuaded to write very hastily a new play. He +consented, and produced one which was well received by the Parisians. It +did not do justice to his powers, however, and he soon after wrote +"_Alexandre_," which was an advance upon the previous performance. He +was unacquainted with the English or Spanish drama, and had studied only +the French of Corneille, and the Greek. He attempted the Greek drama, +and of course found it very difficult to render dramas founded upon +Grecian national subjects, and with Grecian manners, interesting to a +Parisian audience. "_Alexandre_" was not successful upon the stage, but +the best critics did not hesitate to award the premium of great dramatic +genius to Racine, and he was encouraged to go on. + +While the dramatist was writing "_Andromaque_" he was bitterly attacked +by the leader of a sect of religionists for the wretched morality of his +play. He felt the attack keenly, and that it was just, no American will +deny, though Frenchmen will. The poet replied to the attack in a witty +and satirical letter. + +The "_Andromaque_" of Racine had a fine success, and one character was +so full of passion and was so well represented upon the stage, that it +cost the life of the actor who fell dead from excitement. Then followed +in quick succession "_Brittonicus_" and "_Berenice_," which were also +successful. His plays were full of intense passion and eloquence, and it +would not give the reader a fair idea of their influence over the +French, did we not admit that their representations of human life were +such as to undermine the morality of those who listened to them. The +plays of Racine have exerted a prodigious influence over the intelligent +classes of Paris, and their wretched morality poisoned the nation. For +my part, when I consider the literature of France--and no one can judge +of a people without knowing its literature--I do not wonder that a very +low morality exists throughout the country, but more especially in +Paris. The great plays of past and modern times are saturated with +licentiousness--the great romances of past and present years, are foul +with impurities. Racine, living in an age of licentiousness, reflects it +in his plays, and his plays are admired to-day in Paris, as of yore; +hence it follows that those who go and see them acted must be somewhat +affected by their immorality. Madame Rachel has made the characters of +Racine familiar to all France, and has revived all his blemishes as well +as beauties. + +The poet met with much severe criticism after the representation of the +last mentioned of his plays. Madame Sevigne was one of Corneille's +warmest admirers, and did not join the company of Racine worshipers. A +benefice was now given the poet, but soon after it was disputed by a +priest; lawsuits began, and finally he relinquished it in disgust. +Racine, Moliere, Boileau, and others were in the habit of meeting and +having convivial suppers together, and on such occasions Racine +projected new plays, and characters were often suggested to him by his +fellow authors. In one of his after plays, which was not successful, he +showed a talent for comedy far above mediocrity. It was once represented +before the king, who laughed so hard that his courtiers were astonished. + +Racine was elected member of the Academy in 1673, and made a very modest +speech when the honor was conferred upon him. He brought out one after +another, "_Bajazet_," "_Mithridates_," "_Phoedra_," and "_Iphigenia_," +all of which had an excellent reception. The day "_Phoedra_" was brought +out, another dramatist brought out a drama with the same title. He had +powerful friends who went so far as to pack his theater, and buy boxes +at the theater upon the stage of which Racine's play was to be enacted, +and leave them empty. This incident shows us the fierceness of rivalry +between authors at that time. To such an extent was the quarrel carried +by the friends of the respective authors, that Racine, who was a very +sensitive man, resolved to renounce the drama. His early religious +education tended to strengthen his resolution. He soon became a severe +and stern religionist, undergoing penances to expiate the guilt incurred +for his life of sin. His confessor advised him to marry some woman of +piety, to help him on in his good work, and he therefore married. The +woman was Catherine de Romenet. She was of a higher position, and was +wealthy. She knew nothing of the drama, was not fond of poetry, and was +a very strict religious woman. She was sincere and affectionate, and +wrought a wonderful change in Racine. Under her quiet tuition he became +very narrow in his religious convictions, but quite happy in his mind. +He brought up his children with the same views, and they all took +monastic vows. His daughters were, one after another, given to the +convent. He had seven children in all, and found it difficult to meet +all his family expenses. + +At this time he was made historiographer to the king, and witnessed many +important battles. His life at court was very pleasant to him, and +though he was a little too much inclined to be servile, yet he was +generally an upright man. The story is told of him, that once when in +the bosom of his little family, an attendant of the great duke came to +invite him to dinner at the Hotel de Conde. + +He sent back the reply, "I cannot go; I have returned to my family +after an absence of eight days; they have got a fine carp for me, and +would be much disappointed if I did not share it with them." + +Boileau and Racine were very intimate friends, and many anecdotes are +related of them. Boileau had wit--Racine humor, and a natural turn for +raillery. The contests of the two were often amusing. The king was much +pleased with the dramatist, and gave him a suit of apartments in the +palace, and the privilege of attending his parties. Madame de Maintenon +made a great favorite of him. He could recite poetry freely, and was +asked to declaim before a young princess. He found that she had been +learning some of his own plays. One of the best of his plays was +performed in the presence of Madame de Maintenon, who liked it so well +that she beseeched him to write a play which should contain no offensive +sentiments. Racine was in agony, for he feared to injure his reputation. +His vow prevented his return to his old employment, yet he feared to +refuse the request. He compromised the matter by dramatising the +touching bible history of Esther. At court the play had a wonderful +success, and the poet tried again upon the story of Atheliah of the +house of Judah; and in "_Athalie_" we have the best of all his dramas. +Singular as it may seem, this play was not well received at court, and +Racine felt mortified. Boileau told him, however, that posterity would +declare it the best of all his plays, and he was right. + +It was about this time that the dramatist received the keenest blow +which he had experienced hi his lifetime, and which broke his heart. +Madame de Maintenon was his warm friend, and was extremely fond of his +society. The country was at that time in great distress, and she +conversed with the poet upon the subject. She was much pleased with his +observations, and asked him to commit them to paper, promising that what +he should write should be seen by no eye but her own. He complied with +her request, and while she was one day reading his essay, the king +suddenly entered, and casting his eye upon the paper, demanded the name +of the author. Madame de Maintenon broke her promise, and gave the name +of the writer. The king was very angry, and asked, "Does he think that +he knows everything because he writes verses?" + +Madame de Maintenon saw at once that the king was much displeased, and +felt it to be her duty to inform the poet, that he might stay away from +court for a while, until the monarch's anger died away. Racine was +plunged into the deepest distress, and grew daily weak and ill. He +wandered over the park of Versailles, hoping to accidentally meet Madame +de Maintenon, for she did not dare to receive him publicly. He at length +met her, and she promised that she would yet bring pleasanter days to +the poet--that the cloud would soon pass away. He replied with great +melancholy that no fair weather would return for him. + +One day, while in his study, he was seized with a sudden illness, and +was obliged to take at once to his bed. An abscess in his liver had +closed, though this was not known at the time. His disease grew very +painful, and he became more patient and resigned. As death drew near, +his original sweetness of disposition came back to him, and his deep +melancholy fled away. The nobles of the court gathered around his +bed-side, and the king sent to make inquiries as to his condition. He +arranged all his pecuniary affairs. Boileau was with him, and when he +bade him farewell, he said, "I look on it as a happiness that I die +before you." + +When the physicians had discovered the abscess in his liver, they +resolved upon an operation, and he consented, though with no hope of +saving his life. He said, "The physicians try to give me hope, and God +could restore me; but the work of death is done." In three more days he +expired, in his sixtieth year. Thus lived and died one of the most +brilliant men in the history of France. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE FABULIST--THE INFIDEL--THE COMIC WRITER + +THE FABULIST. + + +La Fontaine, the fabulist, was buried by the side of Moliere, who died +long before him. He was born July 8th, 1621, at Chateau Thierry. His +father was keeper of the royal domains. While young, La Fontaine gave no +promise of his after distinction. His teachers declared him to be a +dunce. His father, who seems to have been an admirer of poetry, +persuaded him to attempt to write verses, but he could not make a rhyme. +Seeing at nineteen that he could not make a poet of his son, the old man +resolved to make a priest of him. After eighteen months of trial the +young man returned to society. His father then proposed that he should +take the keepership of the royal domains, and marry Marie d'Hericart, +the daughter of his friend. La Fontaine made no objection, though we +have no evidence that he loved the girl. She was both beautiful and +talented, however. The father still clung to the idea that his son could +write poetry, and with a kind of prophetic instinct. + +When La Fontaine was twenty-two, a French officer visited him, who was a +great admirer of poetry, and who brought the poems of Malherbe. La +Fontaine became excited by the poetry, or the passionate recitation, and +for days did nothing but read and recite poetry. He commenced writing +odes in imitation of Malherbe, and when his father beheld his first +attempt, he cried for joy. The character of the poetry was certainly +different from that which afterward gave him his fame. He soon +discovered the secret of success. By studying the old authors, he +improved his taste, and acquired a disrelish for French literature. He +was very fond of the Italian authors, but not knowing Greek, he only +read the Greek authors through translations made by others. He was +exceedingly fond of Plato, and his favorite copy was entirely filled +with annotations. + +La Fontaine remained for several years at Thierry, indolent, except in +his reading, and neglecting his business and his family. His "_Adonis_" +was written at this time. His good nature and simplicity are well +illustrated by an anecdote which is told of him. An officer was in the +constant habit of visiting his house, and his friends told him that the +reputation of Madame La Fontaine was compromised, and that nothing was +left but for him to challenge the officer to a duel. Now the fabulist +cared little for madame, and less for his own reputation in connection +with hers; but he believed his friends, and so after a great effort +shook off his indolence, and early one morning went to the officer, who +was in bed, and demanded that he should rise at once and go out to +mortal combat. The officer rose and followed him, and easily disarmed +him. An explanation followed. The friends of La Fontaine had been joking +him, and when the officer declared that he would never cross the +threshold of Thierry again, La Fontaine told him that thenceforth he +should come more frequently than ever. + +But though Madame La Fontaine was guiltless in this affair, her +character was by no means above reproach. She was giddy and thoughtless, +and fond of the society of gentlemen, and made a poor wife for the +poet. But she had an excuse. La Fontaine bestowed upon her no attention, +deserted her for weeks together, and was guilty of amours with other +women. He possessed a wretched memory, and was given to astonishing +absences of mind. The duchess of Bouillon left him one morning walking +in the open air, with a favorite book in his hand. At night he was still +there, though it had been raining hard for some time. + +His acquaintance with the duchess of Bouillon was of great service to +him. Had it not been for her he would probably never have left Thierry. +She was at that time in the country, being disgraced and exiled from +court. She was gay, witty, and fond of poetry. Chancing to read some +lines of La Fontaine, she sent for him, and at once saw his genius, and +suggested that he should write tales and fables. When the duchess was +allowed to return to Paris she took La Fontaine with her, and he was at +once introduced into the most brilliant society. The duchess of Mazarin, +sister to the duchess of Bouillon, was also his warm friend; and with +the friendship of the two sisters he had no lack of attention. He became +acquainted with Moliere, Boileau, and Racine, and was warmly attached to +them until death invaded the circle. + +The circles which La Fontaine frequented were amused by his great +eccentricities. He was often seized with his absences of mind, and great +sport was made of him. But Moliere was in the habit of saying at such +times, "The good man will take a flight beyond them,"--a prediction +which proved perfectly true, for the name of La Fontaine will live +longer than that of any of his companions. + +Boileau and Racine remonstrated with La Fontaine for having separated +from his wife. Simple as he was, he believed what they told him--that it +was his duty to return to her. He very soon came back, and when he was +asked why he came back so soon, he replied, "I did not see her!" + +"How," they asked, "was she from home?" + +"Yes," he replied; "she was gone to prayers, and the servant not knowing +me, would not let me stay in the house until she returned." + +The fabulist and his wife were so extravagant and careless in their +habits, that in a very short time the property of La Fontaine was wasted +away. Foquet, the minister, pensioned him, and he remembered him always +after. When Foquet was banished, La Fontaine solicited his pardon, but +the king was incapable of forgiving an enemy, and changed the sentence +to solitary confinement for life. The succeeding minister took away La +Fontaine's pension, as might have been expected. + +In 1664 La Fontaine published his first collection of fables, and it +gave him immediately the very highest rank as a fabulist. Shortly after, +he published a tale entitled "_Psyche and Cupid_." He was now without +money and a home. The duchess of Orleans added him to her suite, and +gave him a pension. She soon died, however, and he was again left +homeless. A woman by the name of de la Sabliere now invited him to her +house, and with her he lived the next twenty years. She was a woman of +great refinement and taste, but was singularly situated. She lived apart +from her husband, and had her lover. She gave parties which the most +distinguished men in France attended, and La Fontaine was very happy +while in her house. He was oppressed by no care or anxiety, and had +nothing to do but to read and write when it suited him. He wrote +several operas, and actually fell asleep during the first performance of +one of them at the theater! + +In 1683 he was elected a member of the French Academy. He had forgotten +his old friends at Thierry, and indeed did not know his own son. He +attended the funeral of a friend, one day, and ten days after it had so +completely escaped his memory, that he called to visit the man. He was +lionized, greatly to his displeasure. Attending one day at a dinner +given by somebody who cared nothing for his genius, but wished the +_eclat_ that would result from entertaining a great man, La Fontaine +talked little, eat very heartily, and when dinner was over, got his hat +to go. The host remonstrated: "The distance is short--you will be too +early," he said. "I'll take the longest road," replied La Fontaine. + +After twenty years of easy existence, La Fontaine was suddenly deprived +of his home. Madame de la Sabliere had been living all this time with +her lover. He now deserted her. At the same time her husband was +deserted by his mistress, which so affected him that he took poison and +died. These events had so great an effect upon Madame de la Sabliere +that she also died. + +The duchess of Bouillon was now in England, and she invited La Fontaine +to join her there; but he was now too old, and could not undertake such +a journey. Madame d'Hevvart, the wife of a rich man, gave him an +apartment in her house, where he remained during the rest of his days. +He was now getting infirm, and the Jesuits turned their eyes toward him. +He had thus far lived without a profession of religion, and a life of +loose morality. The Jesuits cared little for his want of good morals, +but in many of his books he had ridiculed the church and the clergy. It +was important, therefore, to make him confess his sins. Father Poujet, a +shrewd and subtle Jesuit, was sent to converse with him. In a very short +time he contrived to insinuate himself into the confidence of the simple +poet. He acknowledged, one after another, the truths of religion, and he +was called on to make expiations and a public confession. He was easily +persuaded to burn his operas, and to give up all the profits resulting +from the sale of a volume of his worst tales; but he rebelled against +public confession. Three doctors of the Sorbonne were sent to him, and +they argued long and well, but to no purpose. An old man who was angered +by their bull-dog pertinancy, said, "Don't torment him, my reverend +fathers; it is not ill will in him, but stupidity, poor soul; and God +Almighty will not have the heart to damn him for it." + +That La Fontaine finally made some kind of a confession, there is little +doubt; but that he made the shameful confession which Catholic writers +declare he did, no one now believes. He was probably worn out with their +entreaties, and came to a compromise with them. + +He added nothing to his reputation after this, but rather detracted from +it. He lived very quietly and devotedly, and died in 1695, in the +seventy-fourth year of his age. It was found after his death that he was +in the habit of mortifying himself with a shirt of sackcloth. + +La Fontaine was unquestionably the greatest fabulist of his or any other +time, and he has been exceedingly popular throughout France. His tales +and fables and light poems are full of beauty and grace. But we cannot +speak highly of their morality. They are, like almost all French +literature, corrupt. They took their character from the times, and have +had a bad influence upon later generations of France. + + + + +THE INFIDEL. + + +Perhaps no man has existed in the past history of France, who has had +such a wonderful influence over succeeding generations, as Voltaire. I +name him the _infidel_, not because his infidelity was the most +prominent characteristic, but because he is known more widely in America +for his scoffing skepticism. The effect of Voltaire's skeptical writings +is more perceptible in Paris than in the provinces, but in the capital +an amount of infidelity obtains which is perfectly frightful; and even +among those who frequent the church, and sometimes ostentatiously parade +an affection for it, this skepticism fills the intellects. No one writer +of past years unsettled the already shallow-rooted faith of the people +to such an extent as Voltaire. Yet he was by no means the man many of +his enemies suppose him to have been. No mere scoffer or reviler of the +bible could have obtained such an influence in France as Voltaire did. +He was really a great man, and gained the affections of the people by +his advocacy of liberty. It is more than probable that under a system of +religion as pure as now exists in America, Voltaire would never have +been an infidel. The condition of the Catholic church in France, in his +time, was sufficiently shocking to have startled every intelligent mind +into skepticism. It was filled with hypocrites and knaves, who professed +to be filled with the spirit of God, but who in reality were very +sensual and wicked men. The slightest independence in religious opinions +was punished by exile or imprisonment. How could a man with an +independent intellect succumb to such a church? And was it not very +natural for it to jump from belief to infidelity? This should be borne +in mind when we estimate the character of Voltaire. + +Voltaire's real name was Francois-Marie Arouet, and he was born at +Chatenay, on the 20th of February, 1694. His father was a notary, and +had a lucrative situation. His mother was of noble extraction. When a +babe, he was so feeble that it was not expected he would live. An abbe +in the family educated him, and it is a singular fact, that when he was +a boy, a deistical ode was put into his hands. He entered the college of +Louis-le-Grand, and his, talents rendered him a general favorite with +the teachers. One of his tutors, however, in a religious argument found +himself so incompetent to defend the Catholic church, that in his anger +he exclaimed, "You will become the Coryphaeus of Deism." + +On leaving college the young man entered into Paris society. Louis XIV. +was in his dotage, and at this time paid little attention to men of +genius. Arouet soon became popular in the highest circles for his wit +and genius. He resolved, much against his father's will, to devote +himself to a literary life. One of the first acts of the young man was +to fall in love with a rich but desperate woman's daughter, and amid +much opposition he by stealth kept up an intercourse with her; but he +was at last obliged to give way before so much ill will. His father was +very angry with him--so much so, that he consented at last to study the +law. He entered a law-office in Paris, and pursued his studies with +industry. He frequented society, but he could not content himself with +the prospect of an attorney's life. He beseeched his father to release +him from his course of study, and he consented that he should return to +the country-seat of a friend, and consider the matter. Here Arouet found +a large library, and fed upon it. He staid there until the death of the +king, when he went up to Paris to witness the joy of the people. Some +verses were printed which were attributed to him, and he was instantly +thrown into the Bastille. He passed a year in prison, without society, +books, or pen and ink. + +While imprisoned, the idea occurred to him of writing a great French +epic, and he actually composed in his dungeon two cantos of it, which +afterwards were not altered. The poem was called "_Henriade_," and was +regarded with admiration by his contemporaries. + +Arouet was finally set free, his innocence being satisfactorily proved. +He now issued the tragedy of "_Oedipus_," which had a great success. This +success was only deserved in part. He still later wrote several letters +upon the tragedies of Sophocles, which gave him at once a high position +as a man of learning, and as a critic. His life alternated between work +and pleasure. He quarreled with Rosseau about this time, and a little +later visited England. He remained away from France three years. Upon +his return to Paris he again brought out plays, and was everywhere +admired and worshiped. But the priesthood hated him. + +He now bought the small estate of Voltaire, and took the name for his +own, as was customary at that time. His writings occasionally made light +of religion and the priests, and scoffed at their practices. An actress +in Paris was refused the rites of burial by the priests, because of her +life and profession. Voltaire thereupon wrote her apotheosis, and in +consequence was obliged to conceal himself for several months in a +little village in Normandy. When it was safe for him to emerge from his +retirement, he wrote a book on England, which raised another storm about +his head. He spoke too highly of English liberty in religious matters, +and took occasion to speak sarcastically of all religion. The volume was +burned in public, and Voltaire concealed himself in the country. + +He now retired to the house of Madam du Chatelet in the country, where +he remained for several years. She was a woman of fine intellect, but a +harsh nature, and worshipped Voltaire. He here wrote several plays; +labored at his essay "_On the Manners and Spirit of Nations_;" collected +materials for his "_History of the Age of Louis XIV_;" and wrote the +famous "_Pucelle d'Orleans_." It was while at this house that Voltaire +commenced the celebrated correspondence with Frederick the Great. Each +had the highest admiration for the other. The great king wrote to him as +follows: + + "See in me only, I entreat you, a zealous citizen, a somewhat + skeptical philosopher, but a truly faithful friend. For God's + sake write to me simply as a man; join with me in despising + titles, names, and all exterior splendor." + +Voltaire replied; "This is a command after my own heart. _I know not how +to treat a king_; but I am quite at my ease with a man whose head and +heart are full of love for the human race." + +The two men met at Cleave. The king had been very anxious for Voltaire +to visit the court of Prussia, but he would not without Madame du +Chatelet; and Frederic cared not for the acquaintance of a French court +lady. Some time after this, Voltaire was sent on a secret mission to +Prussia, and startled Frederic by his sudden appearance. He tried to +persuade him to take up his abode with him, but the philosopher would +not consent. He sighed for his home, and the applause of a Parisian +audience. + +He brought out other plays, which were well received. A minister dying +at this time, who had been a bitter enemy of his, he ventured more +boldly before the world. He sought to be elected a member of the +Academy. A violent opposition arose. He had fought his enemies to the +death, never sparing sarcasm or ridicule, and these things could not be +forgotten. He lost his election, but was compensated by the success of a +new tragedy, which set all Paris into transports of delight. + +He was chosen by the duke de Richelieu to negotiate with the king of +Prussia in reference to a treaty. He was honored in the highest degree +by Frederic--was feted, praised, and made as much of as if he had been a +king. He succeeded in his negotiations, manifesting great subtlety and +tact. He returned to the house of Madame du Chatelet. For a time he +lived either here or at Paris--until Madame du Chatelet died, when he +went to Paris to spend all his time. He was deeply affected by the death +of the only woman he ever loved with sincerity. He propitiated the +mistress of Louis XV.--Madame Pompadour--and was appointed to a place in +the court; and was also made historiographer of France. Soon after, he +was elected a member of the Academy, thus triumphing over his old +enemies at last. For a time he sacrificed his manly independence, and +was not unlike any other court flatterer. He had a rival in Crebillon; +and disgusted with the state of things, he accepted the invitation of +Frederic, and made him a visit. He was received with the greatest joy by +the monarch--who even kissed the poet's hand in a transport of +admiration. + +The king's cook awaited his orders when he wished to eat in his own +rooms, and the king's coach was ready for him when he would ride. He +spent two hours each day in studying with the king, correcting his +works, etc. etc. He was tempted by so much attention to accept of the +king a pension and the office of chamberlain; and was obliged to resign +his places at the French court. He wrote to a friend in France: + + "How can I forget the barbarous manner with which I have been + treated in my own country? You know what I have gone through. + I enter port after a storm that has lasted thirty years." + +He had a salary of twenty thousand francs for himself, and four thousand +for his niece, who bitterly opposed the acceptance of Frederick's offer. +She prophesied that in the end it would be his death. He went at work +correcting his tragedies and writing new plays. He soon thought he +discovered deceit in the king, and learned that he was despotic. The +keen remarks of each were treasured up. Voltaire heard from a friend +that the king had said of him: "I shall not want him more than a year +longer--one squeezes the orange and throws away the peel." + +The remark caused him much sorrow. The king also treasured up a remark +sarcastically made by Voltaire, which was as follows: "When I correct +the royal poems I am washing the king's dirty linen." They soon lost +their attachment for each other. Voltaire watched in vain for a way to +escape from Prussia. At last it came, and he was once more a free man in +Switzerland. + +He went into a Protestant region, where there were no Catholics, and +bought him a pretty estate, and determined to live in complete +independence. Persecution however followed him here, and he took up his +abode in a retired part of France. He wrote his "_Encyclopedia_" which +was severely condemned. In 1788, in his eighty-fourth year, he returned +to Paris, bringing with him a newly-written tragedy. His new life in +Paris was not good for him, and he died at the end of May. + +This was the man who, in the years that followed him, ruled, as it were, +the intellect of Paris and France. He was a mighty man, and the fact +that he was bitterly persecuted, gave him a hold upon the sympathies of +succeeding generations. The conduct of the church toward him was +shameful, and he made the sad mistake of rejecting all religion, the +true as well as the false. + +His plays and writings abound with shocking sentiments, and some of his +writings are exceedingly coarse. These scoffs, coming from an ordinary +man, would have wrought little harm; but from the great Voltaire, who +was worshiped by the French people, they possessed an astonishing power +to work iniquity. A New Englander can scarcely credit his senses in +Paris when he finds the estimation in which Voltaire and his writings +are held by a vast class of the most intelligent Parisians. In religious +America he is regarded as a monster of iniquity; in France as a great +poet, philosopher, and advocate of human liberty. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE GREAT COMIC WRITER. + + +The place where Moliere, the great comic writer of France, lived in +Paris, was pointed out to me one day while near the Rue St. Honore; and +I have often noticed on one of the prominent streets a very neat +monument to the memory of the great man. It is a niche, with two +Corinthian columns, surmounted by a half-circular pediment, which is +richly ornamented. A statue of Moliere is placed in the niche in a +sitting posture, and in a meditative mood. In front of the columns on +each side, there are allegorical figures--one representing his serious, +the other his comic plays. Each bears a scroll which contains--one, his +comic plays, arranged in chronological order; and the other, his serious +plays, arranged in like manner. The basement is beautifully sculptured. +The inscriptions are as follows: "_A. Moliere. Ne a Paris, le 15 +Jauvier, 1622, et mort a Paris, le 17 Fevrier, 1673_." The monument is +over fifty feet in height, and cost one hundred and sixty-eight thousand +francs. It was erected in 1844, with a great deal of attendant ceremony +when it was finished. + +Moliere is one of the names of which France is justly proud, and in +Paris his memory is half-worshiped. Not to know him well, would be in +the eyes of a Parisian the sure sign of intolerable stupidity. He was +the greatest comic writer of France, and perhaps of the world. It will +not be out of place, therefore, to give a slight sketch of his life. + +The real name of Moliere was Jean Baptiste Poguelin, and he was born in +a little house in the Rue St. Honore, in the year 1622. His father was a +carpet-furnisher to the king, and he was brought up to the same business +by his father. His mother died when he was only ten years old, and his +father was left with a large family of children to educate. The boy +passed his early days in his father's warehouse, but his grandfather was +accustomed to take him often to the play-house, where he listened to +some of the great Corneille's plays, to his thorough delight. Thus in +his youth, even while a mere boy, the taste for the drama was created. +His father at one time remonstrated with the old man for taking the boy +thus early to the theater, and asked, "Do you mean to make an actor of +him?" + +Nothing daunted by this question, the grandfather replied, "Yes, if it +please God to make him as good a one as Bellerose"--who was the best +tragic actor of that time. + +The boy was discontented as he grew older, and panted for knowledge. As +he contemplated a life given up to trade, he grew melancholy. He was +finally sent as an out-student to the college of Clermont, and afterward +to the college of Louis-le-Grand, which was under the direction of the +Jesuits. The young prince of Conti was at school at that time. Gassendi, +the private tutor to the natural son of a man of fortune, named +Chapelle--the son at that time at school with Poguelin--discovered the +boy's talents, and taught him the philosophy of Epicurus, and gave him +lessons in morals. Another of his fellow-students was one de Bergerac, +of fine talents but wild disposition. Chapelle and de Bergerac became +afterward distinguished. + +As soon as he was through college, Poguelin entered into the king's +service as _valet de chambre_, and made the journey with his majesty to +Narbonne. After this he studied law in Orleans, and commenced practice +in Paris as an advocate. He here became associated with a few friends in +getting up a series of plays. The age was one full of enthusiasm for the +stage, and plays were enacted upon the stage and off of it, in private +circles. The club of young men who acted together for the amusement of +their friends, were so successful that they resolved to take to the +public stage; and as was the custom, each took an assumed name. +Poguelin assumed the name of Moliere, a name which he immortalized, and +by which he was ever afterward known. + +His father was very much displeased with his course, and sent a friend +to persuade him to relinquish it, but the deputy was so fascinated by +Poguelin's acting, that he became a convert to him, and was not fitted +to urge the arguments of the father. The family for a time refused in a +manner to acknowledge their son, being ashamed of his new profession; +but they are now known only through him. + +The masters under whom Moliere principally studied were Italians, and he +imbibed a love for the Italian comic art. He also read the Spanish +comedies, and learned to admire them. + +Moliere and his little band left Paris for the provinces. The times were +unpropitious, for the wars of the Fronde at that time made the whole +country a scene of confusion and danger. They had visited Bordeaux, and +were protected by the governor of Guienne. While here, Moliere wrote and +brought out a tragedy, which had so poor a success that he gave up +tragedy. After a short provincial tour he returned to Paris, and renewed +the acquaintance of the prince of Conti. The latter caused Moliere and +his fellows to bring out plays at his palace. But Paris was too full of +strife, and Moliere went to Lyons, where he wrote and brought out his +first comedy, "_L'Etouedi_." It met with a great success. There is an +English translation, entitled "Sir Martin Marplot." The next piece was +entitled "_Depit Amourex_," and its genuine humor gave it a fine +reputation. + +The moral character of Moliere at this time was exceedingly bad. The +times were such that a band of players found every temptation before +them. The French biographers give an account of some of his +"gallantries," but they only lead the reader to feel disgust rather than +admiration. That plays written by such a man, and during times which +corrupted the whole people, should be pure, one could not expect. +Moliere's plays, therefore, bear the same character, in this respect, as +all the great performances of authors of France in those and succeeding +times. They were altogether loose in their morals. + +The company of players were invited to Paynas by the prince of Conti, +who was staying there at the time. They acted before him, and Moliere +wrote several little interludes for the special amusement of the prince, +which were afterward the ground-work of some of his best comedies. The +prince was so pleased with the comedian, that he invited him to become +his secretary. He declined, but whether from love of comedy, or fear of +the prince, we do not know. The prince possessed an awful temper, and +actually killed his former secretary by throwing the tongs at him. + +Paris at length became more quiet, and Moliere turned his steps toward +it. He obtained the protection of the king's brother, was introduced to +the king, and obtained permission to establish himself in the capital. +There was a rival theater at the Hotel de Bourgogue, at which +Corneille's tragedies were played. Moliere and his company acted before +Louis XIV. and his mother, in the Louvre. The play was that of +"Nicomede," and the success was very great. The play was a tragedy, but +Moliere knew very well that they could not rival the other +tragedy-theater, in that line; and he therefore introduced the custom +that night of concluding a tragedy with a farce. The farce acted was one +of his own, and was so well received that the custom was ever after +kept up. The company finally settled down in the Palais Royal, which the +king had granted them. + +The next poem which Moliere wrote and brought out, was aimed at a +society of men, including many of the most talented in Paris, called the +"_Society of the Hotel de Rambouillet_." The peculiarities of this +society were too ridiculous to describe at this day, and Moliere's +comedy, which was aimed at them, was wonderfully successful. Paris at +once was in an uproar of laughter, and in the midst of the piece an old +man rose in the theater, crying out, "Courage, Moliere; this is a true +comedy!" + +The next piece was entitled "_Sganarelle_," and although it was quite +successful, it was inferior to those which preceded it. Moliere now +tried tragedy, but with no success. It was not his _forte_. He returned +to comedy, and brought out a piece entitled "_L'Ecoledes Maris_," which +achieved a brilliant success. + +At this time Foquet was the minister of finance, and gave a fete in +honor of the king; indeed he entertained the king at his villa. He was +in some respects another Cardinal Wolsey, in his magnificence and +recklessness of display. Foquet loved a beautiful girl, who rejected +him. He discovered that the girl loved the king, and that the passion +was reciprocated. In his anger he charged it upon the girl, who ran with +the secret to the king. Louis was resolved on the downfall of his +minister. The fete took place upon a scale of almost unparalleled +splendor. Le Brun painted the scenes, La Fontaine wrote verses for it, +and Moliere prepared a ballet for the occasion. The king concealed his +wrath at this display of wealth, and very much enjoyed Moliere's +amusements; and suggested a new comedy to the comedian, while talking +with him at the minister's. Foquet soon fell. + +Moliere was by this time so distinguished that he had troops of friends +among the wise, learned, and great. Among the warmest of them was the +great Conde, who was always pleased with his society. He told the +comedian that he feared to trespass by sending for him on peculiar +occasions, and therefore requested him to come to him whenever he had a +leisure hour; and at such times he would dismiss all other matters, and +give himself up to pleasant conversation. The king invariably defended +Moliere. A duke once attacked him, and the king reproved the noble. He +still attended to his duties as _valet de chambre_ to the king, and was +constantly subjected to annoyance on account of his profession. The +other officers of the king's chamber would not eat with him, such was +their petty meanness and pride. The king determined to give them a +lesson, so one morning he addressed Moliere as follows: + + "I am told you have short commons here, Moliere, and that the + officers of my chamber think you unworthy of sharing their + meals. You are probably hungry; I got up with a good appetite. + Sit down at that table where they have placed my + refreshments." The king sat down with him, and the two went + heartily at a fowl. The doors were opened, and the most + prominent members of the court entered. "You see me," said + Louis, "employed in giving Moliere his breakfast, as my people + do not find him good enough company for themselves." + +From this time Moliere had no trouble on the score of treatment from his +fellow _valets_. + +Everywhere except at court, before this, Moliere was treated with the +greatest consideration on account of his brilliant genius. He was +intimate with Racine and with Boileau. The story for a time was believed +that Moliere married his natural daughter, but it has been proved a +falsehood. He became attached to the sister of Madeleine Bejaet, a very +witty and graceful woman, and married her; but he soon found that she +was too fond of admiration to make him happy. She was coquettish, and +without principle, and though Moliere bore with her long, they at length +separated. He said: "There is but one sort of love, and those who are +more easily satisfied, do not know what true love is." + +Moliere went on with the management of his theater, and writing and +bringing out new plays. One of them--"_L'Ecole des Femmes_"--was +translated and amended into the English by Wycherly, and was altogether +more licentious in plot than in the original language. It was very +popular in England, but not so much so in France. + +The next piece of Moliere's was entitled "_Impromptu de Versailles_," +and was written at the command of the king. The king and his courtiers +were accustomed to take parts in the ballets in those days, and Louis +and his court took parts in the ballets of Moliere's construction. The +soldiers who guarded the king were accustomed to go into the theater +free. They took up a large space, and Moliere represented his loss to +the king, who abolished the privilege. The soldiers were very angry, and +the next night they cut the door-keeper to pieces with their swords, and +forced their way into the house. Moliere made them a speech, and peace +was restored. The king offered to punish with severity the lawless +soldiery, but Moliere requested him not to do so, and the new order was +ever after obeyed without trouble. + +One of his next acts was to hold up to ridicule, in a comedy, the +medical faculty. The condition of the medical art at that time was such +that it richly deserved ridicule. But no man can thus attack great +bodies of men without making enemies, and Moliere had them without +number. + +The comedian was now at the height of his prosperity, and still he was +unhappy. Separated from his wife, whose conduct was now shameful, he had +no domestic happiness. He spent much of his time at his country-house at +Antenil, where an apartment was always kept for his old school-fellow, +Chapelle, for whom he always retained a warm affection. He was often +alone, and preferred solitude, shutting himself away from society. A +supper was once given by him to all his brother wits. He alone was +indisposed, and as he took no wine or animal food, he went early to bed, +leaving his friends merry over their wine. At last they grew so affected +by the wine they had drank, that they were ready to follow a leader into +any absurdity. Chapelle was, when tipsy, always melancholy, and on this +occasion he addressed his companions in a strain of bathos which, had +they been free from the effects of wine, would only have excited their +laughter. But now they were in the same condition as himself. Chapelle +finally wound up by proposing that they all proceed to a neighboring +river, and end life together by plunging into it. He expiated upon the +heroism of the act, and the immortality it would give them, and they all +agreed to it. Moliere overheard them quitting the house, and suspecting +something wrong, followed them. He came up with them upon the bank of +the river, when they besought him also to die with them. He professed to +be struck with the heroism of their plan, but demanded that it should be +executed in the broad day. They fell in with his suggestion, and +returned to the house. Of course, the next morning they were ashamed to +look upon each other's faces. + +Moliere wrote many new plays and farces, but his days were fast drawing +to a close. He was overworked, and took little care of his health. The +king asked him one day what he did with his doctor. "We converse +together," he replied--"he writes prescriptions, which I do not take, +and I recover." He had a weak chest, and a constant cough. + +About this time his friends persuaded him to invite his wife again to +his house, and she urged him to a more generous diet, but he grew the +worse for it. He now brought out a new play, and could not be prevented +from taking a prominent part in it. On the fourth night he was much +worse, and friends gathered around him, beseeching him not to go on the +stage longer. He replied, "There are fifty poor workmen whose bread +depends on the daily receipts. I should reproach myself if I deprived +them of it." But while making others laugh, he was actually dying. He +was, while in the ballet, seized with a fit of coughing, and burst a +blood-vessel. A priest was sent for, but such was their antipathy to the +comedian, that it was long before one could be found willing to attend +him. He expired with but few friends around him. Two sisters of charity +whom he had been in the habit of receiving in his house while they were +collecting alms during Lent, remembered his generosity, and attended his +death-bed. + +The archbishop of Paris refused the rites of burial to the body. His +wife was much moved by this act, and exclaimed, "What! refuse burial to +one who deserves that altars should be erected to him!" She ran to the +king, who being offended by some indiscretion of hers, refused to +interfere in the matter, though he privately ordered the archbishop to +take off the interdiction. When the funeral took place, a mob of low +people, excited by their priestly advisers, attended, intending to offer +insult to the body, but the comedian's widow propitiated them by +throwing a thousand francs among them. We see by this shameful treatment +of a man whom France honored, and who, though not irreproachable in +character, was as pure as those who persecuted him. + +Moliere was almost universally honored--always excepting those bodies +which he had ridiculed. He was very generous, and would, long before his +death, have given up acting on the stage, were it not for his companions +whose subsistence depended upon his appearance with them. + +Very many years after, the eulogy of Moliere was made the subject of a +prize; and when it was delivered, two persons by the name of Poguelin +were honored by a seat on the stage. + +At his death the band of comedians was broken up. His widow received a +pension, in after years, of one thousand livres. But one of his children +survived, and that one had no issue--so the race soon became extinct. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Paris: With Pen and Pencil, by David W. Bartlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARIS: WITH PEN AND PENCIL *** + +***** This file should be named 16943.txt or 16943.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/9/4/16943/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and +Distributed Proofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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