An Englishman In Paris Part 36

About a month later--on Wednesday, May 17th, but I will not be certain--I was present at the first gala-performance organized by the Commune, although the Versailles troops were within gunshot of the fortifications. This time I had taken a ticket beforehand. The performance was to take place at the Opera-Comique, and long before the appointed hour the Boulevards and the streets adjoining the theatre were crowded with idlers, anxious to watch the arrival of the bigwigs under whose immediate patronage the entertainment was to be given. The papers had been full of it for days and days beforehand; the posters on the walls had set forth its many attractions. In accordance with traditional usage on such occasions, the programme was a miscellaneous one, and the wags did not fail to remark that the Commune ought to have struck out something original instead of blindly following the precedents of tyrants; but in reality the Commune had no choice. Few of the princ.i.p.al artists of the subsidized theatres were available, and there was an evident reluctance to co-operate among some of those who were; hence it was decided to give fragments of such operas or comedies, calculated to stimulate still further the patriotic and republican sentiments with which the majority of the spectators were credited. There had been less difficulty in recruiting the orchestra, and a very fair band was got together. A great many invitations had been issued; few of the seats, especially in the better parts, were paid for.

All the entrances had been thrown open, and around every one there was a considerable gathering, almost exclusively composed of National Guards in uniform, and women of the working cla.s.ses, who enthusiastically cheered each known personage on his arrival. The latter were too magnificent for words, the clanking sabres, resplendent uniforms, and waving plumes only paled in contrast with the toilettes of their female companions who hung proudly on their arms. For them, at any rate, "le jour de gloire etait arrive."

The crowd, especially the fairer portion of it, was decidedly enthusiastic, perhaps somewhat too enthusiastic, in their ultra-cordial greetings and recognition of the ladies, so suddenly promoted in the social scale. Melanie and Clarisse would have been satisfied with a less literal interpretation of "Auld Lang Syne," as they stepped out of the carriages, the horses of which belied the boast that at the end of the siege there were 30,000 serviceable animals of that kind left.

The performance had been timed for half-past seven; at half-past eight, the princ.i.p.al box set apart for the chiefs of the new regime was still empty. As I have already said, disquieting rumours had been afloat for the last few days with regard to the approach of the Versailles troops, the guns had been thundering all day long, and, what was worse, for the last forty-eight hours no "startling victory" had been announced either on the walls of Paris or in the papers. Some of the "great men," among the audience in the stalls and dress-circle, and easily to be distinguished from the ruck of ordinary mortals, professed themselves unable to supply authentic information, but as the performance had not been countermanded, they suggested that things were not so bad as they looked.

The theatre was crammed from floor to ceiling, and the din was something terrible. The heat was oppressive; luckily the gas was burning low because the companies were as yet unable to provide a full supply. There were few people out of uniform in either stalls or dress-circle, but the upper parts were occupied by blouses with a fair sprinkling of cloth coats. The women seemed to me to make the most infernal noise. The two stage-boxes were still empty; in the others there were a good many journalists and ladies who had come to criticize the appearance and demeanour of the "dames de nos nouveaux gouvernants." There was one box which attracted particular attention; one of its occupants, evidently a "dame du monde," was in evening dress, wearing some magnificent diamonds, while it was very patent that those of her own social status had made it a point to dress as simply as possible. I have never been able to find out the name of the lady; I had not seen her before, I have not seen her since.

At about a quarter to nine the doors of the stage-boxes were flung back, and the guests of the evening appeared. But alas, they were not the chief members of the Commune, only the secondary characters. It is doubtful, though, whether the former could have been more magnificently attired than were the latter. Their uniforms were positively hidden beneath the gold lace.

Immediately, the band struck up the inevitable "Ma.r.s.eillaise;" the spectators in the upper galleries joined in the chorus; the building shook to its foundations, and, amidst the terrible din, one could distinctly hear the crowds on the Boulevards re-echoing the strains. The occupants of the state boxes gave the signal for the applause, then the curtain rose, and Mdlle. Agar, in peplos and cothurnus, recited the strophes once more. When the curtain fell, the audience rushed to the foyer or out into the open air; at any rate, the former was not inconveniently crowded. Among those strolling up and down I noticed the lady of the diamonds, on the arm of a rather common-looking individual in a gorgeous uniform. I believe I caught sight of the American Minister, but I will not be certain.

This time the curtain rose upon an act of a comedy; the spectators, however, did not seem to be vastly interested; they were evidently waiting for the duo to be sung by Madame Ugalde and a tenor whose name I do not remember. He was, I heard, an amateur of great promise.

Scarcely had Madame Ugalde uttered her first notes, when a bugler of the franc-tireurs of the Commune stepped in front of an empty box and sounded the charge. The effect was startling. The audience rose to a man, and rushed to the exits. In less than five minutes the building was empty. I had let the human avalanche pa.s.s by. When I came outside I was told that it was a false alarm, or, rather, a practical joke; but no one re-entered the theatre. Thus ended the gala-performance of the Commune, and a careful observer would have had no difficulty in foreseeing the end of the latter. The bugler had, unconsciously perhaps, sounded its death-knell.

THE END.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Christopher Columbus.]

_THE STORY OF COLUMBUS._

By ELIZABETH EGGLESTON SEELYE; edited by Dr. EDWARD EGGLESTON. With 100 Ill.u.s.trations by Allegra Eggleston. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Caravel.]

This book is the result of most extensive investigations, which have been carefully verified by the eminent historian and novelist, Dr.

Eggleston. It is not too much to say that the whole world has been drawn upon for material by the author and the artist. The fruits of these investigations are presented in a popular, readable, always entertaining form. While the book contains all the results of modern inquiry offered in the bulkiest biographies, the story is here condensed and the material selected with a view to an always interesting narrative. To a considerable extent the plan of both text and ill.u.s.trations is like that of Eggleston's "Household History of the United States." It is hardly necessary to say more regarding the fitness of this volume for a place in every American private, public, and school library.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Catapult.]

"The purpose of the writer of this book has been to relate the life of the greatest of discoverers in a manner interesting and delightful to the general reader, while producing a narrative strictly conformed to the facts as given by the best ancient authorities and developed by the latest researches of scholars.

There is here no attempt to discuss the _pros_ and _cons_ of debated points in Columbian history. Such investigators as Navarrete, Mr. Harrisse, Signor Staglieno, and our own learned Mr. Justin Winsor, have wrought abundantly and with large results upon these problems. It is the purpose of the present work to tell the story as understood through the labors of these scholars, leaving aside ponderous discussions which in a book intended for general reading would tire without enlightening.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Image found at Santo Domingo.]

"Though disclaiming original investigation beyond the careful use of the leading authorities, Mrs. Seelye has been at much pains not to give the reader the discredited myths used by the old school of biographers. It is a poor service to relate as history an interesting story that is not true, or to lift an historical figure into a heroism far from his real character. To give the facts as we know them, and to show Columbus as he really was, has been the sincere endeavor of the writer of this book. The story is wonderful enough without the embellishment of fiction; the man is interesting enough when painted in his real colors."--_From the Introduction, by Edward Eggleston._

[Ill.u.s.tration: Brer Rabbit Preaches.]

_ON THE PLANTATION._

By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, author of "Uncle Remus." With 23 Ill.u.s.trations by E. W. KEMBLE, and Portrait of the Author. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

The most personal and in some respects the most important work which Mr.

Harris has published since "Uncle Remus." Many will read between the lines and see the autobiography of the author. In addition to the stirring incidents which appear in the story, the author presents a graphic picture of certain phases of Southern life which have not appeared in his books before. There are also new examples of the folk-lore of the negroes, which became cla.s.sic when presented to the public in the pages of "Uncle Remus."

"The book is in the characteristic vein which has made the author so famous and popular as an interpreter of plantation character."--_Rochester Union and Advertiser._

"Those who never tire of Uncle Remus and his stories--with whom we would be accounted--will delight in Joe Maxwell and his exploits."--_London Sat.u.r.day Review._

"Altogether a most charming book."--_Chicago Times._

"Really a valuable, if modest, contribution to the history of the civil war within the Confederate lines, particularly on the eve of the catastrophe. While Mr. Harris, in his preface, professes to have lost the power to distinguish between what is true and what is imaginative in his episodical narrative, the reader readily finds the clew. Two or three new animal fables are introduced with effect; but the history of the plantation, the printing-office, the black runaways, and white deserters, of whom the impending break-up made the community tolerant, the c.o.o.n and fox hunting, forms the serious purpose of the book, and holds the reader's interest from beginning to end. Like 'Daddy Jake,' this is a good anti-slavery tract in disguise, and does credit to Mr.

Harris's humanity. There are amusing ill.u.s.trations by E. W.

Kemble."--_New York Evening Post._

"A charming little book, tastefully gotten up.... Its simplicity, humor, and individuality would be very welcome to any one who was weary of the pretentiousness and the dull obviousness of the average three-volume novel."--_London Chronicle._

"The mirage of war vanishes and reappears like an ominous shadow on the horizon, but the stay-at-home whites of the Southern Confederacy were likewise threatened by fears of a servile insurrection. This dark dread exerts its influence on a narration which is otherwise cheery with boyhood's fortunate freedom from anxiety, and sublime disregard for what the morrow may bring forth. The simple chronicle of old times 'on the plantation'

concludes all too soon; the fire burns low and the tale is ended just as the reader becomes acclimated to the mid-Georgian village, and feels thoroughly at home with Joe and Mink. The 'Owl and the Birds,' 'Old Zip c.o.o.n,' the 'Big Injun and the Buzzard,'

are joyous echoes of the plantation-lore that first delighted us in 'Uncle Remus.' Kemble's ill.u.s.trations, evidently studied from life, are interspersed in these pages of a book of consummate charm."--_Philadelphia Ledger._

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.