Paris and the Parisians in 1835 Volume I Part 18

"Charles Dix," says a legitimate in principle, but a _juste-milieu_ man in practice,--"Charles Dix has abdicated the throne, which otherwise must unquestionably be his by indefeasible right. His heir-apparent has followed the example. The country was in no state to be governed by a child; and what then was left for us, but to take a king from the same race which so for many ages has possessed the throne of France. _Louis-Philippe est roi, PARCEQU'il est Bourbon_."

"Pardonnez-moi," replies another, who, if he could manage it without disturbing the tranquillity about him, would take care to have it understood that nothing more legitimate than an elective monarchy could be ever permitted in France,--"Pardonnez-moi, mon ami; _Louis-Philippe est roi, QUOIQU'il est Bourbon_."

These two parties of the _Parceques_ and the _Quoiques_, in fact, form the great bulwarks of King Philippe's throne; for they both consist of experienced, practical, substantial citizens, who having felt the horrors of anarchy, willingly keep their particular opinions in abeyance rather than hazard a recurrence of it. They, in truth, form between them the genuine _juste-milieu_ on which the present government is balanced.

That there is more of the practical wisdom of expediency than of the dignity of unbending principle in this party, can hardly be denied.

They are "wiser in their generation than the children of light;" but it is difficult, "seeing what we have seen, seeing what we see," to express any heavy sentence of reprobation upon a line of conduct which ensures, for the time at least, the lives and prosperity of millions.

They tell me that my friend the Vicomte has sapped my legitimate principles; but I deny the charge, though I cannot deliberately wish that confusion should take the place of order, or that the desolation of a civil war should come to deface the aspect of prosperity that it is so delightful to contemplate.

This discrepancy between what is right and what is convenient--this wavering of principle and of action, is the inevitable consequence of repeated political convulsions. When the times become out of joint, the human mind can with difficulty remain firm and steadfast. The inconceivable variety of wild and ever-changing speculations which have long overborne the voice of established belief and received authority in this country, has brought the principles of the people into a state greatly resembling that of a wheel radiated with every colour of the rainbow, but which by rapid movement is left apparently without any colour at all.

Our last _soiree_ was at the house of a lady who takes much interest in showing me "le Paris d'aujourd'hui," as she calls it. "Chere dame!"

she exclaimed as I entered, "I have collected _une societe delicieuse_ for you this evening."

She had met me in the ante-room, and, taking my arm within hers, led me into the _salon_. It was already filled with company, the majority of which were gentlemen. Having found room for us on a sofa, and seated herself next to me, she said--

"I will present whomsoever you choose to know; but before I bring anybody up, I must explain who they all are."

I expressed my grat.i.tude, and she began:--"That tall gentleman is a great republican, and one of the most respectable that we have left of the _clique_. The party is very nearly worn out among the _gens comme il faut_. His father, however, is of the same party, and still more violent, I believe, than himself. Heaven knows what they would be at!... But they are both deputies, and if they died to-morrow, would have, either father or son, a very considerable mob to follow them to Pere Lachaise; not to mention the absolute necessity which I am sure there would be to have troops out: c'est toujours quelque chose, n'est-ce pas? I know that you hate them all--and, to say truth, so do I too;--mais, chere amie! qu'est-ce que cela fait? I thought you would like to see them: they really begin to get very scarce in _salons_."

I a.s.sured her that she was quite right, and that nothing in the whole Jardin des Plantes could amuse me better.

"Ah ca!" she rejoined, laughing; "voila ce que c'est d'etre raisonnable. Mais regardez ce beau garcon leaning against the chimneypiece. He is one of _les fideles sans tache_. Is he not handsome? I have him at all my parties; and even the ministers' ladies declare that he is perfectly charming."

"And that little odd-looking man in black," said I, "who is he?...

What a contrast!"

"N'est-ce pas? Do they not group well together? That is just the sort of thing I like--it amuses everybody: besides, I a.s.sure you, he is a very remarkable person,--in short, it is M----, the celebrated atheist. He writes for the ----. But the Inst.i.tute won't have him: however, he is excessively talked of--and that is everything.... Then I have two peers, both of them highly distinguished. There is M. de ----, who, you know, is King Philippe's right hand; and the gentleman sitting down just behind him is the dear old Duc de ----, who lived ages in exile with Louis Dix-huit.... That person almost at your elbow, talking to the lady in blue, is the Comte de P----, a most exemplary Catholic, who always followed Charles Dix in all religious processions. He was half distracted, poor man! at the last revolution; but they say he is going to dine with King Philippe next week: I long to ask him if it is true, but I am afraid, for fear he should be obliged to answer 'Yes;'--that would be so embarra.s.sing!... Oh, by the way, that is a peer that you are looking at now;--he has refused to sit on the trial.... Now, have I not done _l'impossible_ for you?"

I thanked her gratefully, and as I knew I could not please her better than by showing the interest I took in her menagerie, I inquired the name of a lady who was talking with a good deal of vehemence at the opposite side of the room.

"Oh! that's a person that I always call my '_dame de l'Empire_.' Her husband was one of Napoleon's creations; and Josephine used to amuse herself without ceasing by making her talk--her language and accent are _impayables_!"

"And that pretty woman in the corner?"

"Ah! ... she is charming!... It is Madame V----, daughter of the celebrated Vicomte de ----, so devoted, you know, to the royal cause.

But she is lately married to one of the present ministers--quite a love-match; which is an innovation, by the way, more hard to pardon in France than the introduction of a new dynasty. Mais c'est egal--they are all very good friends again.... Now, tell me whom I shall introduce to you?"

I selected the heroine of the love-match; who was not only one of the prettiest creatures I ever saw, but so lively, intelligent, and agreeable, that I have seldom pa.s.sed a pleasanter hour than that which followed the introduction. The whole of this heterogeneous party seemed to mix together with the greatest harmony; the only cold glance I saw given being from the gentleman designated as "King Philippe's right hand," towards the tall republican deputy of whose funeral my friend had predicted such honours. The _dame de l'Empire_ was indulging in a lively flirtation with one of the peers _sans tache_; and I saw the fingers of the exemplary Catholic, who was going to dine with King Philippe, in the _tabatiere_ of the celebrated atheist. I then remembered that this was one of the _soirees ant.i.thestiques_ so much in fas.h.i.+on.

LETTER XXVIII.

New Publications.--M. de Lamartine's "Souvenirs, Impressions, Pensees, et Paysages."--Tocqueville and Beaumont.--New American regulation.--M. Scribe.--Madame Tastu.--Reception of different Writers in society.

Though among the new publications sent to me for perusal I have found much to fatigue and disgust me, as must indeed be inevitable for any one accustomed for some scores of years to nourish the heart and head with the literature of the "_bon vieux temps_"--which means, in modern phrase, everything musty, rusty, rococo, and forgotten,--I have yet found some volumes which have delighted me greatly.

M. de Lamartine's "Souvenirs, Impressions, Pensees, et Paysages" in the East, is a work which appears to me to stand solitary and alone in the world of letters. There is certainly nothing like it, and very little that can equal it, in my estimation, either as a collection of written landscapes or as a memorial of poetical feeling, just sentiment, and refined taste.

His descriptions may perhaps have been, in some rare instances, equalled in mere graphic power by others; but who has painted anything which can excite an interest so profound, or an elevation of the fancy so lofty and so delightful?

Alas! that the scenes he paints should be so utterly beyond one's reach! How little, how paltry, how full of the vulgar interests of this "working-day world," do all the other countries of the earth appear after reading this book, when compared to Judea! But there are few who could visit it as Lamartine has done,--there are very few capable of feeling as he felt--and none, I think, of describing as he describes. His words live and glow upon the paper; he pours forth suns.h.i.+ne and orient light upon us,--we hear the gale whispering among the palm-trees, see Jordan's rapid stream rus.h.i.+ng between its flowery banks, and feel that the scene to which he has transported us is holy ground.

The exalted tone of his religious feelings, and the poetic fervour with which he expresses them, might almost lead one to believe that he was inspired by the sacred air he breathed. It seems as if he had found the harps which were hung up of old upon the trees, and tuned them anew to sing of the land of David; he has "beheld the beauty of the Lord, and inquired in his temple," and the result is exactly what it should be.

The manner in which this most poetic of travellers, while standing on the ruins of Tyre, speaks of the desolation and despair that appear settling upon the earth in these latter days, is impressive beyond anything I know of modern date.

Had France produced no other redeeming volumes than these, there is enough within them to overpower and extinguish the national literary disgrace with which it has been reproached so loudly; and it is a comfort to remember that this work is as sure to live, as the literary labours of the diabolic school are to perish. It is perhaps good for us to read trash occasionally, that we may learn to value at their worth such thoughts as we find here; and while there are any left on earth who can so think, so feel, and so write, our case is not utterly hopeless.

Great, indeed, is the debt that we owe to an author like this, who, seizing upon the imagination with power unlimited, leads it only into scenes that purify and exalt the spirit. It is a tremendous power, that of taking us how and where he will, which is possessed by such an author as this. When it is used for evil, it resembles fearfully the action of a fiend, tempting, dragging, beckoning, cajoling to destruction: but when it is for good, it is like an angel's hand leading us to heaven.

I intended to have spoken to you of many other works which have pleased me; but I really at this moment experience the strangest sort of embarra.s.sment imaginable in referring to them. Many agreeable new books are lying about before me; but while my head is so full of Lamartine and the Holy Land, everything seems to produce on me the effect of plat.i.tude and littleness.

I must, however, conquer this so far as to tell you that you ought to read both Tocqueville and Beaumont on the United States. By the way, I am a.s.sured that the Americans declare themselves determined to change their line of conduct altogether respecting the national manner of receiving European sketches of themselves. This new law is to embrace three clauses. The first will enforce the total exclusion, from henceforth and for evermore, of all European strangers from their American homes; the second will recommend that all citizens shall abstain from reading anything, in any language written, or about to be written, concerning them and their affairs; and the third, in case the other two should fail, seems to take the form of a vow, protesting that they never will storm, rave, scold, or care about anything that anybody can say of them more. If this pa.s.ses during the presidents.h.i.+p of General Jackson, it will immortalize his reign more than paying off the national debt.

Having thus, somehow or other, slipped from the Holy Land to the United States of America, I feel sufficiently subdued in spirit to speak of lesser things than Lamartine's "Pilgrimage."

On one point, indeed, a sense of justice urges me, when on the subject of modern productions, to warn you against the error of supposing that all the new theatrical pieces, which come forth here as rapidly and as brilliantly as the blossoms of the gum cistus, and which fade almost as soon, are of the nature and tendency of those I have mentioned as belonging to the Victor Hugo school. On the contrary, I have seen many, and read more, of these little comedies and vaudevilles, which are not only free from every imputation of mischief, but absolutely perfect in their kind.

The person whose name is celebrated far above all others for this species of composition, is M. Scribe; and were it not that his extraordinary facility enables him to pour forth these pretty trifles in such abundance as already to have a.s.sured him a very large fortune, which offers an excellent excuse in these _positif_ times for him, I should say that he would have done better had he written less.

He has shown on several occasions, as in "L'Ambitieux," "Bertrand et Raton," &c. that he can succeed in that most difficult of tasks, good legitimate comedy, as well as in the lighter labour of striking off a sparkling vaudeville. It is certain, indeed, that, spite of all we say, and say in some respects so justly, respecting the corrupted taste of France at the present era, there never was a time when her stage could boast a greater affluence of delightful little pieces than at present.

I really am afraid to enter more at large upon this theme, from a literal _embarras de richesses_. If I begin to name these pretty, lively trifles, I shall run into a list much too long for your patience: for though Scribe is still the favourite as well as the most fertile source of these delightful novelties, there are one or two others who follow him at some little distance, and who amongst them produce such a sum total of new pieces in the year as would make an English manager tremble to think of;--but here the chief cost of bringing them out is drawn, not from the theatrical treasury, but from the ever-fresh wit and spirit of the performers.

Such an author as Scribe is a national museum of invention--a never-failing source of new enjoyment to his lively countrymen, and he has probably tasted the pleasures of a bright and lasting reputation as fully as any author living. We are already indebted to him for many charming importations; and, thanks to the Yates talent, we begin to be not unworthy of receiving such. If we cannot have Shakspeare, Racine, and Moliere got up for us quite "in the grand style of former years,"

these bright, light, biting, playful, graceful little pieces are by far the best subst.i.tutes for them, while we wait with all the patience we can for a new growth of players, who shall give honour due to the next tragedy Miss Mitford may bestow upon us.

Another proof that it is not necessary to be vicious in order to be in vogue at Paris, and that purity is no impediment to success, is the popularity of Madame Tastu's poetry. She writes as a woman ought to write--with grace, feeling, delicacy, and piety.

Her literary efforts, however, are not confined to the "flowery path of poesy;" though it is impossible not to perceive that she lingers in it with delight, and that when she leaves it, she does so from no truant inclination to wander elsewhere, but from some better impulse.

Her work ent.i.tled "Education Maternelle" would prove a most valuable acquisition to English mothers desirous themselves of giving early lessons in French to their children. The p.r.o.nunciation and accentuation are marked in a manner greatly to facilitate the task, especially to a foreigner; whose greatest difficulty, when attempting to teach the language without the aid of a native master, is exactly what these initiatory lessons are so well calculated to obviate.

It is no small source of consolation and of hope, at a period when a sort of universal epidemic frenzy appears to have seized upon the minds of men, leading them to advocate as good that which all experience shows to be evil, and to give specimens of dirty delirium that might be collected in an hospital, by way of exalted works of imagination,--it is full of hope and consolation to find that, however rumour may clamour forth tidings of these sad ravings whenever they appear, fame still rests only with such as really deserve it.

Let a first-rate collector of literary lions at Paris make it known that M. de Lamartine would appear at her _soiree_, and the permission to enter there would be sought so eagerly, that before eleven o'clock there would not be standing-room in her apartments, though they might be as s.p.a.cious as any the "belle ville" can show. But let it be announced that the authors of any of the obscene masques and mummings which have disgraced the theatres of France would present themselves, and depend upon it they would find s.p.a.ce sufficient to enact the part of Triboulet at the moment when he exclaims in soliloquy,

"Que je suis grand ici!"

LETTER XXIX.

Sunday in Paris.--Family Groups.--Popular Enjoyment.--Polytechnic Students.--Their resemblance to the figure of Napoleon.--Enduring attachment to the Emperor.--Conservative spirit of the English Schools.--Sunday in the Gardens of the Tuileries.--Religion of the Educated.--Popular Opinion.