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diff --git a/old/50113-0.txt b/old/50113-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c0793b0..0000000 --- a/old/50113-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19464 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50113 *** - -MY MEMOIRS - -ALEXANDRE DUMAS - -TRANSLATED BY - -E. M. WALLER - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - -ANDREW LANG. - -VOL. II - -1822 TO 1825 - -WITH A FRONTISPIECE - -METHUEN & CO. - -36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - -LONDON - - - - - CONTENTS - - - - BOOK I - - CHAPTER I - - An unpublished chapter from the _Diable boiteux_--History - of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza - - CHAPTER II - - The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians - had done me--The young girls of Villers-Cotterets--My - three friends-- First love affairs - - CHAPTER III - - Adolphe de Leuven--His family--Unpublished details - concerning the death of Gustavus III.--The Count de - Ribbing--The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon - - CHAPTER IV - - Adolphe's quatrain--The water-hen and King William--Lunch - in the wood--The irritant powder, the frogs and the - cock--The doctor's spectre--De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy - and I are exiled from the drawing-room--Unfortunate - result of a geographical error--M. Paroisse - - CHAPTER V - - Amédée de la Ponce--He teaches me what work is--M. - Arnault and his two sons--A journey by diligence--A - gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him - with my fists--I learn the danger from which I escaped - - CHAPTER VI - - First dramatic impressions--The _Hamlet of Ducis_--_The - Bourbons en 1815_--Quotations from it - - CHAPTER VII - - The events of 1814 again--Marmont, Duc de Raguse, - Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's--The - _Journal des Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_--Lyrics - of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons--End - of the Maubreuil affair--Plot against the life of the - Emperor--The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money - and jewels 63 - - CHAPTER VIII - - Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction - of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de - Maubreuil--Chamber of the Court of Appeal--The sitting of - 17 April, 1817 - - BOOK II - - CHAPTER I - - The last shot of Waterloo--Temper of the provinces in - 1817, 1818 and 1819--The _Messéniennes_--The _Vêpres - siciliennes--Louis IX._--Appreciation of these two - tragedies--A phrase of Terence--My claim to a similar - sentiment--Three o'clock in the morning--The course of - love-making--_Valeat res ludrica_ - - CHAPTER II - - Return of Adolphe de Leuven--He shows me a corner of the - artistic and literary world--The death of Holbein and the - death of Orcagna--Entrance into the green-rooms--Bürger's - _Lénore_ --First thoughts of my vocation - - CHAPTER III - - The Cerberus of the rue de Largny--I tame it--The - ambush-- Madame Lebègue--A confession - - CHAPTER IV - - De Leuven makes me his collaborator--The _Major de - Strasbourg_-- My first _couplet-Chauvin_--The _Dîner - d'amis_--The _Abencérages_ - - CHAPTER V - - Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the - Duc de Berry. - - CHAPTER VI - - Carbonarism 132 - - CHAPTER VII - - My hopes--Disappointment--M. Deviolaine is appointed - forest-ranger to the Duc d'Orléans--His coldness - towards me--Half promises--First cloud on my - love-affairs--I go to spend three months with my - brother-in-law at Dreux--The news waiting for - me on my return--Muphti--Walls and hedges--The - summer-house--Tennis--Why I gave up playing it--The - wedding party in the wood - - CHAPTER VIII - - I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third - clerk at Crespy--M. Lefèvre--His character--My - journeys to Villers-Cotterets-- The _Pélerinage - d'Ermenonville_--Athénaïs--New matter sent to Adolphe--An - uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris-- How - this desire was accomplished--The journey--Hôtel des - Vieux-Augustins--Adolphe--_Sylla_--Talma - - CHAPTER IX - - The theatre ticket--The _Café du Roi_--Auguste - Lafarge--Théaulon--Rochefort--Ferdinand Langlé--People - who dine and people who don't--Canaris--First sight of - Talma--Appreciation of Mars and Rachel--Why Talma has no - successor_--Sylla_ and the Censorship--Talma's box--A - cab-drive after midnight-- The return to Crespy--M. - Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, - needs all its wheels--I hand in my resignation as his - third clerk - - BOOK III - - CHAPTER I - - I return to my mother's--The excuse I give concerning my - return-- The calfs lights--Pyramus and Cartouche--The - intelligence of the fox more developed than that of the - dog--Death of Cartouche--Pyramus's various gluttonous - habits - - CHAPTER II - - Hope in Laffitte--A false hope--New projects--M. - Lecomier--How and on what conditions I clothe myself - anew--Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du Helder--Bamps at - Villers-Cotterets--I visit our estate along with - him--Pyramus follows a butcher lad--An Englishman who - loved gluttonous dogs--I sell Pyramus--My first hundred - francs--The use to which they are put--Bamps departs for - Paris--Open credit - - CHAPTER III - - My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house--The - residu-- The Piranèses--An architect at twelve hundred - francs salary--I discount my first bill--Gondon--How - I was nearly killed at his house--The fifty - francs--Cartier--The game of billiards--How six hundred - small glasses of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to - Paris - - CHAPTER IV - - How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy--M. Danré - of Vouty advises my mother to let me go to Paris--My - good-byes--Laffitte and Perregaux--The three things - which Maître Mennesson asks me not to forget--The Abbé - Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him--I leave - Villers-Cotterets - - CHAPTER V - - I find Adolphe again--The pastoral drama--First - steps--The Duc de Bellune--General Sébastiani--His - secretaries and his snuff-boxes--The fourth floor, small - door to the left--The general who painted battles - - CHAPTER VI - - _Régulus_--Talma and the play--General Foy--The letter of - recommendation and the interview--The Duc de Bellune's - reply--I obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc - d'Orléans--Journey to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother - the good news--No. 9--I gain a prize in a lottery - - CHAPTER VII - - I find lodgings--Hiraux's son--Journals and journalists - in 1823--By being saved the expense of a dinner I am - enabled to go to the play at the Porte-Saint-Martin--My - entry into the pit--Sensation caused by my hair--I am - turned out--How I am obliged to pay for three places in - order to have one--A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs - - CHAPTER VIII - - My neighbour--His portrait--The _Pastissier françois_--A - course in bibliomania--Madame Méchin and the governor of - Soissons--Cannons and Elzevirs - - CHAPTER IX - - Prologue of the _Vampire_--The style offends my - neighbour's ear-- First act--Idealogy--The rotifer--What - the animal is--Its conformation, its life, its death and - its resurrection - - CHAPTER X - - Second act of the _Vampire_--Analysis--My neighbour - again objects--He has seen a vampire--Where and - how--A statement which records the existence of - vampires--Nero--Why he established the race of hired - applauders--My neighbour leaves the orchestra - - CHAPTER XI - - A parenthesis_--Hariadan Barberousse_ at - Villers-Cotterets--I play the rôle of Don Ramire as an - amateur--My costume--The third act of the _Vampire_--My - friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical - moment--He is expelled from the theatre--Madame - Allan-Dorval--Her family and her childhood--Philippe--His - death and his funeral - - BOOK IV - - CHAPTER I - - My beginning at the office--Ernest Basset--Lassagne--M. - Oudard--I see M. Deviolaine--M. le Chevalier de - Broval--His portrait--Folded letters and oblong - letters--How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing - letters--I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac - and whistler - - CHAPTER II - - Illustrious contemporaries--The sentence written on my - foundation stone--My reply--I settle down in the place - des Italiens-- M. de Leuven's table--M. Louis-Bonaparte's - witty saying--Lassagne gives me my first lesson in - literature and history - - CHAPTER III - - Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase--M. - Dormeuil--_Kenilworth Castle_--M. Warez and - Soulié--Mademoiselle Lévesque--The Arnault family--The - _Feuille--Marius à Minturnes_--Danton's epigram--The - reversed passport--Three fables--_Germanicus_ - --Inscriptions and epigrams--Ramponneau--The young - man and the tilbury_--Extra ecclesiam nulla est - salus_--Madame Arnault - - CHAPTER IV - - Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent--Choruses - of the various plays, sung as prologues and - epilogues--Transformation of the vaudeville--The Gymnase - and M. Scribe--The _Folie de Waterloo_ - - CHAPTER V - - The Duc d'Orléans--My first interview with - him--Maria-Stella-Chiappini--Her attempts to - gain rank--Her history--The statement of the Duc - d'Orléans--Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of - Faenza--Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of - birth - - CHAPTER VI - - The "year of trials"--The case of Potier and the - director of the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin--Trial - and condemnation of Magallon--The anonymous - journalist--Beaumarchais sent to Saint-Lazare--A few - words on censorships in general--Trial of Benjamin - Constant--Trial of M. de Jouy--A few words concerning - the author of _Sylla_--Three letters extracted from the - _Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_--Louis XVIII. as author - - CHAPTER VII - - The house in the rue Chaillot--Four poets and a - doctor--Corneille and the Censorship--Things M. Faucher - does not know--Things the President of the Republic ought - to know - - BOOK V - - CHAPTER I - - Chronology of the drama--Mademoiselle Georges - Weymer--Mademoiselle Raucourt--Legouvé and his - works--Marie-Joseph Chénier--His letter to the - company of the Comédie-Française--Young boys - _perfectionnés_--Ducis--His work - - CHAPTER II - - Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets--Luce de - Lancival--Baour-Lormian--_Lebrun-Pindare_--Lucien - Bonaparte, the author--Début of Mademoiselle Georges--The - Abbé Geoffroy's critique--Prince Zappia--Hermione at - Saint-Cloud - - CHAPTER III - - Imperial literature--The _Jeunesse de Henri IV_--Mercier - and Alexandre Duval--The _Templiers_ and their - author--César Delrieu--Perpignan--Mademoiselle Georges' - rupture with the Théâtre-Français--Her flight to - Russia--The galaxy of kings--The tragédienne acts as - ambassador - - CHAPTER IV - - The Comédie-Française at Dresden--Georges returns - to the Théâtre-Français--The _Deux Gendres--Mahomet - II._--_Tippo-Saëb_-- 1814--Fontainebleau--The allied - armies enter Paris--Lilies--Return from the isle of - Elba--Violets--Asparagus stalks--Georges returns to Paris - - CHAPTER V - - The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of - a great actor--Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de - Portugal upon Talma declining it--Lafond--His school--His - sayings--Mademoiselle Duchesnois--Her failings and her - abilities-_Pierre de Portugal_ succeeds - - CHAPTER VI - - General Riégo--His attempted insurrection--His escape - and flight--He is betrayed by the brothers Lara--His - trial--His execution - - CHAPTER VII - - The inn of the _Tête-Noire_--Auguste - Ballet--Castaing--His trial--His attitude towards the - audience and his words to the jury--His execution - - CHAPTER VIII - - Casimir Delavigne--An appreciation of the man and of the - poet-- The origin of the hatred of the old school of - literature for the new--Some reflections upon _Marino - Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard_--Why Casimir - Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic - poet--Where he found the ideas for his chief plays - - CHAPTER IX - - Talma in the _École des Vieillards_--One of his - letters--Origin of his name and of his family--_Tamerlan_ - at the pension Verdier--Talma's début--Dugazon's - advice--More advice from Shakespeare--Opinions of the - critics of the day upon the débutant--Talma's passion for - his art - - - - -THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS - - - - - -BOOK I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -An unpublished chapter from the _Diable boiteux_--History of Samud and -the beautiful Doña Lorenza - - -About a fortnight after that wonderful night, during which I had -experienced such new and unknown emotions, I was busy in Maître -Mennesson's office,--as Niguet was absent seeing after a marriage -settlement at Pisseleu, and Ronsin had gone to collect debts at -Haramont,--sadly engrossing a copy of a deed of sale, when M. Lebègue, -a colleague of my patron, entered the office and, after gazing at -me with an amused expression on his face, went into the next room, -which was the private office, and took a seat by the side of Maître -Mennesson. The cause of my sadness shall be discovered presently. - -Maître Mennesson's door, which separated the two offices, I was -generally left open, so that he could answer our questions, save when -a client closed it to discuss private matters with him; and when this -door was left open, we could hear in our office everything that was -said in M. Mennesson's room, as he could hear in his office all that -went on in ours. - -This M. Lebègue, some months before, had married one of M. Deviolaine's -daughters by his first marriage: her name was Éléonore. The eldest -daughter, Léontine, had been married to a tax collector named Cornu -some time before her sister's wedding. The singularity of the name -had not prevented the marriage from coming off. The sharp-tongued -young girl feared to be jeered at in her turn, and the wittier she -became, the more she dreaded even the appearance of being ridiculous. -But Cornu was such a good-natured, honest-hearted fellow, everybody -was so used to the name, which had been borne by several families -in Villers-Cotterets, he was so used to it himself, he responded so -naïvely and triumphantly to the remarks of his _fiancée,_ that the -matter was settled. - -When she was married to him she made up her mind to raise the -unfortunate name which fate had given her above even the suspicion of -any banter naturally connected with it: she was the most chaste of -wives, the tenderest of mothers I have ever known, and her husband, a -happy man himself, made her happy too. - -But it was not so with her sister, Madame Lebègue, who was three -or four years younger, prettier, and far more of a flirt than she -was. Her flirtations were innocent enough, I have no doubt, but they -were as a rule looked upon maliciously by the gossips of the little -town--a matter to which Madame Lebègue in her innocence paid little -heed; concerning which, in her indifference to such calumnies, she -simply teased her husband. He was a stout, rotund fellow, pockmarked, -rather ugly, with a somewhat common-looking face, but a good fellow at -heart--although I have been told since that he ruined himself, not from -having lent at too low interest, but from an entirely opposite reason. -I am wholly ignorant as to the truth of this accusation: I take it to -be a calumny similar to the more pleasing and certainly more human -accusation levelled against the wife. - -It was this man who had just come in, who sat down by M. Mennesson -and who was at that moment holding a whispered conversation with him, -interspersed with guffaws of laughter. Thanks to the extremely delicate -hearing with which I was gifted by nature, and which I had cultivated -during hunting, I thought I could distinguish my own name; but I -supposed I had not heard correctly, not flattering myself that two -such grave personages could be doing me the honour of talking about -me. Unluckily for my pride,--and I have indicated to what a pitch this -feeling was developed in me, a height that would have been absurd if -it had not been painful,--unluckily for my pride, then, I was not kept -long in doubt that the discussion was about me. - -I have said that M. Mennesson was very fond of a joke and very witty; -wherever he could find a joke he would fasten upon it, no matter -whether it happened to concern a woman's virtue or a man's reputation. -When the frenzy of joking seized him he gave himself up to it -unreservedly, heart and soul. Finding nothing, probably, on this day, -better to chew, he set upon me; the pasture was poor, but it was far -better to crack my sorry bones than to chew at nothing or gulp only -the air. After several of those whispered remarks, then, and bursts -of stifled laughter, which had disturbed my equanimity, M. Mennesson -raised his voice. - -"My dear friend," he said, "it is a chapter out of the _Diable boiteux_ -re-discovered and still unpublished, which I mean to have printed the -next time I go to Paris, to complete Lesage's work." - -"Ah! tell it me," Lebègue replied; "I will tell it to my wife, who will -pass it on to her sisters, who will tell it to everybody; then our -publication will be disposed of in advance." - -M. Mennesson began:-- - -"There was once upon a time at Salamanca a scholar who was descended -from a race of Arabs and who was called Samud.[1] He was still so young -that if anyone had pulled his nose, milk would most certainly have come -out: this did not prevent him from being absurd enough to fancy himself -a man; perhaps also--for, to be fair, we must say all there is to -say--this ridiculous fancy would not have entered his head had not that -happened which we are about to relate." - -It may be imagined that I was listening attentively. I had recognised -from the very first words that I was undoubtedly the person in -question, and I wondered uneasily where the story was going to lead -after this beginning--a beginning which, so far as I was concerned, I -found more impertinent than graphic. - -M. Mennesson went on, and I listened with my ears open, my pen idle in -my hand. - -"On the day of the feast of Whitsuntide in the year ... I cannot -say the exact date of the year, but, any way, it was on the day of -the feast of Whitsuntide, which is also the town's feast-time, two -beautiful senoras arrived from Madrid and put up at the house of a -worthy canon who was the uncle of one of these ladies. It chanced that -this canon was the same with whom Samud had learnt the bit of Latin he -knew, and as the two lovely Madrid ladies wanted a cavalier who would -not put their virtue to the blush, the canon cast his eyes on his -pupil, and requested him to place both his arms at the disposal of the -new arrivals, to show them the park of Salamanca, which is very wide, -very beautiful, and belongs to the Duke of Rodelnas.[2] I will not -dwell on the adventures of the first day, beyond just briefly touching -upon two events: the first was the meeting between our scholar and -an elegant senor from Madrid, who was noticed at once by the Sefiora -Lorenza, with whom our scholar was walking arm in arm, dressed, as -people of the provinces often are, about a decade behind the fashions -of the capital. This young gallant was called Audim. The second was a -most serious accident, which happened to the scholar's breeches, just -when, in order to give the fair Lorenza a proof of his agility, he had -leaped across a ditch fourteen feet wide." - -It can be imagined what I suffered as I listened to this secondhand -recital of my lovelorn tribulations, which, according to his method of -procedure, would not stop short at the two misadventures of the first -day. M. Mennesson continued:-- - -"The beautiful Lorenza was specially impressed by the young gallant's -get-up. In complete contrast to the scholar, who was muffled up in a -Gothic costume borrowed from the wardrobe of his ancestors, Señor Audim -was dressed in the latest fashion, in tight-fitting breeches, ending -in charming little heart-shaped shoes, and a dark-coloured doublet -turned out by one of the best tailors in Madrid. The scholar had not -been unconscious of the particular notice his companion had paid to the -handsome Audim's attire, and as it began to dawn on him what influence -a coat of a certain cut or trousers of a special shade of colour might -have upon a woman, he decided during the night following the fête -to please Lorenza no matter at what price, and to have a suit made -exactly like the one worn by the young man who seemed destined by fate -to become his rival. The most vital part of the costume, and moreover -the most expensive, was in the matter of the boots. So he turned his -attention to them first of all. On the opposite side of the square -where Samud's mother lived, a square called the place de la Fontaine, -was the best boot-maker in the town: he had always shod the scholar, -but hitherto he had only made shoes for him, the lad's tender years not -having put the idea into anyone's head, not even into his own, that -he could wear any other covering for his feet than shoes or sandals -without risking a too close resemblance to Perrault's venerable Puss in -Boots. Great therefore was M. Landereau's[3] surprise when his customer -came and boldly asked the price of a pair of boots. He stared at Samud. - -'A pair of boots?' he asked. 'For whom?' - -'Why, for myself,' the scholar proudly replied. - -'Has your mother given you leave to order boots?' 'Yes.' - -"The bootmaker shook his head dubiously: he knew Samud's mother was not -well off and that it would be foolish of her to allow such extravagance -in her son. - -'Boots are dear,' he said. - -'That does not matter. How much are they?' - -'They would cost you exactly four dollars.' - -'Good.... Take my measure.' - -'I have told you I can do nothing without leave from your mother.' - -'I will see you have it.' - -"Returning home, the scholar ventured to ask for a pair of boots. -The request struck Samud's mother as so extraordinary that she made -him repeat his inquiry twice. It was all the more strange as it was -the first time the scholar had troubled about his dress. When he was -ten they had the greatest difficulty in the world to get him to give -up a long pinafore of figured cotton, which he considered far more -comfortable than all the breeches and all the doublets on earth; -then, from the age of ten to the age of fifteen, he had worn with -indifference any garments his mother had thought good to put him in, -always preferring dirty and old ones to clean and new, because in them -he was allowed to go out in all weathers and to roll about in all kinds -of places. So the demand for a pair of boots seemed to his poor mother -altogether most unprecedented, and she was alarmed for her son's reason. - -'A pair of boots!' she repeated. 'What will you wear them with?' - -'A pair of tight-fitting breeches, mother.' - -'A pair of tight-fitting breeches! But you must know your legs are as -spindle-shaped as a cock's.' - -"'Excuse me, mother,' the schoolboy replied, with some show of logic; -'if I have good enough calves to wear short breeches, they are good -enough to wear tight-fitting breeches.' - -"The mother admired her son's wit, and, half conquered by the repartee, -she said,'We might perhaps manage to find the tight-fitting trousers in -the clothes-press; but the boots ... where will you find the boots?' - -'Why, at Landereau's!' - -'But boots would be expensive, my child,' said the poor lady, -sighing,'and you know we are not rich.' - -'Bah! mamma, Landereau will allow you credit.' - -'It is all very fine taking credit, my boy; you know one has to pay -some day, and that the longer one puts off paying the more it costs.' - -'Oh, mother, please do let me!' - -'How much will the boots cost?' - -'Four dollars, mother.' - -'That is six months' school-money at the rate good Canon Gregorio -charges me.' - -'You can pay for it in four months' time, mother,' the schoolboy -pleaded. - -'Still ... tell me what advantage you think this pair of boots and the -tight-fitting trousers will bring you?' - -'I shall be able to please Doña Lorenza, the canon's niece.' 'How is -that?' - -'She raves over boots and tight-fitting trousers ... it seems they are -the very latest thing in Madrid.' - -'But what does it matter to you what the niece of Don Gregorio raves or -does not rave over, I want to know?' - -'It matters a great deal to me, mother.' - -'Why?' - -"The schoolboy looked supremely foolish. - -'Because I am paying her attentions,' he said." - -This dialogue was word for word what had passed between my mother and -myself after I returned from Landereau's shop, so I grew hot with anger. - -"At the words _Because I am paying her attentions_," continued the -narrator, "Samud's mother was overcome with intense astonishment: her -son, whom she still pictured as running about the streets in his long -print pinafore, or renewing his baptismal vows taper in hand; her son -paying attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza!--why, it was one of -those absurd things she had never even imagined. And her son, seeing -she was unconvinced, drew his hand out of his breast pocket and showed -her a bracelet of hair with a mosaic clasp. But he took care to keep it -to himself that he had taken this bracelet from Doña Lorenza; she had -not given it him, and she was very much distressed at not knowing what -had become of it." - -Although this account was not very creditable to my honesty, it was -dreadfully accurate. I had had that bracelet in my possession for three -days; during those three days I had, if not exactly shown it, at least -let it be seen by several people, and, among others, by my mother and -my cousins the Deviolaines, before whom I posed as a gallant youth; but -at length I had been moved by Laure's distress, as she had thought it -lost. I gave it back to her, humbly confessing my fault; she forgave -me, in consideration, no doubt, of her delight in recovering her -trinket, but she would not have let me off so easily had she known my -indiscretions. - -So the perspiration which had beaded my brow at the beginning of the -story, ran down over my face in big drops; yet wishing to learn how -far M. Mennesson had been coached in the matter of my sentimental -escapades, I had the courage to stay where I was--or rather, I had not -the strength to fly. M. Mennesson went on:-- - -"At this juncture Samud's mother raised her hands and eyes to heaven, -and as the poor woman never could refuse her son, she said to him, with -a sigh-- - -'Very well, be it so; if a pair of boots will make you happy, go and -order the boots.' - -"The schoolboy leapt at one bound from his house to the bootmaker's; -he arranged the price at three and a half dollars, to be paid for in -four months' time. Next they paid a visit to the clothes-press: they -extracted a pair of bright blue trousers striped with gold; they sold -the gold lace to a goldsmith for a dollar and a half, which dollar and -a half were given to the scholar for pocket-money, his mother guessing -that his budding love affairs would naturally bring extra expenses -in their train. They decided that the suit he had worn at his first -communion should be altered to a more up-to-date cut, on fashionable -lines. - -"While all these preparations for courtship were going on, the -schoolboy continued, in the phrase he had used to his mother, to pay -attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza; but although he was brave -in words and very clever in theory behind her back, he was extremely -timid in practice and very awkward when actually before her face. While -apparently filled with impatience to be near her, he dreaded nothing -so much as being left alone with her; at such times he would lose his -wits completely, become dumb instead of talkative, and be still when -he should have been active: the most favourable opportunities were -given him, and he let them escape. In vain did the impatient lady from -Madrid give him to understand that he was wasting time, and that time -wasted is never regained; he agreed with her from the very depths of -his soul; he was furious with himself every night when he returned -home, and in going over the opportunities of the day he vowed not to -let these opportunities slip by on the morrow if they occurred again. -Then he would read a chapter of _Faublas_ to warm his blood: he would -sleep on it, and dream dreams in which he would be astonishingly bold. -When day broke, he would vow to himself to carry out his dreams of -the previous night. Then, while he was waiting for the boots and the -tight-fitting suit, which were being fashioned with a truly provincial -slowness, he returned to his short breeches, his bombazin vest, his -bottle-blue coat, and resumed his fruitless walk in the forest. He -looked with a melancholy eye on the mossy carpet under their feet, not -even venturing to suggest to his companion that they should sit down -upon it; he gazed sadly on the beautiful green heights above them, -under which she delighted to hide herself with him. He would get as far -as trembling and sighing, even to pressing her hand, but these were the -extreme limits of his boldness. Once only did he kiss the hand of Doña -Lorenza,--on the night before he was to introduce himself to her in his -suit of conquest,--but it cost him such a tremendous effort to perform -this bold act that he felt quite ill after its accomplishment. - -"It was on this day that the lovely Doña Lorenza arrived at the -conclusion that she must give up all hope of seeing the boy develop -into a man, and without saying a word to her clumsy admirer, she took -a decisive step. They parted as usual after having spent the evening -playing at those innocent games which Madame de Longueville detested -so greatly. The next day, as we have said, was to be the vital one. -The tailor and the bootmaker kept their word. The young people usually -met between noon and one o'clock, and then went for a walk: Senora -Vittoria with a young bachelor, from whom I have gathered most of my -information; and the schoolboy with Senora Lorenza. Unluckily, the -tight-fitting trousers were so tight that they had to have a piece put -in at the calf of the leg: this addition took time, and Samud was not -quite ready before one o'clock. He knew he was late; he flew hurriedly -along to Canon Gregorio's house, where the daily rendezvous took place. -His new toilette produced an excellent effect as he passed through the -streets: people ran to their doors; they leant out of their windows, -and he bowed to them, saying to himself-- - -'Yes, it is all right, it is I! What is there wonderful in this, pray? -Did you think no one else could have boots, tight-fitting trousers and -a fashionably collared coat like M. Audim? You are much deceived if you -thought anything of the kind!' - -"And he went on his way, holding his head higher and higher, persuaded -he was nearing a sensational triumph. But, as we have said, the unlucky -alteration at the calves had made him nearly an hour late, and when the -scholar reached the canon's house both the senoras had gone out! This -was but a slight misfortune: the schoolboy had been brought up in the -forest of Salamanca, as Osmin in the seraglio of Bajazet, and he knew -its every turn and twist. He was therefore just going to rush out in -pursuit of the lady of his thoughts, when the canon's sister handed him -a letter which Doña Lorenza had left for him when she went out. Samud -never doubted that this letter would enjoin upon him to hurry on with -all diligence. And it was the first he had received: he felt the honour -most keenly; he kissed the letter tenderly, broke the seal, and with -panting breath and bounding heart he read the following:-- - - 'MY DEAR BOY,--I have been blaming myself during the past - fortnight for imposing upon your good-nature by letting - you fulfil the obligation you had most injudiciously - promised my uncle in undertaking to be my cavalier. - In spite of your efforts to hide the boredom that an - occupation beyond your years caused you, I have seen - that I have much interfered with your usual habits, and - I blame myself for it. Go back to your young playmates, - who are waiting for you to play at prisoners' base and - quoits. Let your mind be quite at ease on my account; - for I have accepted M. Audim's services for the short - time longer I remain with my uncle. Please accept my best - thanks, my dear child, for your kindness, and believe me, - yours very gratefully, LORENZA.' - -"If a thunderbolt had fallen at our schoolboy's feet he could not have -been more crushed than he was on receiving this letter. On the first -reading he realised nothing beyond the shock; he re-read it two or -three times, and felt the smart. Then it dawned on him that, since he -had taken no pains to prove to the lovely Lorenza that he was not a -child, it now remained to him to prove that he was a man, by provoking -Audim to fight a Dud with him; and forthwith, upon my word, our -outraged schoolboy sent this letter to his rival:-- - - "'SIR,--I need not tell you upon what provocation I wish - to meet you in any of the forest avenues, accompanied by - two seconds: you know as well as I do. As you may pretend - that you have not insulted me and that it is I who have - provoked you, I leave the choice of weapons to you.--I - have the honour to remain,' etc. - - "'_P.S._---As you will probably not return home till - late to-night, I will not demand my answer this evening, - but I wish to receive it as early as possible to-morrow - morning.' - -"Next morning, on waking, he received a birch rod with Don Audim's -card. That was the weapon selected by his rival." - -The reader can judge the effect the conclusion of this story had upon -me. Alas! it was an exact account of all that had happened to me. Thus -had terminated my first love affair, and so had ended my first duel! I -uttered a shriek of rage, and dashing out of the office, I ran home to -my mother, who cried out aloud when she saw the state I was in. - -Ten minutes later I was lying in a well-warmed bed and Doctor Lécosse -had been sent for: he pronounced that I was in for brain fever, but -as it was taken in time it would not have any serious consequences. I -purposely prolonged my convalescence, be it known, so as not to go out -until the two Parisians had left Villers-Cotterets. I have never seen -either of them since. - - -[1] hardly need point out that "Samud" is the anagram of "Dumas." - -[2] "Rodelnas" is the anagram of "d'Orléans," as "Samud" is the anagram -of "Dumas," and as "Audim," to be used shortly, is that of "Miaud." - -[3] The narrator did not trouble to give an anagram for the name this -time. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians had done me--The -young girls of Villers-Cotterets--My three friends--First love affairs - - -Still, like François I. after the battle of Pavia, I had not lost -everything by my defeat. First there remained to me my boots and my -tight-fitting trousers, those two dearly coveted articles, which -became the envy and admiration of those young companions upon whom -the lovely Laure had so cruelly thrown me. Besides, in the fortnight -spent in the company of those two smart girls, I had learnt the first -lesson that only the society of women can give. This lesson had taught -me to realise the need for that care of my personal appearance which -had hitherto never presented itself to my mind as a thing to be daily -attended to. Beneath the ridiculous if vanity in changing my mode of -dress, underneath the unlucky attempt that I, a poor country lad, had -made to attain to the elegant style of a Parisian, there appeared the -first dawnings of true elegance--that is to say, of neatness. - -I had rather good hands, my nails were well shaped, my teeth were large -but white, and my feet were singularly small considering my size. I had -been ignorant of all these possessions until they had been pointed out -to me by the two Parisian girls, who gave me advice as to how I could -enhance the value of my natural gifts. And I continued to follow their -advice for my own personal satisfaction, after at first following it to -please them, to such purpose that by the time they left I had really -stepped across the boundary which separated childhood from youth. The -crossing had certainly been a rough one, and I had accomplished it -with tears in my eyes, coquetry holding one of my hands and chagrin -the other. Then--as jaded travellers, when they enter a fresh country, -suck bitter fruits, which, however much they set the teeth on edge, -leave behind them an irresistible desire to suck other fruits,--when -my lips had touched the apple of Eve that men call love, I yearned to -make another attempt, even though it should be more painful than the -first, and so far as its young girls were concerned, few towns could -boast themselves as well favoured as Villers-Cotterets. Never was -there such a large park as ours, not even at Versailles; no lawns were -greener, not even those at Brighton; nor were any studded with more -exquisite flowers than the park of Villers-Cotterets, with its lawns -and flower-beds. Three very distinct classes disputed among themselves -for the crown of beauty--the aristocracy, the middle classes, and a -third class for which I cannot find a name, a pleasant intermediary -between the middle class and the people, which belongs to neither, and -to which class the dressmakers, seamstresses, and women-shopkeepers of -a town belong. - -The first class was represented by the Collard family, to whom I have -already alluded in connection with my childhood. Of the three madcap -young girls who roamed the forest of Villers-Cotterets as free as the -butterflies and swallows, two had become wives: one, Caroline, had -married the Baron Capelle; the other, Hermine, had married the Baron -de Martens; Louise, the third, who was but fifteen, was the most -captivating little maiden imaginable. Their mother--whose birth and -history as the daughter of Madame de Genlis and the Duc d'Orléans I -have related--and her three children were the aristocratic centre round -which the young men and maidens of the neighbouring castles revolved; -and among the former of these were some of the best blood in the -country--the Montbretons, the Courvals, and the Mornays. None of these -families lived in Villers-Cotterets itself: they lived in the castles -around. Only on great occasions did the hives swarm and then we saw -these golden-winged bees flying about the streets of the town and down -the avenues of the park. - -The second class was represented by the Deviolaine family. Two out -of the five daughters of M. Deviolaine were married, as I have -said--namely, Léontine and Éléonore; three remained, Cécile, Augustine -and Louise. Cécile was twenty years of age, Augustine sixteen; Louise -was still a mere child. Cécile had preserved her whimsical and -capricious spirits, the same mocking and animated features; her actions -were more masculine than feminine; her complexion was tanned by the -sun, as she never took the trouble to protect herself from its rays. -Augustine, on the contrary, had a skin as white as milk, large tranquil -blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, forming an admirable framework round -her face, sloping shoulders charmingly moulded, and a figure that was -not too slender; unlike her sister Cécile, she was gracefully feminine -in all her ways. Raphael would have been puzzled to choose between her -and Louise Collard for a model for his Madonna, and like the Greek -sculptor, he would have selected beautiful points from them both to -reach that perfect standard to which Art everywhere attains when it -surpasses Nature. - -The other young girls of the middle class grouped themselves round the -Deviolaine family. The two Troisvallet girls, Henriette and Clementine: -Clementine, dark with beautiful black hair, strangely attractive eyes, -a Roman complexion, of the type of Velletri or Subiaco, and a head like -one of Augustine Carrachi's. Henriette was tall, fair, rosy, slender, -gracious, and as pliant in her gentle youthfulness as a rose, as a -blade of corn, as a willow tree: she had that type of face which is -half sad, half merry; the transition between angel and woman, showing -all the common needs of earth, yet full of heavenly aspirations too. -Then the two charming girls Sophie and Pélagie Perrot; Louise Moreau, -a sweet young girl, who has since become the admirable mother of a -family; Éléonore Picot, of whom I have spoken--an excellent woman, -saddened by the death of her brother Stanislas, and the shameful charge -that had weighed for a short time upon her brother Auguste. Then there -were others, too, whose names I have forgotten, but whose fresh faces -still appear in my mind's eye like the phantoms of a dream or like the -apparitions which glide out of German streams or are reflected in the -lochs of Scotland as they pursue their nocturnal rounds. - -Lastly, after the middle classes, came, as I have said, the group of -young girls which I cannot class in the social hierarchy, but which -held the same place in that small world of ours shut in by the green -girdle of its beautiful forest, that lilies of the valley, Easter -daisies, cornflowers, hyacinths and pompon roses hold among flowers. -Oh! but it was a pretty sight to see them on Sunday, in their summer -dresses, with pink and blue sashes, their tiny bonnets trimmed by their -own hands and put on in a hundred varieties of coquettish ways--for -in those days not one of them dare wear a hat; it was a delight to -see them free of all constraint, ignorant of any etiquette, playing, -racing, lacing and interlacing their charming round bare arms in long -chains. What exquisite creatures they were! What delightful young -things! It is of little interest to my readers, I am well aware, to -know their names; but I knew them, I loved them, I spent my earliest -years among them, those gentle opening days in the morning of life; I -wish to tell their names, I wish to paint their portraits, I wish to -describe their different charms, and then I hope they will pardon my -indiscretions for my very indiscretions' sake. - -I must mention first and foremost two charmingly romantic and -coquettish damsels--Joséphine and Manette Thierry: Joséphine dark, -rosy, with an ample figure and regular features, a perfect creature, -whose beautiful teeth completed a ravishing whole. Manette, a dessert -apple, a girl who was always singing to make herself heard, always -laughing to show off her teeth, ever running to let her feet, her -ankles, even the calves of her legs, be seen; Virgil's Galatea, whose -very name she was ignorant of, flying to be pursued, hiding so as to be -seen before she hid. - -What has become of them? I have seen them since, looking very -miserable: one was at Versailles, the other in Paris--the fallen, faded -fruits of that rosary on which I spelled out the first phrases of -love. They were the daughters of an old tailor, and lived close to the -church, which was only separated from them by the town hall. Louise -Brézette lived nearly opposite them; I have already mentioned her. -She was the niece of my dancing-master; a sturdy flower of fifteen, -whom I had in my mind while I wrote my fictitious history of that -_Tulipe noire_, the masterpiece of horticulture vainly sought after, -vainly pursued, vainly expected by Dutch amateur gardeners. The hair -of beautiful Madame Ronconi, which inspired one of Théophile Gautier's -most wonderful articles, and which made coal look grey and the wings -of a crow pale, when placed side by side with it, was not more black, -more blue, more shiny than Louise Brézette's hair when it reflected -the sun's rays from its dark and sombre depths as from the heart of -polished metal. Oh! what a lovely blooming brunette she was, with her -flesh as firm and bright as a nectarine's; her pearly teeth lighting -up her face from under the faint ebony down on her coral lips! One -could feel life and love bubbling up beneath, needing only the first -passion to make everything burst forth into flame! This luxuriant young -girl was religious, and, as such an organisation as hers must love -something, she loved God. - -If you took a few steps towards the square, a little farther up the -rue de Soissons, bearing to the left, there was a door and a window, -comprising the whole frontage of a tiny house. In the window hung hats, -collars, bonnets, lace, gloves, mittens, ribbons--the whole arsenal, -in short, of womanly vanity; behind the door floated certain curtains, -intended to prevent inquisitive glances from looking into the shop, but -which, whether by some strange mischance, or from the obstinacy of the -rod upon which they slid, or from the caprices of the wind, always left -on one side or the other some impertinent aperture through which the -passer-by could see into the shop and at the same time allowed those -inside the shop to see out into the street. Above this door and this -window the following inscription was painted in large letters:-- - -_Mesdemoiselles Rigolot, Milliners_ - -Truly those who stopped in front of the opening which I have indicated, -and who managed to cast a glance inside the shop, did not lose their -time nor regret their pains. What we mean by this has no sort of -connection with the two proprietors of the establishment, who were -both old maids, having long since passed their fortieth year, and, I -presume, having lost all pretension to inspire any other sentiment than -respect. - -No, what we have in view concerns two of the most adorable faces you -can imagine, placed side by side as though to set one another off: one -was a blonde, and the other a brunette. The brunette was Albine Hardi; -the blonde was Adèle Dalvin. The brown head,--do you know the lovely -Marie Duplessis, that charming courtesan full of queenly grace, upon -whom my son wrote his romance _la Dame aux camélias_?--well, she was -Albine. If you do not know her, I will describe Albine to you. She was -a young girl of seventeen, with a dead brown complexion, large brown -velvety eyes, and eyebrows so black that they seemed as though they -had been drawn with a pencil, the curve was so firm and so regular. -She was a duchess, she was a queen; better still than either, if you -will, she was after the fashion of a nymph of Diana's train: slight, -slender, straight and finely built, a huntress whom it would have -been a splendid sight to see with a plumed helmet on her head, an -Amazon flying before the wind, leading a troop of clamorous pikemen, -guiding a baying hound. Upon the stage her appearance would have -been magnificent, almost supernatural. In ordinary life, people were -tempted to think her too beautiful, and for some time nobody dared to -make love to her, it seemed so likely that their love would be wasted -and that she would not make any response to it. The other, Adèle, was -fair and pink-complexioned. I have never seen prettier golden hair, -sweeter eyes, a more winning smile; she was more inclined to be gay -than melancholy, short rather than tall, plump rather than thin: she -was something like one of Murillo's cherubs who kiss the feet of his -Virgins--half veiled in clouds; she was neither a Watteau shepherdess, -nor one of Greuze's peasant girls, but something between the two. One -felt it would be a sweet and easy thing to love her, although it might -not be so easy to be loved by her. Her father and her mother were -worthy old farmer folk, thoroughly honest but vulgar, and it was all -the more surprising that so fresh and sweet-scented a flower should -have sprung from such a stock. But this is always the case when folks -are young: it is youth that lends distinction, as it is spring which -lends freshness to the rose. - -Round these young people whom I have just described, smiled and pouted -a bevy of young girls, the smallest being mere infants, whom I have -since seen succeed the youthful generation in which I lived. I have -sought in vain to find in these later children the virtues I found in -those who preceded them. - -Until the arrival of the two strangers in Villers-Cotterets I had not -even noticed the springtide crown of stars and flowers to which all -ranks of society contribute. When the two strangers had left, the -bandage that had sealed my eyes fell off, and I could say not merely "I -see" but "I live." I found myself placed by my years exactly between -the children who still played at prisoners' base and at quoits--as -the abba's niece had aptly put it--and youths beginning to turn into -men. Instead of returning to the former, as my beautiful Parisian had -advised me, I attached myself to the latter, and drew myself up to my -full height to prove my sixteen years. And when anyone asked my age, I -told them I was seventeen. - -The three youths with whom I was most intimate were, first, Fourcade, -director of the school of self-improvement, sent from Paris to -Villers-Cotterets; he was my _vis-à-vis_ in my début as a dancing man. -He was a thoroughly well-bred, well-educated young fellow, son of a man -very honourably known in foreign affairs; his father had lived in the -East for many years and had been Consul at Salonica. His affections -were fixed upon Joséphine Thierry, and he spent with her all the time -he could spare from his teaching. My second companion was Saunier; -he had been a fellow-pupil with me under the Abbé Grégoire; he was -second clerk of M. Perrot the lawyer; his father and grandfather were -blacksmiths, and in the idle period of my early youth I spent a large -portion of my time in their forge, notching their files and making -fireworks out of iron filings. Saunier divided his leisure-time between -two passions--one, which I verily believe came before the other, was -for the clarionette; the other was for Manette Thierry. The third of -my intimate friends was called Chollet; he served as a link, in the -matter of age, between Fourcade and Saunier. He lived with one of my -cousins, called Roussy, the father of the child of whom I had been -godfather, when nine months old, along with Augustine Deviolaine. He -was studying the cultivation of forest-land. I know nothing about his -relations; they were probably wealthy, for whenever I called on him -there were five-franc pieces scattered about on the mantelpiece and -two or three gold pieces always shone out ostentatiously from the -midst of them, dazzling my eyes and impressing me profoundly with his -riches. But my admiration was entirely devoid of envy--I have never -envied either a man's money or his possessions. I know not whether this -arose from pride or from simpleness of mind. I might have taken for my -motto _Video nec invideo._ Chollet had had no education at all, but -he was not wanting in a certain natural quick-wittedness, and he was -a fine-looking young fellow, his magnificent eyes and splendid teeth -redeeming an otherwise common-looking face, pitted with smallpox. He -did his best to make Louise Brézette change her love for the Creator -into love for the creature. - -These were my three most intimate friends. The upshot was, that when -it became necessary for me in my turn to make a choice, although I -had been brought up half with M. Deviolaine's family and half with M. -Collard's, it was neither in aristocratic society nor in middle-class -circles, which would have made fun of me, that I sought my initiation -in the delightful mystery of life we call falling in love, but in -that society to which my three friends almost exclusively addressed -themselves. And I had no difficulty in understanding their preference. -I do not hesitate to state fully and freely that they were very wise in -their choice. There was but one step to take to follow in their path. I -needed only someone upon whom to fasten my affections: the wish to love -was not wanting. Every one of the young girls I have mentioned had -some love affair on hand of a more or less serious character. They all -enjoyed most delightful liberty, the result no doubt of the confidence -their parents placed in their good sense; but for some reason or other -we had quite an English custom in Villers-Cotterets--a free and easy -association between young people of both sexes, which I have never seen -in any other French town; a liberty all the more surprising, since -all the parents of these maidens were perfectly respectable people -and had a profound conviction in the depths of their hearts that all -the barques launched upon the flood of the Tender Passion were decked -with white sails and crowned with orange blossoms. And what was more -singular still, it was true in the case of the majority of the ten or -twelve couples of lovers which formed our circle. - -I waited patiently for one of these knots to be untied or severed. -While I waited, I went to every party and took part in all the -walks and all the dances; it was an excellent apprenticeship, which -familiarised me beforehand with that monster whom Psyche touched -without seeing and whom I, on the contrary, had seen but not touched. -Chance favoured me, after six weeks or two months of playing second -fiddle. One of these engagements was hardly made before it was broken: -a farmer's son, named Richou, wished to marry his neighbour, Adèle -Dalvin. The parents of the young man, who were better off than those -of the young girl, opposed these budding loves, and the fair one was -released. - -I had learnt much during those six weeks by watching others; besides, -this time, I was not entangled with a sarcastic and exacting Parisian -girl, who knew the world so much better than I did. No, my love affair -was with a young girl more shy than myself, who mistook my pretended -courage for genuine, and who, like the frog in the fable that jumped -in the pond when a frightened hare passed by it, was good enough to -fear me and to prove to me that it was possible to come across someone -even more timid than myself. It can be seen how such a change in the -position of things gave me assurance. The rôles were now completely -reversed. This time I was the attacking party and someone else was on -the defensive, and this someone was making such an obstinate resistance -that I soon realised my attack was useless and that I should only -succeed in breaking down the serious resistance offered me after, -maybe, a long and patient wooing: the citadel was not to be stormed. -Then began for me those first days, the reflection of which has lasted -throughout the whole of my life: that delicious struggle of love, which -asks unceasingly and is not discouraged by an eternity of refusal; the -obtaining of favour after favour, each of which, when gained, fills the -soul with ecstasy; the early fleeting dawn of life which hovers above -the earth, shaking down handfuls of flowers upon the heads of mortals, -and then, under the influence of the rising sun, adds consciousness to -its joy and is soon enveloped in the ardent heat of passion. - -Indeed, it was a happy time for me. In the morning, when I awoke, my -mother's smile greeted me and her lingering kisses hung on my lips; -from nine to four o'clock came my work--work, it is true, which would -have been tiresome if I had been obliged to understand what I wrote, -but which was easy and welcome, for while my hands and eyes were -copying, my mind was free to commune with my own happy thoughts; then, -from four till eight o'clock, I was with my mother; and after eight, -joy, love, life, hope, happiness! - -At eight in summer evenings, at six in winter, our young friends, also -free when I was, came to join us at some convenient meeting-place; -held out their faces or their cheeks to be kissed, pressed our hands, -without taking pains, out of mistaken coquetry or hypocritical -make-belief, to conceal their delight at meeting us once more; then, -if it were summertime, and fine weather, the park invited us with its -mossy sward, its dusky avenues, the breeze trembling among the leaves, -and on moonlight nights there were wide spaces of alternate light -and darkness; at these times a solitary passer-by could have seen -five or six couples walking, at duly specified distances, to ensure -isolation without loneliness, heads inclined towards one another, hands -clasped in hands, talking in low tones, modulating their words to -sweet intonations, or preserving a dangerous silence; for during such -silences the eyes often spoke what the lips did not dare to utter. If -it were winter or bad weather, we all met at Louise Brézette's: her -mother and her aunt nearly always withdrew to the back room, giving up -to us the two front ones, which we seized upon for ourselves; then, -lit by a single lamp in the third room, near which Louise's mother -would sew while her aunt read the _Imitation of Christ_ or _The Perfect -Christian_ we chatted, squeezed against one another, generally two on -one chair, repeating the same story we had said the night before, but -finding what we had to say ever new. - -At ten o'clock our _soirées_ broke up. Each boy took his particular -girl home. When they reached the house door, she granted her cavalier -another half-hour, sometimes an hour, as sweet to her as to him, as -they sat together on the bench outside the door, or stood in the garden -path which led to the maternal parlour, from the interior of which from -time to time a grumbling voice might be heard calling--a voice that -was answered ten times before being obeyed, "I am coming, mamma." On -Sundays we met at three o'clock, after vespers; and we walked, danced, -waltzed, not going home until midnight. - -Then there were fêtes in the neighbouring villages, less grand, -less aristocratic, less fashionable, certainly, than those of -Villers-Cotterets, to which we went in happy bands, and from which we -returned in silent separate pairs. - -It was at one of these fêtes that I met a young man a year younger than -myself. I must ask permission to speak of him fully, for he had an -immense influence over my life. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Adolphe de Leuven--His family--Unpublished details concerning the death -of Gustavus III.--The Count de Ribbing--The shoemakers of the château -de Villers-Hellon - - -I first met Leuven at a fête in the beautiful village of Corey, a -league's distance from Villers-Cotterets--a village buried in the -centre of great woods, like a nest among high branches. I had left my -companions for an instant in the course of the dance, and I had gone to -some distance to pay a visit to an old friend of my father, a farmer, -whose farm was nearly a quarter of a league from the village. I took a -pretty path at the foot of a hill to get there, hedged on both sides -by hawthorn in full blossom, and studded with daisies, their golden -centres fringed by pink-tipped petals. - -Suddenly, at a bend in the path, I saw three people coming towards me, -in a ray of sunlight which bathed them in light; two were well known to -me, but the third was a complete stranger. The two I knew were Caroline -Collard, who, as previously related, had become Baroness Capelle. The -other was her daughter, Marie Capelle, then only three years old, who -to her misfortune was to become Madame Lafarge. The third person, the -stranger, looked at first sight like a German student; he was a youth -of between sixteen and seventeen, and was dressed in a grey jacket, an -oilskin cap, a waistcoat of chamois leather and bright blue trousers, -almost as tight-fitting as mine, but with this difference, that while -my topboots covered up my breeches, his, on the contrary, were covered -up by his trousers. This young man was tall, dark and gaunt, his black -hair cut as short as bristles; he had good eyes and a strikingly -defined nose; his teeth were as white as pearls, and he had a -carelessly aristocratic bearing; he was the Viscount Adolphe Ribbing de -Leuven, future author of _Vert-Vert_ and of _Postilion de Long-jumeau_ -son of Count Adolphe-Louis Ribbing de Leuven, one of the three Swedish -noblemen who were inculpated in the murder of Gustavus III., King of -Sweden. - -These Counts Ribbing de Leuven were of an old and noble family, used -to carrying on royal intrigues and to treat on equal terms with the -powerful ones of earth. It was a Ribbing who rose in 1520 against the -tyrant Christiern who had caused his two children to be murdered. -There was a sad and melancholy legend in the family, connected with -the beheading of these two children, the one aged twelve and the other -only three. The executioner had cut off the head of the eldest and had -seized hold of the second to execute him too, when the poor mite said -in childish accents, "Oh, please do not soil my collar as you have -soiled my brother Axel's, for mamma would scold me." The executioner -had two children of his own just the same ages as these. Moved by the -words, he flung down his sword and ran off, overwhelmed with remorse. -Christiern sent soldiers after him and he was killed. - -Adolphe's father, with whom I have since become very friendly and -who loves me like a father, was then a man of fifty; extremely -distinguished in appearance, with a charming nature, although -perhaps a little too sarcastic, and of indomitable courage. He had -been educated at the Military School in Berlin, and had come to -France when quite young as a captain in one of Louis XVI.'s foreign -mercenary regiments--those regiments which did him far more harm than -any good their loyal services rendered him. He had been presented -to Marie-Antoinette by the Count de Fersen and, under the patronage -of that illustrious favourite, the queen gave him a most favourable -reception. He remembered poor. Marie-Antoinette with most respectful -veneration, and thirty years after her death I often heard him speak of -her with a voice full of tears. He was recalled to Sweden towards the -close of the year 1791. He was betrothed to one of his cousins, whom -he worshipped, and, intending to marry her on his return, he learnt on -his arrival at Stockholm that, by the order of King Gustave III., her -hand had been disposed of and she was the wife of the Count d'Essen. -In his first transport of despair, Count Ribbing provoked a quarrel -with her husband. A duel ensued, and the Count d'Essen fell with a -sword-wound through his chest which kept him chained for six months to -his bed. - -Sweden was greatly disturbed at this period: the king insisted upon -enforcing his Diet to accept the deed of union and of security, and at -Geft the _coup d'état_ took place which invested the king with sole -power in the making of peace and war. A tremendous strife had been -waged for a long period between the regal power and the nobility. -Though the king was married in 1766 to Sophie-Madeleine of Denmark, -he had no heir to his crown even in 1776. And the Swedish nobility -attributed the queen's sterility to the same cause as that of Louise de -Vaudemont, Henri III.'s wife. As in the case of the last of the house -of Valois, Gustavus had his favourites, and their familiarity with him -led to their making the most extraordinary suggestions to their prince. -After a time, the courtiers made up their minds to remonstrate with the -king about the queen's barrenness and to tell him he ought to try to -remedy this deficiency by every means in his power. Gustavus promised -to see what could be done in the matter. Then, so folks said, a curious -thing happened. The evening of the day on which he had pledged his word -to the Swedish lords, he took his equerry Monck to the queen's chamber -and, in the presence of the confused and blushing queen, he explained -to the equerry the service he required of him; then he withdrew and -shut the door of the royal chamber upon the pair. Some time later the -queen's pregnancy was proclaimed, and she gave birth to a prince, who -after his father's death reigned under the title of Gustavus IV., until -the Swedish Parliament proclaimed his deposition in 1809. I knew his -son very well in Italy, where he travelled under the name of the Count -de Wasa. - -In 1770, Gustavus III., then twenty-four years of age, came to France -as the Count de Haga. He had an interview with a kind of sorceress -who predicted future events in her hypnotic trances; she had scarcely -touched his hand before she told him to beware of the year 1792, as -he would incur danger of death from firearms during the course of it. -Gustavus was a brave man; he had often exposed himself to danger. He -several times repeated the prediction laughingly, but it never troubled -him. - -Inconsequence of the Diet of 1792, by which the nobles had lost the -rest of their privileges, there arose a conspiracy. The principal -ringleaders were Ankarström, Count de Ribbing, Count de Horn, Baron -d'Erenswaerd and Colonel Lilienhorn. Ankarström and Ribbing had private -reasons for hatred against the king, besides the general grievances -which embittered the aristocracy against the sovereign. Through the -king's intervention Ankarström had lost a lawsuit which had deprived -him of half his fortune. Count de Ribbing, as we have seen, owed a -grudge against the king for a far more grievous loss than that of a -lawsuit, namely, the loss of his lady-love. In the case of the other -nobles the projected murder of Gustavus was simply an incident in the -life of a clan. They decided to perpetrate the murder at a masked ball, -which was to take place in the Opera House, on the night of 15 and 16 -March 1792. On the night before, the king received an anonymous letter, -warning him of the plot and telling him that he was to be assassinated -on the following night. - -"Ah yes," said Gustavus, "the very same thing was predicted twenty-two -years ago to the Count de Haga; but he put no more faith in the -prophecy than the King of Sweden does to-day;" and, shrugging his -shoulders, he crumpled the note between his hands and threw it into the -fireplace. Nevertheless, people averred that Gustavus went disguised -on the night of the 14-15 to consult the famous sibyl Arfredson, -who confirmed the French somnambulist's prediction and the warning -contained in the anonymous letter, telling him he would be murdered -before three days had gone by. Whether from actual courage or from -incredulity, Gustavus would not change any of his previously arranged -plans nor take any precaution: at eleven o'clock that night he went to -the masked ball. Lots had been drawn the night before to settle which -of the conspirators should kill the king, and Gustavus was so greatly -detested by his nobles that each one was eager to have the dangerous -honour of firing the fatal shot. The lot was drawn by Ankarström. - -It is said that one of the conspirators offered to give him all the -wealth he then possessed, as well as all that which he was to inherit -at a future date, if he would change places with him; but Ankarström -refused. When the time came, Ankarström suddenly bethought him that he -might mistake one of the nobles for the king, as several of them were -dressed in similar costumes. But the Count de Horn reassured him. "Fire -boldly," said he, "at the one to whom I shall say, '_Good-day, handsome -masquerader_.' He will be the king." - -At two in the morning Gustavus was strolling about, leaning on the arm -of the Count d'Essen, whom he had married to de Ribbing's _fiancée_, -when the Count de Horn approached him and said, "_Good-day, handsome -masquerader_." - -The next moment a dull report was heard, and Gustavus tottered, crying -out-- - -"I am killed!" - -Except those who were round about the king no one had perceived what -had happened. The pistol was concealed in a muff; the report had -been drowned amidst the buzz of conversation and the strains of the -orchestra, and the smoke remained buried in the muff. But at the king's -exclamation, and on seeing him fall back fainting in the arms of -d'Essen, everyone ran up; in the commotion that followed it was quite -easy for Ankarström to put himself at a distance from the king and even -to leave the hall; but in his flight he dropped one of his pistols. The -pistol was picked up, hot and still smoking. Next day every gun-seller -in Stockholm was questioned, and one of them recognised the pistol as -one he had sold to Ankarström. An hour later, Ankarström was arrested -at his own house, and a special commission was appointed to try him. -He confessed to, but gloried in, his crime. As to his accomplices, he -declined under any conditions whatever to reveal their names. The trial -dragged on slowly; it was hoped against hope that Ankarström would give -away the conspirators; finally, on 29 April 1792, forty-four days after -the murder, he was condemned. The sentence was that he was to be beaten -with rods for three days, then beheaded. In spite of the length and -the ignominy of the punishment, Ankarström remained firm to the very -end. While being taken in the cart to his execution, he looked with -perfect equanimity upon the thousands of spectators who thronged round -the scaffold. When he mounted the scaffold he asked for a few minutes -in which to make his peace with God. It was granted him. He knelt down, -prayed and then gave himself up to the executioners. He was not quite -thirty-three years of age. - -Ribbing, who had been arrested at the same time as Ankarström, was but -twenty-one: it was intended to condemn him to death like Ankarström, -and the Duke of Sudermania, regent over the kingdom during the minority -of Gustavus IV., was urging forward the trial, when a mystic, a -disciple of Swedenborg, sought him out and told him that the _master_ -had appeared to him, and had declared that not only was Ribbing -innocent, but that every hair which fell from his head would cost a -day of the life of the Duke of Sudermania. The duke, a Swedenborgian -himself, was terrified at this warning, and Ribbing, instead of sharing -Ankarström's fate, was condemned to perpetual exile. And as less -could not be done for the Count de Horn and for Lilienhorn than was -done in the case of Ribbing, they both obtained the same favour. The -confiscation of their property followed upon the sentence of exile. -Fortunately, in the case of the Count de Ribbing, the confiscation of -property could not be put into execution until after the death of his -mother: she enjoyed the property in her own right, during her lifetime, -and she was still quite young. - -The count left for France, where the Revolution was then at its height, -and he arrived in time to witness the events of 2 and 3 September -and 21 January. His adoration for the queen made him loud in his -denunciation of the events of those dreadful days. He was arrested and, -although already a regicide, was on the point of being delivered up to -the revolutionary tribunal as too sympathetic with royal misfortunes, -when Chaumette set him free, gave him a passport and helped him to -escape from Paris. The count then went to Switzerland; he was so -young and so good-looking that he went by the name of "the beautiful -regicide." He was introduced to Madame de Staël, who took him much into -her confidence. The letters (some two or three hundred) which the Count -de Ribbing received from Madame de Staël during the lifetime of the -illustrious authoress of _Corinne_, proved that this friendship was not -of a temporary nature. Madame de Staël was surrounded by a circle of -friends, several of whom already knew the Count de Ribbing. This little -court was half political and half literary; its chief purpose at that -time was to rescue, hide and protect emigrants against the persecutions -of the magistrates in the Swiss cantons whose hands were continually -being forced by the demands of the Revolutionary Government of Paris. - -After 9 thermidor, the Count de Ribbing could return to France, where -he bought three or four châteaux and two or three abbeys at a very low -price. Among these châteaux were Villers-Hellon, Brunoy and Quincy. The -count had acquired all these properties simply on the recommendations -either of friends or of his solicitor. Villers-Hellon was, among -others, quite unknown to him. One day he made up his mind to pay a -visit to the lovely estate people had praised so much. Unluckily, the -time was ill-chosen for seeing all its charms: the communal authorities -of Villers-Hellon had handed over the château to an association of -shoemakers who made shoes for the army, consequently the worthy -disciples of St. Crépin had taken possession of the domain, had set -up their workrooms in the salons and in the bedrooms and, the better -to communicate with one another, they had made openings through the -ceilings. When they had any oral communication to make, they made it -by means of these peep-holes without having to leave their seats; if -they had to come up or downstairs to see one another, they put ladders -through these holes and so saved the turns and twists of the proper -staircase. One can imagine how greatly such tenants would detract from -the appearance of the château the count had just bought. The sights, -and above all the smells, about the place so disgusted him that he -fled precipitately back to Paris. Some days later he recounted his -misadventure in his own witty way to M. Collard, then connected with -the commissariat department of the army. M. Collard was more accustomed -to the value of material goods than the noble exile, and he then and -there offered to take over his purchase. M. de Ribbing consented, and -Villers-Hellon became from that moment the property of M. Collard. -Happily, the Count de Ribbing had still two or three other châteaux -where he could reside instead of in the one he had just sold. He -chose Brunoy, which later he gave up to his friend Talma, as he had -Villers-Hellon to his friend Collard, and then he established himself -in the château of Quincy. - -During the whole of Napoleon's reign the Count de Ribbing lived very -quietly, spending his winters in Paris and his summers in the country, -devoting himself to agriculture and to fishing in his ponds, in -which, once, he caught such an enormous pike that when it was put in -the scales with Adolphe at the other end, the pike was actually the -heavier. Napoleon offered M. de Ribbing military positions more than -once--offers which he I declined, on account of the Conqueror's love of -invasion, fearing he might one day be compelled to carry arms against -Sweden. - -On the second return of the Bourbons to power, their revenge for past -political events pursued M. de Ribbing to his private retreat. He -was obliged to exile himself again, crossed the frontier, and under -an assumed name went to live in Brussels with his wife and son. But -the incognito of the Count de Ribbing was soon to betray him under -circumstances that will give some idea of his character. In Brussels, -the count found himself at the same table with some foreign officers -who, inflated with pride at the victory of Waterloo, abused France -and Frenchmen right and left. One colonel, who was covered with -decorations, especially distinguished himself by his exaggerated -attacks. The conversation was carried on in German, but as the Count -de Ribbing had been brought up in Berlin, German was almost like -his mother tongue; he did not therefore lose a single word of the -conversation, although he pretended he was not taking any notice. -Suddenly he rose, and, advancing with his usual coolness to the -colonel, he slapped him right and left across the face, accompanying -the blows with a statement of his name and titles, and then he quietly -returned to his seat. Cauchois-Lemaire, then only a young man, was at -the same table, so was the poet Arnault, who was already an old man; -both, at great risk to themselves, offered their services to the Count -de Ribbing as seconds. Happily these services were not required: the -colonel would not fight. - -The roll of _the Thirty Eight_ enriched Brussels at the expense -of France,--Arnault, Excelmans, Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angély, -Cambacérès, Harel, Cauchois-Lemaire were all exiled. M. de Ribbing -attached himself to them, and, with them, founded _le Nain Jaune_--a -journal that soon earned itself a European reputation. - -Following upon an article published by the count in this journal, the -Prussian Government demanded that the author of it should be handed -over to them. This meant nothing less than imprisonment for life in a -castle--Prussia is still, as one knows, the land of castles, and it -has long been the land of imprisonments. However, King William left -the Count de Ribbing the choice of being delivered over to Prussia or -to France--somewhat after the fashion of the cook who gives a fowl its -choice between being boiled or roasted. M. de Ribbing chose France. He -was taken prisoner, flung into a post-chaise with his son, and driven -to the borders of Condé. There he looked about him, to discover from -which of his old friends he could ask hospitality. The nearest happened -to be M. Collard, so he took his way towards Villers-Hellon. - -It need hardly be said that he was received with open arms. He had been -living but three days in that lovely place--changed so greatly since -the days of the bootmakers that it was almost beyond recognition--when -I met his son, Adolphe de Leuven, with Madame Capelle on his arm, and -holding little Marie by the hand. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Adolphe's quatrain--The water-hen and King William--Lunch in the -wood--The irritant powder, the frogs and the cock--The doctor's -spectre--De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy and I are exiled from the -drawing-room--Unfortunate result of a geographical error--M. Paroisse - - -I had not come across any members of the Collard family for a long -time. Madame Capelle I adored, as she took pity on my youthfulness -when people made fun of my peculiarities--peculiarities which I will -not hide from myself I possessed to a certain extent. She introduced -me to de Leuven as a young friend of hers and asked me to lunch with -them next day in the forest to improve our acquaintance; it was also -arranged that, following upon the lunch, I should spend two or three -days at the château of Villers-Hellon. Of course I accepted the -invitation. The fête of Corey was on the way, with its delightful -entertainments of dancing and merriment. I can think of nothing more -delightful than returning home, at ten or eleven o'clock at night, -under the dense moving vault of the tall trees: in the solemn stillness -of the night it seemed like some ancient Elysium, with mute shades -walking under in the darkness; for the shades that pace our terrestrial -Elysiums speak so low, so very low, that we swear they are dumb. I had -been obliged to return to Villers-Cotterets to take back Ad&le, and to -make her understand, without hurting her feelings, how important it was -that I should maintain friendly intercourse with the Collard family. -She was such an excellent, good-hearted, straightforward girl, that she -soon understood, and although feeling a little jealous at lending me -to that group of aristocratic and beautiful young girls, who were fine -enough to inspire jealousy in the heart of a princess, she gave me up -for three days. - -I set off at nine next morning to reach the arranged meeting-place by -ten o'clock. Everybody had spent the night at Corey, at M. Leroy's -house, and I also should have done the same had I not been urgently -recalled to Villers-Cotterets by the necessity above stated. But what -was a distance like that? I had strong legs and boots which could defy -those of Tom Thumb's giant himself. In less than three-quarters of an -hour, I caught sight of the first houses in the village, and the pond -as it lay quiet and shining like a mirror at the foot of the valley. -Adolphe de Leuven was walking on its banks. I did not expect that -anyone would be up at the farm so early, and I joined Adolphe. He had -a pencil and tablets in his hand, and he who was usually so phlegmatic -was gesticulating in such a fashion that I should have trembled for his -reason, had I not imagined he was practising a fencing exercise. When -he saw me he stopped and blushed slightly. - -"What are you doing there?" I asked. - -"Why, I am composing poetry," he said, with some confusion. I looked -him in the face as though I could hardly believe my ears. - -"Poetry!... do you really write poetry?" - -"Why, yes, sometimes," he answered, laughing. - -"To whom are you writing verses?" - -"To Louise." - -"What! Louise Collard?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, I never!" - -The notion of composing poetry to Louise Collard, charming though she -was, had never come into my head. Louise seemed to me still the same -pretty child in short frocks with lace-trimmed drawers--nothing more. - -"Ah! so you are making verses to Louise, are you: what for?" I went on. - -"You know she is going to be married." - -"Louise? No, I did not know that. To whom?" - -"To a Russian. Therefore the marriage must be prevented." "Prevented?" - -"Yes; such a delightful girl must not be allowed to leave France." - -"True, true; I shall be very sorry if she leaves France. I am very fond -of her; aren't you?" - -"I? I have only known her three days." - -"It would be a good thing to hinder her from leaving France; but how -shall we do it?" - -"I have written my verses; you write some too." - -"I!" - -"Yes, you. You have been brought up with her, and it will please her." - -"But I do not know how to write poetry. I have never done anything but -crambo with the Abbé Grégoire and he always told me I did badly." - -"Oh, nonsense! when you are in love it comes of itself." - -"But I am in love and it hasn't come; so let me see your verses." - -"Oh, it is just a quatrain." - -"Well, let me see it." - -Adolphe drew his tablets forth and read me these four lines:-- - - "Pourquoi dans _la froide Ibérie_, - Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits? - Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie, - Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!" - -I stood astounded. This was real poetry--poetry after the style of -Demoustier. So a poet stood before me: I felt as though I ought to bow -down before him. - -"How do you like my quatrain?" asked de Leuven. - -"Heavens! it is beautiful." - -"Good!" - -"And you are going to give it to Louise?" - -"Oh no; I dare not do that. I shall write it in her album without -saying anything to her, and when she turns over the leaves she will -come across my lines." - -"Bravo!" - -"Now what shall you do?" - -"What about?" - -"About this marriage." - -"Oh, well, as I am quite unable to make a quatrain as good as yours, -I shall say to her, 'Are you really going to marry a Russian, my poor -Louise? I tell you, you are making a great mistake.'" - -"I do not fancy that will have so much effect as my quatrain," said -Adolphe. - -"Neither do I; but what else can I do? One can only use one's own -weapons. Now, if the Russian would meet me in a pistol Dud, I am quite -sure he would never marry Louise!" - -"You are a sportsman, then?" - -"Rather. How could you imagine one would not be, surrounded by such a -forest? Oh, stop! there is a water-hen!" - -I pointed it out to him with my finger, flushing it with my stick as it -swam among the reeds of the pond. - -"Shoo!" - -"Is that a water-hen?" - -"Of course it is. Where do you come from not to know a water-hen?" - -"I come from Brussels." - -"I thought you were a Parisian." - -"I was indeed born in Paris; but in 1815 we left Paris, and we lived in -Brussels until three years ago, when my father and I were compelled to -leave." - -"Who compelled you to go?" - -"Why, William!" - -"Who is William?" - -"William? He is King of the Netherlands. Didn't you know that the King -of the Netherlands was called William?" - -"Not I." - -"Well, then, it oughtn't to seem so odd to you now that I do not know a -water-hen." - -Indeed, as it appeared, we were both ignorant on some points; and my -ignorance was more culpable than de Leuven's. - -He grew another cubit taller in my estimation. Not only was he a poet, -but he was of sufficient importance in the world for this King William -to be uneasy about him and his father, to the extent of banishing them -both from his realms. - -"And now you are living at Villers-Hellon?" said I. - -"Yes. M. Collard is an old friend of my father." - -"How long shall you live here?" - -"As long as the Bourbons will allow us to remain in France." - -"Ah! then you have fallen out with the Bourbons too?" - -"We have quarrelled with most kings," said Adolphe, with a laugh. - -This phrase, uttered with magnificent indifference, quite finished -me off. Luckily, at that moment, our fair companions appeared on the -threshold of the farm, a bevy of pink and white damsels. Two or three -_chars-à-bancs_ were in readiness to take them to the appointed place. -The gentlemen were to go on foot. The rendezvous was barely a quarter -of a league's distance from the village. A long table of thirty covers -was laid under a leafy canopy, ten paces off a limpid, clear purling -spring called the _Fontaine-aux-Princes._ All these young folks, -maidens, mothers, children, seemed like so many woodland flowers -opening to the sweet-breathed breeze: some pale, that sought for shade -and solitude; others of brilliant hues, seeking light and stir and the -sunshine of admiration. - -Oh! those glorious woods, those shady depths, the haunts of my -cherished moods of solitude, I have revisited you since; but no shade -glides now beneath your green vaults and in your dark alleys.... What -have you done with all that delightful world which vanished with my -youth? Why have not other generations come in their turn, pale or rosy, -lively or careless, noisy or silent like ours? Has that ephemeral -efflorescence disappeared for ever? Is it really wanting, or is it that -my eyes have lost the power of seeing? - -We returned that night to Villers-Hellon. Everything was so beautifully -arranged in that luxurious little château that each of us had a -separate room and bed, and sometimes there were as many as thirty or -forty of us there. - -I have related what nocturnal persecutions poor Hiraux was made a -victim of when he came to see us at les Fossés. It was now our turn to -undergo the like. Our rooms were prepared beforehand for the pantomime -that followed. The family doctor, Manceau, was the stage manager. He -had replaced an old doctor from Soissons named M. Paroisse. I will -explain presently why this change took place. The assistant stage -managers were Louise, Cécile and Augustine. The appointed victims were -Hippolyte Leroy, de Leuven and myself. Hippolyte Leroy was at this -period a young man of between twenty-five and twenty-six. He was a -cousin of M. Leroy de Corey. He had been one of the body-guard, and was -now Secretary to the Inspection at Villers-Cotterets. Later, he became -my cousin, by his marriage with Augustine Deviolaine. Our three rooms -communicated with one another. We retired to our rooms about half-past -twelve. De Leuven was the first to get into bed. He had scarcely lain -down before he began to complain of a most intolerable tickling: his -bed was sprinkled with the stuff charlatans sell which they call -scratching powder. Those unacquainted with this powder should recall -the famous scene in _Robert Macaire_, where the two heroes of the book -find a trunk, and in that trunk a quantity of tiny packets, containing -some unknown substance, whose property was revealed when they touched -it. In about five minutes' time Adolphe de Leuven began to scratch -himself like both Robert Macaire and Bertrand put together. We offered -de Leuven our sincere sympathy. We advised him to rub it off as best he -could, to wrap himself in his bed-curtain and to sleep on a couch. Then -we went to our own beds, quite convinced that we should find them like -Adolphe's. But we searched them in vain: they seemed perfectly free -from any preparation of the like nature. We lay down. In five minutes' -time Hippolyte Leroy uttered a sharp cry. In stretching himself, he -felt a piece of string at the foot of the bed; he pulled this thread, -and in doing so, he untied a bag full of frogs. The frogs, gaining -their liberty, hastened to disport themselves about the bed, and it was -the contact of his human flesh with their animal hide which produced -Hippolyte's yell above mentioned. He flung off the bed-clothes and -leapt out of bed. The frogs leaped out after him. He had been given -good measure; there were quite two dozen of them. - -I was beginning to think I was the only one spared, when I thought I -heard a great stirring inside a cupboard against which the head of my -bed had been put. I looked at the lock. It was keyless. However, I -felt no doubt that some sort of animal was shut up in that cupboard. -Only, what sort of an animal was it? I was not kept long in suspense: -as one o'clock struck a cock crowed at the head of my bed, and renewed -his crowing every hour till day came. I did not deny Christ, like St. -Peter, but I confess I took His name in vain. We fell asleep by seven -o'clock,--de Leuven in spite of his itching powder, Hippolyte Leroy in -spite of his frogs, and I in spite of my cock,--when Manceau entered -our rooms and woke us by telling us that as he had heard in roundabout -ways we had spent a bad night, he had come to offer us his professional -services: Manceau denounced his own handiwork! - -We had slept so badly, through that horrible night, that, with terrible -imprecations, we had consigned our persecutor, whoever he might be, -to the infernal regions. Manceau, as I have said, denounced himself: -expiation must follow the crime; our sworn oath must be fulfilled. At -a sign, de Leuven shut the door: I fell upon Manceau, Hippolyte gagged -him; we stripped him naked, we wrapped him in a sheet off Adolphe's -bed, we tied him up like a sausage, we took him down a disused -staircase and we deposited him in the most unfrequented part of the -park, in the very middle of the little river, at a place where he could -stand, but where, entangled as he was, he ran great risk of losing his -foothold at the first step he took. We then quietly returned to our -beds, and resumed our interrupted sleep. - -We went down to the morning meal at ten o'clock. Our arrival was -eagerly expected. Everybody burst out laughing when we came within -view. The young ladies each played a part: some pretended to scratch, -others imitated in a low voice the croaking of frogs, and others -simulated the crowing of a cock. We were quite imperturbable: we merely -asked carelessly where Manceau was. Nobody had seen him. We sat down -to table. The fowl was tough, Cécile remarked; one would have said it -was an old cock which had crowed all the night. Augustine asked where -the frogs were that she had seen, she said, in the kitchen the night -before. Had they been moved?... Were the frogs lost?... The frogs -must be found again. Louise asked Adolphe if he was not attacked by a -contagious affection; for since he had offered her his arm to lead her -into the dining-room, her skin had felt fearfully irritable. - -"If Manceau were here," I said to Louise, "you could ask him for a -prescription to allay it." - -"But, joking apart, where is Manceau?" asked Madame Collard. - -Silence again, as at the first inquiry. Matters were becoming serious, -and folks began to be uneasy about the dear doctor: it was not his -custom to absent himself at meal-times. They sent to ask the porter if -Manceau had gone out to attend some sick person in the village. The -porter had not seen Manceau. - -"I believe he is drowned!" I said.... "Poor fellow!" - -"Why should he be?" asked Madame Collard. - -"Because yesterday evening he proposed a bathing party to us; but we -slept so well we missed meeting him in his room as arranged. As we did -not turn up, he must have gone alone to bathe." - -"Oh, good gracious!" exclaimed Madame Collard, "the poor doctor! he -cannot swim." - -A chorus of lamentations went up from the ladies at these words, by the -side of which the wailing of the Israelites in exile was a trifle. It -was settled that Manceau should be searched for immediately after the -meal was over. - -"Good!" said de Leuven in a whisper to me,--"I will take the -opportunity while everybody is out to write my verses in Louise's -album." - -"And I," I replied, "I will stand sentinel at the door to prevent your -being disturbed." - -Everything happened as had been arranged. The whole beehive of the -castle swarmed into the garden. The older men--M. de Leuven the -father, M. Collard, M. Méchin--stayed in the drawing-room to read the -newspapers. Hippolyte played billiards with Maurice. De Leuven and I -went upstairs to Louise's room, which was next to M. Collard's, and -whilst I watched on the landing, he wrote his four lines in the album. - -He had scarcely finished the last, when we heard loud shouts, and upon -going to look out of the window, we saw Louise and Augustine running -towards the castle. Cécile, who was braver, had remained stoutly where -she was, and had looked towards the river with more curiosity than -alarm. - -"Bravo!" said I to Adolphe, "Manceau has made his appearance." - -We quickly went down. - -"A ghost! a ghost!" cried Louise and Augustine; "there is a ghost in -the river!" - -"Oh! my God," said de Leuven--"can it be that the spirit of poor -Manceau is already borne down below?" - -It was not his spirit, but his body. By dint of struggling with his -cords, Manceau had freed one arm, then both; his two arms freed, he -had taken the handkerchief off his mouth: when ungagged, he had called -out for help; unfortunately, the gardener was at the opposite end of -the garden. He had tried hard to untie the cords which bound his legs, -as he had done those binding his hands; but, to do so, he would have -to put his head under the water; and, as Madame Capelle had said, -the unlucky doctor did not know how to swim, and was restrained from -any such attempt by the fear of being suffocated. At last his cries -attracted the attention of the young girls; but at sight of the figure -wrapped in a sheet and making despairing gesticulations, fear had taken -possession of them, and not having the least notion that Manceau would -be discovered in the middle of the river, shrouded in such a garment, -they had shrieked at the apparition and had flown away. They sent to -the unhappy Manceau the gardener for whom he had called so loudly. He -clamoured vehemently for his clothes. He had been in the river from -seven in the morning until noon, and although it was towards the end of -July, the bath was infinitely too protracted, and had made him somewhat -chilly. He was put to bed with a hot bottle. From that moment Manceau -was the object of general pity, and we of universal execration. For, -God be merciful to him a sinner, Manceau had been cowardly enough to -denounce us. It was in vain for de Leuven to show his hands as red as -crabs and to offer to show the rest of his body, which was as red as -his hands; in vain did Hippolyte collect the frogs scattered about his -room and bring them into the drawing-room; in vain did I fetch the -cock, with which I had held discourse all the night, from the barnyard: -nothing moved our judges; we were banished from society, for deliberate -attempted homicide in the matter of Doctor Manceau. So we promised -ourselves to drown him out and out the first chance we got. - -Banished from the society of the ladies, I took refuge in the -billiard-room, where Maurice gave me my first lesson in billiards. -We shall see that this lesson stood me in good stead, and that, four -years later, at a solemn occasion in my life, I practised the art of -cannoning, wherein I had made some progress. Our punishment lasted -throughout that evening, which the young ladies spent in Louise's room, -as it was raining. De Leuven made several attempts to get into that -chamber, but was repulsed each time. A great change had come over him -since four o'clock in the afternoon, after a conversation he had had -with his father, in which the elder man had seemed to me to sneer at -him strangely. - -Adolphe grew very restless, almost gloomy, and although he was -determinedly kept out of Louise's room--where she was holding a -gathering of her girl-friends, as I have mentioned--he went back -persistently again and again. "Ah! I see," I said to myself, after a -moment's reflection, "he wants to obtain news of his quatrain and to -know how it has succeeded." And, satisfied with my reasoning, I did -not look any farther for the cause of de Leuven's insistence. But I -regretted I had not the means with which partial nature had endowed -Adolphe, to cause my shortcomings to be forgiven. I was pursued by this -regret when in Hippolyte's room, where we withdrew, questioning each -other what had become of de Leuven, who had not been seen for an hour, -when suddenly we heard a great noise in the midst of which we could -make out the words, "_Stop thief!_" echoing through the castle. As we -were still dressed, we dashed out of our room and quickly descended -the staircase. At the foot of the staircase was M. Collard in his -nightshirt, holding Adolphe by his coat collar. It was an extraordinary -sight. M. Collard looked furious and Adolphe exceedingly penitent. In -the meantime, M. de Leuven, who had not yet gone to bed, arrived on the -scene, as imperturbable as ever, his hands in his trousers pockets, -chewing a toothpick, after his usual fashion. This toothpick was an -indispensable item in M. de Leuven's life. - -"Well, well! What is the matter now, Collard? What have you against my -boy?" - -"What have I? what have I?" shrieked M. Collard, growing more and more -exasperated. "I have something that cannot be overlooked." - -"Ah! what has he done, then?" - -"What has he done?... I'll tell you what he has done!----" - -"Forgive me, father," said Adolphe, trying to get in a word or two of -justification,--"forgive me, father, but M. Collard is mistaken.... He -believes----" - -"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel!" yelled M. Collard, kicking him. - -Then, turning to the Count de Ribbing, he said-- - -"Listen, my dear de Leuven, and I will tell you where I have found this -son of yours." - -"But I must protest, dear M. Collard, it was solely and simply to----" - -"Be quiet!" interrupted M. Collard. "Come with us: you shall clear -yourself if you can." - -"Oh," said Adolphe, "that will not be difficult." - -"We shall see!" - -Pushing the youth before him, he signed to the count to go inside his -room, and, following himself, shut the door and double-locked it. - -We withdrew in silence, Hippolyte, myself and the other spectators -of that curious scene. Adolphe returned at the end of a quarter of -an hour. He looked so crestfallen that we dared not question him -for details. We went to bed in ignorance of the cause of all the -disturbance. - -But after Hippolyte had fallen asleep de Leuven came to me and told me -the whole story. This was what had happened. - -As I have said above, Adolphe had written the wonderful quatrain in -Louise's album that morning. When it was finished he left the young -lady's room as fast as possible. Towards four o'clock, Adolphe, who had -not been able to contain the news, drew his father aside and repeated -his quatrain to him. - -M. de Ribbing listened gravely until the last syllable of the fourth -line, and then he said-- - -"Say it over again, please." - -Adolphe repeated it obediently:-- - - "Pourquoi dans la froide Ibérie, - Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits? - Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie, - Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!" - -"There is but one slip," then said M. de Ribbing. - -"What?" asked Adolphe. - -"Oh, nothing much ... you have mistaken the South for the North--Spain -for Russia." - -"Oh!" cried Adolphe, aghast, "upon my word, so I have! ... I have put -Ibérie for _Sibérie_." - -"I understand," said the count, "it makes a better rhyme, but is less -accurate." And, shrugging his shoulders, he went off humming a little -air and chewing his toothpick. - -Adolphe stood dumbfounded. He had signed his unlucky quatrain with -his full name. If the album were opened and the quatrain were read -he would be disgraced! This sword of Damocles, hung over the unlucky -poet's head, had distracted him all the evening. It was to get hold of -Louise's album that he had made the obstinate efforts to enter her room -I have detailed. But, as we have seen, his attempts had been fruitless. - -When night came, Adolphe took a desperate resolve: he would go into -Louise's room when she was asleep, seize her album and destroy the -tell-tale page. - -This resolution he put into execution about eleven o'clock. The door -opened without creaking too much, and Adolphe, who squeezed himself -through as softly as possible on tiptoe, with but the one end, one -hope and one desire of reaching the album, had thus invaded his young -friend's maiden chamber. All went well as far as the album. It was -on the table and Adolphe took it, put it in his vest, determined to -regain possession by hook or by crook of the four lines which had made -their author so unhappy, when suddenly he ran against a little table, -which fell and in falling awakened Louise. Louise, startled, cried out, -"Thief, thief!" At the cry of "Thief, thief!" M. Collard, whose room -adjoined his daughter's, rushed out of bed in his nightshirt, flung -himself on de Leuven on the landing, collared him, and, as we have -seen, suspecting poor innocent Adolphe of quite another crime, dragged -him into his chamber. His father followed them and closed the door -behind him. There, everything was explained, thanks to the album, which -Adolphe had been careful not to let go. M. Collard was convinced _de -visu_ of the geographical error Adolphe had committed; he thoroughly -understood the importance of that error, and, reassured in the matter -of motive, he was soon satisfied about the deed. So neither Louise's -reputation nor Adolphe's suffered any blemish from this occurrence. - -As they continued to punish Hippolyte and me next day, for Manceau's -little adventure, we left Villers-Hellon without saying a word to -anyone, and took the road to Villers-Cotterets. Strange to say, I have -never re-entered Villers-Hellon since. The young girls' ostracism -lasted thirty years. Only once have I since seen Hermine, and that -was at the rehearsal of _Caligula_, when she was Madame la Baronne de -Martens. Only once have I since seen Louise, and that was at a dinner -given at the Bank, when she was Madame Garat. Only once have I since -seen Marie Capelle, a month before she became Madame Lafarge. I never -saw either Madame Collard or Madame Capelle again. Both are now dead. -But when I close my eyes, in spite of those thirty years of absence, I -can still see them all, the dead and the living. - -I promised to tell the story of the old doctor who was Manceau's -predecessor, and it would be unfair to my readers to break my word. M. -Paroisse lived at Soissons. A thinly scattered practice allowed him to -dine once a week at Villers-Hellon, where he was always made heartily -welcome. This lasted for ten years. One day M. Collard received a -large manuscript signed by the worthy doctor. It was the bill for his -visits. He had charged twenty francs for each visit, and the sum total -was something alarming. M. Collard paid him, but told M. Paroisse from -henceforth not to come to Villers-Hellon unless he were specially sent -for. It was in consequence of this incident that Manceau was installed -in the castle as the regular medical attendant to the family. I forget -what became of Manceau ... I fancy the poor devil is dead. Happily, -this was not in consequence of the enforced bath we gave him. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Amédée de la Ponce--He teaches me what work is--M. Arnault and his two -sons--A journey by diligence--A gentleman fights me with cough lozenges -and I fight him with my fists--I learn the danger from which I escaped - - -After the unjust sentence that was passed upon us in Villers-Hellon, I -returned to Villers-Cotterets, and, disgusted with my sojourn in the -aristocratic regions whence I had just been cast forth, I returned -with delight to the world I preferred to theirs, wherein I could find -complete satisfaction for all my heart-longings and all my proud -cravings. Adèle at first received me back very coldly, and I had to -endure a fit of the sulks for some hours. At the end of that time, -little by little her pretty face cleared, and she ended by smiling upon -me with the freshness and sweetness of an opening flower. One might -have said of this lovely child that her smile itself was like a rose. -While these youthful love affairs were in progress--all of them, alas! -of the ephemeral character of love at sixteen--there were friendships -taking root in my heart that were to last the whole of my life. - -I have already spoken of Adolphe de Leuven, who suddenly took a -prominent place in my life, apart from my childish friendships. Here -let me also be allowed to say a word about another friend, who was -to finish in certain other directions the work of opening out future -vistas before me that had been begun by the son of Count de Ribbing. -One day we saw a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven go along -the streets of Villers-Cotterets, wearing the uniform of an officer -of Hussars with an unusually stately grace. No one could possibly -have been handsomer or more distinguished in appearance than this -young man. His face perhaps might have been criticised as a trifle -too feminine-looking, if it had not been for a fine sword-cut which, -without spoiling in any way the regularity of his features, began -at the left side of his forehead and ended at the right corner of -his upper lip, adding a touch of manliness and courage to his gentle -features. His name was Amédée de la Ponce. I do not know what chance -or whim or necessity led him to Villers-Cotterets. Had he come as an -idle tourist, to spend his income of five or six thousand livres in our -town? I do not know.... It is probable. He liked the country, he stayed -among us and, at the end of a year of residence, he became the husband -of a charmingly pretty young girl, Louise Moreau, a friend of my -sister. They had a beautiful fair-haired child, whom I should much like -to see to-day: we nicknamed it _Mouton_, on account of its gentleness, -the whiteness of its skin and its flaxen hair. - -I lost sight of you such a long while ago, my dear de la Ponce! -Whatever part of the world you may be in, if you read these pages, you -will find therein a testimony of my ever living, sincere and lasting -friendship for you. For, my friend, you did a great deal for me. You -said to me: "Believe me, my dear boy, there are other things in life -besides pleasure and love, hunting and dancing, and the silly ambitions -of youth! There is work. Learn to work ... that is the true way to be -happy." And you were right, dear friend. Apart from the death of my -father, the death of my mother and the death of the Duc d'Orléans, -how is it I have never experienced a sorrow that I have not crushed -beneath my feet or a disappointment that I have not overcome? It is -because you introduced me to the only friend who can give comfort by -day and by night, who is ever near, who hastens to console at the first -sigh, who lends healing balm at the first tear: you made me acquainted -with _work._ O dear and most excellent Work,--thou who bearest in thy -strong arms that heavy burden of humanity which we call sorrow! Thou -divinity, with hand ever stretched open and with face ever smiling!... -Oh! dear and most excellent Work, thou hast never cast the shadow of -deception on me ... my blessings upon thee, O Work! - -De la Ponce spoke Italian and German as fluently as his own language; -he offered to teach them to me in my leisure moments--and God knows I -had plenty of spare moments at that time. - -We started with Italian. It was the easiest language--the honey of -which Horace speaks, the gilding that clothes the outside of the cup -of bitter drink given to a sick child. One of the books out of which -I learnt Italian was Ugo Foscolo's fine novel, which I have since -translated under the title of the _Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis._ -That book gave me an idea of, an insight into and a feeling for -romantic literature of which previously I had been totally ignorant. -In two months' time I could talk Italian fairly correctly, and I -began to translate poetry. I much preferred this to my sales and my -marriage contracts and the drawing up of bonds and transfers at Maître -Mennesson's. Furthermore, a change took place in the office greatly to -the advantage of my literary education, but not to my legal education. -Niguet, that precious head clerk who had told tales to M. Mennesson -of my love-disappointments, had bought in a neighbouring village a -lawyer's practice, which I believe Lafarge had been obliged to sell -as he had not been able to find the wherewithal to take it up; and -Paillet, a friend of mine, who was six or eight years my senior, had -succeeded Niguet as head clerk over me. Paillet was well-to-do; he had -a delightful property two leagues from Villers-Cotterets; his tastes -were luxurious; consequently, he let me off more readily than Niguet -(who was an old Basochian[1] without any fun in him and entirely -wrapped up in his business) to pursue the simple luxuries I could -indulge in, namely, shooting, flirting and dancing. - -So it came about that instead of encouraging me in treading the narrow -and difficult path of a provincial solicitor, Paillet allowed me to -cast my eyes abroad, instinctively understanding, doubtless, that -the work they had put me to was not what I was cut out for. It can -easily be seen that Paillet exercised material influence over my future -destiny, apart from the moral influence exercised by de la Ponce and -de Leuven. I was then perfectly happy in the love of my mother, and in -a younger and sweeter love growing up side by side with hers without -injuring it, and in the friendship of de la Ponce and of de Paillet, -when de Leuven came to complete my happiness: I lacked nothing save -that golden mean of which Horace speaks; had I had that too, I should -have had scarcely aught to wish for. - -Suddenly we heard that M. Deviolaine was going to retire with -his family to his estate of Saint-Remy, and let his house at -Villers-Cotterets to the Count de Ribbing. So the house wherein I had -been brought up, the house peopled for me with a host of memories, -was to pass from the hands of a relative into the hands of a friend -The beautiful garden had taken M. de Leuven's special fancy; he hoped -to give vent in it to his hobby for gardening interrupted by the -successive sales of Brunoy and Quincy. Furthermore, the count had not -met with any more persecution, and whether it was because Louis XVIII. -did not know of his being in France, or whether the king closed his -eyes to the fact, he was left in undisturbed peacefulness. - -De Leuven and his father settled, then, in Villers-Cotterets, where -Madame de Leuven joined them in a fortnight's time. As for de la -Ponce, he rented a house at the end of the rue de Largny, the first -house on the left as you come from Paris: it had a large garden and -a fine courtyard. My time was soon divided into three portions--one -was devoted to my friendships, another to love-makings, and the third -to my legal work. The reader may suggest that my mother was perhaps a -little neglected in all this. Is a mother ever forgotten? Is she not -always there, whether present or absent? Did I not go in and out of -my home ten or twenty times a day? Did I not kiss my mother each time -I went in? Every day de Leuven, de la Ponce and I managed to meet. -Generally it was at de la Ponce's house: we transformed the courtyard -which I have mentioned into a shooting range, and every day we used -up twenty or thirty balls. De Leuven had excellent German pistols -(_Kukenreiter_). These pistols were marvellously true, and we soon -were able to shoot with such precision, all three of us, that when -anyone doubted our powers, we would take it in turn to hold the piece -of cardboard which served as a target, whilst the others fired. And -we never any of us received a single graze! I remember one day after -heavy rain we found I do not know how many frogs in that gloomy, damp -courtyard. Here was novel game for us to pot at, and we exterminated -every frog with our pistols. Every little while de Leuven read us a -fable or an elegy of his own composition; but he was cured of making -geographical errors by the nocturnal misadventure at Villers-Hellon -and no longer mistook the South for the North, or Spain for Siberia. -One morning great news spread through the town. Three strangers had -just come to stay with M. de Leuven: M. Arnault and his two sons, -Telleville and Louis Arnault. M. Arnault, the author of _Germanicus_ -and of _Marius à Minturnes_, was at that time a splendid-looking old -man of sixty, still full of life in spite of his curling white locks, -which were as fine as silk. He had a most superabundant flow of spirits -and excelled at repartee; he could strike as rapidly at his object -as the most accomplished fencing-master could parry a blow or deal a -right-handed stroke. The only fault one could find with this wit was -its keen, biting edge; but, like bites made by healthy teeth, the -poet's bites never left poison behind them. M. Arnault had made the -acquaintance of the Count de Ribbing at that famous _table d'hôte_ -where the latter had struck the foreign colonel in the face. Since -that day, M. de Leuven, Frenchman at heart, and M. Arnault, Frenchman -in mind, had struck up a friendship which though broken by death was -continued between their children. Telleville Arnault was a handsome -young officer of a charming disposition and of tested valour. He had -fought a Dud over _Germanicus_ with Martainville which had made a great -sensation in the literary world. Louis was still a young lad of about -my own age. - -I prudently kept from visiting Adolphe all the time M. Arnault and his -sons were staying with his father; but M. Deviolaine having invited -them to a rabbit shooting in the Tillet woods, I was present, and the -acquaintance which began by chance during the walks in the park was -sealed gun in hand. Telleville had a little gun made by Prélat, with -which he did wonders. This gun had a barrel not fourteen inches long, -which filled me with wonder, for I still believed in length of barrel -and hunted with siege-guns. - -When M. Arnault left Villers-Cotterets, he took de Leuven with -him. It was heart-breaking to me to see Adolphe depart. I had two -memories of visits to Paris, one in 1806, the other in 1814. These two -recollections sufficed to make me passionately envious of the lot of -every favoured being who was going to Paris. I remained behind with de -la Ponce, and I redoubled my devotion to the study of Italian. I was -soon sufficiently far advanced in the language of Dante and of Ariosto -to be able to pass on to that of Schiller and of Goethe; but this was -quite a different matter. After three or four months' work, de la -Ponce put one of Auguste Lafontaine's novels in my way: the task was -too difficult, I soon had enough of it. German was dropped, and I have -never had the courage to take it up again. My first serious dramatic -impression dates from this period. Some nabob who had done business -through M. Mennesson, out of unheard-of generosity, left a hundred and -fifty francs to be divided among the lads in the office. M. Mennesson -distributed it in the following way: thirty-seven francs fifty cents -each to Ronsin and myself, seventy-five francs to Paillet. It was the -first time I had found myself possessed of so much money. I wondered -what I should do with it. - -One of the four great fêtes of the year was approaching, when we should -have Sunday and Monday as holidays. Paillet proposed we should both -club our thirty-seven francs fifty cents to his seventy-five francs, -and that we should go and sink this fabulous sum of fifty crowns in -the delights that Soissons, the seat of the _sous-prefecture_, could -offer us. The suggestion was hailed with joy. Paillet was deputed -cashier, and we boldly took seats on the diligence for Paris, which -passes through Villers-Cotterets at half-past three in the morning, -and arrives at Soissons at six o'clock. Paillet and Ronsin each took -a place in the coupé, where one was already taken, and I went inside, -where there were four other passengers, three of whom got out at la -Vertefeuille, a post three leagues away from Villers-Cotterets, the -fourth continuing his journey to Soissons. From la Vertefeuille to -Soissons, therefore, I was left alone with this person, who was a man -of forty years or thereabouts, very thin of body, pale of face, with -auburn hair and well groomed. He had laid great stress on my sitting -near him, and, in order to leave me as much room as possible, squeezed -himself as closely into a corner of the coach as he could. I was much -touched by this attention, and felt sensibly drawn to the gentleman, -who had condescended to treat me with so much consideration. - -I slept well and anywhere in those days. So, as soon as we got out of -the town I fell asleep, only to wake when the horses were changed, -and I should most certainly not have waked up then if the three -passengers who left us had not trodden on my toes as they got out, with -the habitual heavy-footed tread travellers indulge in at the expense -of those who remain behind. When the passenger saw I was awake, he -began to talk to me, and asked me, in a kindly, interested way, my -age, my name and my occupation. I made haste to supply him with full -particulars, and he seemed much interested therein. I told him the -object of our journey to Soissons; and, as I coughed while I related -my tale, he good-naturedly offered me two different sorts of cough -lozenges. I accepted both, and in order to get the full benefit of -them I put them both in my mouth together; then, although I found the -gentleman's conversation agreeable and his manners fascinating, there -was something even more seductive and pleasing than that conversation -and those manners, namely sleep, so I wished him a good-night, and, -with plenty of room to dispose myself in, I settled down in the corner -parallel with his, with my back upon one seat and my feet on the -other. I do not know how long I had slept when I felt myself awakened -in the oddest fashion in the world. My sleeping fellow-traveller had -apparently passed from mere interest to a more lively expression of -his sentiments, and was embracing me. I imagined he had a nightmare, -and I tried to awake him; but as I saw that the more soundly he slept, -the worse his gesticulations became, I began to strike him hard, and -as my blows had no effect, I cried aloud with all my might. Unluckily, -they were descending the hill of Vaubuin and they could not stop -the coach; the struggle therefore lasted ten minutes or more, and -without in the least knowing what danger I was combating, I was just -about to succeed in getting the better of my enemy, by turning him -over under my knee, when the door opened and the conductor came to -my rescue. Paillet and Ronsin were sleeping as I should have slept -if my travelling-companion had not waked me up by his overpowering -friendliness. I told the conductor what had happened and blamed him -for having put me along with a somnambulist or a madman, begging him -to put me in any other corner of the coach convenient to him, when, -to my intense astonishment, whilst the traveller was readjusting his -toilet, which had been considerably damaged by my struggle with him, -without uttering any sort of complaint against me, the conductor began -apostrophising him in the severest terms, made him get down out of the -coach, and told him that, as there only remained three-quarters of a -league from where we were to the _hôtel des Trois-Pucelles_, where -the coach stopped, he must have the goodness to do it on foot, unless -he would consent to mount up on the roof, where he could not disturb -anybody else. The gentleman of the auburn locks hoisted himself on -the roof, without opening his lips, and the diligence started off -again. Although I was now alone once more and consequently more at -my ease inside the coach, I was too much excited by the struggle I -had just gone through, to think of going to sleep again. I could hear -the conductor, in the cabriolet, relate my story to my two fellow -travelling-companions, and apparently he presented it to them under -a gayer light than that in which I had looked at it myself, for they -roared with laughter. I did not know what there could be to laugh at in -an interchange of fisticuffs with a somnambulist or a maniac. A quarter -of an hour after the gentleman had been installed on the imperial, and -I reinstated in the carriage, I heard by the heavy sound of the coach -wheels that we were crossing under the drawbridge. We had reached our -destination. - -Five minutes after we had left the coach, Paillet and Ronsin told me -why they had laughed, and it sounded so ridiculous that I rushed off -in search of my gentleman of the cough lozenges almost before they -had finished; but I searched the imperial in vain in every corner and -cranny:--he had disappeared. - -This nocturnal struggle upset me so greatly that I felt dazed the whole -of the day. - - -[1] Translator's note.--Member of the Society of Law Clerks. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -First dramatic impressions--The _Hamlet_ of Ducis_--The Bourbons en -1815_--Quotations from it - - -Among the pleasures we had promised ourselves in the second capital -of the department of Aisne we had put the theatre in the first rank. -A company of pupils from the Conservatoire, who were touring in the -provinces, were that night to give a special performance of Ducis's -_Hamlet._ I had absolutely no idea who _Hamlet_ was; I will go farther -and admit that I was completely ignorant who was Ducis. No one could -have been more ignorant than I was. My poor mother had tried to induce -me to read Corneille's and Racine's tragedies; but, I confess it to my -shame, the reading of them had bored me inexpressibly. I had no notion -at that time what was meant by style or form or structure; I was a -child of nature in the fullest acceptance of the term: what amused me I -thought good, what wearied me--bad. So I read the word _tragedy_ on the -placard with some misgivings. - -But, after all, as this tragedy was the best that Soissons had to offer -us to pass away the evening, we put ourselves in the queue waiting -outside; in good time, and in spite of the great crowd, we succeeded in -getting into the pit. - -Something like thirty-two years have rolled by since that night, but -such an impression did it make upon my mind that I can still remember -every little detail connected with it. The young fellow who took the -part of Hamlet was a tall, pale, sallow youth called Cudot; he had fine -eyes, and a strong voice, and he imitated Talma so closely, that when I -saw Talma act the same part, I almost thought he imitated Cudot. - -As I have said, the subject of literature was completely unknown to -me. I did not even know that there had ever existed an author named -Shakespeare, and when, on my return, I was instructed by Paillet that -_Hamlet_ was only an imitation, I pronounced, before my sister, who -knew English, the name of the author of _Romeo_ and of _Macbeth_ as -I had seen it written, and it cost me one of those prolonged jokings -my sister never' spared me when occasion offered. Of course on this -occasion I delighted her. Now, as the _Hamlet_ of Ducis could not lose -in my estimation by comparison, since I had never heard Shakespeare's -spoken of, the play seemed to me, with Hamlet's grotesque entrance, -the ghost, visible only to himself, his struggle against his mother, -his urn, his monologue, the gloomy questionings concerning the fear of -death, to be a masterpiece, and produced an immense effect upon me. -So, when I returned to Villers-Cotterets, the first thing I did was to -collect together the few francs left over from the trip to Soissons and -to write to Fourcade (who had given up his place to Camusat, of whom I -spoke in connection with old Hiraux, and who had returned to Paris) to -send me the tragedy of _Hamlet._ - -For some reason or other Fourcade delayed sending it to me for five -or six days: so great was my impatience that I wrote him a second -letter, filled with the keenest reproaches at his negligence and want -of friendliness. Fourcade, who would never have believed anyone could -accuse a man of being a poor friend because he did not hurry over -sending _Hamlet_, sent me a charming letter the gist of which I did -not appreciate until I had studied more deeply the question of what -was good and what was bad, and was able to place Ducis's work in its -due rank. In the meantime I became demented. I asked everybody, "Do -you know _Hamlet_? do you know Ducis?" The tragedy arrived from Paris. -At the end of three days I knew the part of Hamlet by heart and, worse -still, I have such an excellent memory that I have never been able to -forget it. So it came to pass that _Hamlet_ was the first dramatic work -which produced an impression upon me--a profound impression, composed -of inexplicable sensations, aimless longings, mysterious rays of light -which only made my darkness more visible. Later, in Paris, I again -saw poor Cudot, who had played Hamlet. Alas! the grand talent that -had carried me away had not obtained him the smallest foothold, and -I believe he has long since given up hope--that daughter of pride so -hard to kill in the artist's soul--the hope of making a position on the -stage. - -Now--as if the spirit of poetry, when wakened in me, had sworn never to -go to sleep again and used every means to that end, by even succeeding -in making Maître Mennesson himself his accomplice--scarcely had I -returned from Soissons, when, instead of giving me a deed of sale to -copy out or a bond to engross, or sending me out on business, Maître -Mennesson gave me a piece of poetry of which he wanted three copies -made. This piece of poetry was entitled _Les Bourbons en 1815._ - -M. Mennesson, as I have said, was a Republican; I found him a -Republican in 1830, and when I saw him again in 1848 he was still a -Republican. And to do him justice, he had the courage of his opinions -through all times and under all regimes; so freely did he express -his opinions that his friends were frightened by them and made their -observations thereon with bated breath. He only shrugged his shoulders. - -"What the devil will they do to me?" he would exclaim. "My office is -paid for, my clientèle flourishing; I defy them to find a flaw in any -of my contracts; and that being the case, one can afford to mock at -kings and parsons." - -Maître Mennesson was right, too; for, in spite of all these -demonstrations, all these accusations of imprudence made by timid -souls, his practice was the best in Villers-Cotterets and improved -daily. At this very moment he was in the seventh heaven of delight. -He had got hold of a piece of poetry, in manuscript, against the -Bourbons--I do not know how. He had read it to everybody in the town, -and then after reading it to everybody, when I came back from Soissons, -he, as I have said, ordered me to make two or three copies of it, for -those of his friends who, like himself, were anxious to possess this -poetical pamphlet. I have never seen it in print, I have never read it -since the day I copied it out three times, but such is my memory that -I can repeat it from beginning to end. But lest I alarm my readers, I -will content myself with quoting a few lines of it. - -This was how it began:-- - - "Où suis-je? qu'ai je vu? Les voilà donc ces princes - Qu'un sénat insensé rendit à nos provinces; - Qui devaient, abjurant les prejugés des rois, - Citoyens couronnés, régner au nom des lois; - Qui venaient, disaient-ils, désarmant la victoire, - Consoler les Français de vingt-cinq ans de gloire! - Ils entrent! avec eux, la vengeance de l'orgueil. - Ont du Louvre indigné franchi l'antique seuil! - Ce n'est plus le sénat, c'est Dieu, c'est leur naissance, - C'est le glaive étranger qui leur soumet la France; - Ils nous osent d'un roi reprocher l'_échafaud_: - Ah! si ce roi, sortant de la nuit du _tombeau_, - Armé d'un fer vengeur venait punir le crime, - Nous les verrions pâlir aux yeux de leur victime!" - -Then the author exclaims--in those days authors all -exclaimed--abandoning general considerations for the detailed drawing -of individuals, and passing the royal family in review:-- - - "C'est d'Artois, des galants imbécile doyen, - Incapable de mal, incapable de bien; - Au pied des saints autels abjurant ses faiblesses, - Et par des favoris remplaçant ses maîtresses; - D'Artois, dont rien n'a pu réveiller la vertu, - Qui fuit a Quiberon sans avoir combattu, - Et qui, s'il était roi, monterait à la France - Des enfants de Clovis la stupide indolence! - C'est Berry, que l'armée appelait à grands cris, - Et qui lui prodigua l'insulte et le mépris; - Qui, des ces jeunes ans, puisa dans les tavernes - Ces mœurs, ce ton grossier, qu'ignorent nos casernes. - C'est son frère, avec art sous un masque imposteur, - Cachant de ses projets l'ambitieuse horreur! - Qui, nourri par son oncle aux discordes civiles, - En rallume les feux en parcourant nos villes; - Ce Thersite royal, qui ne sut, à propos, - Ni combattre ni fuir, et se croit un héros! - C'est, plus perfide encor, son épouse hautaine, - Cette femme qui vit de vengeance et de haine, - Qui pleure, non des siens le funeste trépas, - Mais le sang qu'à grands flots elle ne verse pas! - Ce sont ces courtisans, ces nobles et ces prêtres, - Qui, tour à tour flatteurs et tyrans de leur maîtres, - Voudraient nous ramener au temps où nos aieux - Ne voyaient, ne pensaient, n'agissaient que par eux!" - -Then the author ends off his discourse with a peroration worthy of the -subject and exclaims once more in his liberal enthusiasm:-- - - "Ne balonçons done plus, levons-nous! et semblables - Au fleuve impétueux qui rejette les sables, - La fange et le limon qui fatiguaient sous cours, - De notre sol sacré rejetons pour toujours - Ces tyrans sans vertu, ces courtisans perfides, - Ces chevaliers sans gloire et ces prêtres avides, - Qui, jusqu'à nos exploits ne pouvant se hausser, - Jusques à leur néant voudraient nous abaisser!" - -Twelve years later the Bourbons were hounded out of France. It is -not only revolutionary bullets which overturn thrones; it is not -only the guillotine that kills kings: bullets and the guillotine are -but passive instruments in the hands of principles. It is the deadly -hatred, it is the undercurrent of rebellion, which, so long as it is -but the expression of the desires of the few, miscarries and spends -its fury; but which, the moment it becomes the expression of general -requirements, swallows up thrones and nations, kings and royal families. - -It is easy to understand how the _Messéniennes_ of Casimir Delavigne, -which appeared in print the same time as these manuscript pamphlets, -seemed pale and colourless. Casimir Delavigne was one of those men who -celebrate in song revolutions that were accomplished facts, but who do -not help revolutions in the making. The Maubreuil trial was the outcome -of the piece of poetry from which I have just quoted these brief -extracts--a most mysterious and ill-omened business, in which names, -if not the most illustrious in Europe, yet at least the best known -at that time, were mixed up with acts of thievery and premeditated -assassination. - -Probably I am the only person in France who now thinks of the -"affaire Maubreuil." Perhaps also I am the only person who has kept a -shorthand account of the sittings of that terrible trial, during which -the horrors of the dungeon and secret torture were employed in the -endeavour to drive a man mad whom they dare not kill outright, to whom -they could not succeed in giving the lie. I made a copy at the time -from a manuscript in a strange and unknown hand, which gave an account -of the sittings. Later, I read the account the illustrious Princess of -Wurtemberg took down in her own writing, first for her husband, Marshal -Jérôme Bonaparte, and then intended to be included in her Memoirs, -which are in the hands of her family, and are still unpublished. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The events of 1814 again--Marmont, Duc de Raguse, Maubreuil and -Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's--The _Journal des Débats_ and the -_Journal de Paris_--Lyrics of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the -Bourbons--End of the Maubreuil affair--Plot against the life of the -Emperor--The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money and jewels - - -Let us now try to clear away the litter left by the events of the -year 1814. When the Almighty prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, -He said to Ezekiel, "I will make thee eat thy bread prepared with -cow-dung" (Ezek. iv. 15). Oh! my God, my God! Thou hast served us more -hardly than Thou didst the prophet, and hast made us eat far worse than -that at times! - -Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, the empress at Blois; a Provisional -Government, occult and unknown, carried on its operations on the ground -floor of a house in the rue Saint-Florentin. Is it necessary that I -should add that the house in the rue Saint-Florentin belonged to M. de -Talleyrand? On 16 March Napoleon had written from Rheims:-- - - "DEAR BROTHER,--In accordance with the verbal - instructions I gave you, and the wishes expressed in all - my letters, you must on no account allow the Empress and - the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy. You - will not have any news from me for several days. If the - enemy advances upon Paris in such force that you decide - any resistance to be useless, send away my son and the - regent, the grand dignitaries, ministers, officers of the - Senate, presidents of the State Council, chief officers - of the Crown, Baron de la Bouillerie and the treasure, - towards the Loire. Do not desert my son, and remember - that I would rather know that he was in the Seine than - that he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of - France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner of the Greeks, has - always seemed to me the unhappiest in history. - - "NAPOLEON" - -This letter was addressed to Joseph. The treasure referred to by -Napoleon was, be it understood, his own private possessions. On 28 -March the departure of the empress was discussed. MM. de Talleyrand, -Boulay (de la Meurthe), the Duc de Cadore and M. de Fermon were of -opinion that the empress should remain. Joseph, with the emperor's -letter in his hand, insisted upon her departure. It was decided -that she should leave on the following day, at nine o'clock in the -morning. Afterwards M. de Talleyrand was blamed for having urged that -Marie-Louise should stay in Paris. A pale and cold smile flitted over -the vast chasm which served the diplomatist for a mouth. - -"I knew that the empress would defy me," he said, "and that, if I -advised her going, she would stay. I urged that she should stay to -further her departure." - -O monseigneur, Bishop of Autun! you put into the mouth of Harel, in -_le Nain Jaune_, the famous epigram, "Speech was given to man to -conceal his thoughts." And, monseigneur, you were eminently capable of -exemplifying the truth of the saying yourself. - -On the morning of 29 March, through the uncurtained windows of the -Tuileries, the empress's women could have been seen in the dubious -light of the growing dawn, by the still more dubious light of lamps -and dying candles, running about, pale with fatigue and fear, after a -whole night spent in preparing for the journey. The departure, as we -have said, was fixed for nine o'clock. At ten o'clock the empress had -not yet left her apartments. She was hoping to the last that a counter -order would arrive either from the emperor or from Joseph. At half-past -ten the King of Rome clung to the curtains of the palais des Tuileries -in tears; for he too, poor child, did not want to go. - -Alas! at a distance of seventeen years between, three children, all -suffering through the mistakes of their fathers, clung in vain to -those same curtains: for sixty years the Tuileries was little more -than a royal hostelry wherein the fleeting dynasties put up in turn. -By a quarter to eleven, the empress, clad like an amazon in brown, -stepped into a carriage with the King of Rome, surrounded by a strong -detachment of the Imperial Guard. On the same day and at the same hour, -the emperor set off from Troyes for Paris with his flying squadrons. -It is well known that the emperor was arrested at Fromenteau, but what -follows is not known, or but imperfectly known. - -When time and occasion serve--_apropos_ of the July Revolution, -probably--we shall revert to one of the men whom fate, for some unknown -reason, branded with a fatal seal. We refer to Marmont. We will show -what he was, rather than what he did: he was superb, during that -retreat, in which he left neither gun nor prisoner in the hands of -the enemy; superb when--like a lion at bay against the walls of the -customhouse at Paris, surrounded by Russians and Prussians, in the -main street of _Belleville_, his right arm still in a sling, after the -battle of Arapiles, holding his sword in his left hand, mutilated at -Leipzig, his clothes riddled with bullets, wedged in between the dead -and the wounded who fell all round him, with only forty grenadiers -behind him--he forced his way to the barrier where he abandoned, -pierced with wounds, the fifth horse that had been killed under him -since the beginning of the campaign! Alas! why did he not cross Paris -from the barrier of Belleville to the barrier of Fontainebleau? Why -did he stop at his house in the rue Paradis-Poissonnière? Why did he -not go to Napoleon, with his coat in shreds and his face blackened -with powder? How determinedly fate seemed to oppose him! How different -would have been the verdict of the future! But we, who are now a part -of that future, and well-nigh disinterested spectators of all those -great events, we who by nature are without private hatreds, and by -position have nothing to do with political animosities, it is for us to -enlighten posterity, for we are poised between the worlds aristocratic -and democratic, the one in its decadence and the other in its -adolescence: it is ours to seek for truth wherever it may be buried, -and to exalt it wherever it may be found. - -And now, having defined our position, let us return to Napoleon and -Marie-Louise. Let us pass over several days and say naught of great -betrayals and shameful dishonour; even so we are not, unhappily, at -the end of these things. From 29 March to 7 April the following events -happened:-- - -On 30 March, Paris capitulated. On the 31st, the Allied armies entered -the capital. On I April, the Senate appointed a Provisional Government. -On the 2nd, the Senate declared Napoleon to have forfeited the throne. -On the 3rd, the Legislative Body confirmed the forfeiture. On the -4th, Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son. On the 5th, Marmont -treated with the enemy. On the 6th, the Senate drew up a scheme for -a constitution. On the 7 th, the troops of the Duc de Raguse rose in -insurrection and refused to obey his orders. Also, Napoleon made his -plans for withdrawing across the Loire. - -It will be seen that the Government of the rue Saint-Florentin had been -quick about its work. The empress remained at Blois, where she learnt -in rapid succession the declaration of dethronement by the Senate, the -emperor's first abdication and the defection of the Duc de Raguse. On -the 7th, she learned in the morning of the recall of the Bourbons. - -Until that moment, as a cloud hid the future from sight, the -self-seekers watching and waiting had not yet ventured to show their -hands in her presence. But at the news of the return of the Bourbons -everyone sought to make his peace with the new power. The same thing -that happened to Napoleon happened to Marie-Louise. It was a race as to -who could most openly and with the greatest speed desert her; it was a -race of ingratitude, it was a steeplechase of treason. - -She had left Paris a week before, the daughter of an emperor, the wife -of an emperor, the mother of a king! Orléans had saluted her, as she -passed through, with the pealing of its bells and the firing of its -artillery. She had a court around her, a treasure in her arms; two -peoples, those of France and Italy, some forty millions of souls, were -her subjects. In a week she lost rank, power, inheritance, kingdom; -in an hour she found herself left alone with a poor deserted child, -and treasure that was speedily taken away from her. God forbid that I -should pity the lot of this woman! But those who betrayed her, those -who deserted her, those who immediately robbed her could not plead the -excuse of an unknown future still hid from them. - -On the 7th, as we have said, the whole court fled. On the morning of -the 8th, the two kings, Jérôme and Joseph, also left. On the evening of -the 8th, General Schouwaloff arrived with orders from the sovereigns -to take her from Blois to Orléans and from Orléans to Rambouillet. -Finally, on the morning of the 9th, this announcement appeared in the -_Moniteur_:-- - - "The Provisional Government having been informed that by - order of the sovereign whose dethronement was solemnly - pronounced on 3 April, considerable funds were taken away - from Paris, during the days which preceded the occupation - of that city by the allied troops: - - It is decreed-- - - "That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, - in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be - deposited immediately in the nearest bank." - -This order was elastic: it did not make any distinction between the -public treasure of the nation and the emperor's private property. -Moreover, they confided the execution of this order to a man whose -hatred for the fallen house would naturally incline him to the most -violent measures. They chose M. Dudon. I am happily too young to be -able to say who this M. Dudon was; I have therefore asked the Duc -de Rovigo, whose accuracy is well known. Here is his reply to my -questions:-- - -"M. Dudon was imprisoned at Vincennes, for having deserted his post, -for having left the army of Spain and, full of cowardly fears himself, -for having communicated them to whomsoever he met." - -Nevertheless, M. Dudon hesitated; he looked about for an intermediary; -he did not dare to put his hand directly upon this wealth, which was so -much needed to pay for past treacheries and defections to come. - -Again, what has M. le Duc de Rovigo to say? Let him be unto us the -bronze mouthpiece of truth: I write under his dictation. - -"An officer of the special police corps, M. Janin de Chambéry, who is -now a general officer, was made use of. He had been charged to escort -the money. This young man, seeing the way to make his fortune, gave -himself up to M. Dudon. He collected his regiment, carried off, with -a very high hand, the coffers which contained the Emperor Napoleon's -treasure (for they had not yet been unloaded) and set off for Paris, -which he reached without striking a blow." - -But even all this did not satisfy them: they had robbed the empress, -they would now kill the emperor. "Only the dead do not return," said -the man who was felicitously styled the "Anacreon of the guillotine." - -So many sayings have been attributed to M. de Talleyrand that we -may well borrow one from Barère for a change. Moreover, it must be -acknowledged that the question what to do with Napoleon, on 31 March, -was a very awkward one. We must not be too angry with the people who -wished to rid themselves of him. Who were these people? Maubreuil -himself shall name them. A conference was being held in the house in -the rue Saint-Florentin. - -"Yes," said the president to someone who had not yet opened his -lips,--"yes, you are right; we must rid ourselves of this man." - -"We must!" cried the other members in concert. - -"Well, then, that is decided: we will get rid of him." - -"Only one other thing is lacking," said one of the members of the -conventicle. - -"What is that?" - -"The principal thing: the man who will deal the blow." - -"I know the man," said a voice. - -"A trustworthy man?" - -"A ruined man, an ambitious man--one who has fallen from a high -position and would do anything for money and a position." - -"What is his name?" - -"Maubreuil." - -This took place on the evening of 31 March. That same day, Marie-Armand -de Guerry, Count de Maubreuil, Marquis d'Orvault, had fastened the -cross of the Legion of Honour, which he had won bravely in Spain, to -his horse's tail, and showed himself thus in the boulevards and on the -place Louis XV. He even did better than this in the place Vendôme. He -tied a rope round the neck of the emperor's statue, and, with a dozen -other worthy men of his kidney, pulled with might and main; then, -seeing that his forces were not strong enough, he attached the rope to -his horse. Even that was not enough. They then asked for a relay of -horses from the Grand-duke Constantin, who refused, saying, "_It is no -business of mine."_ - -Now, who went to seek this relay? Who made himself Maubreuil's -emissary? A very great lord, upon my word, a most excellent name, -renowned in history! True, this most puissant seigneur, the bearer of -this honourable name, had to forget a slight obstacle--namely, that he -owed everything to the emperor. You ask his name. Ah! indeed, search -for it as I have done. Maubreuil had indeed fallen from a high rank, as -his patron Roux-Laborie had said. There! I see I have named his patron, -though I did not mean to name anyone. Never mind! let us continue. - -Maubreuil, who was of an excellent family, had fallen indeed. His -father, who had married, for his second wife, a sister of M. de la -Roche-jaquelein, was killed in the Vendéean Wars, together with thirty -other members of his family. M. Roux-Laborie, then Secretary to the -Provisional Government, answered for Maubreuil. He did more: he said -to M. de Talleyrand, "Come, come! here I am tearing off another mask -without thinking what I am doing; upon my word, so much the worse! -Since that pale face is unmasked, let it remain!" He did much more: -he said to M. de Talleyrand, "I will bring him to you." But M. de -Talleyrand, who was always cautious, exclaimed, "What are you thinking -of, my dear sir? Bring M. de Maubreuil to me! Why so? He must be -conducted to Anglès, he must go to Anglès! You know quite well it is -Anglès who is attending to all this." "Very well, be it so; I will -take him there," replied the Secretary to the Provisional Government. -"When?" "This very evening." "My dear fellow, you are beyond price." -"Take back that word, monseigneur." And Roux-Laborie bowed, went out -and ran to Maubreuil's house. Maubreuil was not at home. - -When Maubreuil was not at home, everyone knew where he was. He was -gaming. What game was it? There are so many gambling hells in Paris! - -Roux-Laborie ran about all night without finding him, returned to -Maubreuil's house and, as Maubreuil had still not returned, he left -word with his servant that he would expect Maubreuil at his house the -next day, 1 April. He waited for him the whole day. Evening came and -still no Maubreuil. - -It is distracting to a man of honour to fail in his word. What would M. -de Talleyrand think of a man who had promised so much and performed so -little? Twice during the day he wrote to Maubreuil: his second note was -as pressing as time was. This is what he said-- - -"Why have you not come? I have expected you all day. You are driving me -to desperation!" - -Maubreuil returned to change his dress at six o'clock that evening. He -found the note: he ran off to Roux-Laborie. - -"What is it?" - -"You can make your fortune." - -"I am your man, then!" - -"Come with me." - -They entered a carriage and went to M. Anglès'. M. Anglès was at the -house in the rue Saint-Florentin. They rushed to the house in the rue -Saint-Florentin; M. Anglès had just gone out. They asked to see the -prince. - -"Impossible! the prince is very busy: he is in the act of betraying. -True, he is betraying in good company,--he is betraying along with the -Senate." The Senate was next day going to declare that the emperor had -forfeited his throne. - -Be it remembered that it was this same Senate--_Sénat -conservateur_--which, on the return from the disastrous Russian -campaign, fifteen months earlier, had said to the emperor-- - -"Sire, the Senate is established for the purpose of preserving the -fourth dynasty; France and posterity will find it faithful to this -_sacred duty_, and every one of its members will be ever ready to -perish in defence of this _palladium_ of the national prosperity." - -We must admit that it was drawn up in very bad French. It is also true -that it was drawn up by very poor specimens of Frenchmen. - -The next day, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie returned. The prince was -no more visible than on the previous evening; the prince was at the -Luxembourg. But it did not matter: they could be introduced into his -cabinet presently, which was occupied at the moment. Besides, perhaps -he might return. "We will wait," said Roux-Laborie. - -And they waited a short while in the green salon,--that green salon -which became so famous, you will remember, in history,--they waited, -reading the papers. The newspapers were very amusing. The _Journal des -Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_ above all vied with each other in -being facetious and witty. - -"To-day," said the old _Journal de l'Empire_, which since the previous -evening had donned a new cassock and now called itself the _Journal des -Débats_,--"to-day _His Majesty_ passed in front of the colonne Vendôme -..." - -Forgive me if I pause a moment: I am anxious that there should not be -any confusion. _His Majesty_! You would imagine that this meant the -Emperor Napoleon, to whom a week before the _Journal de l'Empire_ had -published these beautiful lines:-- - - I - - "'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière! - Disait AJAX, et combats contre nous!' - Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux, - De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière: - Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats; - Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! - Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.' - - II - - Il a parlé, le monarque, le père; - Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix? - Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois, - Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière. - Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats, - Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! - Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de Victoire. - - III - - Napoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle, - Tu veux borner la course de ton char; - Tu nous montras _Alexandre_ et _César;_ - Oui, nous verrons _Trajan_ et _Marc-Aurèle_! - Nous sommes tous _tes enfants, tes soldats_, - Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats, - Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire." - -For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days -before his abdication and a _monarch_ and a _father_ whom one has just -addresssed as _Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius._ -Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; -as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or -rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return -from the isle of Elba. After having been a _monarch,_ a _father, -Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius_, he has become -TEUTATÈS. Ah! what a villainous fall was there! - -Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in -getting over this word _Majesty_ than Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon. - -"To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, -and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded -him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So -philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius." - -Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is -it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus -Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are -like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will -relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked -so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his -tricoloured skin for a white skin and the _Journal de l'Empire_ became -the _Journal des Débats_. It has to be admitted, however, that during -the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin -which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up. - -Now let us pass on to the _Journal de Paris_. "It is a good thing to -know," quoth the _Journal de Paris_, "that Bonaparte's name is not -_Napoleon_, but _Nicolas_." - -Really, Mr. Editor, what an excessively sublime apotheosis you make of -yesterday's poor emperor! Instead of showing base ingratitude, like -your contemporary, you flatter outrageously. Bonaparte did no more -than presume to call himself _Napoléon_,--that is, the _lion of the -desert_,--and here you make him Nicolas, which means _Conqueror of the -peoples_. Ah! my dear Mr. Editor, if your _Journal de Paris_ had been -a literary paper, like the _Journal des Débats_, you would have known -Greek like your _confrère_--that is to say, like an inhabitant, and -you would not have made such blunders. But you did not know Greek. Let -us see if you are better acquainted with French. We will complete the -quotation. - -"It is a good thing to know that Bonaparte's name is not _Napoléon_, -but _Nicolas_; not Bonaparte, but Buonaparte; he cut out the U in order -to connect himself with a distinguished family of that name." - -"You know that the Balzacs of Entraigues make out that you do not -belong to their family," said someone once to M. Honoré de Balzac, the -author of _Père Goriot_ and of _les Parents pauvres._ - -"If I do not belong to their family," retorted M. Honoré de Balzac, "so -much the worse for them!" - -We will return to the _Journal de Paris_, and let it have its say:-- - -"Many people have amused themselves by making different anagrams from -the name of _Buonaparte_ by taking away the U. The following seems to -us to depict that personage the best: NABOT PARÉ."[1] - -What a misfortune, Mr. Editor, that in order to arrive at such a -delightful conclusion you have been obliged to sacrifice your U, like -the tyrant himself! - -Now, as a sequel to the verses in the _Journal des Débats_, we must -quote some lines from the _Journal de Paris_; they only amount to a -single strophe, but it alone, in the eyes of all lovers of poetry, is -fully equal to three. Besides, these lines are of great importance: M. -de Maubreuil actually waxes prophetic in the last line. - - TESTAMENT DE BONAPARTE - - "Je lègue aux enfers mon génie, - Mes exploits aux aventuriers, - A mes partisans l'infamie, - Le grand-livre à mes créanciers, - Aux Français l'horreur de mes crimes, - Mon exemple à tous les tyrans, - La France à ses rois légitimes, - _Et l'hôpital à mes parents_." - -Finally, to conclude our series of quotations, we promised to return -once more to the _Journal des Débats._ There shall be no cause for -complaint: we will return to it twice. We will place a double-columned -account, with its _Doit_ and its _Avoir_, before our readers' eyes. -There was only an interval of fourteen days between the two articles, -as can be seen from the dates. - - -"JOURNAL DES DÉBATS "JOURNAL DE L'EMPIRE - PARIS, 7 _mars_ 1815 PARIS, 21 _mars_ 1815 - (PEAU BLANCHE) (PEAU TRICOLORE) - -DOIT AVOIR - -Buonaparte s'est evade de l'île La famille des Bourbons est partie -d'Elbe, où l'imprudente magnanimité cette nuit; on ignore encore en -des souverains alliés lui avait route qu'elle a prise. Paris offre -donne une souveraineté, pour prix l'aspect _de la sécurité et de la joie_; -de la désolation qu'il avait portée les boulevards sont couverts d'une -dans leurs États. foule immense, impatiente de voir - l'armée et LE HÉROS _qui lui est -Cet homme, qui, en abdiquant le rendu._ Le petit nombre de troupes -pouvoir, n'a jamais abdiqué son qu'on avait eu l'espoir _insensé_ de -ambition et ses fureurs, cet homme, lui opposer s'est rallié _aux aigles_, -_tout couvert du sang des générations,_ et toute la milice française, devenue -vient, au bout d'un an, essayer de nationale, marche sous les drapeaux -disputer, au nom de l'usurpation, la _de la gloire et de la patrie._ SA -légitime autorité du roi de France; MAJESTÉ L'EMPEREUR a traversé -à la tête de quelques centaines deux cents lieues de pays avec la -d'ltaliens et de Polonais, _il ose rapidité de l'éclair, au milieu d'une -mettre le pied sur une terre qui le population _saisie d'admiration_ et de -repoussa pour jamais._ respect, pleine du bonheur présent - et de la certitude du bonheur à -Quelques pratiques ténébreuses, venir. -quelques manœuvres dans l'ltalie, -excitée par son aveugle beau-frère, _Ici, des propriétaires se félicitant -ont enflé l'orgueil du LACHE GUERRIER de la garantie réelle que leur assure -de Fontainebleau. Il s'expose ce retour miraculeux;_ là, des -à mourir de la mort des héros: Dieu hommes bénissant l'evènement inespéré -permettra qu'il meure de la mort qui fixe irrévocablement la -des traîtres. La terre de France liberté des cultes; plus loin, de -l'a rejeté. Il y revient, la terre de braves militaires pleurant de joie de -France le dévorera. revoir leur ancien général; des - plébéiens, convaincus que l'honneur -Ah! toutes les classes le repoussent, et les vertus seront redevenus le -tous les Français le repoussent premier titre de la noblesse, et -avec horreur, et se réfugient dans le qu'on acquerra, dans toutes les -sein d'un roi qui nous a apporté la carrières, la splendeur et la gloire -miséricorde, l'amour et l'oubli du pour les services rendus à la patrie. -passé. - Tel est le tableau qu'offrait cette -Cet _insensé_ ne pouvait donc trouver marche ou plutôt cette course triomphale, -en France de partisans que parmi les dans laquelle L'EMPEREUR n'a trouvé -artisans éternels de troubles et de d'autre ennemi que le _misérables -révolutions. libelles_ qu'on s'est vainement - plu à répandre sur son passage, -Mais nous ne voulons ni de troubles contraste bien étrange avec les -ni de révolutions. Ils désigneront sentiments d'enthousiasme qui -vainement des victimes pour leur éclataient à son approche. Ces sentiments, -TEUTATÈS; un seul cri sera le cri justifiés par la lassitude des -de toute la France: onze mois qui viennent de s'écouler, - ne le sont pas moins par les garanties -MORT AU TYRAN! VIVE LE ROI! que donnent à tous les rangs les - proclamations de SA MAJESTÉ, et -Cet homme, qui débarqua à Fréjus qui sont lues avec une extrême -contre tout espoir, nous semblait avidité. Elles respirent la modération -alors appelé de Dieu pour rétablir qui accompagne aujourd'hui la -en France la monarchie légitime; force, et qui est toujours inséparable -cet homme, entrant par sa _noire de la véritable grandeur. -destinée_, et comme pour mettre le -dernier sceau à la Restauration, _P.S._--Huit heures du soir -revient aujourd'hui pour peser -comme un rebelle sur cette même L'empereur est arrive ce soir au -terre où il fut reçu, il y a quinze palais des Tuileries, _au milieu des -ans, par un peuple abusé, et détrompé plus vives acclamations._ Au moment -depuis par douze ans de où nous écrivons, les rues, les -tyrannie." places, les boulevards, les quais, - sont couverts d'une foule immense, - et les cris de VIVE L'EMPEREUR! - retentissent de toutes parts, depuis - Fontainebleau jusqu'à Paris. Toute - la population des campagnes, ivre - de joie, s'est portée sur la route de - Sa Majesté, que cet empressement - a forcée d'aller au pas." - - -M. de Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie had no need to feel bored with such -entertainment as the above before their eyes! Therefore, although they -were in the green salon nearly an hour, they thought they had hardly -been in it ten minutes when the door of the cabinet of the Prince de -Talleyrand opened. They entered. - -Now do not fancy we are writing a romance: it is history, the record, -not of fair and pleasant events, but of sad and ugly ones. If you -doubt it, consult the report drawn up by MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, deputies of the _procureur impérial_, in the month of June -1815, about this affair, and laid before one of the Chambers of the -Court of First Instance of the Seine. If Napoleon had returned but -to restore unto us this official paper, it would have been almost -sufficient to justify his return. - -M. de Maubreuil was taken inside M. de Talleyrand's study. Roux-Laborie -made him sit down in the prince's own armchair, and said to him-- - -"You are anxious to recover your position, to retrieve your broken -fortunes; it depends upon yourself whether you obtain far more than -even that which you desire." - -"What must I do?" asked Maubreuil. - -"You have courage, resolution: rid us of the emperor. If he were dead, -France, the army, everything would be ours, and you would receive an -income of 200,000 livres; you would be made a duke, lieutenant-general -and governor of a province."[2] - -"I do not quite see how I could accomplish it." - -"Nothing easier." - -"Tell me how." - -"Listen." - -"I am listening." - -"It is not unlikely that there may be a great battle fought near here -in a couple of days. Take a hundred determined men, whom you can clothe -in the uniform of the Guards, mingle with the troops at Fontainebleau, -and it will be quite easy, either before or during or after the battle, -to render us the service I am commissioned to ask of you." - -Maubreuil shook his head. - -"Do you refuse?" asked Roux-Laborie quickly. - -"Not so. I am only thinking that a hundred men would be difficult -to find: luckily one would not need a hundred; a dozen would be -sufficient. I shall perhaps be able to find them in the army, but I -must have power to advance them two or three ranks, and to give them -pecuniary recompense, in proportion to the service they will have to -undertake." - -"You shall have whatever you want. What do ten or a dozen colonels, -more or less, matter to us?" - -"That's all right." - -"You therefore accept?" - -"Probably ... but I ask until to-morrow to think it over." - -And Maubreuil went out, followed by Roux-Laborie, who was very uneasy -because of the delay requested. However, Maubreuil reassured him, -promising to give him a definite answer next day. We can understand -Maubreuil's hesitation: he had been introduced into the prince's study, -he had sat in the prince's chair, but, after all, he had not seen the -prince. Now, when one stakes one's head at another's bidding, one -prefers to see the person who holds the cards. - -Next day they returned to the house. Maubreuil accepted. Roux-Laborie -breathed again. - -"But," added Maubreuil, "on one condition." - -"What is that?" - -"I do not look upon your word alone as sufficient authority. I want -solid security for your promises. I wish to see M. de Talleyrand -himself and to receive my commission from him." - -"But, my dear Maubreuil, can't you see how difficult that would be?..." - -"I can quite see that; but it must be thus or not at all." - -"Then you wish to see M. de Talleyrand?" - -"I wish to see M. de Talleyrand and to receive my orders _direct_ from -him." - -"Oh! oh!" said the lawyer, striking his friend on the chest, "one might -think you were afraid!" - -"I am not afraid, but I wish to see M. de Talleyrand." - -"Very well, so be it," said Roux-Laborie: "you shall see him, and since -you demand his guarantee, you shall be satisfied. Wait a few minutes in -this salon." - -And he went in to M. de Talleyrand. A moment later, he came out. - -"M. de Talleyrand is going out; M. de Talleyrand will make you a sign -with his hand; M. de Talleyrand will smile upon you. Will that satisfy -you?" - -"Hum!" returned Maubreuil; "never mind! we will see." - -M. de Talleyrand passed out, made the prearranged gesture, and smiled -graciously upon Maubreuil. - -It is Maubreuil, be it understood, who relates all this. - -The gesture seduced Maubreuil, the smile carried him away; but -Maubreuil wanted something else--he wanted 200,000 francs. They -hesitated, they chaffered, they had not the money--there were so many -betrayals to pay for! But, thanks to the decree of the 9th, they made -a haul of 13 millions--the private moneys of Napoleon. They did it -conscientiously, not leaving anything to Marie-Louise, either money or -jewellery: she was reduced to the point of being obliged to borrow a -little china and silver from the bishop, with whom she stayed. So they -had 13 millions--without reckoning the 10 millions in bullion deposited -in the cellars of the Tuileries, on which they had already laid violent -hands. This made 23 millions they had already borrowed of Napoleon. -What the deuce did it matter? They were quite justified in taking two -hundred thousand francs from this sum in order to assassinate him! So -they took two hundred thousand francs, and they gave them to Maubreuil. - -Maubreuil rushed off to a gambling-house and lost a hundred thousand -francs that night. Was he going to assassinate Napoleon for a hundred -thousand francs? Not he, indeed!... It was not enough. He had recourse -to M. A----. M. A---- was a man of imagination. An idea came into his -head. - -"The Queen of Westphalia is following in Napoleon's wake ...?" - -"Yes." - -"We may suppose that the Queen of Westphalia carries the crown jewels -with her?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then, seize what she has and you will have a good catch." - -"Yes, but I want authority to do that." - -"Authority? What do you mean?" - -"A written order." - -"Signed by whom?" - -"Signed by you." - -"Oh, if that is all, here goes!" - -And M. A---- took a pen and signed the following order. - -"Pardon me, you say, who is M. A----?" - -Good gracious! you have but to read, the signature is at the foot of -the order:-- - - "OFFICE OF THE POLICE - - "It is ordered that all officials under orders of the - police générale of France, prefects, superintendents and - officers, of whatsoever grade, _shall obey the commands_ - that M. de Maubreuil shall give them; _they shall carry - out his orders and fulfil his wishes without a moments - delay_, M. de Maubreuil _being charged with a secret - mission of the highest importance._ - - "ANGLÈS" - -This was not enough. Maubreuil wanted another order, a similar one, -signed by the Minister of War: he had settled with the civil power, it -remained to put himself right with the military. He went to look up -the Minister of War. He obtained a similar order to the one we have -just given. The Minister of War was General Dupont. There are some very -ill-fated signatures! On 22 July 1808 this signature was at the foot of -the capitulation treaty of Baylen. On 16 April 1814 it was at the foot -of Maubreuil's commission! The one handed over to the enemy, without -striking a blow, the liberty of fourteen thousand men; the other gave -up the life and the gold of a queen to a thief and an assassin! - -In the face of such _errors_ one is proud to be able to boast that one -has never put one's name save in the forefront of a play, be it good or -bad, save at the end of a book, be it bad or good! - -Besides these two orders, Maubreuil possessed himself of three others -in the same terms: one from Bourrienne, Provisional Director of the -Posting Arrangements ... de Bourrienne, do you understand?--But this -was not the Bourrienne who was the emperor's secretary?... Excuse -me, even the same ... where would have been the infamy of the thing, -had it not been so? He placed the posts at the disposition of M. de -Maubreuil: one from General Sacken, Governor of Paris; one from General -Brokenhausen. Thanks to these two last orders, Maubreuil, who had the -police already at his disposal through Anglès' order, the army through -Dupont's, the posts through Bourrienne's, got possession also of the -allied troops under command of the Russian and Prussian generals. - -True, on 3 April, the day following that on which the _Journal des -Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_ issued those clever articles with -which the reader is already acquainted, two charming verses, which we -propose to bring before your notice, were sung at the Opera, by Laïs, -to the tune of _Vive Henri IV.,_ national air though it was:-- - - Vive Alexandre! - Vive ce roi des rois! - Sans rien prétendre, - Sans nous dicter des lois, - Ce prince auguste - A le triple renom, - De héros, de juste, - De nous rendre un Bourbon. - - Vive Guillaume! - Et ses guerriers vaillants! - De ce royaume, - Il sauva les enfants; - Par sa victoire, - Il nous donne la paix, - Et compte sa gloire - Par ses nombreux bienfaits. - -Really, it gives one a certain amount of pleasure to see that these -lines are almost as poor as the prose of the _Journal des Débats_ and -of the _Journal de Paris_! - -So Maubreuil had his five orders all correct, in his pocket. Armed with -these, he could act, not against Napoleon direct,--that was too risky -a business,--but against the Queen of Westphalia. And, on the whole, -was it not a good stroke of business to have made them pay the price of -assassinating Napoleon, and then not to assassinate him? - -This is what Maubreuil proposed to do. First of all, he allied himself -with a person called d'Asies, who, in virtue of his plenary powers, he -appointed _Commissioner Royal._ Next, he put himself on the watch at -the corner of the rue du Mont-Blanc and the rue Saint-Lazare. The Queen -of Westphalia was lodging at Cardinal Fesch's house. Her departure -was fixed for the 18th. The orders were signed on the 16th and 17th. -Maubreuil was well informed of the Princess Catherine de Wurtemberg's -movements. On the 18th, at three o'clock in the morning, the ex-Queen -of Westphalia entered her coach and started off _en route_ for Orléans. -Princess Catherine was cousin of the Emperor of Russia, and travelled -with a passport signed by him and by the Emperor of Austria. Two great -names, were they not? Alexander and Francis! Maubreuil had gone on in -advance. He learnt from the post-master at Pithiviers (now you see -how useful was M. de Bourrienne's authorisation) that the princess -would take the road which ran by the Bourgogne. Then he hid himself at -Fossard, the posting-house a half-league from Montereau. There was not -the slightest danger that Maubreuil would make any mistake, he knew the -princess too well for that--he had been her equerry. On the 21 st, at -seven o'clock in the morning, the princess's carriage came into sight -on the road. Maubreuil rushed out, at the head of a dozen cavaliers, -stopped the carriage, obliged the ex-queen to enter a kind of stable, -into which all her luggage was removed, piecemeal. There were eleven -boxes, and cases: Maubreuil demanded the keys of them. The princess -had no means of resistance: she gave him them without appearing to -recognise him in any way, without deigning to address a word to him. -Maubreuil saw this, but took no notice: he sat down quietly to his -breakfast, with d'Asies, in a room on the ground floor of the inn, -waiting for a detachment of troops which, taking advantage of his -powers, he had requisitioned from Fontainebleau. - -Let us, however, be just to Maubreuil. As the weather was bad, as it -rained, as it was very cold, he invited his past sovereign to come -into the inn; but as she would have been compelled to share the same -room with him, she preferred to remain in the courtyard. A woman who -had compassion on her fellow-woman brought her a chair, and she sat -down. Maubreuil finished his breakfast, and a lieutenant arrived from -Montereau, with a dozen men, Mamelukes and infantry. Some sort of -explanation had to be given to this officer and to these soldiers; -callous though Maubreuil was, it was not to be supposed that he would -say, "You see me for what I am--a robber." - -No, it was Princess Catherine who was a thief. Princess Catherine -had been stopped by Maubreuil because she was carrying off the crown -jewels. Four sentries were posted to prevent any travellers coming -near--unless such travellers came in a carriage; in which case, willy -nilly, the carriage must be requisitioned. Some merchants came from -Sens leading a stage-waggon. The stage-waggon and the two horses -harnessed thereto were confiscated by Maubreuil. They loaded this -stage-waggon with the princess's trunks. Only then did she deign to -address a word to Maubreuil, who had been apologising to her for _his -mission._ - -"For shame, monsieur!" she said; "when a man has shared bread with -another, he should not undertake such a mission to their detriment.... -You are doing an abominable act!" - -"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I am but the commander of the armed -force. Speak to the commissioner: I will do whatever he orders." - -The commissioner, as we know, was d'Asies. It was a case of Robert -Macaire and Bertrand. But the poor princess did not know this, and took -d'Asies for a real commissioner. - -"Monsieur," she said, "you are robbing me of all I possess. The king -has never given any such orders.... I swear to you, on my honour and -by my faith as a queen, I have nothing that belongs to the Crown of -France." - -D'Asies drew himself up. - -"Do you take us for thieves, madame?" he said. "Let me tell you that we -are acting as ordered. All those boxes must be taken." - -As he said that, d'Asies caught sight of a small square box tied round -with tape. He put his hand under it. The little case was very heavy. - -"So ho!" he said. - -"That little chest, monsieur," said the princess, "contains my gold." - -D'Asies and Maubreuil exchanged glances which said as well as words -could say, "Your gold, princess; that is exactly what we are looking -for." - -They withdrew and made a pretence of deliberating. Then, after this -cogitation, they came up, and gave orders to the commander of the -Mamelukes to take this box away with the others. The princess still -disbelieved her eyes and ears. - -"But," she cried, "you cannot possibly be taking my private jewels and -money! You will leave me and my suite stranded on the highway!" - -Then her courage failed this noble creature, the daughter of a king, -the wife of a king, the cousin of an emperor. Tears came into her eyes: -she asked to be allowed to speak to Maubreuil. Maubreuil came to her. - -"What is to become of me, monsieur?" she said. "At least give me back -this money: I need it to continue my journey." - -"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I do but carry out the orders of the -Government: I must give up your luggage in Paris intact. I can only -give you the hundred napoleons in my own purse." - -Acting upon the Count de Furstenstein's advice, the princess accepted -this offer, thinking it a last token of devotion from a man who had -been in her service. Besides, she thought he would give her leave -to return to Paris, where she would regain possession of her money. -But this was not to be: they made her re-enter her carriage, and the -princess continued her journey to Villeneuve-la-Guyare, under the -escort of two soldiers, while her boxes, her gold, her jewels, piled on -the post-waggon, were sent back to Paris. Had the princess resisted, -the two infantry men were ordered to use violence in compelling her to -continue her journey. She then asked at least to be allowed to send one -of her own servants along with her boxes, as escort. But as the demand -was considered outrageous, it was refused. - -So the princess's carriage went forward to Villeneuve-la-Guyare. -Maubreuil's and d'Asies' consciences were quite easy:--had not the -princess a hundred napoleons wherewith to provide her needs? At the -next post-house Maubreuil's purse was opened to pay. They found it -contained only forty-four napoleons. They left the purse and the -forty-four napoleons there and then in the hands of the justice of the -peace at Pont-sur-Yonne. When Maubreuil left Fossard, he forbade the -post-master to supply horses to anyone before three o'clock. - -So far so good. Now they could give their attention to the second part -of their mission--the least important to Maubreuil--that of killing the -emperor. - -It was the 21st of April. On the 19th, the emperor, deserted by -everyone, was alone save for a single valet. It was an opportune -moment: unluckily, they let it slip. They were lying in wait for the -princess in the rue Saint-Lazare; they could not be everywhere at the -same time. On the 20th, the day after, the emperor bade farewell to his -Guards. It was not in the midst of that pack of brigands that he could -be attacked. On the 21 st, as we have seen, they were busily engaged. -And it was just at that moment that the emperor left for Fontainebleau, -with the commissioners of the four Powers. - -Bah! even if they had not killed the emperor, what mattered it? Since -they had robbed the Queen of Westphalia, and taken her gold and her -jewels, it was just as good. The emperor was not killed. - -They returned to Paris, where they spent the night in gambling, losing -part of the princess's eighty-four thousand francs. The little chest -had contained eighty-four thousand francs in gold. Next day, Maubreuil -presented himself at M. Anglès'. He was in despair--first at having -lost part of his gold, then for having missed Napoleon. M. Anglès was -not in despair: he was furious--furious because the Emperor Alexander -knew everything, and the Emperor Alexander was furious. The Emperor -Alexander swore that he would avenge his cousin. - -The _Journal de Paris_ did not know that _Nicolas_ means _Conqueror of -peoples_; but M. Anglès, Minister of the Police, knew well enough that -Alexander spells he _who grinds men down._ M. Anglès had no wish to be -ground down. He therefore advised Maubreuil to fly. - -"Fly!" said Maubreuil. "What of the police?" - -"Bah! Am I not responsible for them?" - -This assurance did not in the least set Maubreuil's mind at ease. -He rushed off to the house of M. de Talleyrand: M. de Talleyrand -slammed the door in his face. Is it likely that M. de Talleyrand would -recognise a highway robber? Nonsense! - -Maubreuil fled. He had not got three leagues before he was apprehended -(_empoigné_, as they called it under the Restoration), and thrown -into a dungeon, from which he was released on the emperor's return -and to which he returned on the accession of Louis XVIII. After two -fresh releases and two fresh arrests, Maubreuil, who never believed -they would dare to try him, appeared at length before the Royal Court -of Douai, the Chamber of the Court of Appeal. The affair created a -tremendous scandal, as can very well be imagined. M. de Talleyrand -denied, M. Anglès denied, Roux-Laborie denied; everybody denied, -except Maubreuil. Maubreuil not only confessed the whole thing, but, -from being the accused, he turned accuser. Of course the papers were -expressly forbidden to report the proceedings. But Maître Mennesson -had a friend who was present at the trial. This friend, no doubt a -shorthand writer, took down, transcribed, verified and forwarded him -his report. I made two or three copies of this account and distributed -them by order of our zealous, faithful and loyal Republican notary. And -I kept a copy of the proceedings myself. I do not know that this report -has appeared in any history. It is a curiosity, and I give it here. - - -[1] A dressed-up dwarf. - -[2] When one writes of such matters as these, two authorities are -better than one. Besides the report of MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, see Vaulabelle's _Histoire des deux Restaurations_, vol. ii. -p. 15. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction of the jewels of -the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de Maubreuil--Chamber of the Court -of Appeal--The sitting of 17 April, 1817 - - -Enter the Sieur de Maubreuil. Placed at the prisoner's bar, he looked -fixedly at M. de Vatimesnil, the king's counsel, and spoke to him as -follows:-- - -"_M. le procureur du roi_," he said, "you have called me an -appropriator of treasure, it is false. I have never been an -appropriator of treasure. The journalists have made use of your last -speech to spread an odious interpretation on my trial; but I am above -their reproaches." - -They endeavoured to silence the Sieur de Maubreuil, but he went on with -renewed pertinacity:-- - -"I appeal to all Frenchmen here present, I place my honour in your safe -keeping. To-morrow I may be poisoned or assassinated." - -The warders laid hands on M. de Maubreuil; but he shook himself free of -them, and went on:-- - -"Yes, I quite expect it. They may shoot me in my cell; the police may -carry me off and make away with me, as happened to my cousin, M. de -Brosse, who, in the month of February, presented a petition to the -Chamber in my favour; but I place my honour in the custody of the -Frenchmen who are here present. Hear what I have to say to you." - -Here the prisoner raised his voice. - -"I accepted the commission to murder the emperor, but I accepted it -only in order to save him and his family. Yes, my countrymen, I am not -a miserable thief, as they are trying to make out. Frenchmen! I call -you all to my aid. No, I am not a thief! No, lam not an assassin! On -the contrary, I accepted a commission to save Napoleon and his family. -It is true that, during the first outburst of my royalist enthusiasm, -I did, along with several other people, attach a rope to the neck of -Napoleon's statue, on the 31st of March, to pull it down from its -pedestal in the place Vendôme; but I here acknowledge publicly that I -served a thankless cause. Though I did insult Napoleon's statue, I have -done good to him in the flesh. No, I am not an assassin! Frenchmen, my -honour is in your hands. You will not be deaf to my entreaties." - -Again they tried to stop M. de Maubreuil's mouth, but the harder they -tried to silence him the louder he spoke. - -"I accepted," he continued, "a commission to save Napoleon, his son -and his family; I admit that, bribed, deluded and entangled by the -Provisional Government to do it, I was foolish enough to tie the cross -of the Legion of Honour to my horse's tail; I bitterly repent of doing -so. I have donned that cross of heroes again now: see, here it is on my -breast; I won it in Spain in fair fight." - -Here the Sieur de Maubreuil succumbed to the efforts they made to drown -his voice. The whole time he had been speaking, the president and the -judges had been fruitlessly endeavouring to enforce silence. In vain -did the president shout, "Warders, take him away, take him away! Do -your duty, warders!" Maubreuil writhed, clutching hold of the bar, and, -nearly strangled by the warders, he still went on:-- - -"_M. le président_, my respect for you is unbounded, but your acts and -words are useless: they wished to assassinate the emperor, and I only -accepted the commission which has brought me here in order to save him." - -There was a tremendous noise, an uproar and shouts among the audience. -Many Vendéens were present, relatives and friends of the prisoner, who -was related to the family of la Roche-jaquelein. Before the prisoner -was brought in, these had tried to influence public opinion in his -favour, by talking of the mystery which enshrouded his mission, and -by pointing out his unblemished devotion to the royal cause. Picture -to yourself, then, their dismay when they saw the line of defence -he adopted; their confusion when they heard their client speak so -diametrically opposite to their expectations; their astonishment -when they heard the name of Napoleon pronounced with respect by the -prisoner, at a time when the conqueror of the Pyramids and of Marengo -was only spoken of as Buonaparte; at the title of Emperor given to a -man whom King Louis XVIII., dating the beginning of his reign from -1795, declared never to have reigned! - -Me. Couture, M. de Maubreuil's counsel, was then allowed to speak. -We will not report his speech, which was very long. He pleaded more -on a legal technicality than on the matter of the charge. He spoke -in the first instance of the injustice of Maubreuil being the only -one arraigned, while d'Asies, Cotteville, and others who had acted -in concert with him, were in full enjoyment of their liberty. He -added that the trunks having been deposited without verification at -M. de Vanteaux's, it could not be established who had abstracted the -eighty-four thousand francs in gold. He referred to the marvellous -manner in which some of the jewels that had been thrown by an unknown -hand into the Seine had been recovered by a man named Huet, an -ex-employé of the police, who, when fishing, had drawn up two diamond -combs caught in his hooked line. Me. Couture went on to assert that -the prisoner, to whom a mission of the gravest importance had been -entrusted, ought not to be tried by an ordinary Court, and to prove his -point, Me. Couture read the five different orders which had authorised -M. de Maubreuil to call into requisition all the officials of the -kingdom. The tenor of these orders was as follows:-- - -The first, signed by General Dupont, War Minister, authorised M. de -Maubreuil to make use of the army, which was to obey all his demands, -and commanded the authorities to furnish him with all the troops -he might require, as he was charged with a mission of the highest -importance. The second, signed by Anglès, Minister of Police, ordered -all the police force throughout the kingdom of France to lend -assistance to M. de Maubreuil to the same end. The third, signed by -Bourrienne, Director-General of the Posts, ordered all post-masters -to supply him with whatever horses he should require, and to consider -themselves personally responsible for the least delay they might -occasion him. The fourth, signed by General Sacken, Governor of Paris, -enjoined the Allied troops to assist M. de Maubreuil. Finally, the -fifth, which was in Russian, was addressed to those officers who did -not understand French and who could not therefore have obeyed the -preceding orders. From these documents Me. Couture argued that the -king's council alone must have had cognisance of M. de Maubreuil's -mission, and alone ought to decide the case. - -After having replied to Me. Couture's pleading, the king's procurator -set forth his reasons for regarding the _tribunal correctionnel_ as -incompetent in the present case, since the charges brought against the -Sieur de Maubreuil constituted a crime, and were not those of a simple -misdemeanour; that it was a question of a robbery under arms committed -on the highway, and not merely a case of breach of confidence. For it -was vain, he said, to try to allege the unlimited power with which the -prisoner was vested; no power could authorise a citizen to run counter -to existing laws; for if such a contention could be maintained it could -be pursued to its logical conclusion and, in that case, it might be -excusable to commit a murder or burn down a village. "As a matter of -fact," continued M. de Vatimesnil, "we are advised that Maubreuil, -acting as a Government agent, was endowed on that very count with a far -graver responsibility, and the law ought to be set in force against him -with the greater severity. No mission could excuse a man for having -ill-treated a person travelling on the highways with a passport, and -his crime assumed still graver proportions when that person happened to -be an august princess, sprung from an illustrious house, allied to all -the crowned heads of Europe, and travelling under the protection of a -passport from her illustrious cousin, the Emperor of Russia, a princess -who was entitled to double respect, both from her rank and because of -the reverses of fortune she had recently experienced." "And," exclaimed -the king's counsel, "with what indignation ought we to be seized, -when we hear the accused uttering such libellous fables to avoid the -course of justice! Who are those Frenchmen he addresses, whom he -invokes to his aid? What faith could be put in such an unlikely story, -as that he had received a mission against a person travelling under -the safeguard of the most solemn treaties, signed by all the allied -sovereigns? and if he did accept such a mission, was it not doubly mean -to have accepted money for carrying it out, and then to have deceived -those whom he pretended had given it him? Should he not be regarded -henceforth as one of those hateful creatures known of all men, who, -under pressure of an accusation, hatches conspiracies, and denounces -unknown fellow-citizens, to the sole end of arresting or diverting -justice?" - -The Sieur de Maubreuil had listened to all this tirade with fiery -impatience, and his solicitor had only been able to pacify him -by allowing him the pen and paper which he demanded. When M. de -Vatimesnil's speech was over, Maubreuil passed what he had just written -to the president, then rose and said:--"_M. le président_, as a man -who expects to be assassinated at any moment, I place this political -deposition in your hands. Frenchmen, it is my honour I am bequeathing -to all you who are here present. As a man on the brink of appearing -before God, I swear that it was M. de Talleyrand who, by means of M. -Laborie, sent me; that the prince forced me to sit down in his own -arm-chair; that he offered me two hundred thousand livres income and -the title of duke, if I accomplished my mission satisfactorily;[1] -furthermore, the Emperor Alexander offered me his own horses; but, I -repeat, if I accepted the mission I am blamed for, it was to save the -emperor and his family." - -Here they again compelled Maubreuil to stop speaking, and the warders, -taking hold of him by his shoulders, forced him down into his seat. - -Then his lawyer, Me. Couture, rose, addressed the king's counsel once -more, and begged for pity's sake that no notice should be taken of his -client's mad words. - -"Alas!" he cried, "the man whom you see before you, monsieur, is no -longer M. de Maubreuil, but only the remains, the shade of M. de -Maubreuil. A detention of _three years,_ three hundred and ninety days -of which has been spent in solitary confinement without communication -with a soul, _without even seeing his own counsel_, has deranged his -reason. He is now nothing but the ruins of a man. For the love of -humanity, do not take account of a speech which can only tell against -him!" The judges, greatly embarrassed by what they had just heard, -although their business was but to decide on the simple question of the -competence or incompetence of their tribunal, deferred sentence until -the following Tuesday, 22 April. - -Probably the delay was arranged, so those in court thought, in order to -receive instructions from the château, and to act in accordance with -those instructions. - -THE SITTING OF 22 APRIL - -Maubreuil was led in. He had scarcely entered the prisoner's dock -before he violently pushed away the guard and cried out, "You have no -right to maltreat me like this, warders; you have made me suffer quite -enough the three years I have been in prison. It is a dastardly wicked -thing! We are here before justice and not before the police! Let me -rather be shot immediately than delivered over longer to the tortures -of which I have been the victim for three years! No, never was greater -cruelty exercised in the Prussian fortresses, in the dungeons of the -Inquisition under the foundations of Venice! I am cut off from the -world; my complaints are hushed up; my lawyer is forbidden to print and -distribute my defence. I here express before all, my gratitude for his -zeal and his devotion; but I am in despair that he has not based his -defence on the information I have given him: he has not dared to do so." - -Here silence was again imposed on the prisoner. The president then read -the sentence, pronouncing that the _tribunal de police correctionnelle_ -declared its incompetence, and sent the prisoner to the assizes, on the -ground that if the facts which had been laid bare were proved, they -constituted a crime, and not a simple misdemeanour. - -When the prisoner heard the sentence of incompetence to deal with the -case pronounced he sighed deeply, and his face, changed by a long -captivity, expressed dejection and despair. But he rallied his strength -and cried-- - -"The blood of twenty-nine of my relations was shed for the Bourbons in -Vendée and at Quiberon! I too am to be sacrificed to them in my turn! -They wish to destroy me, my groans are to be stifled. I am to be made -out a madman! It is a diabolical plot! No, I am not mad; no, I was -not mad when my services were required by them! Frenchmen, I repeat -to you what I told you at the last sitting: they asked me to take -the life of Napoleon! Write to Vienna, to Munich, to St. Petersburg. -Yes, yes,"--pushing away the warders, who sought to impose silence -upon him,--"yes, they demanded of me the blood of Napoleon.... _M. le -président_, they have handled me with violence! _M. le président_, they -will maltreat me! _M. le président_, they will put my feet in irons! -But, come what may, to the last moment I will proclaim it: they asked -me to take Napoleon's life! the Bourbons are assassins!..." - -These last words were pronounced by the accused as he struggled with -the police, while they led him away by force. - -Here the shorthand report concludes: I have not altered a word of the -statement, a certified copy of which is under my eyes. - -On the 18th of the following December, Maubreuil was arraigned to -appear before the Court of Assizes at Douai, and succeeded in escaping -before the trial. On 6 May 1818, judgment was issued, condemning him -to five years' imprisonment by default and to pay five hundred francs -fine, for being a dishonest trustee. - -Maubreuil, having taken refuge in England, returned on purpose to deal -M. de Talleyrand the terrible blow which struck him down, on the steps -of the church of Saint-Denis, during the funeral procession of Louis -XVIII. - -"Oh! what a cuff!" exclaimed the prince, as he picked himself up. - -How can people deny M. de Talleyrand's presence of mind after that! M. -Dupin could not have done better. - -This obscure, strange, mysterious Maubreuil affair did the Bourbons -of the Restoration the greatest possible harm. To the Count d'Artois -and M. de Talleyrand it was what the affair of the necklace was to -Marie-Antoinette and the Cardinal de Rohan--that is to say, one of -those hidden springs from which revolutions derive power for the -future; one of those weapons the more dangerous and terrible and deadly -for being dipped so long in the poison of calumny. - - -[1] We see by this that, according to Maubreuil, it was M. de -Talleyrand himself with whom he had had to deal. We have not wished to -endorse the accusation blindly and, in our account, we have accepted -the intermediate agency of Roux-Laborie. - - - - -BOOK II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The last shot of Waterloo--Temper of the provinces in 1817, 1818 -and 1819--The _Messéniennes_--The _Vêpres siciliennes--Louis -IX._--Appreciation of these two tragedies--A phrase of Terence--My -claim to a similar sentiment--Three o'clock in the morning--The course -of love-making--_Valeat res ludrica_ - - -I am not sure who said--perhaps I said it myself--that the Revolution -of 1830 was the last shot of Waterloo. It is very true. Setting aside -those whose family interest, position or fortune attached them to the -Bourbon dynasty, it is impossible to conceive any idea of the ever -growing feeling of opposition which spread throughout the provinces; it -got to such a pitch that, without knowing why, in spite of every reason -that my mother and I had to curse Napoleon, we hated the Bourbons far -more, though they had never done anything to us, or had even done us -good rather than harm. - -Everything tended to the unpopularity of the reigning house: the -invasion of French territory by the enemy; the disgraceful treaties -of 1815; the three years' occupation which had followed the second -restoration of the Bourbons; the reactionary movements in the South; -the assassination of Ramel at Toulouse, and the Brune assassination at -Avignon; Murat, who was always popular, in spite of his stupidity and -his treachery, shot at Pizzo: the proscriptions of 1816; defections, -disgraceful deeds, shameful bargains, came to light daily; the verses -of Émile Debraux, the songs of Béranger, the _Messéniennes_ of Casimir -Delavigne and the _tabatières à la charte_, the Voltaire-Touquets and -Rousseaus of all kinds, unpublished rhymes of the type I have quoted; -anecdotes, true or false, attributed to the Duc de Berry, in which the -ancient glories of the Empire were always sacrificed to some youthful -aristocratic ambition; all, down to the king with his black gaiters, -his blue coat with gilt buttons, his general's epaulettes and the -little tail of his wig,--all tended, I say, to depreciate the ruling -power--or rather, worse still, to make it absurd. - -_Vêpres siciliennes_ was played at the Odéon on 23 November 1819 -with overwhelming success. It would be difficult to explain why, -to anyone who has read the piece dispassionately. Why did a crowd -wait outside the doors of the Odéon from three o'clock? Why was that -splendid building crowded to suffocation, instead of there being, as -usual, plenty of room for everyone? Just to hear four lines thought to -contain an allusion to the political encroachments in which the king's -favourite minister was said to indulge. These are the four lines. They -seemed innocent enough on the face of them:-- - - "De quel droit un ministre, avec impunity, - Ose-t-il attenter à notre liberté? - Se reposant sur vous des droits du diadème, - Le roi vous a-t-il fait plus roi qu'il n'est lui-même?" - -All the same, these four lines roused thunders of applause and rounds -of cheering. And then one heard on every side the concert of admiration -which all the Liberal papers sounded in praise of the patriotic young -poet. The whole party petted him, praised him, exalted him. - -Some time after the _Vêpres siciliennes_ had been played at the Odéon, -the Théâtre-Français, on 5 November 1819, put _Louis IX._ on the stage. -This was the Royalist reply which the leading theatre gave to the -Nationalist tragedy at the Odéon. - -At that period Ancelot and Casimir Delavigne were about equally -celebrated and, in the eyes of impartial critics, _Louis IX._ was as -good as _Vêpres siciliennes._ But all the popularity, all the applause, -all the triumph went to the Liberal poet. It was as though the nation -were breathing again, after its suspension of animation from '93 -onward, as though it were urging the public spirit to take the path of -liberty. - -I recollect that because of the noise these two controversial plays -made throughout the whole of the literary world, I, who was just -beginning to feel the first breath of poetry stir within me, was -anxious to read them. I wrote to de Leuven, who sent me both the -Liberal and the Royalist work. The Liberal work was the most praised, -and, with that in my hand, I ran to announce to our young friends, -Adèle, Albine and Louise, the good fortune which had befallen us -from Paris. It was decided that the same evening we should read the -masterpiece aloud, and, as I was the owner of the work, I was naturally -promoted to the office of reader. - -Alas! we were but simple children, without knowledge of either side of -the case, artless young folk, who wanted to amuse ourselves by clapping -our hands and to be stirred to the heart by admiration. We were greatly -surprised at the end of the first act, more surprised still by the end -of the second, that so much fuss and noise should have been aroused -by, and so much praise bestowed upon, a work, estimable, no doubt, -in its way, but one which did not cause a single thrill of sentiment -or passion, or rouse an echoing memory. We did not yet understand -that a political passion is the most prejudiced of all passions, and -that it vibrates to the innermost feeling of a disturbed country. Our -reading was interrupted at the second act, and the tragedy of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ was never finished, at any rate as a joint reading. Our -audience had naïvely confessed that Montfort, Lorédan and Procida bored -them to death, and that they much preferred Tom Thumb, Puss in Boots -and other fairy tales of like nature. But this attempt did not satisfy -me. When I went home to my mother, I read not only the whole of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ but also _Louis IX._ - -Well, it is with feelings of great satisfaction that I date from -that time the impartial appreciation for contemporary works which -I possess--an appreciation borrowed far more from my feelings than -from my judgment; an appreciation which neither political opinion nor -literary hatred has ever been able to influence: my critical faculty, -when considering the work of my _confrères,_ asks not whether it be the -work of a friend or of an enemy, whether of one intimately known to -me or of a stranger. However, I need hardly say that neither _Vêpres -siciliennes_ nor _Louis IX._ belong to that order of literature which I -was to be called upon later to feel and to understand, whose beauties -I endeavoured to reproduce. I remained perfectly unmoved by these two -tragedies, although I slightly preferred _Louis IX._ I have never read -them again since, and probably I shall never re-read them; but I feel -convinced that if I were to re-read them, my opinion upon them would -be just the same to-day that' it was then. What a difference there was -between the tame and monotonous feeling I then experienced and the -glowing emotion _Hamlet_ roused in me, though it was the curtailed, -bloodless, nerveless _Hamlet_ of Ducis! I had an innate instinct for -truth and hatred of conventional standards; Terence's line has always -seemed to me one of the finest lines ever written: "I am a man, and -nothing that is human is alien unto me." And I was fast laying claim to -my share in that line. I was growing more manly every day; my mother -was the only person who continued to look upon me as though I were -still a child. She was therefore greatly astonished when one evening -I did not return at my usual time of coming home--and when at last I -did come in, towards three in the morning, my heart leaping joyfully, -I slipped into my room, which for the last three months I had obtained -leave to have to myself, apart from my mother, foreseeing what was -going to take place. I found my mother in tears, seated by my window, -where she had been watching for my return, ready to give me the lecture -such a late, or rather, early, return deserved! - -After more than a year of attentions, signs, loving-making, little -favours granted, refused, snatched by force, the inexorable door which -shut me out at eleven o'clock would be softly reopened at half-past -eleven, and behind that door I found two trembling lips, two caressing -arms, a heart beating against my heart, burning sighs and lingering -tears. Adèle too had managed to get a room to herself, apart from her -mother, just as I had. This room was better than an ordinary room: it -was a tiny summer-house which projected into a long garden enclosed -only by hedges. A passage between the room occupied by her brother and -the room occupied by her mother led to the garden, and consequently -to the summer-house, which was only separated from the passage by a -staircase leading to the first storey. It was the door of this passage, -opening on one side into the street, and on the other, as I have said, -into the garden, which was reopened to me at half-past eleven at night -and was not closed behind me until three in the morning, on that night -when my mother stood anxiously waiting, all in tears, at the window of -my room, just ready to go and seek for me in the six hundred houses -of the town. But what plagued my mother still more was--as I quickly -discovered--that though she had not the least doubt as to the reason -for my misconduct, she could not guess who was the young lady at the -bottom of it. She had not seen me come back the way she had expected. -The reason for that was simple enough. The little girl who had given -her heart to me, after more than a year's struggle, was so pure, so -innocent, so modest, that although my love and pride were ready to -reveal everything, my conscience told me that honour and every fine -feeling I had demanded that the secret be kept with the utmost care. -Therefore, so that no one should see me at such an hour, either in the -neighbourhood of her house, or in the street leading to it, when at -three in the morning I came out of the blest passage that had served -me in good stead, I made my exit by a little by-street, and gained -the fields. From the fields I entered the park, leaping a ditch like -the one over which I had given proofs of my agility to Mademoiselle -Laurence, under such different circumstances, at Whitsuntide. Finally, -from the park I reached what was called with us the "_manège_," and I -re-entered the town by the rue du Château. It so happened, therefore, -that my mother, who was watching in an entirely opposite direction, -did not see me return, and, not guessing the ruse I had made use of -to foil the cruel and ready slander little towns are so prone to set -going, should matters so turn out, she puzzled her wits in despair to -know where I had come from. My mother's ignorance and the suspicions -that grew up in her mind later in connection with another girl had a -sufficiently serious influence upon my future life for me to dwell on -the subject for a moment: these details are not so trivial as they -may appear at first sight. Is it not the case that some minds regard -everything as trivial, whilst others (and I am much inclined to think -that these latter, without wishing to speak evil of the former class of -people, are the true thinkers and the true philosophers), who try to -follow the thread Providence holds in His hands, with which He guides -men from birth to death, from the unknown to the unknown, look upon -every detail as of importance, because the slightest has its part in -the great mass of details which we call life? Well, I was well scolded -by my mother, who did not scold me long, - -I however, for I kissed her the whole time she scolded me; besides, -her uneasiness was somewhat allayed, and with the eye of a mother -and perhaps even more with the insight of a woman, which sees to the -very heart of things, she saw I was profoundly happy. Joy is as much -a mystery as sorrow; excessive joy approaches so nearly the border of -pain, that, like suffering, it too has its measure of tears. My mother -left me to go to bed, not because she was tired out, poor mother! but -because she felt I wanted to be alone with myself, with my recent -memories, which I clasped as closely to my throbbing heart as one holds -to one's breast a young nestling which is trying to fly away. - -Oh! but Maître Mennesson's office was deserted that day! How beautiful -the park looked to me! The tall trees with their whispering leaves, -the birds singing above my head, and the frightened roebuck on the -skyline--all seemed to make a frame which could scarce contain my -smiling thoughts, my thoughts which danced like a joyous nymph! -Love--first love--the welling-up of the sap, opens out life to us! -It flows through the most secret recesses of our being; it gives life -to the most remote of our senses; it is a vast realm wherein every man -imprisoned in this world imprisons in turn the whole world in himself. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Return of Adolphe de Leuven--He shows me a corner of the artistic and -literary world--The death of Holbein and the death of Orcagna--Entrance -into the green-rooms--Bürger's _Lénore_--First thoughts of my vocation - - -In the meantime, de Leuven returned to Villers-Cotterets, after five -or six months' absence. His return was to open out new fields for my -ambitions--ambitions, however, which I believed were capable of being -fulfilled. If you throw a stone into a lake, however large the lake may -be, the first circle it will make round it, after its fall, will go on -growing and multiplying itself, even as do our days and our desires, -until the last one touches the bank--that is to say, eternity. - -Adolphe returned and brought Lafarge back with him. Poor Lafarge! Do -you remember the brilliant head clerk, who returned to his native -place in an elegant carriage, drawn by a mettlesome steed? Well, he -had bought a practice, but there the progress of his rising fortune -had stopped. By some inconceivable fatality, although he was young, -good-looking, clever, perhaps even because he possessed all these -gifts, which are perfectly useless to a lawyer, he had not found a wife -to pay for the practice, so he had been obliged to sell it again, and, -disgusted with the law, he had taken to literature. De Leuven, who had -taken notice of him in Villers-Cotterets, found him out in Paris and -returned with him. Some of his ancient splendour still stuck to the -poor fellow, but you might seek in vain for any real stability at the -base of his fresh plans for the future; those fleeting clouds hardly -got beyond the stage of hopes. During his stay in Paris a great change -had come over Adolphe's character--a change which was to react on me. - -At M. Arnault's house, in which he had been a guest, Adolphe had -had a closer view of the literary world than he had previously -caught glimpses of in the house of Talma. He had there made the -acquaintance of Scribe, who was already at the zenith of his fame. He -met Mademoiselle Duchesnois there, who at that time was Telleville's -mistress, and who recited _Marie Stuart._ There he became acquainted -with M. de Jouy, who had finished his _Sylla;_ Lucien Arnault, who had -begun his _Régulus_; Pichat, who, while composing his _Brennus_ and -thinking out his _Léonidas_ and _William Tell_, was facing a future in -which, his first wreath on his head and his first palm in his hand, -Death lurked, waiting for him. He had then dropped from these lofty -heights in the regions of art to inferior places, where he became -acquainted with Soulié, who was publishing poems in the _Mercure_; with -Rousseau, that Pylades of Romieu whom Orestes had left one day at the -turning of the road which led to his sub-prefecture; with Ferdinand -Langlé, the fickle lover of poor little Fleuriet, upon whom, it is -said, a notorious poisoner tried the deadly powder with which he was -later to kill his friend; with Théaulon, that delightful person and -indefatigable worker, who worked only in the hope that some day he -would be able to be idle, but who never had time to be idle, who was -cradled for a brief time in the arms of Love, but who was never really -to rest until he lay on the bosom of Death. This poor Epicurean, who by -dint of imagination saw his life in rosy garb, although for him it was -clothed in black, wrote these four lines on the door of his study: they -express at once his easy carelessness and his gentle philosophy-- - - Loin du sot, du fat et du traître, - Ici ma constance attendra: - Et l'amour qui viendra peut-être, - Et la mort qui du moins viendra! - -Death came, poor Théaulon! Came all too soon, for thee as for Pichat, -for Soulié, for Balzac; for there are two Deaths charged by Providence -with the task of hurling men into eternity: the one inexorable, icy, -impassive, obeying the sad laws of destruction; the Death of Holbein, -the Death in the cemetery of Bâle, the Death which is ever intermingled -with life, hiding its skeleton face under the most capricious of masks, -veiling its bony body beneath the king's mantle, in the gilded dress -of the courtesan, under the filthy rags of the beggar, walking side -by side with us; an invisible but ever present spectre; a lugubrious -guest, a sepulchral comrade, the supreme friend who receives us in -its arms when we fall over the edge of life, and who gently lays us -to rest for ever under the cold damp stones of the tomb;--the other, -sister of the above, daughter too of Erebus and of Night, unexpected, -spiteful, lies in ambush at a turning-point of happiness or prosperity, -ready like a vulture or a panther to pounce or spring out upon its -prey; this is the Death of Orcagna, the Death of the Campo-Santo in -Pisa; Death in life, envious, with cadaverous hue, hair flying wildly -in the wind, eyes flashing like those of a lynx, the Death which took -Petrarch in the midst of his triumph, Raphael in the midst of his love -affairs; before whom all joy and glory and riches pale; that power -which, passing rapidly, heedlessly and inexorably over the unfortunate -victims who appeal to it, strikes down in the midst of their flowers, -their wine and their perfumes, the handsome youth crowned with myrtle, -the lovely maiden rose-crowned, the laurel-wreathed poet, and drags -them brutally to the grave, their eyes open, their hearts yet beating, -their arms stretched out towards the light, the day and the sunshine! -Orcagna! Orcagna, great sculptor, great painter and, above all, great -poet! how many times have I trembled as I touched the hand of a beloved -child, or kissed the face of a mistress who had made me happy! for I -had an inward vision of that Death of the Campo-Santo at Pisa, passing -in the distance, dark, threatening like a sailing cloud; then, the next -day, I heard the words, "He is dead!" or "She is dead!" and it was -almost always a young genius whose light had gone out, a young soul -that had gone to its Maker. - -This then, was the world de Leuven had seen during his stay in Paris, -and he brought a reflection of its unknown brilliance to me, the poor -provincial lad, buried in the depths of a little town. De Leuven had -done more than look into it: he had entered the tabernacle, he had -touched the ark! He had been permitted the honour of having some of his -work read before M. Poirson, the high priest of the Gymnase, and before -his sacristan, M. Dormeuil. Of course the work was declined after it -had been read; but--like the pebble which lies near the rose and shares -the scent of the queen of flowers--there remained to de Leuven, from -his declined work, an entry into the green-rooms. Oh! that entree to -the green-rooms, what a weariness it is to those who have attained it, -whilst by those who have not attained it, it is regarded as the most -coveted thing on earth! Adolphe, however, had been in it for such a -short time that _ennui_ had not yet had time to spring up, and so the -dazzling glow of the honour still remained with him. It was the spirit -of this enchantment which he transferred to me. At that time, Perlet -was at his best, Fleuriet in the heyday of her beauty, Léontine Fay at -the height of her popularity. The latter, poor child, at the age of -eight or nine, had been forced to learn a craft in which a grown-up -woman might have succumbed; but what did that matter? They had consoled -themselves in advance for everything, even for her death; for they had -already made so much money out of her, that, in the event of her death, -they could afford to go to her burial in fine style. - -Adolphe's return, then, was a great event to me; like Don Cléophas, -I hung on the cloak of my fine _diable boiteux_, and he, telling me -what he had seen in the theatres, made me see also. What long walks we -took together! How many times did I stop him, as he passed from one -artiste to another, saying, after he had exhausted all the celebrities -of the Gymnase, "And Talma? And Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois?" And he good-naturedly held forth upon the genius and -talent and good-fellowship of those eminent artistes, playing upon the -unknown notes of the keyboard of my imagination, causing ambitious and -sonorous chords to vibrate within me that had hitherto lain dormant, -the possession of which astonished me greatly when I began to realise -their existence. Then poor Adolphe little by little conceived a -singular idea, which was to make me share, on my own behalf, the hopes -he had indulged in for himself; to rouse in me the ambition to become, -if not a Scribe, an Alexandre Duval, an Ancelot, a Jouy, an Arnault or -a Casimir Delavigne, at least a Fulgence, a Mazère or a Vulpian. And -it must be admitted the notion was ambitious indeed; for, I repeat, I -had never received any proper education, I knew nothing, and it was not -until very much later, in 1833 or 1834, on the publication of the first -edition of my _Impressions de Voyage_, that people began to perceive I -had genius. In 1820 I must confess I had not a shadow of it. - -A week before Adolphe's return had brought to me the first vivifying -gleam of light from the outside world 3 the hemmed-in and restricted -life of a provincial town had seemed to me the limit of my ambition, a -salary of say fifteen or eighteen hundred francs 3 for I never dreamt -of becoming a solicitor: first because I had no vocation for it; for -although I had spent three years in copying deeds of sale, bonds and -marriage contracts, at Maître Mennesson's, I was no more learned in -the law than I was in music, after three years of solfeggio with old -Hiraux. It was evident, therefore, that the law was no more my vocation -than music, and that I should never expound the Code any better than I -played on the violin. This distressed my mother dreadfully, and all her -kind friends said to her-- - -"My dear, just listen to what I say: your son is a born idler, who will -never do anything." - -And my mother would heave a sigh, and say, as she kissed me, "Is it -true, my dear boy, what they tell me?" - -And I would answer naïvely, "I don't know, mother!" - -What else could I reply? I could see nothing beyond the last houses in -my natal town, and even though I might find something that responded -to my heart inside the city boundary, I searched in vain therein for -anything that could satisfy my mind and imagination. - -De Leuven made a gap in the wall which closed me in, and through that -gap I began to perceive something to aim at as yet undefined on the -infinite horizon beyond. - -De la Ponce also influenced me at this period. As before related, -I had translated with him the beautiful Italian romance--or rather -diatribe--of _Ugo Foscolo_, that imitation of Goethe's _Werther_ -which the author of the poem called _Sépulcres_ contrived, by dint -of patriotic feeling and talent, to develop into a national epic. -Moreover, de la Ponce, who wished to make me regret that I had -abandoned the study of the German language, translated for my benefit -Bürger's beautiful ballad _Lénore._ The reading of this work, which -belonged to a type of literature of which I was completely ignorant, -produced a deep impression on my mind; it was like one of those -landscapes one sees in dreams, in which one dares not enter, so -different is it from everyday surroundings. The terrible refrain which -the sinister horseman repeats over and over again to the trembling -betrothed whom he carries off on his spectre-steed, - - "Hourra!--fantôme, les morts vont vite!" - -bears so little resemblance to the conceits of Demoustier, to Parny's -amorous rhymes or to the elegies of the Chevalier Bertin, that the -reading of the tragic German ballad made a complete revolution in my -soul. That very night, I tried to put it into verse; but, as may well -be understood, the task was beyond my powers. I broke the wings of my -poor fledgeling Muse, and I began my literary career as I had begun my -first love-making, by a defeat none the less terrible because it was a -secret one, but quite as incontestable in my own estimation. - -What mattered it? These were indubitably my first steps towards the -future God had destined, untried totterings like the steps of a child -just learning to walk, who stumbles and falls as soon as he tears -himself away from his nurse's leading-strings, but who picks himself up -again and, aching after every fall, continues to advance, urged forward -by hope, which whispers in his ear, "Walk, child, walk! it is by means -of suffering that you become a man, by perseverance that you become -great!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -The Cerberus of the rue de Largny--I tame it--The ambush--Madame -Lebègue--A confession - - -Six months passed by between my first love-makings and my first -attempts at work. Besides our meetings at Louise Brézette's every -night, Adèle and I used to see each other two or three times a week, in -the summer-house, which, to our great delight, her mother had allowed -her to have as her new chamber. It was necessary for Adèle to open the -door of the passage-way for me, and for me to pass in front of her -mother's bedroom door: these two courses were fraught with so many -dangers that I had for a long time been contemplating some other means -of access to my lady-love. After much pondering, I settled upon a way. -I carefully examined the topography of the surrounding district and -discovered, three doors off Adèle's house, a door, which led through a -kind of passage into a small garden. One wall and two hedges separated -this garden from Adèle's. I carefully studied the position all round, -from Adèle's garden, to which I had free entree during the daytime, -and I saw that all difficulties would be overcome if I could open the -street door, cross the passage, enter the garden, scale the wall and -stride over the two hedges. Then I had only to knock on the outside -shutter, Adèle would open to me, and the thing would be done. But, as I -had noticed, the door had to be opened and the passage crossed. - -The door was locked, and the passage was guarded at night by a dog -who was less a match from his size and from the fight he might make, -than from the noise he could set up. It took me a week to make my -investigations. One night I ascertained, Muphti (that was the dog's -name) barking loudly all the time, that the lock only turned once, and -that I could open the door with my knife-blade; the remaining seven -nights I cultivated Muphti's acquaintance, seducing him little by -little, by poking bits of bread and chicken bones under the door. The -last two or three nights, Muphti, grown used to the windfalls I brought -him, impatient for my arrival, expecting me long before I appeared, -heard me come when I was twenty paces off, and, at my approach, -scratched with both paws at the door and whined gently at the obstacle -that separated us. On the eighth day, or rather the eighth night, -feeling sure that Muphti was now no longer an enemy but an ally, I -opened the door, and, according to my expectations, Muphti leapt upon -me in the greatest friendliness, delighted to find himself in direct -communication with a man who brought him such dainty scraps: I had only -one fault to find with his greeting, namely, that it was expressed in -rather too noisy a fashion. However, as all enthusiasm calms down in -time, Muphti's enthusiasm died down, and, passing into expressions of a -gentler affection, allowed me to venture farther. I chose, for my first -attempt at housebreaking, a dark, moonless autumn night: I stepped -very lightly, with my ears on the alert; I advanced without making a -single grain of sand crunch beneath my feet. I thought I heard a door -open behind me; I hastened my steps; I reached a large patch of beans -growing up on sticks, into which I flung myself as did Gulliver in his -wheat-field, with Muphti hidden between my legs, his neck held between -both my hands, ready to be able to intercept the slightest sound he -might wish to make--and there I waited. It was indeed one of the -inhabitants to whom the passage belonged: he had heard the noise. In -order to find out what caused it, he took a turn in the garden, passed -within a couple of steps of me, without seeing me, coughed as though -he were beginning with a cold, and went indoors again. I let Muphti -go; I made for the palings; I leapt to the other side of the wall; I -straddled over the two hedges, and I ran to the shutters. But I did not -need to knock. Before I reached them, I heard someone breathing, I saw -a shadow, I felt two trembling arms stretch out to enfold me and drag -me inside the summer-house, and the door shut behind us. - -Oh! had I only been a poet in those days, what ravishing lines I could -have made in honour of those first flowers which flourished in the -garden of our love! But, alas! I was not a poet then, and I had to be -satisfied with repeating to Adèle Parny's and Bertin's elegies, which I -believe only bored her. I have already remarked, _apropos_ of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ what good taste this little girl possessed. - -I left her, as usual, towards two or three in the morning. As usual, -also, I returned by the park, and reached home by a roundabout way. I -have explained the way I took, and how I had to leap a wide ditch so as -to reach the park from the open country. In order to avoid making the -same jump three or four times a week, which was a very perilous feat -on dark nights, I made a very big heap of stones in one corner of the -ditch, so that I had only to make for this particular corner and then -make my jump in two leaps. - -On this particular night, as I leapt into the ditch, I noticed a -shadow four paces off me, that looked slightly less caressing than -that which had awaited me in the garden, and drawn me inside the -summer-house. This shadow held an actual, stout stick--not the shade -of one--in all its knotty reality. Directly I attained to manhood's -estate, and whenever danger faced me, whether by night or by day, I may -proudly record that I always marched straight on towards that danger. -I walked right up to the man with the stick. The stick rose, and I -clutched it in my hand. Then followed, in that dark ditch, one of the -severest tussles I have ever had in my life. I was indeed the person -he was lying in wait for, the person he wished to meet. The man who -was waiting for me had blackened his face; consequently I could not -recognise him; but without recognising him I guessed who he was. He was -a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five; I was scarcely eighteen, -but I was well broken in to all physical exercises, especially to -wrestling. I succeeded in taking hold of him round the body and -twisting him under me. His head struck on a stone with a heavy sound. -No word passed on either side; but he must have been hurt. I felt him -fumbling in his pocket, and I knew he was hunting for his knife. I -seized his hand above the wrist, and managed to twist him so that his -fingers opened, and the knife dropped. Then, by a quick move, I got -hold of the knife. For one second a terrible temptation assailed me, to -do what was indeed my right, namely, to open the knife and to plunge it -into my antagonist's breast. That moment a man's life hung by a thread: -had my anger broken that thread, the man would have been killed! I had -sufficient control over myself to get up. I still held the knife in -one hand, I took the stick by the other, and, fortified by these two -weapons, I allowed my adversary to rise too. He took a step backwards, -and stooped to pick up the stone against which he had hurt his head; -but just as he was lifting himself up, I hit him with the end of the -stick on the chest and he fell back ten paces. This time he seemed to -lose consciousness completely, for he did not get up again. I climbed -the embankment from the ditch and got away from the place as fast as I -could: this unexpected attack had revealed such a spirit of hatred that -I feared treachery might follow. No one else put in an appearance, and -I reached home very much upset, I must confess, by this incident. I -had certainly escaped from one of the most serious dangers I had ever -incurred in my life. - -This event brought very serious consequences to a person who had had -nothing to do with the affair, and led me to commit the only evil -action I have to reproach myself with during the course of my life. -The blame attaching to this evil deed is all the greater as it was -committed against a woman. I can only say that it was committed without -any premeditation. I reached home, as I have said, very glad to have -escaped with nothing worse than a few bruises, and very proud at the -end of the fray to have overthrown my enemy. - -Next morning I went to de la Ponce. As such an attack might be renewed -under more disadvantageous circumstances than those from which I had -just escaped, I wanted to borrow from him the pocket-pistols I had seen -in his rooms. It was difficult to borrow them from him without telling -him why I wanted them. I told him. But as it would have revealed, or -almost revealed, the house I came away from, if I had told him the -true locality of the struggle, I indicated another place altogether. -I selected, hap-hazard, a spot near the _manège_, in a little narrow -street, where three houses had their entrances. The first of these -three houses was inhabited by Hippolyte Leroy, the ex-body-guardsman of -whom I have already spoken in connection with our misadventures at M. -Collard's, and who was soon to become my cousin by marrying Augustine; -the second by the de Leuven family; and the third by the lawyer to whom -Maître Mennesson had related the misadventures of my early love-making -and who, as I have already mentioned, had married Éléonore, the second -daughter of M. Deviolaine by his first marriage. I have related also, -when speaking of M. Lebègue, how the charming nature and sociable -spirit of his wife had roused suspicion and dislike in a little town, -where superiority of any kind is a reason for jealousy. Now I had told -others besides de la Ponce of the nocturnal attack of which I had very -nearly been a victim; and to others also, as well as to de la Ponce, in -order to divert suspicions, I had mentioned the same locality by the -_manège_ of which I have just spoken. Where could I have been coming -from, at two in the morning, when I was attacked near the _manage!_ -It could not have been from Hippolyte Leroy's; it could not have been -from Adolphe de Leuven's. It must then have been from M. Lebègue's--or -rather, from Madame Lebègue's. This wicked suggestion, entirely -incorrect as it was, could only be supported by some semblance of a -foundation. - -I was a very easy prey to being teased, perhaps because I laid myself -open to it by my defenceless condition, and neither Madame Lebègue nor -her sisters spared me. Madame Lebègue was pretty, witty and a flirt: -she waved the most charming and gracious gestures imaginable to her -friends at a distance; whilst at closer quarters she allowed them -to look at, admire and even kiss her hand, with that aristocratic -indifference assumed by women who are the possessors of pretty hands. -It was her only sin, poor woman. The crime was great, but the hand was -pretty. I was exceedingly fond of Madame Lebègue; I liked her, I can -confess to-day, with a feeling that might even have got beyond the -bounds of friendly affection, if she had consented to more; but she had -never given me the least encouragement, and whenever I was near her, -her superior wit, her woman-of-the-world manners, her fine-lady airs, -would send me into the deepest depths of that shyness of which I had -given such glaring proofs during my earliest love-makings. - -One day, without knowing whence this rumour had sprung, without -suspecting the cause that had given rise to it, I heard it whispered -that I was Madame Lebègue's lover. I ought at once to have quenched -this rumour with indignant denials; I ought to have treated the -calumny with the justice it deserved. I was wicked enough to refute it -half-heartedly, and in such a fashion that my vain denial bore every -appearance of a confession. And of course the ill-natured rumour served -my own purposes to perfection. Poor silly fool that I was! I had a -momentary delight, an hour's pride, in this rumour, which ought to -have made me blush with shame, for I had allowed an untrue statement -to be believed. I soon suffered for my mean action. First of all, the -rumour set me at variance with the person herself whom it concerned: -Madame Lebègue thought me more guilty than I was; she accused me of -having started the scandal. She was mistaken there: I had allowed it -to live, allowed it to grow, that was all. True, that was bad enough. -She forbade me her house, the house my mother and I both loved, and -it became hostile to us both ever after. Madame Lebègue never forgave -me. On two or three occasions during my life I have felt the prick of -the needle of the vengeance she vowed against me. I never attempted -to return the injuries received; I felt, in my heart of hearts, I had -deserved them. Whenever since I have met Madame Lebègue, I have turned -away my head and lowered my eyes before her glance. The guilty one -tacitly confessed his crime. To-day he openly avows it. But now the -confession has been made, I can boldly face the rest of the world of -men or women and say, "You may look me in the face and try to make me -blush, if you can!" - -The day after my struggle I had the curiosity to visit the scene of -battle. I had not been mistaken: the stone on which my enemy's head had -crashed was stained with blood at its sharpest end, and the colour of -a few hairs, stuck to the bloody stone, confirmed my suspicions--which -now became a definite certainty when furnished with this last proof. -That night I saw Adèle: she was still ignorant of what had happened to -me. I told her everything; I told her whom I suspected: she refused to -believe it. - -Just at that moment, a surgeon, named Raynal, went past; I had seen -him that morning come from the direction which led to the house of my -wounded enemy. I went up to him. - -"What is the matter?" I asked him. "Why have you been sent for this -morning?" - -"What is the matter, boy?" he replied in his Provençal accent. - -"Yes." - -"Why, he cannot have seen plainly last night, and, hurrying home, he -gave himself a knock in the chest against a carriage pole. It was such -a violent blow that he fell on his back and split his head open in -falling." - -"When shall you pay him a second visit?" - -"To-morrow, at the same time as to-day." - -"Very well, doctor; tell him from me that, last night, passing by the -same place where he fell, after him, I found his knife, and I send it -back to him. Tell him, doctor, that it is a good weapon, but that, -nevertheless, a man who has no other arms but this with him is unwise -to attack a man who possesses two such pistols as these...." - -I fancy the doctor understood. - -"Oh yes; very good," he said. "I'll tell him, never fear." - -I presume that the man who owned the knife also understood, for I never -heard the matter spoken of again, although, fifteen days later, I -danced _vis-à-vis_ with him at the park ball. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -De Leuven makes me his collaborator--The _Major de Strasbourg_--My -first _couplet-Chauvin_--The _Dîner d'amis_--The _Abencérages_ - - -I had naïvely told de Leuven of my failure to translate Bürger's -beautiful ballad; but as he had made up his mind to make me a dramatic -author, he consoled me by telling me it was his father's opinion that -some German works were absolutely untranslatable, and that the ballad -of _Lénore_ was first among these. Seeing that de Leuven did not lose -hope, I gradually regained mine. I may even venture to say that, a few -days after this, I achieved a success. - -Lafarge had laughed hugely at de Leuven's idea of making me his -collaborator. For, indeed, what notice would the Parisian stage take -of an uneducated child; a poor provincial lad, buried away in a -small town in the Ile-de-France; ignorant both of French and foreign -literatures; hardly acquainted with the names of the great; feeling -only a tepid sympathy with their most highly praised masterpieces, his -lack of artistic education having veiled their style from him; setting -to work without knowing the theory of constructing a plot, an action, -a catastrophe, a _dénoûment_; having never read to the end of _Gil -Blas_, or _Don Quixote_, or _le Diable boiteux_--books which are held -by all teachers to be worthy of universal admiration, and in which, I -confess to my shame, the man who has succeeded to the child does not -even to-day feel a very lively interest; reading, instead, all that -is bad in Voltaire, who was then regarded as the very antithesis of -politics and religion; having never opened a volume of Walter Scott -or of Cooper, those two great romance-writers, one of whom understood -men thoroughly, the other of whom divined God's workings marvellously; -whilst, on the contrary, he had devoured all the naughty books of -Pigault-Lebrun, raving over them, _le Citateur_ in particular; ignorant -of the name of Goethe, or Schiller, or Uhland, or André Chénier; -having heard Shakespeare mentioned, but only as a barbarian from whose -dunghill Ducis had collected those pearls called _Othello_, _Hamlet_ -and _Romeo and Juliet_, but knowing by heart his Bertin, his Parny, his -Legouvé, his Demoustier. - -Lafarge was unquestionably in the right, and Adolphe must have had -plenty of time to waste to undertake such a task, the hopelessness -of which alone could take away from its ridiculousness. But Adolphe, -with that Anglo-German stolidness of his, manfully persevered in the -work undertaken, and we sketched out a scheme of a comedy in one act, -entitled the _Major de Strasbourg_: it was neither good nor bad. -Why the Major of Strasbourg, any more than the Major of Rochelle or -of Perpignan? I am sure I cannot tell. And I have also completely -forgotten the plot or development of that embryonic dramatic work. - -But there was one incident I have not forgotten, for it procured me -the first gratification my _amour-propre_ received. It was the epoch -of patriotic pieces; a great internal reaction had set in against our -reverses of 1814 and our defeat of 1815. The national couplet and -Chauvinism were all the rage: provided you made _Français_ rhyme with -_succès_ at the end of a couplet, and _lauriers_ with _guerriers,_ -you were sure of applause. So, of course, de Leuven and I were quite -content not to strike out any fresh line, but to follow and worship -in the footsteps of MM. Francis and Dumersan. Therefore our _Major de -Strasbourg_ was of the family of those worthy retreating officers whose -patriotism continued to fight the enemy in couplets consecrated to the -supreme glory of France, and to the avenging of Leipzig and Waterloo on -the battlefields of the Gymnase and the Varies. Now, our major, having -become a common labourer, was discovered by a father and son, who -arrived on the scene, I know not why, at the moment when, instead of -digging his furrows, he was deserting his plough, in order to devote -himself to the reading of a book which gradually absorbed him to such -an extent that he did not see the entrance of this father and son--a -most fortunate circumstance, since the brave officer's preoccupation -procured the public the following couplet:-- - - JULIEN (apercevant le major) - - N'approchez pas, demeurez où vous etes: - Il lit ... - - LE COMTE - - Sans doute un récit de combats, - Ce livre? - - JULIEN (regardant par-dessus l'épaule du major, et revenant à son père) - - C'est _Victoires et Conquêtes._ - - LE COMTE - - Tu vois, enfant, je ne me trompais pas: - Son cœur revole aux champs de l'Allemagne! - Il croit encor voir les Français vainqueurs.... - - JULIEN - - Mon père, il lit la dernière campagne, - Car de ses yeux je vois couler des pleurs. - -When my part of the work was done, I handed it over to de Leuven, who, -I ought to mention, was very indulgent to me; but this time, when he -came to the couplet I am about to quote, his indulgence ascended into -enthusiasm: he sang the couplet out loud-- - - - "Dis-moi, soldat, dis-moi, t'en souviens-tu?" - - -He sang it over twice, four times, ten times, interrupting himself to -say-- - -"Oh! oh! that couplet will be done to death if the Censorship lets it -pass." - -For, from that time, the honourable institution called the Censorship -was in full vigour, and it has gone on increasing and prospering ever -since. - -I confess I was very proud of myself; I did not think such a -masterpiece was in me. Adolphe ran off to sing the couplet to his -father, who, as he chewed his toothpick, asked-- - -"Did you make it?" - -"No, father; Dumas did." - -"Hum! So you are writing a comic opera with Dumas?" - -"Yes." - -"Why not make room in it for your _froide Ibérie_? It would be just the -place for it." - -Adolphe turned on his heels and went off to sing my couplet to Lafarge. - -Lafarge listened to it, winking his eyes. - -"Ah! ah! ah!" he cried, "did Dumas compose that?" - -"Yes, he made it." - -"Are you sure he did not crib it from somewhere?" - -Then, with touching confidence, Adolphe replied-- - -"I am quite certain of it: I know every patriotic couplet that has been -sung in every theatre in Paris, and I tell you this one has never yet -been sung." - -"Then it is a fluke, and he will soon be undeceived." - -De la Ponce read the couplet too; it tickled his soldierly taste, -remainding him of 1814, and he took an early opportunity to compliment -me on it. - -Alas! poor couplet, but indifferently good though thou wert, accept -nevertheless thy due meed of praise, at any rate from me. Whether gold -or copper, thou wert, at all events, the first piece of literary coin -I threw into the dramatic world! Thou wert the lucky coin one puts -in a bag to breed more treasure therein! To-day the sack is full to -overflowing: I wonder if the treasure that came and covered thee up was -much better than thyself? The future alone will decide--that future -which to poets assumes the superb form of a goddess and the proud name -of Posterity! - -The reader knows what an amount of vanity I possessed. My pride did not -need to be encouraged to come out of the vase in which it was enclosed -and swell like the giant in the _Arabian Nights:_ I began to believe -I had written a masterpiece. From that day I thought of nothing else -but dramatic literature, and, as Adolphe was some day to return to -Paris, we set ourselves to work, so that he could carry away with him -a regular cargo of works of the style of the _Major de Strasbourg._ We -never doubted that such distinguished works would meet with the success -they deserved, from the enlightened public of Paris, and open out to -me in the capital of European genius a path strewn with crowns and -pieces of gold. What would the well-disposed people say then, who had -declared to my mother that I was an idle lad and that I should never do -anything? Go spin, you future Schiller! Spin, you future Walter Scott! -spin!... From this time a great force awoke in my heart, which held its -place against all comers: determination--a great virtue, which although -certainly not genius, is a good substitute for it--and perseverance. - -Unluckily, Adolphe was not a very sure guide; he, like myself, was -groping blindly. Our choice of subjects revealed that truth. Our second -opera was borrowed from the venerable M. Bouilly's _Contes à ma fille._ -It was entitled le _Dîner d'amis._ Our first drama was borrowed from -Florian's _Gonzalve de Cordoue_: it was entitled _les Abencérages._ - -O dear Abencérages! O treacherous Zégris! with what crimes of like -nature you have to reproach yourselves! O Gonzalve de Cordoue! what -young poets you have led astray into the path upon which we entered so -full of hope, from which we returned shattered and broken. - -Poor lisa Mercœur! I saw her die hugging to her heart that Oriental -chimera; only she stuck fast to it, like a drowning man to a floating -plank; while we, feeling how little it was to be relied on, had the -courage to abandon it and to let it float where it would on that dark -ocean where she encountered it and stuck to it. - -But then we did not know what might be the future of these children, -wandering on the highways, whom we sought to seduce from their lawful -parents, and whom we saw die of inanition, one after the other, in our -arms. - -These labours took up a whole year, from 1820 to 1821. During that year -two great events came about, which passed unnoticed by us, so bent on -our work were we, and so preoccupied by it: the assassination of the -Duc de Berry, 13 February 1820; the death of Napoleon, 5 May 1821. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the Duc de Berry - - -The assassination of the Duc de Berry hastened the down-fall of M. -Decazes. A singular anecdote was circulated at the time. I took it down -in writing at the house of my lawyer, who was a collector of historical -documents. As well as I can remember, it was as follows. Three days -before the Duc de Berry's assassination, King Louis XVIII. received a -letter couched in these words:-- - - "SIRE,--Will your Majesty condescend to receive a person - at eight o'clock to-morrow night, who has important - revelations to make specially affecting your Majesty's - family? - - "If your Majesty deigns to receive this person, let a - messenger be sent at once to find a chip of Oriental - alabaster, which rests on the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, - at Ste. Geneviève. - - "In addition to this, your Majesty must obtain, by - means of some other agent, a loose sheet of paper, out - of a volume of the works of St. Augustine [here the - exact designation was given], the use of which will be - indicated later by the writer of this letter. - - "Under penalty of not obtaining any result from the - promised revelations, you must not begin by sending to - the Library, nor by sending at the same time to the - Library and to Ste. Geneviève. The safety of the person - who desires to offer good advice to His Majesty depends - upon the execution of the two prescribed acts in their - given order." - -The letter was unsigned. The mysterious bearing of this letter -attracted the attention of Louis XVIII., and he sent for M. Decazes -at seven o'clock on the following morning. Please be careful to note -that I am not relating a historical fact, but an anecdote from memory, -which I copied something like thirty years ago. Only later and in quite -different circumstances of my life, it recurred to my mind as does -effaced writing under the application of a chemical preparation. - -So, as indicated above, Louis XVIII. sent next morning for M. Decazes. - -"Monsieur," he said, as soon as he saw him, "you must go to the church -of Ste. Geneviève; you must descend to the crypt, where you will find -the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, and you must bring away the thing, no -matter what it is, that you will find on the tomb." - -M. Decazes went, and when he reached Ste. Geneviève, he went down to -the crypt. There, to his great surprise, he found nothing on the tomb -of Cardinal Caprara but a fragment of Oriental alabaster. However, his -orders were precise: we might rather say they were positive. After a -moment's hesitation, he picked up the bit of alabaster and took it back -to the Tuileries. He expected the king to jeer at the servile obedience -that brought him only an object so worthless, but quite the reverse was -the case, for at the sight of the bit of alabaster the king trembled. -Then, taking it in his hand and examining it minutely, he placed it on -his desk. - -"Now," said Louis XVIII., "send a trusted messenger to the Royal -Library; he must ask for the works of St. Augustine, the 1669 edition, -and in volume 7, between pages 404 and 405, he will find a sheet of -paper." - -"But, sire," asked M. Decazes, "why should not I myself go rather than -entrust this commission to another?" - -"Out of the question, _mon enfant_!" "_Mon enfant_" was the pet name by -which the king called his favourite minister. - -A trusted messenger was sent to the Royal Library: he opened St. -Augustine at the given pages and found the paper described. It was -a simple matter to take it away. The paper was a very thin, blank -folio sheet oddly snipped here and there. While Louis XVIII. was -searching for the mysterious revelations hidden in the jagged paper -the secretary brought him a missive containing a leaf of the same -size as that from the St. Augustine, but inscribed with apparently -unintelligible letters. At the corner of the envelope in which -this leaf came were written the two words: "Most urgent." The king -understood that there was a connection between the two events and a -likeness between the two leaves. He placed the cut sheet of paper over -the written sheet and saw that the letters shown up through the holes -in the upper leaf made sense. He dismissed the secretary and intimated -to M. Decazes to leave him alone, and when both had gone, he made out -the following lines:-- - - "King, thou art betrayed! Betrayed by thy minister and by - the P.P. of thy S----. - - "King, I alone can save thee. MARIANI." - -The reader will understand that I do not hold myself responsible for -this note any more than for the rest of the anecdote. The king did not -mention this note to anyone; but, that evening, the Minister of the -Police,[1] who was dismissed next day, issued orders to find a man -named Mariani. - -The following day, which was Sunday the 13th of February, the king on -opening his prayer-book at mass found this note inside:-- - -"They have found out what I wrote; they are hunting for me. Do your -utmost to see me, if you would avoid great misfortunes for your house. -I shall know if you will receive me, by means of three wafers which you -should stick inside the panes of your bedroom windows." - -Although the king was greatly interested by this last letter of -advice, he did not think it sufficiently urgent to attend to it as -directed. He waited and hesitated, and then left matters till the -morrow. That evening there was a special performance at the Opera, -when _Le Rossignol_, _les Noces de Gamache_, and _le Carnaval de -Venise_ were played. The Duc and Duchesse de Berry were present. About -eleven o'clock, at the close of the second act of the ballet, the -duchess, feeling tired, told her husband that she wished to leave. -The prince would not allow her to go alone, but himself conducted her -out of the Opera House. When he reached their carriage, which stood -in the rue Rameau, just as he was helping the princess up the step, -and saying to her, "Wait for me, I will rejoin you in a moment," a man -darted forward rapidly, passed like a flash of lightning between the -sentinel on guard at the door of exit and M. de Clermont-Lodève, the -gentleman-in-waiting, seized the prince by the left shoulder, leant -heavily against his breast and plunged a thin, sharp small-sword, -with a boxwood hilt, in his right breast. The man left the weapon -in the wound, knocked three or four curious bystanders spinning and -disappeared immediately round the corner of the rue de Richelieu and -under the Colbert Arcade. For the moment nobody noticed that the prince -was wounded; he himself had hardly felt any pain beyond the blow of a -fist. - -"Take care where you are going, you clumsy fellow!" M. de Choiseul, the -prince's aide-de-camp, had exclaimed, pushing the assassin to one side, -thinking he was simply an unduly inquisitive bystander. Suddenly the -prince lost his breath, grew pale and tottered, crying out, as he put -his hand to his breast-- - -"I have been assassinated!" - -"Impossible!" exclaimed those about him. - -"See," replied the prince, "here is the dagger." And giving effect -to his words, he drew out and held up the bloodstained sword from -his breast. The carriage door had not yet been shut. The duchess -sprang out, trying to catch her husband in her arms; but the prince -was already past standing, even with this support. He fell gently -back into the arms of those surrounding him, and was carried into the -drawing-room belonging to the king's box. There he received immediate -attention. - -By the mere appearance of the wound, the shape of the dagger and -the length of its blade, the doctors recognised the serious nature -of the case, and declared that the prince must not be taken to the -Tuileries. They therefore carried him to the suite of rooms occupied -by M. de Grandsire, the Secretary to the Opera Company, who lived at -the theatre. By a singular coincidence, the bed on which the dying -prince was laid was the same on which he had slept the first night of -his joyful re-entry into France. M. de Grandsire was at that time at -Cherbourg and he had lent this very bed to put in the Duc de Berry's -room. Here the prince learnt the arrest of his murderer. He asked his -name. They told him it was Louis-Pierre Louvel. He seemed to search -his memory and then, as if speaking to himself, he said, "I cannot -recollect ever having injured this man." - -No, prince, no, you did nothing to him; but you bear on your forehead -the fatal seal which carries the Bourbons to the grave or into exile. -No, prince, you have not injured the man, but you are heir to the -throne and that is sufficient in this country for the hand of God to -be laid heavily upon you. Look back, prince, on what has happened to -those who, for the last sixty years, have handled the fatal crown to -which they aspired. Louis XVI. died on the scaffold. Napoleon died at -St. Helena. The Duc de Reichstadt died at Schoenbrünn. Charles X. died -at Frohsdorf. Louis-Philippe died at Claremont. And who knows, prince, -where your son, the Count de Chambord, will die? Where your cousin the -Count de Paris? I ask the question of you who are about to know the -secret of that eternal life which hides away from us all the mysteries -of life and of death. And we would further point out to you, prince, -that not one of your race will die in the Tuileries, or will rest as -kings in the tombs of their fathers. - -But it was a good and noble heart that was about to cease to beat -amidst all the distracting events of that period. And when Louis -XVIII., who had been informed of the assassination, came at six in the -morning, to receive his nephew's last wishes, the first words of the -wounded prince were-- - -"Sire, pardon the man!" - -Louis XVIII. neither promised nor refused to pardon. - -"My dear nephew, you will survive this cruel act, I trust," he replied, -"and we will then discuss the matter again. It is of grave import, -moreover," he added, "and it must be looked into most carefully at some -future time." - -These words had scarcely been uttered by the king when the prince began -to fight for his breath; he stretched out his arms and asked to be -turned on his left side. - -"I am dying!" he said, as they hastened to carry out his last wish. - -And, indeed, they had hardly moved him when, at the stroke of half-past -six, he died. - -The grief of the duchess was inexpressible. She seized scissors from -the mantelpiece, let down her beautiful fair hair, cut it off to the -roots and threw the locks on the dead body of her husband. - -The sorrow of King Louis was twofold: not knowing that the Duchesse de -Berry was pregnant, he deplored even more than the death of a murdered -nephew the extinction of a race. - -When he withdrew to the Tuileries, he remembered the events of the -two preceding days--the letter received on the very morning of the -assassination, the warning of some great calamity threatening the royal -family. Then, although there was nothing more to be expected from the -mysterious stranger, the legend that we have given goes on to say that -Louis XVIII. dragged his aching limbs to the window and stuck the three -wafers on its panes as a signal of welcome to the unknown writer of the -letters. Two hours later, the king received a letter wrapped in three -coverings:-- - -"It is too late! Let a confidential person come and meet me on the pont -des Arts, where I will be at eleven o'clock to-night. - -"I rely on the honour of the king." - -At a quarter-past eleven the mysterious stranger was introduced into -the Tuileries and conducted to the king's private chamber. He remained -with Louis till one o'clock in the morning. No one ever knew what -passed in that interview. The next day, M. Clausel de Coussergues -proposed, in the Upper House, to impeach M. Decazes as an accomplice in -the assassination of the Duc de Berry. - -Thus, at the same time that the Napoleonic and Liberal party were -disseminating the skits against the Bourbons which we have quoted, and -distributing copies of the proceedings of the Maubreuil trial, the -Extreme Right was attacking by similar means the Duc d'Orléans and M. -Decazes; each in turn undermining and destroying one another, to the -advantage of a fourth party, which was soon to make its appearance -under the cloak of Carbonarism--we mean that Republican element which -Napoleon, when he was dying in the island of St. Helena, prophesied -would dominate the future. - -But before tackling this question, one word more about Louvel. God -forbid that we should glorify the assassin, no matter to what party he -belonged! We would only indicate, from the historical point of view, -the difference that may exist between one murderer and another. We have -related how Louvel disappeared, first round the corner of the rue de -Richelieu and then under the Colbert Arcade. He was just on the point -of escaping when a carriage barred his course and compelled him to -slacken his pace. During this moment of hesitation, the sentinel, who -had thrown down his gun to pursue him and who had lost sight of him, -had a glimpse of him again and redoubled his speed, caught up with him -and seized him round the waist, a waiter from a neighbouring café; at -the same time seizing hold of him by his collar. When he was captured, -the assassin did not attempt any fresh effort. One would have thought -that from motives of self-preservation he would have struggled to -escape, but his one attempt at flight seemed to satisfy him, and had -they let go their hold, he would not have taken his chance to regain -liberty. Louvel was taken to the guard-house below the vestibule of the -Opera. - -"Wretch!" exclaimed M. de Clermont-Lodève, "what can have induced you -to commit such a crime?" - -"The desire to deliver France from one of its cruellest enemies." - -"Who paid you to carry out the deed?" - -"Paid me!" cried Louvel, tossing his head,--"paid me!" Then with a -scornful smile he added, "Do you think one would do such a thing for -money?" - -Louvel's trial was carried to the Upper Chamber. On 5 June he appeared -before the High Court. On the following day he was condemned to death. -Four months had been spent in trying to find his accomplices, but not -one had been discovered. He was taken back to the Conciergerie, an hour -after his sentence had been pronounced, and one of his warders came to -him. - -"You would like," said the man to the prisoner, who throughout -his trial had preserved the utmost calm and even the greatest -decorum,--"you would like to send for a priest?" "What for?" asked -Louvel. - -"Why, to ease your conscience." - -"Oh, my conscience is at ease: it tells me I did my duty." - -"Your conscience deceives you. Listen to what I say and make your peace -with God: that is my advice." - -"And if I confess, do you suppose that will send me to Paradise?" - -"May be: the mercy of God is infinite." - -"Do you think the Prince de Condé, who has just died, will be in -Paradise?" - -"He should be, he was an upright prince." - -"In that case, I would like to join him there; it would amuse me vastly -to plague the old _émigré._" - -The conversation was here interrupted by M. de Sémonville, who came to -try and extract information from the prisoner. Finding he could not get -anything from him, he said to Louvel-- - -"Is there anything you want?" - -"Monsieur le comte," replied the condemned man, "I have had to sleep -between such coarse sheets in prison, I would like some finer ones for -my last night." - -The request was granted. Louvel had his fine sheets and slept soundly -between them from nine at night till six o'clock the next morning. On -6 June, at six in the evening, he was taken from the Conciergerie: it -was the time of the famous troubles of which we shall speak presently. -The streets were blocked, and there were spectators even on the roofs. -He wore a round red cap and grey trousers, and a blue coat was fastened -round his shoulders. The papers next day announced that his features -were changed and his gait enfeebled. - -Nothing of the kind: Louvel belonged to the family of assassins to -which Ravaillac and Alibaud were akin--that is to say, he was a man of -stout courage. He mounted the scaffold without bombast and also without -any trace of weakness, and he died as men do who have sacrificed their -lives to an idea. - -His cell was the last in the Conciergerie, to the right, at the bottom -of the corridor; it was the same in which Alibaud, Fieschi and Meunier -had been kept. - - -[1] M. Decazes, Ministre de l'Intérieur, had charge of the police. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Carbonarism - - -I will now (1821) give some details of the Carbonari movement--a -subject on which Dermoncourt and I had held long conversations. -Dermoncourt was an old aide-decamp of my father, whose name I have -often mentioned in the earlier chapters of these Memoirs--he was one of -the principal leaders in the conspiracy of Béfort. - -You will recollect the troubles of June; the death of young Lallemand, -who was killed whilst trying to escape and was accused after his -death of having disarmed a soldier of the Royal Guard. It was thought -that the dead could be accused with impunity. But his father defended -him. The Censorship--sometimes a most infamous thing--prevented the -poor father's letter from appearing in the papers. M. Lafitte had to -take his letter to the Chambers and to read it there before he could -make its contents known to the public. I give it in the form in which -Lallemand sent it to the newspapers, when they refused to publish it:-- - - "SIR,--Yesterday my son was beaten to death by a soldier - of the Royal Guard; to-day he is defamed by the _Drapeau - blanc_, the _Quotidienne_ and the _Journal des Débats._ - I owe it to his memory to deny the fact cited by those - papers. The statement is false! My son did not attempt - to disarm one of the Royal Guard; he was walking past - unarmed when he received from behind the blow that killed - him. LALLEMAND" - -The military conspiracy of 19 August was the outcome of the troubles -of June. The chief members of the lodge _Des Amis de la Verité_ were -involved in that conspiracy. They afterwards separated. Two of the -affiliated members, MM. Joubert and Dugier, set out for Italy. They -reached Naples in the midst of the Revolution of 1821--a Revolution -during which patriots were shamefully betrayed by their leader, -François. The two named above threw themselves into the Revolution and -were affiliated to the Italian Carbonari, while Dugier returned to -Paris, a member of a higher grade in the Society. This institution, as -yet unknown in France, had greatly appealed to Dugier, and he hoped -to be able to establish it in France. He set forth the principles and -aims of the Society to the executive council of the lodge _des Amis -de la Vérité_ on whom they produced a profound impression. Dugier had -brought back with him the rules of the Italian Society and he was -authorised to translate them. This task he accomplished; but the type -of religious mysticism which formed the basis of these rules was not -in the least congenial to French minds. They adopted the institution, -minus the details which, at that epoch, would have made it unpopular; -and M. Buchez--the same who on 15 May had tried to make Boissy-Anglas -forgotten--and MM. Bazard and Flottard were deputed to establish the -French Carbonari upon a basis better suited to French conditions of -mind and thought. On 1 May 1821, three young men, then unknown, none -of them thirty years old, met for the first time in the depths of -one of the poorest quarters of the capital, in a room which was very -far removed from representing, even to its owner, the golden mean -spoken of by Horace. They sat at a round table, and with grave and -even gloomy faces--for they were not ignorant of the terrible work to -which they were going to devote their lives--they defined the first -tenets of that Society of Carbonari which changed the France of 1821 -and 1822 into one vast volcanic disturbance whose flames' burst out -at the most opposite and unexpected quarters, at Effort, la Rochelle, -Nantes and Grenoble. What was still more remarkable, the work which -these three revolutionary chemists were preparing had only one object -in view, namely, to draw up a code for future conspirators, leaving -everyone perfectly free to agitate against anything he individually -chose, provided he conformed to the main rules of the association. -The following is a résumé of these rules: "Since might is not right, -and the Bourbons have been brought back by foreigners, the Carbonari -band together to secure for the French nation free exercise of their -rights--namely, the right to choose what form of government may be most -suited to the country's needs." - -It will be seen that nothing was clearly defined; but in reality a -Republican form of government was being shadowed forth. This, however, -was not to be proclaimed until thirty-seven years later, and only then -to be struck dead from its birth, by the very hand to which it owed its -being. It need hardly be said that the hand was the hand of Napoleon: -it is a family tradition of the Napoleons to strangle liberty as soon -as it has produced a first consul or a president; even as in the case -of those beautiful aloes which only flower once in fifty years and -perish when they have brought forth their brilliant but ill-fated -blossoms, which are but barren and deadly flowers. - -The division of the Carbonari into higher, central and private lodges -is well known. None of these lodges was allowed to contain more than -twenty members--thus avoiding the penal law directed against societies -which comprised over twenty members. The Higher Lodge was composed -of the seven founders of the Carbonari. These seven founders were -Bazard, Dugier, Flottard, Buchez, Carriol, Joubert and Limperani. Each -Carbonaro was expected to keep a pistol and fifty cartridges in his -house, and he had to hold himself in readiness to obey orders sent him -by his commanders from the Higher Lodge, whether by day or night. - -While the Society of Carbonari was being organised with its upper -lodge of seven members above named, something of the same kind of -thing was being established in the Chamber--only less active, vital -and determined in character. It was called the _Comité directeur_, and -its title sufficiently indicates its purpose. This _Comité directeur_ -was composed of General la Fayette, his son Georges de la Fayette, -of Manuel, Dupont (de l'Eure), de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson, -Jacques Koechlin, General Thiars and of MM. Mérilhou and Chevalier. -For military questions the committee added Generals Corbineau and -Tarayre. The _Comité directeur_ and the _Higher Lodge_ were in close -communication with one another. At first their meetings were only -intended for general discussions; for the young Carbonari treated the -old Liberals with contempt, and the latter reciprocated the feeling. -The Carbonari charged the Liberals with feebleness and vacillation; -the Liberals, in their turn, accused the Carbonari of impertinence and -frivolity. They might as well have accused one another of youth and -age. Furthermore, the Carbonari had organised the whole plot of Béfort -without saying a single word to the _Comité directeur._ - -However, Bazard was in league with la Fayette, and well aware of the -general's burning desire after popularity. Now, popular feeling in -1821 was on the side of the party in opposition. The farther they -advanced, the more popular they became. Bazard wrote to the general -asking him to authorise the use of his name as of one in co-operation -with them, and the request was granted. La Fayette possessed this -admirable characteristic: he yielded at the first pressure, without -having taken the initiative personally, and he went farther and -more to the point than most people. The secrets of the Upper Lodge -were revealed to him and he was asked to join it. He accepted the -invitation, was received into their number and became one of the most -active conspirators of Béfort. In this he risked his head, just as much -as did the humblest of the confederates. The boldest members of the -Chamber followed him and enlisted with him in the same cause. These -were Voyer-d'Argenson, Dupont (de l'Eure), Manuel, Jacques Koechlin and -de Corcelles senior. They did not have long to wait for a recognition -of their self-sacrificing devotion. When the Revolution was set afoot -they adopted the groundwork of the constitution of the year III. Five -directors were appointed, and these five were la Fayette, Jacques -Koechlin, de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson and Dupont (de l'Eure). - -Carbonarism had its military side; indeed it was more military than -civil in character. They relied strongly and with good reason upon the -army in all their movements. The army was abandoned by the king, abused -by the princes, sacrificed to privileged parties and three parts given -over to the Opposition. Lodges were established in most regiments, -and everything was so well arranged that even the very movements of -the regiments served as a means of propaganda. In leaving the town -where the president of the military lodge had been quartered for three -months, six months or a year, as the case might be, he received half -a piece of money, the other half being sent on in advance to the town -where his regiment was going--either to a member of the Higher or -Central Lodge. The two halves of the coin were fitted together, and the -conspirators were thus put into communication. By this means soldiers -became commercial travellers, as it were, charged with the spread of -revolution throughout France. Thus we shall find that all insurrections -which broke out were as much military as civil. - -Towards the middle of 1821 all plans were laid for a rising in Bordeaux -as well as at Béfort, at Neuf-Brisach as well as at Rochelle, at Nantes -and Grenoble, at Colmar and at Toulouse. France was covered with an -immense network of affiliated societies, so that the revolutionary -influence had expanded, unnoticed but active, into the very heart of -social life, from east to west, from north to south. From Paris--that -is, from the Higher Lodge--all orders were issued for the animation -and support of the propaganda; as the pulsations of the heart send -the life-giving blood to all parts of the human body. Everything -was in readiness. Information had been received that, thanks to the -influence of four young men who had been previously compromised in the -rebellion of 19 August, the 29th infantry, a regiment consisting of -three battalions, severally stationed at Béfort, Neuf-Brisach and at -Huningue, had been won over to the Carbonari. These four young men were -a guardsman called Lacombe, Lieutenant Desbordes and Second-Lieutenants -Bruc and Pegulu, to whom were joined a lawyer named Petit Jean and a -half-pay officer called Roussillon. Furthermore, there was Dermoncourt, -who had been placed on half-pay and who lived in the market town of -Widensollen, a mile away from Neuf-Brisach; he was engaged in the -coming insurrection to lead the light cavalry which was stationed in -barracks at Colmar. So much for the military operations. - -The civil side of the conspiracy was also in motion and conducted by -MM. Voyer-d'Argenson and Jacques Koechlin, who possessed factories, -near Mulhouse and Béfort, and who exercised great influence over their -workpeople, almost all of whom were discontented with the Government -that had given back to the nobles their ancient privileges, and to -the priests their old influence. These malcontents were eager to take -part in any rising into which a leader might be ready to urge them. -So, towards the close of 1821, the Higher Lodge in Paris received the -following news:-- - -At Huningue, Neuf-Brisach and at Béfort the 29th infantry was -stationed, commanded by Lieutenants Carrel, de Gromely and Levasseur; -at Colmar was the light cavalry headed by Dermoncourt; at Strasbourg -they had a stand-by in the two regiments of artillery and in the -battalion of _pontoniers_ at Metz in a regiment of engineers, and -better still the military school: finally, at Spinal they had a -regiment of cuirassiers, MM. Koechlin and Voyer-d'Argenson could be -relied upon not only for a rising at Mulhouse, but also all along the -course of the Rhine where private lodges were stationed; making a total -of more than 10,000 associates amongst the retired officers, citizens, -customs officers and foresters: all were men of determined character -and ready to sacrifice their lives. - -About this time, my poor mother, on reckoning up her income, found we -were so poor that she bethought her of our friend Dermoncourt, in hopes -that he might perhaps have still some relations with the Government. -So she decided to write and beg him to make inquiries with respect to -that unpaid pension of 28,500 francs owing to my father for the years -VII and VIII of the Republic. The letter reached Dermoncourt about 20 -or 22 December--eight days before the outbreak of insurrection. He -replied by return of post, and on 28 December we received the following -letter:-- - - "MY GOOD MADAME DUMAS,--What the devil possesses you - to imagine that I could have maintained relations with - that rabble of scoundrels who manage our affairs at - the present moment? Nay, thank heaven, I have retired, - I have nothing at all to do either by means of pen or - sword with what is going on. Therefore, my dear lady, do - not count on a poor devil like me for anything beyond - my own miserable pittance of 1000 francs per annum; but - look to God, who, if He does watch what goes on here - below, should be very angry at the way things are done. - There are two alternatives: either there is no good God, - or things would not go on as they are; but I know you - believe in the good God--so put your trust in Him. One of - these days things will be altered. Ask your son, who must - be a tall lad by now, and he will tell you that there is - a saying by a Latin author called Horace to the effect - that after rain comes fine weather. Keep your umbrella - open, then, a little longer and, if fine weather comes, - put it down and count on me. - - "Be hopeful; without hope, which lingers at the bottom of - every man's heart, there would be nothing left to decent - folk but to blow out their brains. - - "BARON DERMONCOURT" - -This letter said very little and yet it said a good deal: my mother -gathered that something lay behind it and that Dermoncourt was in the -secret. - -On the day following the receipt of our letter this is what was -happening at Béfort: carrying out the plan of the conspirators, the -signal was sent to Neuf-Brisach and Béfort at the same moment; and at -the identical hour and day, or rather the same night, these two places -took up arms and raised the tricolour standard. The insurrection took -place on the night of 29-30 December. A Provisional Government was -proclaimed at Béfort and then at Colmar. This Government, as we have -already mentioned, consisted of Jacques Koechlin, General la Fayette -and Voyer-d'Argenson. Twenty-five or thirty Carbonari had received -orders to set out to Béfort. They started without a moment's delay, and -arrived on the 28th in the daytime. On the 28th, just as Joubert, who -had preceded them to Béfort, was preparing to leave the town in order -to lead them in, he met M. Jacques Koechlin. M. Koechlin was looking -for him to tell him a singular piece of news. M. Voyer-d'Argenson, -who with himself and General la Fayette formed the revolutionary -triumvirate, had indeed come, but had shut himself up in his factories -in the valleys behind Massevaux, stating that he did not wish to -receive anyone there, but that the instructions brought were to be kept -for him. - -"All very well, but what are we to do?" asked Joubert. - -"Listen," said M. Koechlin: "I will go myself to Massevaux; I will look -after d'Argenson and draw him out, willy nilly, whilst you must try by -what means you can to hurry up the arrival of la Fayette." - -Whereupon the two conspirators left, the one, M. Koechlin, post haste, -as he said, to Massevaux, a little village off the main road, perhaps -seven miles from Béfort and equidistant from Colmar; the other, -Joubert, posted off to Lure, a small town on the road to Paris, twenty -leagues from Béfort. There a carriage stopped, and he recognised two -friendly faces inside, those of two brothers, great painters and true -patriots, Henri and Ary Scheffer; with them was M. de Corcelles junior. -Joubert very soon made them acquainted with what was happening. Ary -Scheffer, the intimate friend of General la Fayette, retraced his steps -to go and look for him at his castle of La Grange. The others returned -with Joubert to Béfort to announce that the movement was delayed. Thus -the 29th and 30th passed in useless waiting. On the night between those -two days General Dermoncourt, becoming impatient, sent to Mulhouse an -under-foreman called Rusconi, belonging to M. Koechlin. This man had -been once an officer in the Italian army and had followed Napoleon to -Elba. He was sent to inquire whether anything had been learnt by M. -Koechlin. Rusconi set off at ten o'clock a.m., covered nine stiff -leagues of country in driving rain, and reached M. Koechlin's house at -ten o'clock that night: he found him entertaining ten of his friends, -and he took him aside to inquire whether he had news of the conspiracy. -M. d'Argenson would not budge; there was no news yet from la Fayette; -it was supposed he was being detained by Manuel. In the meantime -General Dermoncourt was to be patient, and he should be informed when -it was time to act. - -"But," demanded the messenger, "for whom is he to act?" - -"Ah! there lies the difficulty," replied M. Koechlin: "the generals -want Napoleon II.; the others, with Manuel at their head, want -Louis--Philippe; General la Fayette wants a Republic ... but let us -first overthrow the Bourbons and then all will come clear." - -Rusconi left, hired a carriage, journeyed all that night, reached -Colmar at ten o'clock next day, and from Colmar he went on foot to -Widensollen, where he found the general ready for action. Nothing had -been done during his absence. This is what had happened. Ary Scheffer -had found la Fayette at La Grange. The general, who belonged to the -Chamber and whose absence would have been remarked if he stayed away -longer, did not wish to reach Béfort until the decisive moment. He -promised to set out that night on one condition--that M. Ary Scheffer -should make all speed to Paris to persuade Manuel and Dupont (de -l'Eure), the last two members of the Provisional Government, to come -and take part in the rebellion; he must also bring back Colonel -Fabvier, a man of judgment and courage, to take command of the -insurgent battalions. Ary Scheffer started for Paris, met Manuel, -Dupont and Fabvier, and got Manuel and Dupont to promise to set out -that same night. He took Colonel Fabvier in his carriage and again set -out after la Fayette, followed by Manuel and Dupont. - -Whilst this string of carriages was bearing the revolution at full -speed along the road from Paris, whilst M. Jacques Koechlin, preceded -by Joubert and Carrel, was nearing Béfort, and whilst Colonel Pailhès, -unaware of the arrival of Fabvier, was preparing to take command of -the troops, and Dermoncourt, with horse ready saddled, awaited the -signal, Second-Lieutenant Manoury, one of the chief associates, was -changing guard with one of his comrades and installing himself at -the main gate of the town, at the same time that the other initiated -members were warning their friends that the moment had come and that -in all probability the rising would take place during the night of 1 -January 1822. Now the evening of 1 January had come. Only a few hours -more and all would burst forth. In the meanwhile night approached. At -eight o'clock the roll was called. After roll-call the non-commissioned -adjutant, Tellier, went the round of all the sergeant-majors, ordering -them to their rooms, where each company put flints to the muskets, -packed knapsacks and prepared to march. The sergeant-majors returned -to supper with Manoury. Twenty paces from the place where Manoury and -his sergeant-majors supped, Colonel Pailhès went to the _Hôtel de la -Poste_ to dine with a score of the insurgents, and as the host of a -posting-inn is generally one of the principal ringleaders, no one was -anxious, and the dining-room was decorated with tricoloured flags and -cockades and eagles. And, indeed, what had they to fear? No officer -occupied the barracks, and at midnight the insurrection broke out. - -Alas! none knew what an accumulation of unlooked-for misfortunes was to -escape out of the Pandora's box which men call fate!... - -A sergeant whose six months' furlough had expired that evening and -who in consequence of his long absence knew nothing of what was going -forward, reached Béfort on the evening of 1 January just in time -to answer to the roll-call and to assist in the preparations. When -these preparations were accomplished, he wished to show proof of his -promptness and zeal to his captain by going to tell him the regiment -was ready. - -"Ready for what?" asked the captain. - -"To march." - -"To march where?" - -"To the place which has been appointed." - -The captain gazed at the sergeant. - -"What is it you say?" he asked again. - -"I say that the knapsacks are packed, captain, and the flints are in -the muskets." - -"You are either drunk or mad," cried the captain; "take yourself off to -bed." - -The sergeant was just about to withdraw, in fact, when another officer -stopped him and questioned him more minutely, gathering by the accuracy -of his replies that it was really the truth. - -"How could such an order be given unless the two captains had known of -it?" - -"Who gave the order?... Doubtless it must have been the -lieutenant-colonel?" - -"No doubt," the sergeant replied mechanically. - -Both the captains rose and went to find the lieutenant-colonel. He was -equally astonished and as much in the dark as they were. - -The order must have come from M. Toustain, deputy-governor and -commander-at-arms of the fortress of Béfort. They all three went to M. -Toustain. He had not heard anything of the rumour they brought him; but -suddenly an idea struck him. It was a plot. The two captains at once -rushed back to the barracks to order the knapsacks to be unstrapped, -the flints to be taken out of the muskets and the soldiers to be -confined to the barracks. - -In the meantime the deputy-governor visited the posts. The two officers -rushed to the barracks and M. Toustain began his inspection. One of the -first posts he came to was that guarded by Manoury. As he came nearer -he saw by the light of his lantern a group of four people. This group -struck him as looking suspicious and he accosted them. They were four -young men dressed like citizens. The king's lieutenant interrogated -them. - -"Who are you, gentlemen?" he asked. - -"We are citizens of this neighbourhood, commandant." - -"What are your names?" - -Whether from carelessness or from surprise, or whether they did not -want to lie, these four youths gave their names-- - -"Desbordes, Bruc, Pegulu and Lacombe." - -The reader will recollect that they had all four been in the -insurrection of 19 August, and their names had been blazoned in the -papers, so they were perfectly familiar to the deputy-governor; he -called to the head of the guard, Manoury, and ordered him to arrest -the four young men, to put them under a guard, and then to give him -five men to go out and clear the entrance to the suburbs. Scarcely -had the deputy-governor gone a hundred steps, when he perceived what -looked to be twenty-five or thirty persons taking flight: some of them -were in uniform; amongst them he recognised an officer of the 29th. M. -Toustain sprang on him and stretched out his hand to seize him by the -collar; but the officer freed himself, and presenting a pistol at close -quarters, fired full at M. Toustain's chest, the bullet hitting the -cross of St. Louis, which it broke and flattened. The shock was quite -enough, however, to knock down the commandant. But he soon got to his -feet, and as he saw that his five men were no match against thirty, he -returned to the town and stopped at the guard-house to take up Bruc, -Lacombe, Desbordes and Pegulu. All four had disappeared: Manoury, one -of the officers, had set them free and had disappeared with them. The -deputy-governor marched straight to the barracks and put himself at -the head of the battalion. This he led to the market-place, sending -his company of grenadiers to guard the gate of France and to arrest -whoever should attempt to go out. But he was already too late--for all -the insurgents were outside the town. After leaving his two chiefs, -the non-commissioned officer who had let out everything met Adjutant -Tellier, he who had given the order to pack up knapsacks and put flints -to the guns. He told him what had happened and the measures that had -been taken. Tellier realised that all was lost: he ran to the _Hôtel de -la Poste_, and opening the door, shouted out in the midst of the supper -party the terrible words-- - -"All is discovered!" - -Two officers, Peugnet and Bonnillon, still misbelieved and offered to -go to the barracks; indeed, they went. Ten minutes later they ran -back: the news was but too true, and there was only just time for -flight. And they fled. - -That was how the deputy-governor encountered Peugnet and his friends -outside the gate of France, for it was Peugnet whom he tried to arrest -and who fired the pistol-shot which flattened the cross of St. Louis. - -Pailhès and his supper companions had scarcely left the hotel when -Carrel and Joubert arrived upon the scene. They had come to announce, -in their turn, the discovery of the conspiracy. They only found in -the dining-room Guinard and Henri Scheffer, who were just leaving it -themselves. But not being natives of that country, they did not know -where to fly! Guinard, Henri Scheffer and Joubert mounted a carriage -and took the road to Mulhouse. M. de Corcelles junior and Bazard set -out to meet la Fayette in order to turn him back. When near Mulhouse, -Carrel quitted his three companions, took to horse and returned to -Neuf-Brisach, where his battalion was stationed. At the gate of Colmar -he met Rusconi on the road, the same fellow who, the evening before, -had been at Mulhouse. - -General Dermoncourt still waited, placing Rusconi as sentinel to bring -news to him. Rusconi knew Carrel and learnt from him that all had been -discovered and that the conspirators were fleeing. - -"But where will you go?" asked Rusconi. - -"_Ma foi_, I shall go to Neuf-Brisach to resume my duties." - -"That does not seem to me a prudent course." - -"I shall keep a look-out and at the first alarm I shall decamp.... Have -you any money?" - -"I have a hundred louis belonging to the conspiracy, take fifty of -them." - -"Give them to me, and then take my horse and go and warn the general." - -The exchange was made, and Carrel continued his journey on foot, while -Rusconi reached the general's country house at a gallop. The general -was just rising. Rusconi acquainted him with the failure of the -enterprise at Béfort, but Dermoncourt refused up to the last to believe -it. - -"Ah, well," he said, "the failure of Béfort must mean success at -Neuf-Brisach." - -"But, general," said Rusconi, "perhaps the news has already got abroad -and measures have been taken to frustrate everything?" - -"Then go to Colmar to make inquiries, and I will go to Neuf-Brisach: -return here in two hours' time." - -Each went his way. When Rusconi reached Colmar he entered the _Café -Blondeau_ for news. All was known. - -Whilst making his inquiries, a magistrate who was a friend of General -Dermoncourt found means to warn him that two orders of arrest had been -issued, one against himself and the other against the general. Rusconi -did not wait to learn more, but set off immediately for Widensollen. He -arrived at midnight, and found the general was sleeping peacefully: he -had been to Neuf-Brisach and had satisfied himself that all attempts -at rising were now impossible after what had occurred at Béfort. -At Rusconi's fresh news and at his wife's urgent entreaty, General -Dermoncourt decided to leave Widensollen for Heiteren. There he sought -refuge with a cousin, an old army-teacher. Two hours after their -departure the soldiers and a magistrate appeared at Widensollen. - -Baroness Dermoncourt sent the general word of this by their gardener, -urging him to fly without a moment's loss of time. They discussed the -possibility of crossing the Rhine, and decided that on the following -day they would pretend to go on a hunting excursion among the islands -which lay opposite Geiswasser. Geiswasser is a small hamlet situated on -this side of the Rhine, inhabited by fishers and customs officers. - -The pretext was all the more plausible as the islands were teeming -with game and General Dermoncourt had, together with M. Koechlin of -Mulhouse, rented several of them for shooting. At dawn they set out -with dogs and guns. They had hired the boatmen overnight and found them -ready. About nine o'clock, in a mist which prevented seeing ten paces -ahead, they embarked and told the boatmen to make for mid-stream. They -landed at one of the islands. Rusconi and Dermoncourt alone remained in -the boat, whilst those who had nothing to be afraid of pretended to go -and shoot. - -"Now, my men, I have business on the other side the Rhine," the general -said to the boatmen. "You must have the goodness to take me across." - -The boatmen looked at each other and smiled. - -"Willingly, general," they replied. A quarter of an hour later Rusconi -and Dermoncourt were in Breisgau. - -When he had put foot on the Grand Duke of Baden's territory, he drew a -handful of sovereigns from his pocket and gave them to the boatmen. - -"Thanks, general," they replied; "but there was really no need for -that. We are true Frenchmen and we would not like to see a brave man -like yourself shot." - -These boatmen knew about Béfort and were perfectly aware that they were -conducting fugitives and not a hunting party. - -The general retreated to Freiburg and from there he went to Bâle. On 5 -and 6 January we read the full details of the conspiracy in the papers. - -The name of Dermoncourt took such a prominent part in the proceedings -that we were quite sure if he were arrested his arrears of half-pay -would never be settled. - -These particulars explained his letter, and we were able to understand -what sort of fine weather to expect after the rain. Instead of the -barometer rising to "Set fair," it had dropped to "Stormy." - -My poor mother was obliged to keep her umbrella open, as Dermoncourt -had advised. Only the umbrella was such a dilapidated one that it no -longer served to ward off showers. - -In other words--to abandon our metaphor--we had come to the end of our -resources. - -But hope was still left me. - -You ask from what quarter? - -I will tell you. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -My hopes--Disappointment--M. Deviolaine is appointed forest-ranger to -the Duc d'Orléans--His coldness towards me--Half promises--First cloud -on my love-affairs--I go to spend three months with my brother-in-law -at Dreux--The news waiting for me on my return--Muphti--Walls and -hedges--The summer-house--Tennis--Why I gave up playing it--The wedding -party in the wood - - -I hoped that de Leuven would be able to get our comedies and melodramas -put upon the stage. - -M. de Leuven, his father, finding that no stir was made about his -presence in France, made up his mind to risk returning to Paris. -Adolphe naturally followed his father. His departure, which under any -other circumstances would have filled me with despair, now overwhelmed -me with delight, our ideas being what they were. De Leuven took away -our _chefs-d'œuvre_: we never doubted that the directors of the -various theatres for which they were destined would receive them with -enthusiasm! - -Thanks to our two vaudevilles and our drama, we would turn aside a -tributary of that Pactolus which, since 1822, had watered M. Scribe's -dominions. I would set sail on that tributary, with my mother, and -rejoin de Leuven in Paris. There a career would open before me, strewn -with roses and bank-notes. It can be imagined how anxiously I waited -Adolphe's first letters. These first letters were slow in coming. -I began to feel uneasy. At last one morning the postman (or rather -post-woman, an old dame, whom we called "Mother Colombe") turned her -steps in the direction of our house. She held a letter in her hand; -this letter was in Adolphe's handwriting and bore the Paris postmark. - -The directors--for reasons Adolphe could not fathom--did not put -themselves out to make that fuss over our _chefs-d'œuvre_ he thought -he had the right to expect of them. However, Adolphe did not despair -of getting them a hearing. If he could not succeed in this, he would -have to submit the manuscripts to the critics, which would be most -humiliating! In spite of the gleams of hope which still shone through -the epistle, the general tone of the letter was doleful. In conclusion, -Adolphe promised to keep me well posted concerning his doings. - -I awaited a second letter. The second letter was more than a month -in coming. And then, alas! practically all hope had fled. The _Dîner -d'amis_, borrowed from M. Bouilly, had not sufficient plot; the _Major -de Strasbourg_ was too much like the _Soldat Laboureur_, which had just -been played at the Variétés with such great success. - -And as for the _Abencérages_, every boulevard theatre had received a -play on that subject for the last ten, fifteen, or twenty years. - -Even supposing, therefore, that ours were received, it did not carry us -far. - -Still, we had not yet lost all hope in the matter of the _Dîner d'amis_ -and the _Major de Strasbourg._ - -After vain attempts to gain access at the Gymnase and the Varietés, we -tried the Porte-Saint-Martin, the Ambigue-Comique and the Gaieté. - -As for the unlucky _Abencérages_, its fate was sealed. - -I shed as bitter a tear over it as Boabdil shed over Grenada, and I -awaited Adolphe's third letter with very gloomy forebodings. - -Our cup of humiliation was full to the brim: we were refused -everywhere. But Adolphe had several plays on the way with Théaulon, -with Soulié and with Rousseau. He was going to try to get them played, -and when played, he would use the influence gained by his success to -demand the acceptance of one of our efforts. This was but poor comfort -and uncertain expectancy. I was greatly cast down. - -In the meantime an event had taken place which would have filled -me with high spirits under any other circumstances. M. Deviolaine -was appointed keeper of the forests of the Duc d'Orléans; he left -Villers-Cotterets and went to Paris to take over the management of the -forestry department. Two ways of helping me lay open to him: he could -take me into his office, or he could give me open air work. Unluckily, -since my affair with Madame Lebègue, the family had given me the cold -shoulder. This did not discourage my mother, who saw an opening for me -in one or other of these two careers, from approaching M. Deviolaine. - -It will be remembered that M. Deviolaine, although he was not an old -soldier, could never disguise the truth. He replied to my mother-- - -"Why, certainly, if your rascal of an Alexandre were not an idle lad, I -could find a berth for him; but I confess I have no confidence in him. -Besides, after the goings on there have been, not necessarily his, but -in which at all events he has not denied a share, everybody here would -make a dead set against me." - -Still my mother urged her case. She saw her last hope fading. - -"Very well, then," said M. Deviolaine; "give me some time to think over -things, and later we will see what can be done." - -I awaited my mother's return with the same impatience with which I had -awaited Adolphe's letters. The result was not more satisfactory. - -Two days before, we had received a letter from my brother-in-law, who -was a receiver at Dreux: he invited me to spend a month or two with -him. We had become so poor, alas! that the economy my absence would -produce would go a long way towards compensating my mother for her loss -at my departure. It was, moreover, my first absence: my mother and I -had never been parted except during that wonderful visit to Béthisy, -when the Abbé Fortier had given me my first lessons in hunting. There -was also another person in the town from whom it was a cruel wrench to -tear myself. It can be guessed to whom I refer. - -Although our _liaison_ had lasted more than three years, counting -more than a year of preliminary attentions, I still loved Adèle very -dearly, and the azure of our sky had hardly had so much as a light -cloud upon it during that period--an almost unique experience in the -annals of a courtship. Yet the poor girl had been feeling sad for some -time. While I was but nineteen, she was already twenty years old; and -our love-making, though delightful child's play, not only promised -nothing for her future, but rather compromised it. As no one thought -ill of our relations with each other, Adèle had received two or three -offers of marriage, all of which she declined, either because they did -not quite meet her views or because she would not sacrifice our love to -them. Was she not in danger of suffering from the same disappointment -which a certain hero of our acquaintance, almost a fellow-countryman, -experienced? After having despised perch, carp and eel, would she not -be compelled to sup with frogs? The prospect was not alluring, hence -her melancholy. Poor Adèle! I perceived that my departure was as -necessary for her welfare as for my own. We wept abundantly, she more -than I, and it was quite natural she should shed the most tears, seeing -she was to be consoled the soonest. - -My going away was settled. We had now reached the month of July 1822. -Only another week--eight days and eight nights!--a last week of -happiness, remained to me; for some presentiment warned me that this -week would be the last. The moment of parting came. We vowed fervently -never to forget one another for one single hour; we promised to write -to each other at least twice a week. Alas! we were not rich enough -to afford the luxury of a letter a day. At last we said our final -farewell. It was a cruel farewell--a separation of hearts even more -than a corporeal separation. - -I cannot explain how I got from Villers-Cotterets to Dreux--although -I can recollect the most trivial details of my youth, almost of my -babyhood. It is evident I must have gone through Paris, since that -is the direct route; but how could I forget having passed through -Paris? I cannot tell whether I stopped there or not. I have not the -faintest recollection whether I saw Adolphe or not. I know I left -Villers-Cotterets, and I found myself at Dreux! If anything could have -distracted my attention, it would have been that stay with my sister -and my brother-in-law. Victor, as I have already mentioned, was a -delightful fellow, full of wit, of repartee, of resource. But, alas! -there were too empty places in my heart which were difficult to fill. - -I stayed two months at Dreux. I was there at the beginning of the -shooting season. They told me a story of a three-legged hare, a sort -of enchanted creature seen by all sportsmen, known by all sportsmen, -shot at by all sportsmen; but after each shot the queer beast shook -its ears and only ran the faster. This hare was all the better known, -I might say all the more popular, because it was nearly the only one -in the countryside. We had not gone a quarter of a league from the -house, on the 1st of September, before a hare rose up near me. I gave -chase, I fired and it rolled over. My dog brought it to me: it was the -three-pawed hare! The sportsmen of Dreux united in giving me a grand -dinner. The death of this strange hare, and certain shots that brought -down two partridges at the same time, gave me a reputation in the -department of Eure-et-Loir which has lasted until to-day. But none of -these honours showered upon me, however exalted they were, could make -me stay beyond the 15th of September. - -Adèle's letters had become less and less frequent. Finally they ceased -altogether. - -I left on the 15th of September. I do not remember any more than about -my going, whether I went back through Paris or not. I found myself back -at Villers-Cotterets, and the news that met me on my arrival was-- - -"Do you know that Adèle Dalvin is going to be married?" - -"No, I had not heard it, but it is quite likely," I replied. - -Oh! what were the elegies of Parny on Éléonore's faithlessness, or -Bertin's lamentations on the infidelity of Eucharis; oh, my God, how -bloodless they seemed, when I tried to re-read them, with my own heart -wounded! - -Alas! poor Adèle! she was not making a love match: she was going to -marry a man double her own age; he had lived for years in Spain, and he -had brought home a small fortune. Adèle was making a prudent marriage. - -I determined to see her the very night I returned. You remember how I -paid my visits to Adèle. I entered the usual way, by slipping back the -bolt of the lock, I opened the door, I met Muphti again, and he gave me -such a greeting that he almost betrayed me by his demonstrations; then, -with my heart thumping as it had never yet beaten, I scaled the wall -and leapt over the two hedges. I felt quite ill when I was once more in -the garden; I leant against a tree to get my breath. Then I went to the -pavilion; but the nearer I drew, and the better I could see things in -the darkness, the more I felt my heart tighten. The shutters were quite -wide open, instead of being closed; the window, instead of being shut, -was half open. I leant on the window-sill: everything was dark inside. -I pushed the two flaps, I knelt on the sill. The room was empty: I felt -the bedside with my hands; the bed was unoccupied. It was evident that -Adèle had guessed I would come, that she had deserted the room, leaving -it easy for me to gain an entrance therein, in order to show me her -intentions. Ah yes! I guessed ... I understood everything. What good -could it do to meet, since all was over between us? I sat down on the -bed and I gave thanks to God for the gift of tears, since He had willed -us to endure sorrow. - -The marriage was fixed for fifteen days hence. During those fifteen -days I kept almost entirely to the house. I went to the park on Sunday, -but only to play tennis. I was very fond of that game, as of all games -of skill; I was rather good at it; for I had very strong muscles and I -could hold out through the longest game and sometimes even longer; this -strength of mine was a terror to other players. On this particular day, -when I wanted to overcome my mental feelings by great physical fatigue, -I gave myself up to the game with a kind of frenzy. One ball, which I -sent as high as a man, hit one of the players and knocked him down; -he was the son of a _brigadier de gendarmerie_, called Savard. We ran -up to him, and found that the ball had luckily hit him on the top of -his shoulder, a little above the biceps, just where the shirt-sleeve -gatherings come. Had it gone six inches higher I should have killed him -on the spot, for it would have reached his temple. I threw down my -racquet and I gave up the game: I have never played it since. I went -home, and I tried to find distraction in working. But I could not set -myself to my task: one works with heart and mind combined. Adolphe had -possession of my thoughts; Adèle was in the act of breaking my heart. - -The wedding-day drew near; I could not stay in Villers-Cotterets on -that day. I arranged a bird-snaring party with an old comrade of mine, -a playmate of my younger days, who had been somewhat neglected since de -la Ponce and Adolphe had not only taken hold of my affections but were -influencing my life. He was a harness-maker called Arpin. - -In the evening we went to prepare our tree: it was in a lovely copse, -a quarter of a league or so from the pretty village of Haramont, which -I have since attempted to make famous in _Ange Pitou_ and _Conscience -l'innocent._ At the foot of this tree, all whose branches we cut off, -to make way for our lime twigs, we built a hut of branches and covered -it with fern fronds, Next day, we were at our post before daybreak; -when the sun rose and shone on our stiff tree, we found the sport -had begun. It was a strange thing that, although when younger I had -taken such pleasure in this sport that I often lay sleepless the night -before, this present snaring had no power to distract my heart from the -anguish weighing upon it. - -O Sorrow, thou sublime mystery by which a man's spirit is raised and -his soul expanded! Sorrow, without which there would be no poetry, for -poetry is nearly always made up of joy and hope in equal parts, with an -equivalent amount of sorrow! - -Sorrow, which leaves its trace for life; a furrow moistened by tears, -whence Prayer springs, the mother of those three heavenly, noble -daughters, whose names are Faith, Hope and Charity! The benediction of -a poet is ever thine, O Sorrow! - -We had taken bread and wine with us; we had breakfasted and had dinner; -the catch was plentiful, and would have been entirely satisfactory -at any other time. We had reached the day's end, the hour when the -blackbird whistles or the robin sings, when the first shadows creep -silently to the heart of the wood;--suddenly I was startled from my -reverie (if one can so call a formless chaos of thoughts through which -no light had shone) by the sharp sound of a violin and by happy shouts -of laughter. Violin and laughter came nearer, and I soon began to see -through the trees that a player and a wedding party were coming from -Haramont and going towards Villers-Cotterets; they were taking a narrow -side-path, and would pass within twenty paces of me--young girls in -white dresses, youths in blue or black clothes, with large bouquets and -streaming ribbons. - -I put my head out of our hut and uttered a cry. This wedding party -was Adèle's! The young girl with the white veil and the bouquet of -orange blossom who walked in front, and gave her arm to her husband, -was Adèle! Her aunt lived at Haramont. After mass they had been to the -wedding breakfast with the aunt; they had gone by the high road in the -morning; they were returning at night by the shorter way. This short -cut, as I have said, ran within twenty paces of our hut. What I had -fled from had come to find me! Adèle did not see me; she did not know -that she was passing near me: she was leaning against the shoulder of -the man to whom she now belonged in the eyes of man and of God, while -he had his arm round her waist and held her closely to him. - -I gazed for a long time on that file of white dresses which, in the -growing darkness, looked like a procession of ghosts. I heaved a sigh -when it had disappeared. My first dream had just vanished, my first -illusion been shattered! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third clerk at Crespy--M. -Lefèvre--His character--My journeys to Villers-Cotterets--The -_Pélerinage à Ermenonville_--Athénaïs--New matter sent to -Adolphe--An uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris--How -this desire was accomplished--The journey--Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins--Adolphe-_Sylla_--Talma - - -During my absence a place had been offered me as second or third clerk, -I do not know exactly which, with M. Lefèvre, a lawyer at Crespy. It -was a very desirable place, because the clerks were lodged and boarded. -My keep had become such a burden on my poor mother, that she consented -for the second time to part with me in order to save my food. She made -up my little bit of packing--not much bigger than a Savoyard's on -leaving his mountains--and off I set. It was three and a half leagues -from Villers-Cotterets to Crespy: I did the journey on foot one fine -evening, and I duly arrived at M. Lefèvre's. - -M. Lefèvre was, at that period, a fairly good-looking man of -thirty-four or thirty-five, with dark brown hair, a very pale -complexion, and a well-worn appearance physically. You could recognise -he was a man who had lived a long while in Paris, who had taken many -permissible pleasures, and still more forbidden ones. Although M. -Lefèvre was confined to a little provincial town, he might be styled -a lawyer of the old school: he had ceremonious ways with his clients, -ceremonious manners with us, lofty domineering airs with the world at -large. M. Lefèvre seemed to say to all those who had business with him, -"Pray appreciate the honour I am bestowing upon you and your town, in -condescending to be a lawyer in the capital of a canton when I might -have been in practice in Paris." - -There was one thing that specially called forth from me feelings of -admiration for M. Lefèvre, and it was this: he went to the capital, as -they call it in Crespy, some eight or ten times a year, and he never -lowered himself to take the diligence: when he wanted a conveyance he -would call the gardener. "Pierre," he would say, "I am going to-morrow, -or this evening, to Paris; see that the post-horses are ready in the -chaise at such and such an hour." - -Pierre would go: at the appointed hour the horses would arrive, rousing -the whole district with their bells; the postillion, who still wore -a powdered wig and a blue jacket with red lapels and silver buttons, -would fling himself clumsily, heavily-booted, into the saddle, M. -Lefèvre would stretch himself nonchalantly in the carriage, wrapped in -a big cloak, take a pinch of snuff from a gold box, and say with an air -of careless indifference, "Go on!" and at the word the whip cracked, -the bells jingled and the carriage disappeared round the corner of the -street for three or four days. M. Lefèvre never told us the day or hour -of his return: he would return unawares, for he delighted in taking his -world by surprise. - -But M. Lefèvre was not a bad sort of man. Although cold and exacting, -he was just; he rarely refused holidays when they were asked for, but, -as we shall see, he never pardoned holidays taken without leave. - -My brother-in-law's mother lived at Crespy, so I had a ready entree -into the society of that little town. Alas! alas! what a different -world it was from our three-tiered society of Villers-Cotterets of -which I have spoken, and above all from our own charming little circle -of friends! All the good family of Millet, with whom we had taken -shelter during the first invasion, had disappeared: the mother, the two -brothers, the two sisters, had all left Crespy and lived in Paris. I -have since come across the mother and the eldest sister: they were both -in want. I was dreadfully bored in the heart of that ancient capital -of Valois! so sick of it that I very often returned home to sleep at -my mother's at Villers-Cotterets, when Saturday evening came, taking -my gun for a shoot on the way; then I would shoulder my gun at six -on Monday morning, and, shooting all the time, I returned to Maître -Lefèvre's before the office opened. - -Thus things went on for three months. I had a pretty room looking into -a garden full of flowers; the evening sun shone into the room; I had -paper, ink and pens in abundance on my table; the food was good, I -looked well enough, and yet I felt I could not possibly continue to -live thus. - -During one of my Sunday excursions I turned in the direction of -Ermenonville. Ermenonville is about six leagues from Crespy, but what -were six leagues to such legs as mine! I visited the historic places -of M. de Girardin, the desert, the poplar island, the tomb of the -Unknown. The poetic side to this pilgrimage revived my poor drooping -Muse a little, like a wan, sickly butterfly coming out of its chrysalis -in January instead of May. I set to work. I wrote partly in prose, -partly in verse, and under the inspiration of a charming young society -damsel named Athénaïs--who knew nothing about it-a bad imitation of -the _Lettres d'Émilie_ by Demoustier, and of the _Voyages du chevalier -Berlin_. I sent the work to Adolphe when it was finished. Since I -could not achieve success by the stage, I might perhaps attain it by -publishing. I gave it the essentially novel title of _Pélerinage à -Ermenonville._ Adolphe, naturally enough, could not do anything with -it; he lost it, never found it again, and so much the better. I cannot -recollect a single word of it. - -As a matter of fact, Adolphe was not succeeding any better than I was. -All his hopes fell to the ground, one after another, and he wrote me -that we should never do anything unless we were together. But, to be -together, it would be necessary to leave Crespy for Paris, and how was -this to be done, in the state of my purse, which even on those happy -days when my mother sent me some money never contained more than eight -or ten francs. - -So it was a material impossibility. But infinite are the mysteries of -Providence. One Saturday in the month of November, M. Lefèvre announced -to us in his usual fashion--by ordering Pierre to have the horses ready -by seven next morning--that he was going to pay one of his monthly -visits to Paris. Almost simultaneously with his giving this order, at -the conclusion of dinner (another of his habits), the cook came and -told me a friend wanted to see me. I went out. It was Paillet, my old -head clerk; like myself, he had left Maître Mennesson. He was living -temporarily on his farm at Vez, where he lodged in the top of a tower, -compared with which the tower of Madame Marlborough, however vaunted -it may be, is a mere trifle. The tower of Vez was really wonderful, -the only remains left standing of a stout castle of the twelfth -century--the ancient nest of vultures now peopled by rooks. Paillet had -come over on horseback, to learn the price of corn, I believe. He was -from time to time head clerk in the provinces or second clerk in Paris; -but his real business, his actual life, was that of a property-owner. -We took a turn round the ramparts. I was in full tide of pouring out -my grievances to this good friend, who loved me so devotedly, and who -sympathised with me to the utmost, when, all of a sudden, I struck my -forehead and burst out with-- - -"Oh, my dear fellow, I have an idea ...!" - -"What is it?" - -"Let us go and spend three days in Paris." - -"And what about the office?" - -"M. Lefèvre goes to Paris himself to-morrow; he usually stays away two -or three days; we shall have returned in two or three days' time." - -Paillet felt in his pockets and drew out twenty-eight francs. - -"There, that is all I possess," he said. "And you?" - -"I? I have seven francs." - -"Twenty-eight and seven make thirty-five! How the deuce do you think we -can go to Paris on that? We need thirty francs, to begin with, simply -for a carriage to get there and back." - -"Wait a bit: I know a way...." - -"Well?" - -"You have your horse?" - -"Yes." - -"We will put our things into a portmanteau, we will go in our -hunting-clothes, with our guns, and we will shoot along the route; we -can live on the game, and so it will cost us nothing." - -"How do you make that out?" - -"It is simple enough: from here to Dammartin, surely we can kill a -hare, two partridges and a quail?" - -"I hope we can kill more than that." - -"So do I, hard enough, but I am putting it at the lowest. When we reach -Dammartin we can roast the hinder portion of our hare, we can jug the -front half, and we can drink and eat." - -"And then?" - -"Then?... We will pay for our wine, our bread and our seasoning with -the two partridges, and we will give the quail to the waiter as a -tip.... There will only remain your horse to trouble about! Come, come, -for three francs a day we shall see wonders." - -"But what the dickens will people take us for?" - -"What does that matter?--for scholars on a holiday." - -"But we only have one gun." - -"That will be all we shall need: one of us will shoot, the other will -follow on horseback; in this way, as it is only sixteen leagues from -here to Paris, it will only mean eight for each of us." - -"And the keepers?" - -"Ah! that is our worst difficulty. Whichever of us is on horseback must -keep watch; he will warn the one who is poaching. The cavalier must -dismount from his horse, the sportsman will get up, spur with both -heels and clear out of the place at a gallop. The keeper will then come -up to the cavalier, and finding him walking along with his hands in his -pockets, will say, 'What are you doing here, sir?' 'I?... You can see -quite well for yourself.' 'Never mind, tell me.' 'I am walking.' 'Just -a minute ago, you were on horseback.' 'Yes.' 'And now you are on foot?' -'Yes.... Is it against the law for a man first to ride and then to -walk?' 'No, but you were not alone.' 'Quite possible.' 'Your companion -was shooting.' 'Do you think so?' 'Good heavens! why, there he is on -horseback carrying his gun.' 'My dear sir, if he is there with his gun -on horseback, run after him and try to stop him.' 'But I can't run -after him and stop him, because he is on horseback and I am on foot.' -'In that case you will be wise, my friend, to go to the nearest village -and drink a bottle of wine to our health.' And at this, one of us will -hold out a twenty-sous piece to the honest fellow, which we will reckon -in among our profit and loss; the gamekeeper will bow to us, go and -drink our health, and we shall pursue our journey." - -"Well, I never! that is not badly conceived," cried Paillet. "... They -tell me you are writing things." - -I heaved a sigh. "It is exactly for the purpose of going to ask de -Leuven for news of the plays I have written that I want to go to -Paris.... And then, once in Paris----" - -"Oh!" interrupted Paillet, "once in Paris, I know a little hotel, rue -des Vieux-Augustins, where I usually put up, and where I am known; once -in Paris, I shall not be anxious." - -"Then it is settled?" - -"Why, yes!... it will be a joke." - -"We will start for Paris?" - -"We will." - -"Very well, then, better still, let us start to-night, instead of -to-morrow! We can sleep at Ermenonville, and to-morrow evening, leaving -Ermenonville early, we shall be in Paris." - -"Let us leave to-night." - -We went our way, Paillet to his inn, to have his horse saddled; I to -Maître Lefèvre's, to get my gun and to put on my shooting-clothes. A -shirt, a coat, a pair of trousers and a pair of boots were sent off by -the third clerk to Paillet, who stuffed them into a portmanteau; these -things accomplished, I shouldered my gun and awaited Paillet outside -the town. Paillet soon appeared. It was too late for shooting: our only -thoughts were to gain the country. I jumped up behind. Two hours later, -we were at Ermenonville. - -It was the second or third time I had visited the _Hôtel de la Croix_: -so far as I can remember, I was not a profitable customer; but my -antecedents were by no means bad, rather the reverse. We were well -received. An omelette, a bottle of wine and as much bread as we wanted, -constituted our supper. Next day, our account, including the horse's -stabling, came to six francs--leaving twenty-nine. Paillet and I looked -at one another, as much as to say, "Dear me! how money does fly!" -And after two or three sage noddings of the head, we continued our -journey, going across country to Dammartin, where we meant to lunch. -Lunch did not trouble us: it lay in the barrel of our gun, and we set -forth to find it. The country round Ermenonville is full of game and -well guarded; so we had hardly gone a quarter of a league before I had -killed two hares and three partridges with six shots of my gun. I ought -to confess with due humility that these two hares and three partridges -belonged to M. de Girardin-Brégy. - -Now, when my dog was retrieving the third partridge, Paillet gave -the prearranged signal. The figure of a gamekeeper appeared on the -skyline, boldly defined against the white fleecy sky, like one of those -shepherds or country rustics in huge leggings that Decamps or Jadin put -in their landscapes, as a contrast to a lonely and twisted elm-tree. - -The manœuvre had already been discussed. In an instant I was on -horseback, spurring the horse with both heels, and carrying off with -me the incriminating plunder. The dialogue between Paillet and the -gamekeeper was lengthy and animated; but it ended as I had predicted. -Paillet majestically drew a twenty-sous piece from the common purse, -and our total expenditure had reached the sum of seven francs. That was -our loss; but on the profit side of our account we had two hares and -three partridges. Paillet joined me again; I remained on horseback and -he took his turn at hunting. So we alternated. By ten o'clock in the -morning we were at Dammartin, with three hares and eight partridges. -Of the two gamekeepers we ran across since our last, one had loftily -refused the twenty sous, the other had basely accepted. Our funds were -now reduced to twenty-seven francs. But we were more than half-way -there; and we had three hares and eight partridges to the good! As I -had foreseen, we paid our way, and generously, with a hare and three -partridges. We could have paid our way in larks. - -By eleven o'clock, we were off again, and we made straight tracks for -Paris, which we reached at half-past ten that night, I on foot and -Paillet on horseback, with four hares, a dozen partridges and two -quails. We had a marketable value of thirty francs of game with us. - -When we reached the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_, Paillet made himself -known and imposed his conditions. He told our host we had made a big -bet with some Englishmen. We had wagered that we could go to Paris -and back without spending a halfpenny, so we wished to gain the bet -by selling our game to him. He engaged to board and put us up, horse -and dog included, for two days and two nights, in exchange for our -twelve partridges, four hares and two quails. Besides this, when we -left he put us up a pasty and bottle of wine. On these conditions, our -host declared he would make a good thing out of us, and offered us a -certificate to certify that, at least while with him, we had not spent -a son. We thanked him and told him our Englishmen would take our word -for it. - -Paillet and I took our bearings and went to get a bath. With all -economy possible, we had had to deduct the sum of three francs fifty -from our remaining balance; we were thus left with twenty-three francs -fifty. We had spent rather less than a third of our wealth; but we had -arrived, and bed and board were assured us for _forty-eight hours_. - -In spite of the fatigue of the journey, I slept but ill: I was in -Paris! I envied my dog, who, laid down at the foot of my bed, free from -imagination, tired out in body, and indifferent to his resting-place, -was taking a nap. Next day I woke up at seven o'clock. In a twinkling I -was dressed. - -De Leuven lived in the rue Pigale, No. 14. It was nearly a league from -the rue des Vieux-Augustins, but, good gracious! what did that matter? -I had covered ten or a dozen leagues the day before, without reckoning -the ins and outs, and I could surely manage one to-day. I set out. -Paillet had business of his own to attend to; I had mine. We should -probably meet at dinner-time, or perhaps not until night. I left the -rue des' Vieux-Augustins by the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs and walked -straight ahead. I saw a passage where a crowd of people were going in -and coming out. I went down seven or eight steps until I thought I -was lost. I wanted to ascend again, but I felt ashamed. I continued -on my way and alighted on the rue Valois. I had made acquaintance, -first go off, with the ugliest passage in Paris, the passage of the -rue Neuve-des-Bons-Enfants. I went down another passage which opened -out before me, and I found myself in the Palais-Royal. I went all -round it: half the shops weren't opened. I stopped in front of the -Théâtre-Français and I saw on the poster-- - - - "To-morrow, Monday, _Sylla_, a Tragedy in verse, in five - acts, by M. de Jouy." - - -I vowed fervently that somehow or other I would get access to the -common purse and I would see _Sylla._ All the more because I read in -large letters on the same poster-- - - - "M. TALMA will take the part of Sylla" - - -However, since it would be much better to go with the help' of Adolphe, -I immediately inquired my way to the rue Pigale, and started off for -it. After many turnings and twistings, I reached my destination at -about nine in the morning. Adolphe was not yet up; but his father was -walking in the garden. I went up to him. He stopped, let me approach, -held out his hand to me, and said-- - -"So you have come to Paris, then?" - -"Yes, Monsieur de Leuven." - -"For some stay?" - -"For two days." - -"What have you come for?" - -"I have come to see two people--Adolphe and Talma." - -"Ah! is that so? You have become a millionaire, then, or you would not -commit such extravagances." - -I told M. de Leuven how Paillet and I had accomplished the journey. He -looked at me for a minute, then he said-- - -"You will get on, you have will-power. Go and wake Adolphe; he will -take you to see Talma, who will give you tickets; then come back and -lunch together here." - -That was the very thing I wanted. I took stock of the interior -topography of the house, and rushed off. I only opened two wrong doors -before I found Adolphe's: one was Gabriel Arnault's door; the other, -Louis Arnault's. I lost my way on the first landing: Louis put me -right. I reached Adolphe's room at last. Adolphe slept like the Seven -Sleepers. But had I had to deal with Epimenides I would have wakened -him. Adolphe rubbed his eyes, and could not recognise me. - -"Come, come," I said, "it is really I; wake up and get dressed. I want -to go to Talma." - -"To Talma! What for? You don't mean to say you have a tragedy to read -to him?" - -"No, but I want to ask him for some tickets." - -"What is he playing in now?" - -I fell from my state of exaltation. Adolphe, living in Paris, did -not know what Talma was acting! What was the idiot thinking of? No -wonder he had not yet got my _Pélerinage d'Ermenonville_ placed, or -any of our plays acted. Adolphe got out of bed and dressed himself. At -eleven o'clock we were ringing the bell of a house in the rue de la -Tour-des-Dames. Mademoiselle Mars, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Talma -all lived side by side. Talma was dressing, but Adolphe was an habitué -of the house: they let him in. I followed Adolphe, as Hernani followed -Charles-Quint; I, naturally, behind Adolphe. - -Talma was extremely short-sighted: I do not know whether he saw me -or not. He was washing his chest: his head was almost shaved--this -astonished me greatly, for I had heard it said, many times, that in -_Hamlet_, when the father's ghost appears, Talma's hairs could be -seen standing on end. I must confess that Talma's appearance, under -the above conditions, was far from being artistic. But when he turned -round, with his neck bare, the lower part of his body wrapped in a -large sort of white linen wrapper, and he took one of the corners of -this mantle and drew it over his shoulder, half veiling his breast, -there was something so regal in the action that it made me tremble. - -De Leuven laid bare our request. Talma took up a kind of antique -stiletto, at the end of which was a pen, and signed an order for two -seats for us. It was a member's order. Besides the actors' order which -were received on days when they were acting, members had the right to -give two free tickets every day. - -Then Adolphe explained who I was. In those days I was just the son -of General Alexandre Dumas: but that was something. Besides, Talma -remembered having met my father at Saint-Georges's. He held out his -hand to me, and I longed to kiss it. Full of theatrical ambitions as I -was, Talma was like a god to me--an unknown god, it is true, as unknown -as Jupiter was to Semele; but a god who appeared to me in the morning, -and who would reveal himself to me at night. Our hands clasped. Oh, -Talma! if only you had been twenty years younger or I twenty years -older! But at that time the whole honour was mine. - -Talma! I knew the past: you could not guess the future. If anyone had -told you, Talma, that the hand you had just held was to write sixty to -eighty dramas, in each of which you--who were looking out for rôles -all your life--would have found one which you would have acted to -perfection, you would not have allowed the poor youth to go away thus, -blushing at having seen you, proud at having shaken hands with you! But -how could you see anything in me, Talma, since I had not discovered it -myself? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The theatre ticket--The _Café du Roi_--Auguste -Lafarge--Théaulon--Rochefort--Ferdinand Langlé--People who dine -and people who don't--Canaris--First sight of Talma--Appreciation -of Mars and Rachel--Why Talma has no successor--_Sylla_ and the -Censorship--Talma's box--A cab-drive after midnight--The return to -Crespy--M. Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels--I hand in my resignation as his third clerk - - -I went back to de Leuven's house hugging the order in my pocket. With -the possibility of procuring another by the means of it, I would not -have parted with it for five hundred francs! I was filled with pride -at the thought of going to the Théâtre-Français, with an order signed -"_Talma_." We lunched. - -De Leuven raised great difficulties about going to the play: he had an -engagement with Scribe, a meeting with Théaulon, an appointment with I -don't know how many other celebrities besides, that night. His father -shrugged his shoulders, and de Leuven raised no more objections. It -was arranged that we were to go to the Français together; but, as I -wanted to see the Musée, the Jardin des Plantes and the Luxembourg, -he arranged to meet me at the _Café du Roi_ at seven o'clock. The -_Café du Roi_ formed the corner of the rue de Richelieu and the rue -Saint-Honoré. We shall have more to say about it later. - -After luncheon, I set out by myself and went to the Musée. At six -o'clock, I had tramped the tourists' round--that is to say, having -entered the Tuileries by the gate of the rue de la Paix, I had passed -under the Arch, visited the Musée, gone along the Quays, examined -Nôtre-Dame inside and out, made Martin climb up his tree and, under -cover of being a stranger--a title which only a blind man or an -evilly disposed person could dispute--I had forced my way through the -gates of the Luxembourg. - -I returned at six o'clock to the hotel, where I found Paillet. Upon -my word, we dined well! Our host was a conscientious man, and he gave -us soup, a _filet_ with olives, roast beef and potatoes _à la maître -d'hôtel_, the worth of two hares and four partridges, which we absorbed -under other guises. I urged Paillet in vain to come to the Français -with us: Paillet was formerly a second clerk in Paris; he had friends, -or perhaps it would be more truthful to say girl-friends, of other -days, to see again; he refused the offer, pressing though it was, and -I set off for the _Café du Roi_, not comprehending how there could -be anything more vitally important than to see Talma, or, if one had -already seen him, than to see him again. I reached our rendezvous some -minutes before Adolphe. Paillet had foreseen that I should probably -have some indispensable expenses: he had generously drawn three francs -from the common purse and given them to me. After this, a total of -twenty francs fifty centimes remained to us. - -I went into the _Café du Roi_ and sat down at a table; I calculated -what would cost me the least; I concluded that a small glass of brandy -would give me the right to wait, and at least to look as though I -was a habitué of the establishment; so I ordered one. Now, I had -never managed to swallow one drop of that abominable liquor; however, -although obliged to order it, I was not obliged to drink it. I had -scarcely taken my seat when I saw one of the regular customers (I -judged he was a regular attender, because I saw that he had nothing at -all on the table before him) get up and come towards me. I uttered a -cry of surprise and joy: it was Lafarge. Lafarge had gone a step lower -towards poverty: he wore a coat shiny at the elbows, trousers shiny at -the knees. - -"Why, surely I am not mistaken, it is really you?" he said. - -"It is really I. Sit down here." - -"With pleasure. Ask for another glass." - -"For you?" - -"Yes." - -"Take mine, my dear fellow. I never touch brandy." - -"Then why did you ask for it?" - -"Because I did not like to wait till Adolphe came in without asking for -something." - -"Is Adolphe coming here?" - -"Yes. We are going to see _Sylla_ together." - -"What! you are going to see that filth?" - -"Filth, _Sylla_? Why, it is an enormous success!" - -"Yes, the success of a wig." - -"The success of a wig?" I echoed, not understanding. "Certainly! Take -away from Sylla his Napoleonic locks, and the piece would never be -played through." - -"But surely M. de Jouy is a great poet?" - -"In the provinces he may be thought great, my dear boy; but here we are -in Paris, and we see things differently." - -"If he is not a great poet, he is at least a man of infinite resource." -"Well, perhaps he might have been thought clever under the Empire; but -you see, my boy, the wit of 1809 is not the wit of 1822." - -"Still, I thought that _l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ was written -under the Restoration." - -"Why, certainly; but do you think _l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ was -by M. de Jouy?" - -"Most certainly, since it appears under his name." - -"Oh, what sweet simplicity!" - -"Then who wrote it?" - -"Why, Merle." - -"Who is Merle?" - -"Hush! he is that gentleman you see over there in a big coat and a -wide-brimmed hat. He has ten times more wit than M. de Jouy." - -"But if he has ten times M. de Jouy's wit, how is it he has not a -quarter of his reputation?" - -"Oh, because, you see, my boy, reputations, as you will find later, are -not made either by wit or talents, but by coteries.... Just ask for -the sugar; brandy makes me ill if I drink it neat. Waiter! some sugar." - -"But if brandy upsets you, why drink it?" - -"What else can one do?" said Lafarge; "if one passes one's life in -cafés, one must drink something." - -"So you spend all your time in cafés?" - -"Nearly all: I can work best so." - -"In the midst of all the noise and talking?" - -"I am used to that: Théaulon works thus, Francis works thus, Rochefort -works thus, we all work thus. Don't we, Théaulon?" - -A man of thirty to thirty-five, who had been writing rapidly, on quarto -paper, something that looked like dialogue, at this interpellation -lifted up his pale face--red about the cheek bones--and looked at us -kindly. - -"Yes," he said; "what is it? Ah! it is you, Lafarge? Good-evening." And -he resumed his work. - -"Is that Théaulon?" I asked. - -"Yes; there's a man of ready wit for you! only he squanders and abuses -his ready wit. Do you know what he is doing now?" "No." - -"He is writing a comedy, in five acts, in verse." - -"What! he can write poetry here, in a café?" - -"In the first place, dear boy, this is not a café: it is a kind -of literary club; everybody you see here is either an author or a -journalist." - -"Well," I said to Lafarge, "I have never seen a café where they -consumed so little and wrote so much." - -"The deuce, you are framing already. You almost made a witticism just -then, do you know?" - -"Well, then, in return for the witticism I have almost perpetrated, -tell me who some of these gentlemen are." - -"My dear fellow, it would be useless: you need to be a Parisian to be -acquainted with reputations which are wholly Parisian." - -"But I assure you, my dear Auguste, I am not so provincial in such -matters as you think I am." - -"Have you heard of Rochefort?" - -"Yes. Has he not composed some very pretty songs and two or three -successful vaudevilles?" - -"Exactly so. Very well! he is that tall thin man, who is playing -dominoes." - -"Both players are of equal thinness." - -"Ah! quite true!... He is the one whose face always plays and never -wins." A way Rochefort had, gave rise to this joke on the part of his -friend Lafarge. I say gave rise to, and not _excused._ - -"And who is his partner?" - -"That is Ferdinand Langlé." - -"Ah! little Fleuriet's lover?" - -"Little Fleuriet's lover!... Hang it, you talk like a Parisian.... Who -has primed you so well?" - -"Hang it all! Adolphe ... he does not appear to hurry himself." - -"You are in a hurry, then?" - -"Of course I am, and naturally enough: I have never seen Talma." - -"Ah, well, dear boy, hurry up and see him." - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Because he is _wearing out_ horribly." - -"What do you mean by _wearing out_?" - -"I mean he is getting old and growing rusty." - -"I see! But the papers say he has never been fresher in talent or more -beautiful in facial expression." - -"Do you believe what the papers say?" - -"Oh!" - -"You may be a journalist yourself one day, my boy." - -"Well, if I am?" - -"Why, then, when you are, you will see how things come about." - -"And ...?" - -"And you will not believe what the papers say--that is all!" At this -moment the door opened, and Adolphe poked his head in. - -"Be quick," he said; "if we do not hurry, we shall find the curtain -raised." - -"Oh! it is you at last!" - -I darted towards Adolphe. - -"You have forgotten to pay," said Lafarge. - -"Oh! so I have.... Waiter, how much?" - -"One small glass, four sous; six sous of sugar, ten." - -I drew ten sous from my pocket and flung them on the table, and then, -the lighter by fifty centimes, I rushed out of the café. - -"You were with Lafarge?" said Adolphe. - -"Yes.... What is wrong with him?" - -"What do you mean by what is wrong with him?" - -"He told me that M. de Jouy was an idiot, and Talma a Cassandra." - -"Poor Lafarge!" said Adolphe; "perhaps he had not dined." - -"Not dined! Is he reduced so low as that?" - -"Pretty nearly." - -"Ah!" I said, "that explains many things!... MM. de Jouy and Talma dine -every day, and poor Lafarge cannot forgive them for it." - -Alas! I have since seen critics, besides Lafarge, who could not forgive -those who dined. - -I had dined so well that I had quite as much of the spirit of -indulgence in my stomach as curiosity in my mind. - -We went into the theatre. The hall was crowded, although it was about -the eighth performance of the play. We had terrible difficulty in -obtaining seats: our places were unreserved. Adolphe generously gave -forty sous to the woman who showed people to their seats, and she -wriggled a way in so well for us that she found us a corner in the -centre of the orchestra, into which we slipped like a couple of wedges, -which we must have resembled in shape and appearance. We were only -just in time, as Adolphe had said. Scarcely were we seated before the -curtain went up. - -It is odd, is it not, that I should be talking of _Sylla_ to the public -of 1851? "What was _Sylla_?" a whole generation will exclaim. O Hugo! -how true are your lines upon Canaris! They come back to me now, and, in -spite of my will, flow from my pen:-- - - "Canaris! Canaris! nous t'avons oublie! - Lorsque sur un héros le temps c'est replie, - Quand ce sublime acteur a fait pleurer ou lire, - Et qu'il a dit le mot que Dieu lui donne à dire; - Quand, venus au hasard des revolutions, - Les grands hommes out fait leurs grandes actions, - Qu'ils ont jeté leur lustre étincelant ou sombre, - Et qu'ils sont, pas à pas, redescendus dans l'ombre; - Leur nom s'éteint aussi! Tout est vain, tout est vain! - Et jusqu'à ce qu'un jour le poëte divin, - Qui peut créer un monde avec une parole, - Les prenne et leur rallume au front une auréole, - Nul ne se souvient d'eux, et la foule aux cent voix, - Qui, rien qu'en les voyant, hurlait d'aise autrefois, - Hélas! si par hasard devant elle on les nomme, - Interroge et s'étonne, et dit:'Quel est cet homme?'" - -No! it is true M. de Jouy was not a hero, although he had fought -bravely in India, nor a great man, although he had composed _l'Ermite -de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ and _Sylla_; but M. de Jouy was a man of parts, -or rather he possessed talent. - -This was my conviction then. Thirty years have rolled by since the -evening on which I first saw Talma appear on the stage. I have just -re-read _Sylla_ and it is my opinion to-day. No doubt M. de Jouy -had cleverly turned to account both the historical and the physical -likeness. The abdication of _Sylla_ called to mind the emperor's -abdication; Talma's head the cast of Napoleon's. No doubt this was the -reason why the work met with such an enthusiastic reception, and ran -for a hundred times. But there was something else besides the actor's -looks and the allusions in the tragedy; there were fine lines, good -situations, a _dénoûment_ daring in its simplicity. I am well aware -that very often the fine lines of one period are not the fine lines of -another,--at least so people hold,--but the four lines which the poet -puts into the mouth of Roscius are fine lines for all time: Roscius, -the Talma of those last days of Rome, who had witnessed the fall of -the Roman Republic, as Talma had witnessed the fall of the French -Republic:-- - - "Ah! puisse la nature épargner aux Romains - Ces sublimes esprits au-dessus des humains! - Trop de maux, trop de pleurs attestent le passage - De ces astres brûlants nés du sein de l'orage!" - -Then, again, very fine are the lines that the proscriber, who arrests -with his powerful hand the proscription, which was going to include -Cæsar, addresses to Ophelia when Ophelia says to him:-- - - "Oserais-je, à mon tour, demander à Sylla - Quel pouvoir inconnu, quelle ombre protectrice, - Peut dérober César à sa lente justice? - - _Sylla._ J'ai pesé comme vous ses vices, ses vertus, - Et mon œil dans César voit plus d'un Marius! - Je sais de quel espoir son jeune orgueil s'énivre; - Mais Pompée est vivant, César aussi doit vivre. - Parmi tous ces Romains à mon pouvoir soumis, - Je n'ai plus de rivaux, j'ai besoin d'ennemis, - D'ennemis fibres, fiers, dont la seule presence - Atteste mon génie ainsi que ma puissance; - L'histoire à Marius pourrait m'associer, - César aura vécu pour me justifier!" - -When I saw Talma come on to the stage I uttered a cry of astonishment. -Oh yes I it was indeed the impassive mask of the man I had seen pass in -his carriage, his head bent low on his breast, eight days before Ligny, -whom I saw return the day following Waterloo. Many have tried since, -with the aid of the green uniform, the grey overcoat and the little -hat, to reproduce that antique medallion, that bronze, half Greek, -half Roman; but not one of them, O Talma I possessed your lightning -glance, with the calm and imperturbable countenance upon which neither -the loss of a throne nor the death of thirty thousand men could imprint -one single line of regret or trace of remorse. Those who have never -seen Talma cannot imagine what he was: in him was the combination of -three supreme qualities which I have never found elsewhere combined -in one man--simplicity, power and poetry; it was impossible to be -more magnificent, with the perfect grace of an actor; I mean that -magnificence which has in it nothing personal attaching to the man, -but which changes according to the characters of the heroes he is -called upon to represent. It is impossible, I say, to find any actor -so endowed with this type of magnificence as was Talma. Melancholy in -_Orestes_, terrible in _Néro_, hideous in _Gloucester_, he could adapt -his voice, his looks, his gestures to each character. Mademoiselle -Mars was but the perfection of the graceful; Mademoiselle Rachel was -but the imperfection of the beautiful; Talma was the ideally great. -Actors lament that nothing of theirs survives themselves. O Talma! -I was a child when on that solemn evening I saw you for the first -time, as you came upon the stage and your gestures began, before that -row of senators, your clients; well, of that first scene, not one of -your actions is effaced from my memory, not one of your intonations -is lost.... O Talma! I can see you still, when these four lines are -uttered by Catiline:-- - - "Sur d'obscurs criminels qu'pargne ta clémence, - Je me tais; mais mon zèle eclaire ma prudence; - Le nom de Clodius sur la liste est omis, - C'est le plus dangereux de tous tes ennemis!" - -I can see you still, Talma!--may your great spirit hear me and thrill -with pleasure at not being forgotten!--I can see you still as with -scornful smile upon your lips you slowly diminish the distance that -separates you from your accuser; I can see and hear you still as you -place your hand upon his shoulder, and, draped like one of the finest -statues in Herculaneum or Pompeii, you utter these words to him, in -the vibrating voice which could penetrate to the very depths of one's -being:-- - - "Je n'examine pas si ta haine enhardie - Poursuit dans Clodius l'époux de Valérie; - Et si Catiline, par cet avis fatal, - Pretend servir ma cause ou punir un rival." - -O Talma! your incisive and sonorous intonation took root in the hearts -of all who heard you. It was indeed a fearfully ungrateful and barren -soil which at that unpoetical period of the Empire was left you to -cultivate, for, had you been disheartened by its sterility, there would -have been nothing great, or fine, or wide-spreading, during all those -thirty years in which you wore the Roman sandal or the Greek. Is it -that the spirit of genius, with all its absorbing power, is mortal like -that of the upas tree or the manchineel? - -I should like to continue speaking of Sylla to the end of the play in -order to render tribute to the prodigious talent Talma possessed, and -to follow him in the twofold development of his creation of the rôle of -Sylla and the details of that rôle. But what would be the good? Who is -interested in these things nowadays? Who amuses himself by recalling -thirty years after its extinction the intonation of an actor as he -declaimed line or hemistich or word? What does it matter to M. Guizard, -to M. Léon Faucher, to the President of the Republic, in what manner -Talma replied to Lænas, when he was sent by the Roman populace to learn -from Sylla the number of the condemned, and asked him-- - - "Combien en proscris-tu, Sylla?" - -What matters it to those gentlemen to know how Talma uttered his - - "Je ne sais pas!" - -At the most, they can only remember the cadence of voice with which -General Cavaignac pronounced those four words when he was asked how -many people he had transported untried out of France. And let us -remember that it is now but two years since the Dictator of 1848 -uttered these four words, which richly deserve to hold a place in -the annals of history beside those of Sylla. But though Talma was by -turns simple, great, magnificent, it was in the abdication scene that -he rose to actual sublimity. It is true that the abdication of Sylla -recalled that at Fontainebleau, and, we repeat, we have no doubt that -the resemblance between the modern and the ancient Dictator produced -an immense impression upon the vulgar public. This opinion was held by -the Censorship of 1821, which cut out these lines because they were -supposed to refer in turn to Bonaparte, first consul, and Napoleon, the -emperor. - -These to Bonaparte:-- - - ... C'était trop pour moi des lauriers de la guerre; - Je voulais une gloire et plus rare et plus chère. - Rome, en proie aux fureurs des partis triomphants, - Mourante sous les coups de ses propres enfants, - Invoquait à la fois mon bras et mon génie: - Je me fis dictateur, je sauvai la patrie!" - -These to Napoleon:-- - - "J'ai gouverné le monde à mes ordres soumis, - Et j'impose silence à tous mes ennemis! - Leur haine ne saurait atteindre ma mémoire, - J'ai mis entre eux et moi l'abîme de ma gloire." - -When one re-reads at the end of ten, twenty, or thirty years either -the lines which the Censorship forbade, or the plays it suppressed, -one is completely amazed at the stupidity of Governments. As soon -as a revolution has cut off the seven heads of a literary hydra, -governments make all speed to collect them again and to stick them -back on the trunk that feigned death whilst taking care not to lose -its hold on life. As though the Censorship had ever annihilated any -of the works that have been forbidden to be played! As though the -Censorship had strangled _Tartuffe, Mahomet, le Mariage de Figaro, -Charles IX., Pinto, Marion Delorme_ and _Antony_! No, when one of these -virile pieces is hounded from the theatre where it has made its mark, -it waits, calm and erect, until those who have proscribed it fall or -pass away, and, when they are fallen or dead, when its persecutors -are hurled from their thrones, or entering their tombs, the calm and -immortal daughter of Genius, omnipotent and great, enters the enclosure -that the mannikins have closed against her, from whence they have -disappeared, and their forgotten crowns being too small for her brow -become the sport of her feet. - -The curtain fell in the midst of immense applause. I was stunned, -dazzled, fascinated. Adolphe proposed we should go to Talma's -dressing-room to thank him. I followed him through that inextricable -labyrinth of corridors which wind about the back regions of the -Théâtre-Français, and which to-day unfortunately are no longer unknown -regions to me. No client who ever knocked at the door of the original -Sylla felt his heart beat so fast and so furiously as did mine at the -door of the actor who had just personated him. De Leuven pushed open -the door. The great actor's dressing-room lay before us: it was full of -men whom I did not know, who were all famous or about to become famous. -There was Casimir Delavigne, who had just written the last scenes of -_l'École des Vieillards;_ there was Lucien Arnault, who had just had -his _Régulus_ performed; there was Soumet, still very proud of his -twofold success of _Saül_ and of _Clytemnestre_; there was Népomucène -Lemercier, that paralysed sulky brute, whose talents were as crooked as -his body, who in his healthy moments had composed _Agamemnon, Pinto,_ -and _Fridegonde,_ and in his unhealthy hours _Christophe Colomb, la -Panhypocrisiade,_ and _Cahin-Caha;_ there was Delrieu, who had been at -work upon the revised version of his _Artaxerch,_ since 1809; there -was Viennet, whose tragedies made a sensation for fifteen or twenty -years on paper, to live and agonise and die within a week, like him -whose reign lasted two hours and whose torture three days; there was, -finally, the hero of the hour, M. de Jouy, with his tall figure, his -fine white head, his intellectual and kindly eyes, and in the centre -of them all--Talma in his simple white robe, just despoiled of its -purple, his head from which he had just removed the crown and his two -graceful white hands with which he had just broken the Dictator's palm. -I stayed at the door, blushing vividly, and very humble. - -"Talma," said Adolphe, "we have come to thank you." Talma looked round -out of his eye-corners. He perceived me at the door. - -"Ah! ah!" he said; "come in." - -I took two steps towards him. - -"Well, Mr. Poet," said he, "were you satisfied?" - -"I am more than that, monsieur ... I am wonder-struck." "Very well, you -must come and see me again, and ask for more seats." - -"Alas! Monsieur Talma, I leave Paris to-morrow or the day after at -latest." - -"That is a pity! you might have seen me in _Régulus._ ... You know I -have put _Régulus_ on the bill for the day after to-morrow, Lucien?" - -"Yes," Lucien replied. - -"And cannot you stop till the evening of the day after to-morrow?" - -"Impossible: I have to return to the provinces." - -"What do you do in the provinces?" - -"I dare not tell you: lama lawyer's clerk ..." - -And I heaved a deep sigh. - -"Bah!" said Talma, "you must not give way to despair on that account! -Corneille was clerk to a procurator!... Gentlemen, allow me to -introduce you to a future Corneille." - -I blushed to the eyes. - -"Lay your hand on my forehead: it will bring me good luck," I said to -Talma. - -Talma laid his hand on my head. - -"There--so be it," he said. "Alexandre Dumas, I baptize thee poet in -the name of Shakespeare, of Corneille and of Schiller!... Go back -to the provinces, go back to your office, and if you really have a -vocation, the angel of Poetry will know how to find you all right -wherever you be, will carry you off by the hair of your head like the -prophet Habakkuk and will take you where fate determines." - -I took Talma's hand and tried to kiss it. - -"Why, see!" he said, "the lad has enthusiasm and will make something of -himself;" and he shook me cordially by the hand. - -I had nothing more to wait for there. A longer stay in that -dressing-room crowded with celebrities would have been both -embarrassing and ridiculous: I made a sign to Adolphe, and we took our -leave. I wanted to fling my arms round Adolphe's neck in the corridor. - -"Yes, indeed," I said to him, "be sure I shall return to Paris. You may -depend upon that!" - -We went down by the little twisting staircase, which has since been -condemned; we left by the black corridor; we went along the gallery -then called the galerie de Nemours, and called to-day I know not what, -and we came out on the place du Palais-Royal. - -"There, you know your way," said Adolphe,--"the rue Croix-des-Petits -Champs, the rue Coquillière, the rue des Vieux-Augustins. Good-night; I -must leave you: it is late, and it is a long way from here to the rue -Pigale.... By the way, remember we lunch at ten and we dine at five." - -And Adolphe turned round the corner of the rue Richelieu and -disappeared. It was indeed late; all lights were out, and only a few -belated people were passing across the place du Palais-Royal. Although -Adolphe had told it me, I did not in the least know my way, and I was -extremely scared when I found myself alone. It must be confessed I -felt very uneasy at being out in the streets of Paris at such a late -hour; for I had heard heaps of stories of night attacks, robberies and -assassinations, and, with my fifty sous in my pocket, I trembled at -the thought of being plundered. A struggle went on in my mind between -courage and fear. Fear won the day. I hailed a cab. The cab came up to -me and I opened the door. - -"Monsieur knows it is past midnight?" said the driver. - -"Of course I know it," I replied; and I added to myself, "That is the -very reason I am taking a cab." - -"Where is the country squire going?" - -"Rue des Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins."_ - -"What?" said the driver. - -I repeated it. - -"Is monsieur quite sure he wants to go there?" - -"The deuce I do!" - -"In that case, off we go!" - -And lashing his horses, at the same time clicking with his tongue as do -all drivers, he urged them into a canter. - -Twenty seconds later, he pulled up, got down from his seat, and opened -the door. - -"Well ...?" I asked. - -"Well, my country lad, we are at your destination, rue des -Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins"_ - -I raised my head, and there, beyond doubt, was the house. I then -understood the driver's astonishment at seeing a great bumpkin of -twenty, who seemed in no way unsound of limb, wanting to take a cab -from the place du Palais-Royal to go to the rue des Vieux-Augustins. -But as it would have been too absurd to avow that I did not know the -distance between the two places, I said in a stout voice-- - -"All right--what is the fare?" - -"Oh, you know the fare well enough, young fellow." - -"If I knew it, I should not ask you." - -"It is fifty sous, then." - -"Fifty sous?" I exclaimed, horrified at having incurred such useless -expense. - -"Certainly, young chap, that is the tariff." - -"Fifty sous to come from the Palais-Royal here!" - -"I warned monsieur it was past midnight." - -"There you are," I said; "take your fifty sous." - -"Aren't you going to give me a _pourboire_, young fellow?" - -I made a movement to strangle the wretch; but he was strong and -vigorous. I reflected that perhaps he would strangle me, so I stayed -my hand. I rang the bell, the door was opened, and I went inside. I -felt dreadfully stricken with remorse for having squandered my money, -especially when I considered that even had Paillet spent nothing on his -side, we only had twenty francs fifty centimes left. Paillet had been -to the Opera, and had spent eight francs ten sous. Only a dozen francs -were left us. - -We looked at each other with some anxiety. - -"Listen," he said: "you have seen Talma, I have heard _la Lampe -mervilleuse_; this was all you wanted to see, all I wanted to hear: if -you agree, let us leave to-morrow, instead of the next day." - -"That is exactly what I was going to suggest to you." - -"All right; do not let us lose any time. It is now one o'clock; let -us get to bed as quickly as possible and sleep until six; then let us -start at seven, and sleep, if we can manage it, at Manteuil." - -"Good-night" - -"Good-night...." - -A quarter of an hour later, we were rivalling one another who could go -to sleep the soundest. - -Next day, or rather the same day, at eight o'clock, we had passed -Villette; at three o'clock, we were dining at Dammartin, under the same -conditions as we had lunched there; at seven, we were having our supper -at Manteuil; and on Wednesday at one o'clock, loaded with two hares -and six partridges,--the result of the economy we had exercised by our -hunting of the previous night and day,--we entered Crespy, giving our -last twenty sous to a poor beggar. Paillet and I parted at the entry -to the large square. I went to Maître Lefèvre's by the little passage, -and up to my room to change my things. I called Pierre, through the -window, and asked him for news of M. Lefèvre. M. Lefèvre had returned -in the night. I gave my game to the cook, went into the office and -slipped into my place. My three office companions were all in their -places. Nobody asked me a question. They thought I had just returned -from one of my usual excursions, only one that had lasted rather longer -than usual. I enquired if M. Lefèvre had asked any questions about me. -M. Lefèvre had wanted to know where I was; they had replied that they -did not know, and the matter had ended there. I drew my papers from my -desk and set to work. A few minutes later, M. Lefèvre appeared. He went -to the head clerk, gave him some instructions, and then returned to -his room, without even having seemed to notice my presence, which led -me to think he had taken particular notice of my absence. Dinner-time -arrived. We sat down; all went on as usual; save that, after dinner, -when I was rising to go, M. Lefèvre said to me-- - -"Monsieur Dumas, I want a few words with you." - -I knew the storm was about to burst, and I resolved to keep myself well -in hand. - -"Certainly, monsieur," I replied. - -The head clerk and the office boy, who shared the master's table with -me, discreetly withdrew. M. Lefèvre pointed to a chair opposite his -own, on the other side of the fireplace. I sat down. Then M. Lefèvre -lifted his head as a horse does under the martingale, a gesture which -was customary with him, crossed his right leg over his left leg, held -up one leg till the slipper fell, took his gold snuff-box, inhaled a -pinch of snuff, drew a dignified breath, and then, in a voice all the -more threatening because of its dulcet tones, he said, scratching his -right foot with his left hand, his most cherished habit-- - -"Monsieur Dumas, have you any knowledge of mechanics?" - -"Not in theory, monsieur, only in practice." - -"Well, then, you will know enough to understand my illustration." - -"I am listening, monsieur." - -"Monsieur Dumas, in order that a machine may work properly, none of its -wheels must stop." - -"Of course not, monsieur." - -"Very well, Monsieur Dumas; I need not say more. I am the engineer, you -are one of the wheels in the machine; for two days you have stopped, -and consequently for two days the general action of the machine has -lacked the co-operation of your individual movement." - -I rose to my feet. - -"Quite so, monsieur," I said. - -"You will understand," added M. Lefèvre in a less dogmatic tone, "that -this warning is merely provisional?" - -"You are very good, monsieur, but I take it as definitive." - -"Oh, then, that is better still," said M. Lefèvre. "It is now seven in -the evening, night is coming on, and the weather is bad; but you may -leave when you like, my dear Dumas. From the moment you cease to be -third clerk here you can remain as a friend, and in that capacity the -longer you stay the better I shall be pleased." - -I bowed a graceful acknowledgment to M. Lefèvre and withdrew to my -room. I had taken a great step, and an important career was now closed -to me; henceforth my future was in Paris, and I made up my mind to move -heaven and earth to leave the provinces. I spent half the night in -thinking, and before I fell asleep all my plans were made. - - - - -BOOK III - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -I return to my mother's--The excuse I give concerning my return--The -calf's lights--Pyramus and Cartouche--The intelligence of the fox more -developed than that of the dog--Death of Cartouche--Pyramus's various -gluttonous habits - - -I packed up my things next day and went. I was not without uneasiness -with regard to the way my mother might receive me--my poor mother! -her first expression at seeing me was always one of delight, but my -leaving Maître Lefèvre's would trouble her. So the nearer I drew to -Villers-Cotterets, the slower did my steps become. It generally took -me two hours to walk the three and a half leagues between Crespy and -Villers-Cotterets, for I used to run the last league; but now the -reverse was the case, for the last league took me the longest of all to -cover. I returned in shooting costume after my usual fashion. And my -dog was hardly three hundred yards away before he smelt home, stopped -an instant, lifted up his nose, and set off like an arrow. Five seconds -after he had disappeared down the road, I saw my mother appear on the -threshold. My courier had preceded me and announced my return. She met -me with her usual smile; the whole tenderness of her heart welled up at -my approach and shone in her face. I flung myself in her arms. - -Oh! what a love is a mother's!--a love always good, always devoted, -always faithful; a true diamond lost amongst all the false stones with -which youth decks its happiness; a pure and limpid carbuncle, which -shines in joy as in sorrow, by night as by day! My mother's first -thoughts were nought but joyful ones at seeing me again; then, at last, -she asked me how it was I had returned home on Thursday instead of on -Saturday, to spend Sunday with her, going back on Monday as usual. - -I dared not tell her of the misfortune that had befallen me. I told her -that, as business was slack at the office, I had obtained a holiday for -several days, which I meant to spend with her. - -"But," my mother observed, "I see you are wearing your hunting-coat and -breeches." - -"Yes, why not?" - -"How is it you have nothing in your game-bag?" - -It was not indeed customary for me to return with the game-bag empty. - -"I was so anxious to see you, dear mother, that instead of shooting, I -came the shortest way, by the high road." - -I lied. Had I spoken the truth, I should have said, "Alas! dear mother, -I was so much taken up with thinking what effect my news would have -upon you that I never thought of shooting, though at other times I have -forgotten everything for that passion." But had I told her that, I -should have had to tell her the news, and I wanted to delay it as long -as possible. - -An incident freed me from embarrassment and diverted my mother's -thoughts for the moment. I heard my dog howl. - -I ran to the door. The next house to ours was that of a butcher, -called Mauprivez. In the front of the butcher's slab there was a long -cross-bar of painted wood, in which at different intervals iron hooks -were fixed to hold various specimens of meat. In jumping up at a calfs -lights, Pyramus had got hooked like a carp on a fish-hook, and hung -suspended. That was why he howled, and, as will readily be imagined, -not without cause. I seized hold of him by the body, unhooked him, -and he rushed into the stable, his jaws bleeding. If I ever write the -history of the dogs that have belonged to me, Pyramus shall have a -prominent place by the side of Milord. I may therefore be allowed to -leave in suspense the interest my return naturally created, to talk -a bit about Pyramus, who, in spite of his name, which indicated that -all sorts of love misfortunes were before him, had never had, to my -knowledge, any misadventures except gastronomic ones. Pyramus was a -large chestnut-coloured dog, of very good French pedigree, who had been -given me when quite a puppy, with a fox-cub of the same age, which -the keeper who gave him me (it was poor Choron of la Maison-Neuve) -had had suckled by the same mother. I often amused myself by watching -the different instincts of these two animals develop, as they were -placed opposite one another in the yard in two parallel recesses. For -the first three or four months an almost brotherly intimacy reigned -between Cartouche and Pyramus. I need not mention that Cartouche -was the fox and Pyramus the dog. Nor need I mention that the name -of Cartouche was given to the fox in allusion to his instincts of -stealing and depredation. It was Cartouche who began to declare war -on Pyramus, although he was the weaker looking; this declaration of -war took place over some bones which were within Cartouche's boundary, -but which Pyramus had surreptitiously tried to annex. The first time -Pyramus attempted this piracy, Cartouche snarled; the second time, he -showed his teeth; the third time, he bit. Cartouche was the more to -be excused because he was always on the chain, while Pyramus had his -hours of liberty. Cartouche, restrained to a very circumscribed walk, -could not therefore, at full length of his chain, do unto Pyramus the -evil deeds which Pyramus, abusing his liberty, was guilty of on his -side. On account of this captivity, I was able to notice the superior -intelligence of the fox over that of the dog. Both were gourmands in -the highest degree, with this difference, that Pyramus was more of a -glutton and Cartouche more of an epicure. When they both stretched to -the full length of their chains, they could reach a distance of nearly -four feet, from the opening of their recesses. Add ten inches for the -length of Pyramus's head, four inches for Cartouche's pointed nose, and -you will arrive at this result, that whilst Pyramus, at the length of -his chain, could reach a bone at four feet ten inches from his recess, -Cartouche could only perpetrate the same deed four feet four inches -from his. Very well, if I placed a bone six feet off,--that is to -say, out of the reach of both,--Pyramus had to content himself with -stretching his chain with the whole strength of his sturdy shoulders, -but not being able to break it, he would stand with fixed bloodshot -eyes, his jaws slobbering and open, attempting from time to time, -with plaintive whines, to exorcise the distance, or, by desperate -efforts, to break his chain. If the bone were not either taken away -or given him, he would have gone mad; but he had never succeeded, by -any ingenious contrivance, to snatch the prey beyond his reach. It was -another matter with Cartouche. His preliminary tactics were the same as -those of Pyramus, and consequently equally fruitless. But soon he began -to reflect, rubbing a paw on his nose; then, all at once, as though a -sudden illumination had come into his mind, he turned himself round, -adding the length of his body to the length of his chain, dragged the -bone into the circle of his kingdom, by the help of one of his hind -paws, turned round again, seized hold of the bone, and entered into -his kennel, from which it was not rejected until it was as clean and -polished as ivory. Pyramus saw Cartouche perform this trick ten times; -he would howl with jealousy as he listened to his comrade's teeth -grinding on the bone which he was gnawing; but, I repeat, he never had -the intelligence to do the same thing himself, and to use his hind -paw as a hook to draw the tit-bit within his reach. Cartouche was of -superior intelligence to Pyramus in a thousand other instances such -as this, although his tractability was always inferior. But it is -common knowledge that with animals as with human beings, the capacity -for being trained is not always, nay is scarcely ever, combined with -intelligence. - -The reader may ask why the injustice was perpetrated of keeping -Cartouche always fastened, while Pyramus was allowed his liberty at -times. This is why: Pyramus was only a glutton by need, while Cartouche -was destructive by instinct. One day he broke his chain, and went from -our yard into the farmyard belonging to our neighbour Mauprivez. In -less than ten minutes he had strangled seventeen fowls and two cocks. -Nineteen cases of homicide: it was impossible to plead extenuating -circumstances: he was condemned to death and executed. So Pyramus -reigned sole master of the place, which, to his shame be it said, he -appreciated greatly. His appetite seemed to increase when he was left -alone. This appetite was a defect at home; but, out shooting, it was -a vice. Nearly always, the first game I killed under his nose, were -it small game, such as partridge, young pheasant or quail, would be -lost to me. His big jaws would open, and, with a rapid gulp, the piece -of game disappeared down his throat. Very rarely did I arrive in time -to perceive, by opening his jaws, the last feathers of the bird's -tail disappearing in the depths of his gullet. Then a lash with my -horse-whip, vigorously applied on the loins of the guilty sinner, would -cure him for the remainder of the chase, and it was seldom he repeated -the same fault; but, between one shoot and another, he generally -had time to forget the previous punishment, and more expenditure of -whipcord was needed. On two other occasions, however, the gluttony of -Pyramus turned out badly for him. - -One day de Leuven and I were shooting over the marshes of Pondron. It -was a place where two harvests were gathered during the year. The first -harvest was that of a small thicket of alderwood. The owner of the -land, after having cut his branches, stripped the twigs off, sawed it -and tied it in bundles. Then he became busy over his second harvest, -which was that of hay. They were just reaping this crop. But, as it was -luncheon-time, the reapers had rested their scythes, here and there, -and were feeding by a small river wherein they could moisten their -hard bread. One of them had placed his scythe against one of the heaps -of cut wood, about two feet and a half high, placed in cubic metres -or half-mètres. I put up a snipe; I fired and killed it, and it fell -behind this pile of wood against which the scythe was propped. It was -the first thing I had killed that day, consequently it happened to be -the perquisite Pyramus was in the habit of appropriating. So, putting -two and two together, he had scarcely seen the snipe, stopped in its -flight, fall vertically behind the wood pile, before he darted over -the stack so as to fall on the spot as soon as it did, without loss of -time. As I knew beforehand that it was a head of game lost, I did not -hurry myself to see the tail feathers of my snipe in the depths of -Pyramus's throat, but, to my great surprise, I saw no more of Pyramus -than if he had tumbled down an invisible chasm, hewn out behind the -pile of wood. When I had re-loaded my gun, I decided to fathom this -mystery. Pyramus had fallen on the far side of the heap of wood, his -neck on the point of the scythe; this point had penetrated to the right -of the pharynx, behind the neck, and stuck out four inches in front. -Poor Pyramus could not stir, and was bleeding' to death: the snipe, -intact, was within six inches of his nose. Adolphe and I raised him -up, so as to cause him the least possible hurt; we carried him to the -river, and we bathed him in deep water; then I made him a compress with -my handkerchief, folded in sixteen, which we bound round his neck with -Adolphe's silk one. Then, seeing a peasant from Haramont passing, with -a donkey carrying two baskets, we put Pyramus in one of the paniers -and we had him carried to Haramont, whence next day I took him away in -a small conveyance. Pyramus was a week between life and death. For a -month he carried his head on one side, like Prince Tuffiakin. Finally, -at the end of six weeks, he had regained his elasticity of movement, -and appeared to have completely forgotten the terrible catastrophe. But -whenever he saw a scythe, he made an immense detour to avoid coming -in contact with it. Another day, he returned home, his body as full -of holes as a sieve. He had been wandering about the forest alone, -watching his opportunity, and he had leapt at the throat of a hare; the -hare screamed out: a keeper, who was about a couple of hundred steps -away, ran up; but before the keeper could clear the two hundred paces, -the hare was half devoured. Now Pyramus, on seeing the approach of -the keeper and on hearing his execrations, understood that something -alarming would occur between himself and the man in blue clothes. He -took to his heels and set off full tear. But, as Friday, of Robinson -Crusoe memory remarked, "Small shot ran after me faster than you did!" -the keeper's small shot travelled faster than Pyramus, and Pyramus -returned home riddled in eight places. - -I have already related what happened to him ten minutes after my -return. A week later, he came in with a calf's lights in his mouth. A -knife was quivering in his side. Behind him came one of the Mauprivez' -sons. - -"Ah!" he said, "isn't it enough that your beastly Pyramus carries away -the contents of our shop, joint by joint, but he must needs carry away -my knife too?" - -Seeing Pyramus carry off the calfs lights, Mauprivez' boy had hurled -at him the knife butchers generally wear at their girdles; but, as -the knife went three or four inches into Pyramus's hide, Pyramus had -carried off both meat and knife. Mauprivez recovered his implement; but -the calfs lights were already devoured. Just when Pyramus's various -misdeeds had incurred not merely our individual reprobation, but public -reprobation still more, an advantageous occasion offered to get rid -of him. But as that occasion was invested in my eyes with all the -semblance of a miracle, I must be permitted to relate that miracle in -its proper time and place, and not to anticipate it here. - -Let us, for the moment, occupy ourselves over the unexpected return of -the prodigal son to the maternal roof--a return from which Pyramus and -Cartouche have incidentally diverted our attention. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Hope in Laffitte--A false hope--New projects--M. Lecornier--How and -on what conditions I clothe myself anew--Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du -Helder--Bamps at Villers-Cotterets--I visit our estate along with -him--Pyramus follows a butcher lad--An Englishman who loved gluttonous -dogs--I sell Pyramus--My first hundred francs--The use to which they -are put--Bamps departs for Paris--Open credit - - -Although I had told my mother that my return was only a provisional -one, to use M. Lefèvre's expression, she had very little doubt at heart -that it was really final. Her doubt turned to certainty when she saw -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday pass by without my speaking of returning to -Crespy; but, poor mother! she never said a word to me concerning this -catastrophe: it had cost her so much to part with me, that, since God -had sent me back to her, she opened her maternal heart, arms and door -to me. I had some hope left me: Adolphe had promised to make overtures -to M. Laffitte, the banker, on my behalf; if M. Laffitte made me an -opening in his office, where they worked from ten to four, there would -be the whole of the evening and early morning to oneself for other -work. Besides, it was time I should earn something. The most important -thing was to get to Paris, to light our poor candles at that universal, -vast and dazzling fireside, which was a light to the whole world. -A fortnight after my return from Crespy, I received a letter from -Adolphe. His request had come to nothing, for M. Laffitte's offices -were over full of clerks as it was: they were talking of clearing -some out. So I decided to put in action at the first opportunity a -plan I had settled upon during the last sleepless night I had spent -at M. Lefèvre's. This project was perfectly simple and, by its very -simplicity, seemed likely to succeed. - -I would select, from my father's desk, a dozen letters from Marshal -Jourdan, Marshal Victor, Marshal Sébastiani, from all the marshals -still living, in fact, with whom my father had had dealings. I would -collect a small sum of money and I would start for Paris. I would -approach these old friends of my father; they would do what they -could, and it would be a strange thing if four or five marshals of -France, one of whom was Minister for War, could not by their combined -influence find a situation at 1200 francs for the son of their old -comrade-in-arms. But although this plan looked as simple and artless, -at the first glance, as a pastoral by Florian, it was very difficult to -put in execution. Small though the sum was, it was not an easy thing -to raise it; moreover, an expenditure I had foolishly made at Crespy -complicated matters. - -I had become connected at Crespy with a young man who had lived in -Paris: his name was Lecornier. He was brother of that gracious person -to whom I gave a name in one of my preceding chapters--you will -recollect it, although it was only mentioned once--the charming name -of Athénaïs, or, in other words, Athena, Minerva, Pallas, although the -bearer of it was quite unaware of this fact. Well, ashamed of moving -in the aristocratic world of Crespy in my old-fashioned clothes of -Villers-Cotterets, I had asked Lecornier, as my build was exactly his, -to write to his tailor to make me a coat, a waistcoat and a pair of -trousers. Lecornier wrote: I sent my twenty francs as a remittance on -account, and, fifteen days later, the tailor forwarded me the goods, -enclosing a bill for a hundred and fifty-five francs, from which he had -deducted the twenty francs I had sent him on account. It was arranged -that the rest of the bill should be liquidated at the rate of twenty -francs a month. The tailor's name was Bamps, and he lived in the rue du -Helder, No. 12. It will be seen, from his charges, that although Bamps -lived in a fashionable quarter, he was neither a Chevreuil nor a Staub; -no, he was a journeyman who charged fancy prices, who had drifted from -the Latin quarter, where he should always have remained. But for the -very reason that his business was small, Bamps had all the more need of -the profits it produced. - -Although I exercised the greatest economy possible, I had not been able -to put aside the promised twenty francs when the next month's payment -became due. Not having them, of course I could not send them. This -first infraction of our treaty made Bamps very uneasy. Nevertheless, -Bamps knew that Lecornier belonged to a family well to do, although -not wealthy; Lecornier kept his engagements with him with scrupulous -punctuality; so he decided to wait, before giving signs of his anxiety. -The second month came. With it came the same impossibility on my -part, and, consequently, redoubled uneasiness on the part of Bamps. -Meanwhile, I had left Crespy--under the circumstances related--and I -had returned to Villers-Cotterets. Five or six days after my departure, -Bamps, becoming more and more uncomfortable, had written to Lecornier. -Lecornier had replied, giving him my fresh address. It therefore came -about that one day--about the beginning of the third month after -receiving the clothes--as I was lounging on our threshold, the town -clock struck one, the diligence from Paris drew up in the square, and -a traveller got down from it who asked the conductor two or three -questions, took his bearings and came straight to me. I guessed half -the truth. Bamps was walking with his knees out like Duguesclin, and -nobody but a soldier or a tailor could walk thus. I was not mistaken: -the stranger came straight to me and introduced himself; it was Bamps. -It was necessary to play something like the scene between Don Juan -and M. Dimanche; this was all the more difficult as I had never read -_Don Juan._ However, instinct made up for ignorance. I gave Bamps -a most cordial reception; I introduced him to my mother, to whom, -fortunately, I had said a few words about this my first debt; I offered -him refreshment, and I asked him to sit down, or, if he preferred so to -do, to visit our estate. Under the circumstances, Bamps' choice was a -foregone conclusion: he preferred to visit _our estate._ - -Now, what was this property of which the reader has already heard me -speak, but which he will assuredly have forgotten? Our estate was the -house of M. Harlay on which my mother had been paying a life-annuity -for something like forty years; M. Harlay had died during my stay with -Maître Lefèvre; but, just as though he had made a wager, he died on -the anniversary of his birth, triumphantly terminating his ninetieth -year!... Unfortunately, his death had not been much advantage to us. -My mother had borrowed, on house and garden, almost as much as house -and garden were worth; so that we were neither richer nor poorer by -this inheritance; though, as there were certain duties to pay, I may -venture to state we were poorer rather than richer. But Bamps knew -none of these details. I therefore offered, as I have said, to take -him over our estate. He accepted. I unchained Pryamus, and we set off. -After going fifty yards, Pyramus left us to follow a butcher boy who -went by with a piece of mutton on his shoulder. I give this detail, -although, at first glance, it may appear very trivial; for it was not -without influence upon my future. For what would have happened to me -and to Bamps if this butcher boy, whose name was Valtat, had not passed -by, and if Pyramus had not followed him? We went on our way, without -thinking of Pyramus. Man jostles up against great events, every moment -of his life, without seeing them and without being conscious of them. - -We soon arrived. M. Harlay's house, now our own, was situated in the -place de la Fontaine, perhaps a couple of hundred steps from the house -we lived in. I had taken the keys: I opened the doors, and we began -by looking over the interior of the house. It was not so clean as to -inspire great confidence: everything had grown old along with the -worthy man who had just died in it, and who had taken great care not -to undertake a single repair in it; "for," said he, "it will last as -long as I shall." It had lasted as long as he had, true; but, all the -same, it was time he died. If he had lingered on merely another year -or two with the same intention in his head, he would have out-lasted -the house. The inside of our poor property, then, afforded the most -melancholy sight of complete neglect and dilapidation. The floors were -broken through, the wall-papers torn off, the bricks broken. Bamps -shook his head, and said, in his half Alsacian and half French dialect, -"Ach! My vord! my vord! it is in a fery pad stade." - -Most surely would I have offered Bamps the house, in exchange for his -bill, if he would have taken it. When the house had been surveyed, I -said to Bamps-- - -"Now let us go and see the garden." - -"Is de garten in zo pad a stade as de house?" he asked. "Well ... it -has been rather neglected, but now it belongs to us...." - -"It vill take much money to restore dis old tumbledown place," Bamps -discreetly observed. - -"Bah! we shall find it," I replied: "if it is not in our own pockets, -it will be in someone else's." - -"Goot! if you can vind it, zo much de better." - -We crossed the yard and entered the garden. It was at the beginning of -April; we had had two or three lovely days--days one knows so well, -on which the year, like a faithful servant, seems to fold up Winter's -white garment, and unfold the green robe of Spring. - -Now, although the garden was as neglected as the house, it was -pursuing its work of life, in opposition to the work of death going -on in the house. The house grew older year by year; year by year the -garden renewed its youth. It looked as though the trees had powdered -themselves for a forest ball: apples and pears in white, and peaches -and almonds in pink. You could not imagine anything younger, fresher -or more full of life, than was this garden of death. Everything was -waking up with Nature, as she herself woke up: the birds had begun to -sing, and three or four butterflies, deceived by the flowers and by the -first rays of sunshine, were flying about still somewhat benumbed; poor -ephemera, born in the morning, but to die by night! - -"Well," I asked Bamps, "what do you say to the garden?" "Oh! dat is -fery bretty: it is a bity it is not in de rue de Rifoli." - -"There will be more than a hundred crowns' worth of fruit in this -garden, you take my word for it." - -"Yess, if no pad frosts come." - -O Bamps! you Jew, my friend, you tailor, my creditor, you have probably -not read those fine lines of Hugo, which, by the way, were not then -written:-- - - "Il faut que l'eau s'épuise à courir les valines; - Il faut que l'éclair brille, et brille peu d'instants; - Il faut qu'avril jaloux brûle de ses gelées - Le beau pommier trop fier de ses fleurs etoilées, - Neige odorante du printemps." - -We walked round the garden; then, when I fancied satisfaction carried -the day against dissatisfaction, I took Bamps back home. Dinner -was waiting for us. I believe the dinner caused Bamps to go from -satisfaction back to dissatisfaction. - -"Ah, veil," he said to me, when he had taken his cup of coffee and his -cognac, "we must now have a liddle talk about business." - -"Why not, my dear Bamps? Willingly." - -My mother heaved a sigh. - -"Veil, then," continued Bamps, "the bill is for a huntred and -vifty-vive francs." - -"Towards which I have given you twenty." - -"Towards vhich you haf gifen me tventy: so dere is a palance of a -huntred and thirdy-vive. Towards dese huntred and thirdy-vive, you said -you would gif me tventy per month. Two months haf gone py: so dat makes -forty you owe me." - -"Exactly forty, my dear sir--you reckon like Barême." - -"Veil, I can reckon all right." - -The situation was growing embarrassing. Had we opened my poor mother's -banking account and scratched together every farthing, we should -certainly not have been able to find the forty francs demanded. Just at -that moment the door opened. - -"Is M. Dumas in?" asked a hoarse, raucous voice. - -"Yes, M. Dumas is here," I replied in a bad temper. "What do you want -with him?" - -"I don't want him." - -"Who does, then?" - -"An Englishman at M. Cartier's." - -"An Englishman?" I repeated. - -"Yes, an Englishman, who is very anxious to see you." - -That was my own state of mind too! The Englishman could not be more -anxious to see me than I was to get away from Bamps. - -"My dear Bamps," I said to him, "wait for me; I will come back. We will -settle up our account on my return." - -"Be qvick back; I must depard dis efening." - -"Set your mind at rest about that: I shall be back in an instant." - -I took up my cap and followed the stable lad, who had told my mother, -to her great surprise, that he had orders not to go back without me. - -Cartier, at whose house was the Englishman who demanded to see me, -was an old friend of our family, the proprietor of the _Boule d'or,_ -a hotel situated at the extreme east of the town, on the road to -Soissons. The diligences stopped at his house. There was therefore -nothing surprising that the Englishman who was asking for me should be -staying there: what did astonish me was that this Englishman should -want me. When I appeared in the kitchen, old Cartier, who was warming -himself, according to his usual habit, in the chimney corner, came up -to me. - -"Look sharp," he said: "I believe I am going to pull off a good thing -for you." - -"Come now, that would be very welcome," I replied; "I was never in -greater need of a lucky windfall." - -"Well, follow me." - -And Cartier, walking in front of me, led me to a little parlour where -travellers dined. Just as we opened the door, we heard a voice saying, -with a strong English accent-- - -"Take care, mine host: the dog does not know me, and will run out." - -"Never fear, milord," replied Cartier: "I am bringing his master." - -Every innkeeper considers an Englishman has the right to the title of -milord; so they use the title unsparingly: true, it usually pays them -to do so. - -"Ah! come in, sir," said the Englishman, trying to rise, by leaning -both his elbows on the arms of his chair. He could not succeed. Seeing -this, I hastened to say to him-- - -"Pray do not disturb yourself, monsieur." - -"Oh, I will not disturb myself," said the Englishman, falling back in -his arm-chair with a sigh. The time he took in getting up and falling -back in his chair, with the rising and falling movement suggestive -of an omelette soufflée which has fallen flat, was occupied by me in -quickly glancing at him and his surroundings. He was a man of between -forty and forty-five years of age, of sandy complexion, with his hair -clipped short and his whiskers cut _en collier_; he wore a blue coat -with metal buttons, a chamois leather waistcoat, breeches of grey -woollen material with gaiters to match, after the fashion of grooms. He -was seated before the table where he had just dined. The table bore the -debris of a meal sufficient for six people. He must have weighed from -three hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. Pyramus was seated on -the parquetry floor, looking very melancholy; round Pyramus were placed -ten or twelve shiny plates, licked clean with that thoroughness I knew -he was capable of in the matter of dirty plates. On the last plate, -however, were some scraps still unconsumed. These unconsumed scraps -were the cause of Pyramus's depressed spirits. - -"Please come and speak to me, monsieur," said the Englishman. - -I drew near him. Pyramus recognised me, yawned to notify the fact, -stretched himself full length on his stomach so as to get as near to me -as possible, his paws stretched out on the floor, his nose laid on his -paws. - -"Yes, monsieur," I said to the Englishman. - -"Now!" said he. Then, after a pause, he added-- - -"That dog of yours has taken my fancy." - -"He is greatly honoured, monsieur." - -"And they have told me you might perhaps agree to sell him to me, if I -were to pay you a good price for him." - -"I shall not need very much persuasion, monsieur; I have been trying to -get rid of him, and since he pleases you ..." - -"Oh yes, he pleases me." - -"Well, then, take him." - -"Oh, I do not want to take the dog without paying for him." Cartier -nudged my elbow. - -"Monsieur," I said, "I am not a dealer in dogs: he was given to me, I -will give him to you." - -"Well, but he has cost you his keep." - -"Oh, the keep of a dog does not come to much." - -"Never mind; if is but fair I should pay for his food.... How long have -you had him?" - -"Nearly two years." - -"Then I owe you for his food for two years." - -Cartier continued to nudge my elbow. And it occurred to me that the -dog's keep would help admirably to pay for the master's clothes. - -"Very well," said I, "we will settle it so: you shall pay me for his -keep." - -"Reckon it up." - -"What do you think of fifty francs per year?" - -"Oh! oh!" - -"Is it too much?" I asked. - -"On the contrary, I do not think it is enough: the dog eats a lot." - -"Yes, true, monsieur; I was intending to warn you of that." "Oh, I have -witnessed it; but I like animals and people who eat a lot: it shows -they have a good digestion, and a good digestion tends to good humour." - -"Very well, then, you shall fix your own charge." - -"You said, I think, that it was to be ten napoleons?" - -"No, monsieur; I said five napoleons." - -Cartier nudged my elbow harder and harder. - -"Ah! five napoleons?... You will not take ten?" - -"No, monsieur, and only that because I happen at this moment to be in -great need of five napoleons." - -"Won't you take fifteen napoleons? I am sure the dog is worth fifteen -napoleons." - -"No, no, no, no; give me five napoleons, and he is yours." - -"What do you call him?" - -"Pyramus." - -"Pyramus!" exclaimed the Englishman. - -Pyramus did not budge. - -"Oh," continued the Englishman, "what did you say you called him?" - -"I said Pyramus." - -"He did not stir when I called him." - -"That is because he is not yet accustomed to your pronunciation." - -"Oh, he will soon get used to it." - -"There is no doubt of it." - -"You think so?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"Good! I thank you, monsieur: here are the five napoleons." - -I hesitated to take them; but in the English accent with which he -pronounced the last words there was an intonation which so cruelly -reminded me of the German accent of Bamps that I decided. - -"I am much obliged to you, monsieur," I said. - -"On the contrary, it is I who ought to thank you," the Englishman -replied, trying to raise himself afresh--an attempt which was as -abortive as the first. - -I made him a sign with my hand, as I bowed; he sank back into his -arm-chair, and I went out. - -"Well, now, how did it come about that Pyramus fell into the hands of -such a master?" I asked old Cartier. - -"That scamp of a dog was born with a lucky spoon in his mouth!" - -"It was the simplest thing in the world. Valtat brought me a piece of -lamb; Pyramus scented the fresh meat; he followed Valtat. Valtat came -here; Pyramus came here. The Englishman got out of the carriage; he -saw your dog. He had been recommended to take shooting exercise: he -asked me if the dog was a good one; I told him it was. He asked me who -owned the dog; I told him it belonged to you. He asked me if you would -consent to sell it; I told him I would send and fetch you, and then -he could ask you himself. I sent for you ... you came ... there's the -whole story.... Pyramus is sold and you are not ill pleased?" - -"Why, certainly not! The rascal is such a thief that I should have been -obliged to give him away or to break his neck.... He was ruining us!" - -Cartier shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "That would not be a -difficult task!" Then, passing to another train of ideas, he said-- - -"So you have returned home?" - -"That is so." - -"You were sick of Crespy?" - -"I am sick of every place." - -"What do you want to do now?" - -"Why, I want to go to Paris." - -"And when do you start?" - -"May be sooner than you think." - -"Do not go without giving me an opportunity to pay you out." - -"Never fear!" - -Before I went to Crespy, I had thoroughly beaten Cartier at billiards. - -"Besides," I went on, "if I go, as I shall not leave in any carriage -but one of yours, you can stop me on the step." - -"Done!... But this time it must be a struggle to death." "To death!" - -"Your five napoleons must be staked." - -"You know I never play for money, and as for my five napoleons, they -already have their vocation." - -"Well, well, well, adieu." - -"_Au revoir._" - -And I left Cartier, with this engagement booked. We shall see where it -led me. - -When I re-entered the house, I found Bamps, who was beginning to grow -impatient. The first coach for Paris passed through Villers-Cotterets -at eight o'clock in the evening: it was now seven. - -"Ah! goot!" he said, "there you are!... I did not regon I should zee -you again." - -"What!" I said, imitating his jargon, "you did not regon you should zee -me again?" - -Wondrous power of money! I was mocking Bamps, who, an hour before, had -made me tremble with fear. Bamps knit his eyebrows. - -"We zay, den?" he said. - -"We say that I owe you twenty francs per month--that two months have -gone by without payment--and that, consequently, I owe you forty -francs." - -"You owe me vorty vrancs." - -"All right, my dear Bamps--here you are!" - -And I threw two napoleons on the table, taking care to let the three -others in the palm of my hand be visible. My poor mother looked at me -with the most profound amazement. I reassured her with a sign. The -sign allayed her fears, but not her surprise. Bamps examined the two -napoleons, rubbed them to make sure they were not false, and rolled -them, one after the other, into his pocket. - -"You do not vant any more dings?" he asked. - -"No, thank you, my dear Monsieur. Besides, I am expecting to leave here -for Paris in a short time." - -"You will bear in mind that I have the first claim on your custom?" - -"All right, my dear Bamps, for good and all! But if you mean to start -at eight o'clock ...?" - -"If I mean to stard--! I should just tink so!" - -"Well, then, there is no time to lose." - -"The Tevil!" - -"You know where the coach stops?" - -"Yess." - -"Very well, _bon voyage_." - -"Atieu! Monsir Toumas! Atieu, Matame Toumas!... Atieu! atieu!" - -And Bamps, delighted, not only at having secured forty francs, but -still further at being somewhat reassured about the rest of his -account, set off, wafting us his parting benedictions, with all the -speed his little legs could make. - -My mother just waited till she had closed both doors, then she said-- - -"But where did you get that money, you young rogue?" - -"I sold Pyramus, mother." - -"For how much?" - -"A hundred francs." - -"So that there are sixty francs left?" - -"At your service, dear mother." - -"I am afraid I must take them. I have two hundred francs to pay -to-morrow to the warehouseman, and I only have a hundred and fifty -towards it." - -"Here they are ... but on one condition." - -"What is it?" - -"That you let me have them back again as soon as I set off for Paris." - -"With whom are you going?" - -"That must be my business." - -"Well, so be it.... I really begin to feel as though God were with you." - -At this, we both went to bed, with that settled faith that has never -deserted me. And I doubt even whether my mother's faith, at any rate at -that moment, was as strong as mine. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house--The residue--The -Piranèses--An architect at twelve hundred francs salary--I discount my -first bill--Gondon--How I was nearly killed at his house--The fifty -francs--Cartier--The game of billiards--How six hundred small glasses -of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to Paris - - -The time had now come when my poor mother was obliged to take a -definite step. She had borrowed so much and so often upon our thirty -or forty acres let to M. Gilbert of Soucy, and upon the house which M. -Harlay had at last left for us, that the value of both acres and house -was nearly absorbed by mortgages. So it was decided to sell everything. -The land was sold by auction, and fetched thirty-three thousand -francs. The house was sold, by private contract, for twelve thousand -francs to the M. Picot who had given me my first lessons in fencing. -We realised forty-five thousand francs. When our debts were settled -and all expenses paid, my mother had two hundred and fifty-three -francs left. Lest some optimistic readers should think that this was -our annual income, I hasten to say that it was capital. Need anyone -ask if my poor mother was distressed at such a result? We had never -really been so close to destitution. My mother fell into the depths -of discouragement. Since my father's death we had been unceasingly -drawing nearer and nearer to the end of all our resources. It had -been a long struggle--from 1806 to 1823! It had lasted for seventeen -years; but we were beaten at last. Nevertheless, I never felt gayer -or more confident. I do not know why I deserve it, whether for deeds -done in this world, or in other worlds where I may have had previous -existences, but God seems to have me under His special care, and -however grave my situation He comes openly to my succour. So, my God! -I proudly and yet very humbly confess Thy name before believers and -before infidels, and not even from the merit of faith do I say this, -but simply because it is the truth. For, hadst Thou appeared to me when -I invoked Thee, O my God! and hadst Thou asked me, "Child, say boldly -what it is you want," I should never have dared to ask for half the -favours Thou hast granted me out of Thy infinite bounty. - -Well, my mother told me that, when all our debts were paid, we only had -two hundred and fifty-three francs left. - -"Very well," I said to my mother; "you must give me the fifty-three -francs: I will set out for Paris, and, this time, I promise to return -only with good news." - -"Are you aware, my dear boy," said my mother, "that you are asking me -for a fifth of our capital?" - -"You remember that you owe me sixty francs?" - -"Yes, but recollect that when I said,'For what purpose shall I return -you the sixty francs?' you replied, 'That is my business.'" - -"Very well, so indeed it is my business.... Will you give me the -Piranèses which are upstairs in the big portfolio?" - -"What do you call the Piranèses?" - -"Those large black engravings that my father brought back from Italy." - -"What will you do with them?" - -"I will find a home for them." - -My mother shrugged her shoulders dubiously. - -"Do as you like about them," she said. - -There was an architect, named Oudet, amongst the staff at the -workhouse, who very much wanted our Piranèses. I had always refused him -them, telling him that one day I would bring him them myself. The day -had come. But it was an unlucky day: Oudet had no money. This was quite -conceivable. Oudet, as architect to the Castle, received only a hundred -francs per month. True, I was not very exorbitant in the matter of my -Piranèses, which were well worth five or six hundred francs; I only -asked fifty francs. Oudet offered to pay me these fifty francs in three -months' time. - -In three months!... How could I wait for three months? - -I left Oudet in despair. I ought to say, in justice to Oudet, -that he was probably in even lower straits than I was. In leaving -Oudet, I ran up against another of my friends, whose name was -Gondon. He was a shooting comrade. He had a property three leagues -from Villers-Cotterets,--at Cœuvre, the country of the beautiful -Gabrielle,--and we had very often spent whole weeks together there, -shooting by day and poaching by night. It was at his place that I -nearly lost my life one evening, in the most ridiculous fashion -imaginable. It was the evening before the opening of the shooting -season. Five or six of us shooters had come from Villers-Cotterets, -and we were putting up at Gondon's, in order to be up early for a -start at daybreak. Now, as we had neither rooms nor beds enough for -everybody, the sitting-room had been transformed into a dormitory, -in the four corners of which four beds were set up--that is to say, -four mattresses were laid down. When the candles were extinguished, my -three companions took it into their heads to start a bolster fight. As, -for some reason or another, I did not feel inclined for the sport, I -announced my intention of remaining neutral. The result of this compact -was that after a quarter of an hour's fight between Austrians, Russians -and Prussians, the Austrians, Russians and Prussians became allies -and united to fall upon me, who represented France. So they hurled -themselves on my bed, and began to belabour me with the afore-mentioned -bolsters, as threshers beat out corn with their flails in a barn. I -drew up my sheet over my head, and waited patiently till the storm -should have passed over, which could not be long first, at the rate -they were beating. And as I anticipated, the storm calmed down. One -thrasher retired, then another. But the third, who was my cousin, Félix -Deviolaine, upheld no doubt by the tie of kinship, continued striking -in spite of the retreat of the others. Suddenly he stopped, and I heard -him get silently into his bed. One might have thought some accident -had overtaken him, which he was anxious to conceal from his comrades. -In fact, the opposite end of the bolster to that which he had held in -his hands, had burst by the violence of the blows, and all the feathers -had escaped. This down made a mountain, just where the sheet which -protected my head joined the bolster. I was totally unaware of the -fact. As I did not feel any more blows, and having heard my last enemy -retire to his bed, I gently put out my head and, as for the past ten -minutes I had become more or less stifled, according as I tightened or -loosened the sheet, I drew a full breath. I swallowed a big armful of -feathers. Suffocation was instantaneous, almost complete. I uttered -an inarticulate cry, and feeling myself literally being strangled, I -began to roll about the room. My companions at first thought I had -now taken it into my head to pirouette like a ballet dancer, just as -they had fancied a fight; but they realised at last that the strangled -sounds I gave forth expressed acute agony. Gondon was the first to -realise that something very serious had happened to me, from some -unknown cause, and that I was _in extremis_. Félix, who alone could -have explained my gyrations and my wheezings, lay still, and pretended -to be asleep. Gondon rushed into the kitchen, returned with a candle, -and threw light on the scene. I must have been a very funny spectacle, -and I confess, there was a general burst of laughter. But though I -had been pretty gluttonous, I had not swallowed all the feathers and -all the down: some stuck to my curly head, giving me a false air of -resemblance to Polichinelle. This false air soon began to look like -reality from the flush of redness that strangulation had sent into -my face. They thought water was the best thing to give me. One of my -companions, named Labarre, ran in his shirt to the pump and filled a -pot with water, which he laughingly brought me. Such hilarity, when my -torture had reached its height, drove me wild. I seized the pot by the -handle, and chucked the contents down Labarre's back. The water was icy -cold. Its temperature was little in harmony with the natural warmth of -his blood, and it produced such gambols and such contortions on the -part of the anointed, that, in spite of my various woes, the desire -to laugh was now on my side. I made a different effort from any I had -tried hitherto, and I expectorated some of the feathers and down which -had blocked my throat. From that moment I was safe. Nevertheless, I -continued to spit feathers for a week, and I coughed for a month. - -I beg my reader's pardon for this digression; but, as I had neglected -to put down this important episode in my life in its chronological -order, it will not be deemed extraordinary if I seize the first -opportunity that presents itself to repair this omission. - -Well, I met Gondon coming out of Oudet's house. He had a hundred francs -in his hand. - -"Oh, my dear fellow," I said, "if you are so wealthy, you can surely -lend Oudet fifty francs." - -"What to do?" - -"To buy my Piranèses from me." - -"Your Piranèses?" - -"Yes, I want to go to Paris. Oudet offered to buy my Piranèses for -fifty francs, and now...." - -"And now he does not wish to have them?" - -"On the contrary, he is dying to possess them; but he hasn't a son, and -cannot pay me for three months." - -"And you want fifty francs?" - -"Indeed I do." - -"You would like to have them?" - -"Rather." - -"Wait: perhaps we can arrange matters." - -"Oh, do try, my good fellow." - -"There is a very simple way: I cannot give you the fifty francs, -because I have promised my tailor a hundred francs to-day; but Oudet -can make a cheque out to me for fifty francs at three months, I will -endorse the cheque, and I will give it to the tailor as ready money." - -We went to Oudet's. Oudet made out the cheque, and I carried off the -money, thanking Gondon, and above all God, who out of His infinite -loving kindness had provided me the means to advance a step farther on -my way. I accompanied Gondon as far as his tailor's. At the tailor's -door I ran up against old Cartier. - -"Well, my boy," he said, "isn't there a bit left of your dog's money to -pay for a small glass of wine for your old friend?" - -"Certainly, if he wins it of me at billiards;" and I jingled my fifty -francs. - -I turned to Gondon. - -"Come and see what happens," I said to him. - -"You go on; I will rejoin you.... At Camberlin's, is it not?" - -"At Camberlin's." - -Camberlin was the traditional coffee-house; since the discovery of -coffee and the invention of billiards, the Camberlins had sold coffee -and kept a billiard-table, from father to son. - -It was to Camberlin's my grandfather used to go every evening to take -a hand at dominoes or piquet, until his little bitch Charmante came -scratching at the door, with two lanterns held in her jaws. It was -at Camberlin's my father and M. Deviolaine came to challenge each -other's skill at play, as, on another green carpet, they challenged -each other's skill at the chase. It was at Camberlin's, finally, that, -thanks to my antecedents, I had been able, almost gratis, when I lost, -to begin my education as an elder Philibert under three different -masters, who had ended by seeing me a better player than they were. -These three masters were--Cartier, against whom I was going to wipe -out an old score; Camusat, Hiraux's nephew, who reclothed his uncle at -la Râpée, when they turned him out of Villers-Cotterets in drawers and -shirt; and a delightful youth, called Gaillard, who was a first-class -player in all sorts of games, and who had, to my great satisfaction, -replaced M. Miaud, my old rival, at the work-house. So I had become -a much better player than Cartier; but, as he would never admit it, -he invariably declined the six points I as invariably offered him -before we began the match. Just as we were trying our cues on the -billiard-table, Gondon entered. - -"What will you take, Gondon?" Cartier asked. "Dumas is paying." - -"I will take absinthe; I want to enjoy my dinner well to-day." - -"Well, so will I," said Cartier. "And you?" - -"I? You know I have made a vow never to take either liqueur or coffee." - -To what saint and on what occasion I made this vow I cannot at all say; -but I know I kept it religiously. - -"Then we will say two small absinthes?" replied Cartier, continuing to -joke. "That will be six sous, waiter, in exchange for your receipt." -In the provinces, at any rate at Villers-Cotterets, a small glass of -absinthe costs three sous. - -"My dear Gondon," I said, "I cannot offer you a better prayer than my -uncle's, the curé at Béthisy: 'My God, side neither with one nor with -the other, and you will see a rascal receive a jolly good whacking!' -Will you have your six points, father Cartier?" - -"Go along with you!" Cartier exclaimed disdainfully, putting my ball on -the yellow. - -We played Russian fashion, a game with five balls, and thirty-six -points. I made the yellow six times--three times into the right pocket -and three times into the left. - -"Six times six; thirty-six; first round. Your two small glasses are not -worth more than their three sous, father Cartier." "Four sous, you mean -to say." - -"Not unless I let you win the second round." - -"Come on, then!" - -"Will you have the six points?" - -"I will give them to you, if you like." - -"Done! Mark my six points, Gondon; I have my designs on father Cartier. -I mean him to contribute to my visit to Paris: the diligences start -from his hotel." - -At the second round, Cartier got up to twelve. - -At thirty points, I had a run and made sixteen more; that made -forty-six points, instead of thirty-six. Deducting the six points -restored to Cartier, there still remained four I could offer him in -return. He refused them with his usual dignity. But Cartier was beside -himself when he had lost the first game, and the wilder he was the more -obstinate he became: once set going, he would have played away his -land, his hotel, his saucepans, to the very chickens that were turning -on his spit. - -Worthy old Cartier! He is alive yet; although he is eighty-six or -eighty-seven, he is still remarkably hale, and lives with his two -children. I never go to Villers-Cotterets without calling on him. Last -time I saw him, about a year ago, I paid him a compliment on his health. - -"My goodness, my dear Cartier," I said to him, "you are like our oak -trees, which, if they do not grow very tall, go deep into the soil and -gain in roots what they miss in the way of leaves. You will live to the -Last Judgment." - -"Oh, my boy," he said, "I have been very ill,--did you not know it?" - -"No--when?" - -"Three and a half years ago." - -"What was the matter with you?" - -"I had toothache." - -"That was your own fault. What business have you with' teeth at your -age?" - -Well, on that day, poor old Cartier! (I am referring to the day of our -game),--on that day, to use a gaming term, I took a fine tooth out of -his head. We played for five hours on end, always doubling; I won _six -hundred small glasses of absinthe_ from him. We should have played -longer, and you may judge what an ocean of absinthe Cartier would have -owed me, if Auguste had not come to look for him. - -Auguste was one of Cartier's sons: his father stood in great awe of -him; he put his finger to his lips to ask me to keep mum. I was as -generous as was Alexander in the matter of the family of Porus. - -I let Cartier go, without demanding my winnings from him. And Gondon -and I reckoned up the account. Reduced to money, the six hundred small -glasses of absinthe would have produced a total of eighteen hundred -sous--that is to say, ninety francs. I could have paid the journey to -Paris a dozen times over. My mother had good cause to say, "My boy, God -is on your side." - -My mother was very uneasy when I returned home; she knew what folly -I was capable of, when I had got an idea into my head, and it was -therefore with some anxiety that she asked me where I had been. -Generally, when I had been to Camberlin's, I took a roundabout way -in telling her of it. My poor mother, foreseeing what passions would -one day surge in me, was afraid that gaming might be one of them. -In several of her surmises she was correct; but at any rate she was -completely mistaken in this one. So I told her what had just happened. -How the Piranèses had brought us in fifty francs, and how M. Cartier -was going to pay my fare to Paris. But these blessings from heaven -brought sadness with them, for they meant our separation. I did my best -to comfort her by telling her that the separation would be only for a -little while, and that as soon as I had obtained a berth at fifteen -hundred francs, she should leave Villers-Cotterets also and come and -join me; but my mother knew that a berth at fifteen hundred francs was -an Eldorado, difficult to discover. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy--M. Danré of Vouty -advises my mother to let me go to Paris--My good-byes--Laffitte and -Perregaux--The three things which Maître Mennesson asks me not to -forget--The Abbé Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him--I leave -Villers-Cotterets - - -One morning, I said to my mother-- - -"Have you anything to say to M. Danré? I am going to Vouty." - -"What do you want of M. Danré?" - -"To ask him for a letter to General Foy." - -My mother raised her eyes to heaven; she questioned whence came all -these ideas to me, that converged all to one end. - -M. Danré was my father's old friend, who, having had his left hand -mutilated when out shooting, had been brought into our house. There, -the reader will remember, Doctor Lécosse had skilfully amputated his -thumb, and as my mother had nursed him with the greatest care through -the whole of the illness the accident brought on, he had a warm feeling -in his heart towards my mother, my sister and myself. It always, -therefore, gave him great pleasure to see me, whether I arrived with a -message from Me. Mennesson, his lawyer, when I was with Me. Mennesson, -or whether on my own account. This time it was on my own affairs. I -told him the object of my visit. - -When General Foy was put on the lists for election, the electors would -not appoint him; but M. Danré had supported his candidature, and, -thanks to M. Danré's influence in the department, General Foy had -been elected. We know what a foremost place the illustrious patriot -took in the Chamber. General Foy was not an eloquent orator; he was -far better than that: he possessed a warm heart, ready to act at the -inspiration of every noble passion. Not a single great question came -under his notice during all the time he was in the Chamber, that was -not supported by him if it was a worthy object, or that was not opposed -by him if it was unworthy; his words fell from the tribune, terrible as -the return thrusts in a duel--piercing thrusts, nearly always deadly to -his adversaries. But, like all men of feeling, he wore himself out in -the struggle, the most constant and most maddening struggle of all: it -killed him while rendering his name immortal. - -In 1823, General Foy was at the height of his popularity, and from the -pinnacle to which he had attained, he reminded M. Danré from time to -time of his existence, which proved to the humble farmer, who, like -Philoctètes, had made sovereigns, but had no desire to be one, that he -was still his affectionate and grateful friend. Therefore M. Danré did -not feel in any way averse to give me the letter I asked of him, and -it was couched in the most favourable terms. Then, when M. Danré had -written, signed and sealed the letter, he asked me about my pecuniary -resources. I told him everything, even to the ingenious methods by the -aid of which I had obtained what I had. - -"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I had half a mind to offer you my purse; -but, really, it would smirch your record. People do not do that sort of -thing to end in failure: you should succeed with that fifty francs of -yours, and I do not wish to take away the credit of owing it entirely -to yourself. Take courage, then, and go in peace! If you are absolutely -in need of my services, write to me from Paris." - -"So you feel hopeful?" I said to M. Danré. - -"Very." - -"Are you coming to Villers-Cotterets on Thursday?" - -Thursday was market day. - -"Yes; why do you ask?" - -"Because if you are, I would beg you to call and tell my mother you are -hopeful: she has great confidence in you, and as everybody seems bent -on telling her I shall never do anything...." - -"The fact is you have not done very much up to now!" - -"Because they were determined to push me into a vocation I was not -fitted for, dear Monsieur Danré; but you will see, directly they leave -me alone to do what I am cut out for, I shall become a hard worker." - -"Mind you do! I will reassure your mother, relying on your word." - -"You may, and I will fulfil it." - -The day but one after my visit, M. Danré came to Villers-Cotterets, -as he had promised, and saw my mother. I was watching for his coming; -I let him start the conversation and then I came in. My mother was -crying, but seemed to have made up her mind. When she saw me, she held -out her hand. - -"You are bent on leaving me, then?" she said. - -"I must, mother. But do not be uneasy; if we separate, this time it -will not be for long." - -"Yes, because you will fail, and return to Villers-Cotterets once more." - -"No, no, mother; on the contrary, because I shall succeed, and bring -you to Paris." - -"And when do you mean to go?" - -"Listen, mother dear: when a great resolution is taken, the sooner it -is put into execution the better.... Ask M. Danré." - -"Yes, ask Lazarille. I do not know what you did to M. Danré, but the -fact is...." - -"M. Danré is fair-minded, mother; he knows that everything must move -in its own appointed surroundings if it is to become of any worth. I -should make a bad lawyer, a bad solicitor, a bad sheriffs officer; I -should make a shocking bad teacher I You know quite well that it took -three schoolmasters to get me through the multiplication table and it -was not a brilliant success. Very well! I believe I can do something -better." - -"What, you scamp?" - -"Mother, I swear I know nothing about what I shall do, but you -remember what the fortune-teller whom you questioned on my behalf -predicted?" - -My mother sighed. - -"What did she predict?" asked M. Danré. - -"She said," I replied, "'I cannot tell you what your son will become, -madame; I can only see him, through clouds and flashes of lightning, -like a traveller who is crossing high mountains, reaching a height -to which few men attain. I do not say he will command people, but I -foresee he will speak to them; although I cannot indicate the precise -lines of his destiny, your son belongs to that class of men whom we -style RULERS.' 'My son is to become a king, then?' my mother laughingly -retorted. 'No, no, but something similar, something perhaps more -desirable: every king has not a crown on his head and a sceptre in his -hand.' 'So much the better,' said my mother; 'I never envied the lot of -Madame Bonaparte.' I was five years old, Monsieur Danré, I was present -when my horoscope was made; well--I will prove the gipsy to be in the -right. You know that prophecies are not always fulfilled because they -must be fulfilled, but because they put a fixed idea into the minds of -those about whom they are made which influences events, which modifies -circumstances, which finally brings them to the end aimed at; because -this end was revealed to them in advance, whilst, had it not been for -the revelation, they would have passed by the end without noticing it." - -"I should like to know where he got all these notions from!" my mother -exclaimed. - -"Oh, why, from his own thoughts," said M. Danré. - -"Then is it your judgment, too, that he ought to go?" - -"I advise it." - -"But you know the poor lad's resources!" - -"Fifty francs and his carriage fare paid." - -"Well?" - -"That will be enough, if he is to succeed, or if his destiny urges him -on as he says. If he had a million, he would not obtain what he wishes -to obtain so long as he had no vocation for it." - -"Well, well, he had better go, if he is so set on it." - -"When shall I go, mother?" - -"When you like. Only, you must let us have a day together first." - -"Listen, mother mine. I will stay all to-day, to-morrow and Saturday -with you. On Saturday night I will leave by the ten o'clock coach: I -shall reach Paris by five.... I shall have time to get to Adolphe's -house before he goes out." - -"Ah!" said my mother, as she heaved a sigh, "he is the one who has led -you astray!" - -I did not much heed the sigh, because I felt sure the engagement made -would be fulfilled. I began to make my round of farewells. - -I had not seen Adèle since her marriage. I would not write to her: the -letter might be opened by her husband, and compromise her. I applied -to Louise Brézette, our friend in common. Alas! I found the poor child -in tears. Chollet, whose education in forestry was finished, had -been obliged to return to his parents, and he had carried off with -him all the young girl's first dreams of love: she was forlorn and -inconsolable; she mourned the whole of her life for her lover, and bore -the marks of her love-sickness. I quoted the example of Ariadne to her, -advising her to follow it, and I believe ... I believe she followed it, -and that I contributed, in some measure, towards inducing her to follow -it.... - -Poor beloved children! true and affectionate friends of my youth! my -life is now so much taken up, the hours that belong to me are so few, -I am common property to such an extent, that when, by chance, I go -home, or you come here, I cannot give you all the time that the claims -of love and of memory demand. But when I shall have won a few of those -hours of repose in search of which Théaulon spent his life, and which -he never found, oh! I promise you those hours shall be given to you -unquestionably, unshared by others. You have ample claims to demand the -leisure of my old age, and you will make my latter days to flourish as -in my springtime. For there are closed tombs there which draw me as -much, more even, than open houses; dead friends who talk to me more -clearly than do the living. - -When I left Louise, I went to Maître Mennesson; I had always kept on -pretty good terms with him. But, since our separation, he had married. -I think his marriage made him more sceptical than ever. - -"Ah!" he said, when he caught sight of me, "so there you are!" - -"Yes; I have come to bid you good-bye." - -"You have decided to go, then?" - -"On Saturday night." - -"And how much do you take with you?" - -"Fifty francs." - -"My dear lad, there are people who started on less than that--M. -Laffitte, for example." - -"Yes, exactly so. I mean to pay him a call, and to ask him for a post -in his office." - -"Well, then, if you find a pin on his carpet, do not fail to pick it up -and to put it on his mantelpiece." - -"Why?" - -"Because when M. Laffitte arrived in Paris, much poorer even than -you, he went to see M. Perregaux, just as you are going to call on M. -Laffitte; he went to ask for a place in his office, as you are going -to ask for one in his. M. Perregaux had no vacancy; he dismissed M. -Laffitte, who was going away, his eyes looking down sadly on the floor -as father Aubry's were inclined towards the grave, when he perceived a -pin, not on the earth but on the carpet. M. Laffitte was a tidy man: -he picked up the pin and put it on the mantelpiece, saying, 'Pardon -me, monsieur.' But M. Perregaux, be it known, was a person who noticed -every little thing: he reflected that a young man who would pick up a -pin from the ground must be an orderly person, and, as M. Laffitte was -going away, he said to him, 'I have been thinking, monsieur, stay.' -'But you told me you had no opening in your office.' 'If there is not -one, we will make one for you.' M. Perregaux did as a matter of fact -make room for him--as his partner." - -"That is a very delightful story, dear Monsieur Mennesson, and I thank -you for your great kindness in relating it to me; but I am afraid it is -no good to me; for, unluckily, I am no picker up of pins." - -"Ah! that is precisely your great fault." - -"Or my strongest point ... we shall see. Therefore, if you have any -good advice to give me...?" - -"Beware of priests, hate the Bourbons, and remember that the only state -worthy of a great nation is a Republic." - -"My dear Monsieur Mennesson, reversing the order of your advice, I -would say: Yes, I am of your opinion as to the government which is most -suited to a great nation, and on the supposition that if I am anything -I am a Republican like yourself. As for the Bourbons, I neither love -them nor hate them. I have heard it said that their race produced a -holy king, a good one and a great one: Saint Louis, Henri IV. and -Louis XIV. Only, the last reigning sovereign returned to France riding -behind a Cossack; that, I believe, damaged the Bourbon cause in the -eyes of France; so it comes about that if some day my voice is needed -to hasten their going away, and my gun to assist their departure, those -who are driving them out will find one voice and one gun the more. As -to distrusting priests, I have only known but one, the Abbé Grégoire, -and as he seemed to me the model of all Christian virtues, until I -encounter a bad one, let me believe that all are good." - -"Well, well, you will change all that." - -"It is possible. Meanwhile, give me your hand: I am going to ask for -his blessing." - -"Go, then, and much good may it do you!" - -"I believe it will." - -I went to the abbé. - -"Well, well," he said, "so you are going to leave us?" - -It will be seen that the rumour of my departure had already spread all -over the place. - -"Yes, M. l'abbé, and I have come to ask you to remember me in your -prayers." - -"Oh! my prayers? I thought that was the thing you cared least about." - -"M. l'abbé, do you remember the day I made my first communion?" - -"Yes, I know, it produced a profound impression on you, but you let it -stay at that, and you have never been seen at church since." - -"Do you suppose the sacrament would have the same effect on me at the -tenth time as on the first?" - -"Ah! my God, no, certainly not. Unhappily, one gets accustomed to -everything in this world." - -"Very well, M. l'abbé, my other impressions would have effaced that. -One must not get too used to sacred things, M. l'abbé; frequent use of -them not only takes away their grandeur, but still more their efficacy. -Who told you once that I should only need the consolation of the Church -in great trouble, as one only requires bleeding in serious illness?" -"You have a curious way of putting things...." - -"Well, M. l'abbé, you said it yourself, more than once: we must -treat men less according to their maladies than according to their -temperaments. I am impressionability personified. I have an impulsive -character, you yourself told me so. I shall commit all kinds of -mistakes, all kinds of follies--never a wicked or disgraceful action. -Not, indeed, because I am better than anyone else; but because bad and -dishonourable actions are the result of reflection and of calculation, -and when I act, it is on the spur of the moment; and this impulse is so -quick, that the action springing from it is done before I have had time -to consider the consequences or to calculate the results."-- - -"There is some truth in what you say: but come, what is the use of -giving any advice to a character of your calibre?" - -"Well, I did not come to ask for your advice, dear abbé; I came to beg -your prayers." - -"Prayers?.... You do not believe in them." - -"Ah! pardon, that is another matter.... No, true, I have not always had -faith in them; but do not be troubled: on the day when I shall have -need to believe in them, I shall believe in them. Listen: when I took -my communion, had I not read in Voltaire that it was a curious sort -of God that needed to be digested? and, in Pigault-Lebrun, that the -Host was nothing more than a wafer double the thickness of an ordinary -wafer? Well, did that prevent me feeling a trembling that shook my -whole body, when the Host touched my lips? Did it prevent the tears -springing into my eyes, tears of humility, tears of thankfulness, -above all, tears of love towards God? Do you not believe that God -prefers a generous heart which abandons itself utterly to Him when it -is too full, to a niggardly heart which only yields itself drop by -drop? Should not prayer come from the depths of the soul, rather than -consist of the words of one's lips? Do you believe God will be angry -if I forget Him during ordinary daily life, as one forgets the beating -of one's heart, so long as I return to Him at every time of trouble or -of joy? No M. l'abbé, no; on the contrary, I believe God loves me, and -that is why I forget Him, just as one forgets a good father whom one is -always sure of." - -"Well," replied the abbé, "it matters little to me if you forget God; -but I do not want you to doubt His existence." - -"Oh! be at rest on that point: it is not the hunter who ever doubts the -existence of God--no man does who has spent whole nights in the moonlit -woods, who has studied Nature, from the elephant down to the mite, who -has watched the setting and the rising of the sun, who has heard the -songs of the birds, their evening laments and their morning hymns of -praise!" - -"Then all will be well.... Now, you know, there is a text in the -Gospels which is short and easy to remember; make it the foundation -of your actions and you need not fear failure; this text, which ought -to be engraved in letters of gold over the entry to every town, over -the entry to every house, over the entry to every heart, is:'_Do not -do unto others that ye would not have them do to you._' And when -philosophers, cavillers, libertines, say to you, 'Confucius has a maxim -better than that, as follows: Do unto others what you would have them -do to you,' reply, 'No, it is not better!--for it is false in its -application; one cannot always do what one would like others to do to -oneself, whilst one can always abstain from doing what one would not -like them to do to oneself.' Come, kiss me and let us leave matters -here.... We could not say anything better than that." - -And, with these words, we embraced warmly, and I left him. - -The next day but one, after having made my last visit to the -cemetery,--a pious pilgrimage which my mother made almost every day, -and in which, this time, I accompanied her,--we wended our way towards -the _Hôtel de la Boule d'or_ where the passing coach was to pick me -up and take me away to Paris. At half-past nine we heard the sound of -the wheels; my mother and I had still another half-hour together. We -retired into a room where we were alone, and we wept together; but our -tears were from different causes. My mother wept in doubt, I wept in -hope. We could neither of us see the hand of God; but very certainly -God was present and His grace was with us. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -I find Adolphe again--The pastoral drama--First steps--The Duc de -Bellune--General Sébastiani--His secretaries and his snuff-boxes--The -fourth floor, small door to the left--The general who painted battles - - -I got down at No. 9 rue du Bouloy, at five in the morning. This time, -I did not make the same mistake that I did when I left the Théâtre -Français. I took my bearings, and, by certain landmarks, I thought I -recognised the vicinity of the rue des Vieux-Augustins. I questioned -the conductor, who confirmed my convictions, and handed me my small -luggage. I disputed over it victoriously with several porters, and I -reached the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_ towards half-past five. There -I felt at home. The waiter recognised me as the traveller with the -hares and the partridges, and, in the absence of the landlord, who was -still asleep, he took me to the room I had occupied on my last visit. -My first desire was for sleep. Owing to the emotions of parting, and -owing to wakeful dreams I had had in the diligence, I arrived tired -out. I told the boy to wake me at nine, if I had not given any signs -of life before. I knew Adolphe's habits by now, and I knew I need not -hurry over going to his house. But when the landlord himself came into -my room at nine o'clock, he found me up: sleep would have none of -me. It was Sunday morning. Under the Bourbons Paris was very dreary -on Sundays. Strict orders forbade the opening of shops, and it was -considered not only a breach of religious order, but still worse, a -crime of _lèse majesty_ to disobey these ordinances. I risked being -arrested in Paris at nine in the morning nearly as much as I had risked -it by being in the streets after midnight. I did not feel uneasy. -Thanks to my sportsman's instincts, I found the rue du Mont-Blanc; -then the rue Pigale; then, finally, No. 14 in the rue Pigale. - -M. de Leuven was, as usual, walking in his garden. It was early in May: -he was amusing himself by giving a bit of sugar to a rose. He turned -round and said-- - -"Ah! it is you. Why have you been so long without coming to see us?" - -"Why, because I returned to Villers-Cotterets." - -"And you have now come back?" - -"As you see. I have come to try my fortune for the last time.... This -time, I must stop in Paris, whatever happens." - -"Well, as to that, you will always be welcome here, my dear boy. We -have a kind of Platonic republic here, save in the matter of the -community of women and the presence of poets: one mouth more or less -makes no difference to our republic. There is even an empty attic to -spare upstairs; you can dispute possession of it with the rats; but I -believe you are capable of defending yourself. Go and arrange it all -with Adolphe." - -M. de Leuven wrote on foreign politics at that time, for the _Courrier -français._ Brought up on the knees of the kings and queens of the -North, speaking all the Northern languages, knowing everything it is -permitted man to know, the politics of foreign courts were almost -his mother tongue. He rose at five o'clock every morning, received -the papers by six, and by seven or eight his work for the _Courrier -français_ was finished. - -Generally, by the time his father finished his day's work, Adolphe had -not begun his. He was still in bed--which I forgave him after he had -assured me that he had worked at a little drama in two acts, called the -_Pauvre Fille_, until two in the morning. - -The reader will recollect Soumet's charming elegy:-- - - "J'ai fui le pénible sommeil, - Qu'aucun songe heureux n'accompagne; - J'ai devancé sur la montagne - Les premiers rayons du soleil. - S'éveillant avec la nature, - Le jeune oiseau chantait sur l'aubépine en fleurs; - Sa mère lui portait la douce nourriture; - Mes yeux se sont mouillés de pleurs. - Oh! pourquoi n'ai-je plus de mère? - Pourquoi ne suis-je pas semblable au jeune oiseau - Dont le nid se balance aux branches de l'ormeau, - Moi, malheureux enfant trouve sur une pierre, - Devant l'église du hameau?" - -Short lines were much in vogue at that period. M. Guiraud had just -made with his _Petits Savoyards_ a reputation almost equal to that M. -Dennery has since made with his _Grâce de Dieu_, the only difference -being that M. Guiraud's Savoyard only asked for a son, while M. -Dennery's Savoyard asked for five. True, M. Dennery is a Jew. The first -of Hugo's _Odes_ had made their appearance; Lamartine's _Méditations_ -were out; but these were too strong and too substantial meat for the -stomachs of 1823, which had been nourished on the refuse of Parny, of -Bertin and of Millevoye. - -Adolphe was writing his _Pauvre Fille_ in collaboration with Ferdinand -Langlé, and it was to be ready for a reading in a week's time. - -"Ah me! when shall I have reached that stage?" I thought to myself. -While I waited, I questioned Adolphe as to the composition of the -Ministry. You ask why I wanted to know about the composition of the -Ministry, and what I had to do with ministers? Why, I wanted to -know what the Duc de Bellune was. As ministers are but mortals, and -quickly forgotten when they are dead, it gives me pleasure to draw -this minister from his grave, and to acquaint the reader with the -constitution of the Ministry of 1823 at the date of my arrival in Paris. - -Keeper of the Seals, Comte de Peyronnet. Foreign Minister, Vicomte de -Montmorency. Minister for the Interior, Comte de Cubières. Minister -for War, _le Maréchal Duc de Bellune_. Minister for the Navy, Marquis -de Clermont-Tonnerre. Minister for Finance, Comte de Villèle. King's -Chamberlain, M. de Lauriston. - -The Duc de Bellune was still War Minister. That was all I wanted to -know. - -I have mentioned that I was interested in the Duc de Bellune, no -matter what office he held. I had a letter of his in my possession, -wherein he had thanked my father for a service he had rendered in -Italy; he placed himself at my father's disposition, in case he should -ever be able to do anything for him. The occasion offered on behalf -of the son instead of the father. But as, at that period, the law of -inheritance had not yet been abolished, as there was not even talk of -abolishing it, I did not doubt that as I had succeeded in the direct -line to Napoleon's hatred, I should succeed in direct line also to the -gratitude of the Duc de Bellune. I begged a pen and ink from de Leuven; -I trimmed the quill with the care the case demanded, and, in my very -best handwriting, I drew up a petition asking for an interview with -the Minister of War. I particularised all my claims to his favour; I -emphasised them in the name of my father, which the marshal could not -have forgotten; I recalled the old friendship which had united them, -while leaving unmentioned the service my father had rendered him, of -which the marshal's letter (he was then a major or a colonel) gave -proof. Then, easy about my future, I returned to literature. - -Adolphe sensibly pointed out to me that, sure though I felt of the -protection of Marshal Victor, it might still be as well to throw out my -line in other directions, in the unlikely, but still possible, case of -my being deceived. - -I told Adolphe that, if Marshal Victor failed me, there still remained -Marshal Jourdan and Marshal Sébastiani. - -It was quite out of the question that these would not move heaven -and earth for me. I had three or four letters from Jourdan to my -father, which gave token of a friendship equal to that of Damon and -Pythias. I had only one letter from Marshal Sébastiani; but this letter -proved that when at loggerheads with Bonaparte during the Egyptian -campaign, it was through the intercession of my father, who was then -on excellent terms with the general-in-chief, that he had obtained a -commission in the expedition. Surely such services as these would -never be forgotten! At that time, as can be seen, I was very simple, -very provincial, very confiding. I am wrong in saying "at that time"; -alas! I am just the same now, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, Adolphe's -suspicions disturbed me. I decided not to wait for the Duc de Bellune's -answer before seeing my other patrons, and I told Adolphe I meant to -buy the _Almanach des 25,000 adresses_ in order to find out where they -lived. - -"Do not put yourself to that expense," said Adolphe. "I believe my -father has it: I will lend it you." - -The tone in which Adolphe said "Do not put yourself to that expense" -annoyed me. It was as clear as day that he believed I should be making -a useless expenditure in buying the Directory in question. I was angry -with Adolphe for having such a low opinion of men. - -To give him the lie, I went next morning to Marshal Jourdan. I -announced myself as Alexandre Dumas. My success was surprising. The -marshal no doubt imagined that the news he had received fifteen years -ago was not true, and that my father was still alive. But when he saw -me, his face changed completely: he remembered perfectly that a General -Alexandre Dumas had existed in times gone by, with whom he had come in -contact, but he had never heard of the existence of a son. In spite -of all I could urge to establish my identity, he dismissed me, after -ten minutes' interview, still a disbeliever in my existence. This good -marshal was stronger than St. Thomas: he saw and did not believe. - -It was a sad beginning. I recalled the way in which, advising me not -to buy an _Almanach des 25,000 adresses,_ Adolphe had said to me, -"Do not put yourself to that expense." Was it possible, perchance, -that Adolphe's scepticism might prove correct? These depressing -cogitations passed through my mind while I was walking from the -faubourg Saint-Germain to the faubourg Saint-Honoré--that is to say, -from Marshal Jourdan's to Marshal Sébastiani's. I announced myself, -as I had at Marshal Jourdan's; at my name the door opened. I thought, -for a moment, that I had inherited Ali Baba's famous "Open, sesame!" -The _general_ was in his study. I italicise _general,_ as I was in -error previously in calling the famous minister of foreign affairs -to Louis-Philippe _marshal_:--Comte Sébastiani was only a general -when I paid my visit to him. So the general was in his study: in the -four comers of this study, as at the four corners of a map are the -four cardinal points or four winds, were four secretaries. These -four secretaries were writing at his dictation. They were three less -in number than Cæsar's, but two more than Napoleon's. Each of these -secretaries had on his desk, besides his pen, his paper and his -penknife, a gold snuff-box which he opened and offered to the general, -every time the latter had occasion, when walking round the room, to -stop in front of the desk. The general would daintily insert the first -finger and thumb of a hand whose whiteness and delicacy had been the -envy of his grand-cousin Napoleon, take a voluptuous sniff of the -Spanish powder and, like _le Malade imaginaire,_ proceed to measure the -length and the breadth of the room.. - -My visit was short. Whatever consideration I might have for the -general, I did not feel inclined to become his snuff-box boy. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, somewhat cast -down. The first two men I had turned to had blown upon my golden -dreams, and tarnished them. Besides, although a whole day had gone by, -although I had given my address as accurately as possible, I had not -yet received any answer from the Duc de Bellune. - -I picked up my _Almanack des 25,000 adresses,_ and began to -congratulate myself on not having wasted five francs in its -acquisition. I was quickly disillusioned, as will be seen; my cheerful -confidence had gone; I felt that sinking of heart which ever increases -in proportion as golden dreams give place to reality. I then turned -over the leaves of the book purely and simply at hap-hazard, looking -at it mechanically, reading without taking it in, when, all at once, I -saw a name that I had often heard my mother pronounce, and, each time, -in such eulogistic terms that all my spirits revived. That name was -General Verdier's, who had served in Egypt, under my father. - -"Come, come," I said; "the number three is a favourite with the gods; -perhaps my third unknown and providential protector will do more for me -than the other two--which would be no great tax, seeing the others have -not done anything at all." - -General Verdier lived in the faubourg Montmartre, No. 6. Ten minutes -later, I was holding the following terse dialogue with the concierge of -his house:-- - -"Does General Verdier live here, please?" - -"Fourth floor, small door on the left." - -I made the concierge repeat it: I believed I must have misunderstood -him. - -Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani lived in sumptuous mansions, in -the faubourg Saint-Germain and the faubourg Saint-Honoré; entrance was -gained to these mansions by gates like those of Gaza. Why, then, should -General Verdier live in the rue du faubourg Montmartre, on the fourth -floor, and why did one gain access to him through a small doorway? - -The concierge repeated his words: I had not misunderstood. - -"Good gracious!" I said, as I climbed the staircase; "this does not -look like Marshal Jourdan's lackeys, nor Marshal Sébastiani's Swiss -guards. _General Verdier, fourth floor, small door on the left,_ surely -this is a man likely to remember my father!" - -I reached the fourth floor; I discovered the small door; at this door -hung a humble, modest, green string. I rang with an uncontrollable -fluttering at my heart. This third trial was to decide my opinion of -men. Steps approached, the door was opened. A man of about sixty opened -the door; he wore a cap edged with astrakan, and was clothed in a green -braided jacket and trousers of white calf-skin. He held in his hand a -palette full of paints, and under his thumb, which held his palette, -was a paint-brush. I looked at the other doors. - -"I beg your pardon, monsieur," I said; "I am afraid I have made some -mistake...." - -"What is your pleasure, monsieur?" asked the man with the palette. - -"To present my compliments to General Verdier." - -"In that case, step in: here you are." - -I went in, and, when we had crossed a tiny square hall which served as -an ante-chamber, I found myself in a studio. - -"You will allow me to go on with my work, monsieur?" said the painter, -placing himself in front of a battlepiece in the construction of which -I had interrupted him. - -"Certainly: but will you have the goodness, monsieur, to inform me -where I shall find the general?" - -The painter turned round. - -"The general? What general?" - -"General Verdier." - -"Why, I am he." - -"You?" - -I stared with such rude surprise at him that he began to laugh. - -"It astonishes you to see me handle the brush so badly," said he, -"after having heard, maybe, that I handled a sword passably? What -would you have me do? I have an active hand and I must keep it always -occupied somehow.... But come, as evidently, after the question you put -to me just now, you have nothing to say to the painter, what do you -want with the general?" - -"I am the son of your old comrade-at-arms in Egypt, General Dumas." - -He turned round quickly towards me, and looked at me earnestly; then, -after a moment's silence, he said-- - -"By the powers, so you are! You are the very image of him." Tears -immediately came into his eyes, and, throwing down his brush, he held -out his hand to me, which I longed to kiss rather than to shake. - -"Ah! You remember him, then?" - -"Remember him! I should think I do: the handsomest and the bravest man -in the army! You are the very spit of him, my lad: what a model he -would have made any painter!" - -"Yes, you are right; I remember him perfectly." - -"And what brings you to Paris, my dear boy? for, if my memory serves -me, you lived with your mother, in some village or other." - -"True, General; but my mother is getting on in years, and we are poor." - -"We are both in the same boat," he said. - -"So," I went on, "I have come to Paris, in the hope of obtaining a -small situation, now that it is my turn to provide for her as hitherto -she has provided for me." - -"That is well thought of! But, my poor lad, a place is not so easy to -get in these times, no matter how small, especially for the son of a -Republican general. Ah! if you were the son of an _émigré_ or of a -Chouan,--if only your poor father had served in the Russian or Austrian -army,--I daresay you might have had a chance." - -"The deuce, General, you frighten me! And I had been counting on your -protection." - -"What?" he exclaimed. - -I repeated my sentence word for word, but with a little less assurance. - -"My protection!" He shook his head and smiled sadly. - -"My poor boy," he said, "if you wish to take lessons in painting, my -protection may be sufficient to provide you with them, and, even so, -you will never be a great artist if you do not surpass your master. My -protection! Well, well! I am grateful to you for that expression,'pon -my word! for you are, most likely, the only person in the world who -would ask me for such a thing to-day. You flatterer!" - -"Excuse me, General, I do not rightly understand." - -"Why, those rascals pensioned me off for some imaginary conspiracy with -Dermoncourt! So, you see, here I am, painting pictures; and if you -want to do the same, here are a palette, some brushes and a thirty-six -canvas." - -"Thanks, General; I have never got beyond the first stages; so you see -my apprenticeship would be too long, and neither my mother nor I could -wait----' - -"Ah! what can I say, my lad? You know the proverb: 'The prettiest girl -in the world....' Ah I pardon, pardon; I find I am mistaken. I have -still half my purse; I had forgotten that: it is true it is hardly -worth troubling about." He opened the drawer of a small chest in which, -I remember, there were two gold coins and forty francs in silver. - -"There," he said, "this is the remainder of my quarter's pay." - -"Thank you, General; but I am nearly as wealthy as you." It was my turn -to have tears in my eyes. "Thank you, but perhaps you can advise me -what further steps I can take." - -"You have already taken some steps, then?" - -"Yes, I set about them this morning." - -"Ah! ah! And who have you seen?" - -"I saw Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani." - -"Pooh!... Well?" - -"Well, General, pooh!..." - -"And after that...." - -"And after that, I wrote yesterday to the Minister of War." - -"To Bellune?" - -"Yes." - -"And has he answered you?" - -"Not yet, but I hope he will reply to me." - -The general, while he filled in the face of a Cossack, made a grimace -which might be summed up in the words: "If you are counting only on -that...." - -"I have still," I added, in response to his thought, "a letter of -introduction to General Foy, deputy of my own department." - -"Very well, my dear boy, as I believe that even if you have time to -lose, you have no money to spare, I advise you not to wait for the -minister's answer. To-morrow is Tuesday; there is a sitting of the -Chamber: but present yourself early at General Foy's,--you will find -him at work, for he is a hard worker, like myself; only, he does better -work. Don't worry; he will receive you kindly." - -"You think so?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"I hope so, for I have a letter." - -"Yes, he will give you a kindly reception, I have no doubt, because of -your letter; but above all he will receive you well for your father's -sake, although he did not know him personally. Now, will you dine with -me? We will talk of Egypt. It was hot there!" - -"Willingly, General. At what hour do you dine?" - -"At six o'clock.... Now go and take a turn on the boulevards, whilst I -finish my Cossack, and return at six." - -I took leave of General Verdier, and descended from the fourth floor, I -must confess, with a lighter heart than I had ascended to it. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -_Régulus_--Talma and the play--General Foy--The letter of -recommendation and the interview--The Duc de Bellune's reply--I -obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc d'Orléans--Journey -to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother the good news--No. 9--I gain a -prize in a lottery - - -Men and things began to appear to me in their true light, and the -world, which until now had been hidden from me in the mists of -illusion, began to show itself as it really is, as God and the Devil -have made it, interspersed with good and evil, spotted with dirt. I -related to Adolphe everything that had occurred. - -"Go on," he said; "if your story finishes as it has begun, you will -accomplish much more than the writing of a comic opera: you will write -a comedy." - -But Adolphe's thoughts were in reality busy on my behalf. _Régulus_ was -to be played at the Théâtre-Français that night: he had asked for two -orchestra stalls from Lucien Arnault, and had kept them for me; only, -on that evening, he would be too busy to come with me: the _Pauvre -Fille_ claimed every minute of his time. - -I was almost glad of this inability: I could thus take General Verdier -to the play in return for his dinner. I found him waiting for me at his -house at six o'clock; I showed him my two tickets, and laid my proposal -before him. - -"Well, well, well!" he said, "I cannot refuse this: I do not often -allow myself the luxury of going to the play, and especially as it is -Talma...." - -"You know some dramatists, then?" - -"Yes, I know M. Arnault." - -"Very good!... And now I must confess, General, that I want to stay in -Paris really to go in for literature." - -"Ah! not really?" - -"Really, General." - -"Listen: you came to ask my advice ...?" - -"Certainly I did." - -"Very well, don't count too much on literature for a living; you look -as though you had a good appetite; now, literature will necessitate -your going hungry many a time.... However, on those days, you must look -me up: the painter always shares his crusts with the poet. _Ut pictura -poesis!_ I do not need to interpret that, for I presume you know Latin." - -"A little, General." - -"That is much more than I do. Come, let us go and dine." - -"Do we not dine at your rooms?" - -"Do you imagine I am rich enough, on my half-pay, to keep up a kitchen -and a household? No, no, no, indeed! I dine at the Palais-Royal for -forty sous; to-day we will have an _extra_, and I can get it for six -francs. You see you are not going to cost me much, so need not be -anxious." - -We betook ourselves to the Palais-Royal, where indeed we dined -excellently for our six francs, or rather for General Verdier's -six francs. Then we went to take our places for _Régulus._ My mind -was still full of _Sylla_; I saw the gloomy Dictator enter with -his flattened locks, his crowned head, his forehead furrowed with -anxieties: his speech was deliberate, almost solemn; his glance--that -of a lynx and a hyena--shot from under his drooping eyelids like that -of a nocturnal animal which sees in the darkness. - -Thus I awaited Talma. - -He entered, at a rapid pace, with haughty head and terse speech, as -befitted the general of a free people and a conquering nation; he -entered, in short, as _Régulus_ would have entered. No longer, the -toga, no longer the purple, no longer the crown: a simple tunic, bound -by an iron girdle, without any other cloak than that of the soldier. -Here was where Talma was admirable in his personality--always that of -the hero he was called upon to represent--he reconstructed a world, he -refashioned an epoch. - -Yes, in _Sylla_ he was the man of the falling republic; he was the -man who, in putting aside the purple, and in restoring to Rome that -temporary independence which she was soon no longer to know, said, to -those who assisted at this great act of his public life:-- - - "J'achève un grand destin; j'achève un grand ouvrage; - Sur ce monde étonné, j'ai marqué mon passage. - Ne m'accusez jamais dans la postérité, - Romains, de vous avoir rendu la liberté!" - -It was Sylla who, in Marius and with Marius, witnessed the expiration -of the last breath of republican virility; it was he who saw the rise -of Cæsar--that Cæsar who later spoke thus to Brutus:-- - - "O le pauvre insensé! qui vient, du couchant sombre, - Demander la lumière, et qui marche vers l'ombre! - Et qui se croit, rêvant les antiques vertus, - Au siècle des Camille et des Cincinnatus! - Oui, leur siècle était grand, peut-être regrettable; - Oui, la simplicity des habits, de la table; - Cette orge qui bouillait sur le plat des Toscans; - Ce peu qu'on avait d'or, qui reluisant aux camps; - Annibal, sous nos murs plantant sa javeline; - Et nos guerriers debout sur la porte Colline; - Voilà qui défendait au vice d'approcher!... - Mais le Nil dans le Tibre est venu s'épancher, - Et l'or asiatique, aux mains sacerdotales, - A remplacé l'argile étrusque des vestales; - Et le luxe, fondant sur nous comme un vautour, - Venge les nations et nous dompte à son tour. - La Rome des consuls et de la république - A brisé dès longtemps sa ceinture italique. - Rome a conquis la Grèce, et Carthage, et le Pont; - Rome a conquis l'Espagne et la Gaule.--Répond, - Toi, qui ne veux pas voir, comme une mer de lave, - Monter incessamment vers nous le monde esclave: - Cette ville aux sept monts, qu'un dieu même créa, - Est-ce toujours la fille et l'Albe et de Rhéa, - La matrone sévère ou bien la courtisane?... - Ville de Mithridate et d'Ariobarzane, - Ville de Ptolémée, et ville de Juba. - Rome est un compost de tout ce qui tomba! - Rome, c'est l'univers! et sa débauche accuse - Marseille, Alexandrie, Athènes, Syracuse, - Et Rhode et Sybaris, fécondes en douleurs, - Et Tarente lascive, au front chargé de fleurs!..." - -Well, it was in this first epoch, spoken of by Cæsar, when "l'orge -bouillait sur le plat des Toscans," that Regulus flourished. Therefore, -from his very entry, Talma appeared as the stern republican, the man -vowed to great causes. Yes, yes, Talma, you were indeed, this time, -the Punic warrior, the colleague of Duillius--that conqueror to whom -his contemporaries, still in ignorance of the titles and the honours -with which defenders of their country should be rewarded, were giving -a flute player to follow him wherever he went, and a rostral column -to set up in front of his house; yes, you were indeed the consul who, -when he landed on African shores, had to beat down monsters before -he could beat down men, and who tested the implements of war, which -were destined to break down the walls of Carthage, by crushing a -boa-constrictor a hundred cubits in length. You were indeed that man -whose two victories spelt two hundred towns, and who refused Carthage -peace: Carthage, the Queen of the Mediterranean, the Sovereign of -the Ocean, who had coasted down Africa as far as the Equator, who -had spread North as far as the Cassiterides, and who possessed armed -ships. O Carthaginians, merchants, lawyers and senators! you were lost -at last. The race of traders had to give way to the race of warriors, -speculators to soldiers, Hannons to Barcas; you would have consented -to all the demands of Regulus, if there had not been found in Carthage -a Lacedemonian, a mercenary, a Xantippe, who declared that Carthage -still possessed the means for resisting, and demanded the chief -command of the armies. The command was given him. He was a Greek. He -lured the Romans into the plain, charged into them with his cavalry and -crushed them beneath his elephants. It was at this stage of affairs, O -Regulus--Talma that you made your entry into Carthage, but conquered, -and a prisoner! - -Lucien Arnault had certainly not extracted all the dramatic force out -of this splendid republican subject that it was capable of showing: -he had certainly not shown us Rome, patient and indefatigable as the -ploughing oxen; he had certainly not depicted commercial Carthage, with -its armies of condottieri recruited from the sturdy Ligurians, that -Strabo shows us, in the mountains of Genes, breaking down the rocks and -carrying enormous burdens; from those clever slingers who came from the -Balearic Isles, who could stop a stag in its flight, an eagle on the -wing, with their stone-throwing; from the sturdy and strong Iberians, -who seemed insensible to hunger and to fatigue, when they were marching -to battle with their red cloaks and their two-edged-swords; finally, -from the Numidians whom we fight even to-day at Constantine and at -Djidjelli, terrible cavaliers, centaurs thin and fiery like their -chargers. No,--although the epoch was not remote,--the piece lacked -poetry; you, my dear Lucien, simply extracted from this mass of -material the devotion of a single man, and did not choose to depict a -people. - -Talma was superb when he was urging the Roman Senate to refuse peace, -thereby condemning himself to death; Talma was magnificent in that last -cry which hung for two centuries after, like a menace, over the city of -Dido: "To Carthage! to Carthage!" - -I returned to my quarters, this second time even more filled with -admiration than on the first occasion; only, as I knew my way, I -dispensed with the expense of a cab. Besides, my way was nearly the -same as General Verdier's to the faubourg Montmartre; he left me at the -corner of the rue Coquillière, shaking my hand and wishing me good luck. - -Next day, at ten, I presented myself at General Foy's. He lived at No. -64 rue du Mont-Blanc. I was shown into his study, and found him engaged -upon his _Histoire de la Péninsule._ As I entered he was writing, -standing against a table which could be lowered or raised as required. -Round him, on chairs, on arm-chairs, on the floor, were scattered, in -apparent confusion, speeches, proofs, maps and open books. When the -general heard the door of his sanctum open he turned round. General -Foy was, at that time, a man of about forty-eight or fifty years of -age, thin, short rather than tall, with scanty grey hair, a projecting -forehead, an aquiline nose and a bilious complexion. He carried his -head high, his manner was short and his gestures commanding. I was -announced. - -"M. Alexandre Dumas!" he repeated after the servant; "let him come in." - -I appeared before him, trembling all over. - -"Are you M. Alexandre Dumas?" he asked. - -"Yes, General." - -"Are you the son of General Dumas who commanded the Army of the Alps?" - -"Yes, General." - -"I have been told that Bonaparte treated him very unjustly and that -this injustice was extended to his widow." - -"He left us in poverty." - -"Can I do anything for you?" - -"I confess, General, that you are nearly my sole hope." - -"How is that?" - -"Will you first make yourself acquainted with this letter from M. -Danré." - -"Ah! worthy Danré!... You know him?" - -"He was an intimate friend of my father." - -"Yes, he lived a league from Villers-Cotterets, where General Dumas -died.... And what is the good fellow doing?" - -"He is happy and proud to have been of some use to you in your -election, General." - -"Of some use? Say rather he did everything!" said he, breaking open -the letter. "Do you know," he continued, as he held the letter open -without reading it,--"do you know that he made himself answerable on -my account to the electors--body and soul, body and soul?... They did -not want to appoint me! I hope his rash zeal did not cost him too much. -Let me see what he says." - -He began to read. - -"Oh! oh! he commends you to me most pressingly; he is very fond of you, -then?" - -"Almost as fond as he is of his own son, General." - -"I must first find out what you are fit for." - -"Oh! not good for much." - -"Bah! you surely know some mathematics?" - -"No, General." - -"You have at least some notion of algebra, of geometry, of physics?" - -He stopped between each word, and at each word I blushed afresh, and -the perspiration ran down my forehead in faster and faster drops. -It was the first time I had been thus actually confronted with my -ignorance. - -"No, General," I replied, stammering; "I do not know anything of those -things." - -"You have perhaps studied law?" - -"No, General." - -"You know Latin, Greek?" - -"A little Latin, no Greek." - -"Can you speak any modern language?" - -"Italian." - -"You understand book-keeping?" - -"Not the least in the world." - -I was in agony, and he himself was visibly sorry for me. - -"Oh, General!" I burst out in tones that seemed to impress him greatly, -"my education is utterly defective and I am ashamed to say that I never -realised it until this moment.... Oh! but I will mend matters, I give -you my word; and soon, very soon, I shall be able to reply 'Yes' to all -the questions to which I have just now said 'No.'" - -"But have you anything to live upon in the meantime, my young friend?" - -"Nothing, absolutely nothing, General!" I replied, crushed by the -feeling of my powerlessness. - -The general looked at me in profound pity. - -"Nevertheless," he said, "I do not want to abandon you ..." - -"No, General, for you will not be abandoning me only! True, I am -ignorant and good for nothing; but my mother counts upon me; I have -promised her I will find a place, and she ought not to be punished for -my ignorance and my laziness." - -"Give me your address," said the general. "I will consider what can be -done for you.... Write, there, at that desk." - -He held the pen out to me which he had just been using. I took it; I -looked at it, still wet; then, shaking my head, I gave it back to him. - -"What is the matter?" - -"No, General," I said; "I cannot write with your pen: it would be a -profanation." - -He smiled. "What a child you are!" he said. "Look, here is a new one." - -"Thanks." I wrote. The general looked on. - -I had scarcely written my name before he clapped his hands together. - -"We are saved!" he said. - -"How is that?" - -"You write a beautiful hand." - -My head fell on my breast; my shame was insupportable. The only thing -I possessed was a good handwriting. This diploma of incapacity well -became me! A beautiful handwriting! So some day I might become a -copying-clerk. That was my future! I would rather cut off my right -arm. General Foy went on without paying much heed to what was passing -through my mind. - -"Listen," he said: "I am dining to-day at the Palais-Royal; I will -mention you to the Duc d'Orléans; I will tell him he ought to take the -son of a Republican general into his offices. Sit down there...." - -He pointed to an empty desk. - -"Draw up a petition, and write your very best." - -I obeyed. When I had finished, General Foy took my petition, read -it and traced a few lines in the margin. His handwriting compared -unfavourably with mine and humiliated me most cruelly. Then he folded -up the petition, put it in his pocket and, holding out his hand to bid -me good-bye, he invited me to return and lunch with him next day. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and there I found -a letter franked by the Minister of War. Good and evil fortune had, -up to this time, treated me pretty impartially. The letter that I was -about to break open should turn the scale definitely. The minister -replied that, as he had no time for a personal interview, he invited -me to lay before him anything I had to say in writing. Decidedly, -the balance of the scale was towards ill-fortune. I replied that the -audience I asked of him was but to hand him the original of a letter -of thanks he had once written to my father, his general-in-chief; but -that, as I might not have the honour of seeing him, I would content -myself with sending him a copy of it. Poor marshal! I have seen him -since: he was then as affectionate to me as he had been indifferent -under the circumstances I have just related; and, nowadays, his son and -his grandson are my good friends. - -I went early, next morning, as I had been advised, to General Foy's, -who was now my only hope. The general was at his work, as on the -previous day. He received me with a smiling face, which looked very -promising. - -"Well," he said, "our business is settled." - -I looked at him, astounded. - -"How is that?" I asked. - -"Yes, you are to enter the secretarial staff of the Duc d'Orléans as -supernumerary, at twelve hundred francs. It is nothing very great; but -mow is your chance to work." - -"It is a fortune!... And when am I to begin?" - -"Next Monday, if you like." - -"Next Monday?" - -"Yes, it is arranged with the chief clerk in the office." - -"What is his name?" - -"M. Oudard.... You will introduce yourself to him in my name." - -"Oh, General, I can hardly believe my good fortune." - -The general looked at me with an indescribably kindly expression. This -reminded me that I had not even thanked him. I threw my arms round his -neck and kissed him. He began to laugh. - -"There is good stuff in you," he said; "but remember what you have -promised me: study!" - -"Oh yes, General; I am now going to live by my handwriting: but I -promise you that one day I shall live by my pen." - -"We shall see; take your pen and write to your mother." - -"No, General, no; I wish to tell her this good news with my own lips. -To-day is Tuesday; I will start to-night: I will spend Wednesday, -Thursday, Friday and Saturday with her; I will come back here on the -night of Sunday--and on Monday I will go to my office." - -"But you will ruin yourself in carriages!" - -"No; I have a free pass from the diligence proprietor." - -And I related to him how old Cartier owed me a dozen fares. "Now," I -asked of the general, "what message shall I take from you to M. Danré?" - -"Well, tell him we had lunch together and that I am very well." - -A small round table ready laid was carried in at this juncture. - -"A second cover," ordered the general. - -"Really, General, you make me ashamed...." - -"Have you lunched?" - -"No, but----" - -"To table, to table!... I have to be at the Chamber by noon." - -We lunched _tête-à-tête._ The general talked to me of my future plans; -I confided all my literary plans to him. He looked at me; he listened -to me with the benevolent smile of a large-hearted man; he seemed -to say, "Golden dreams! foolish hopes! purple but fugitive clouds, -which sail over the heaven of youth, may they not vanish into the -azure firmament too quickly for my poor protégé!" Beloved and kindly -general! loyal soul! noble heart! you are now, alas! dead, before -those dreams were realised; you died without knowing they were to be -realised one day,--you are dead, and gratitude and grief have inspired -me, on the borders of that tomb into which you descended before your -time, to write I will not say the first good lines I made,--that would -perhaps be too ambitious,--but the first of my lines which are worth -the trouble of being quoted. Here are those I recall; the rest I have -completely forgotten:-- - - "Ainsi de notre vieille gloire - Chaque jour emporte un débris! - Chaque jour enrichit l'histoire - Des grands noms qui nous sont repris! - Et, chaque jour, pleurant sur la nouvelle tombe - D'un héros généreux dans sa course arrêté, - Chacun de nous se dit épouvante: - 'Encore une pierre qui tombe - Du temple de la Liberté!'..." - -With one bound I covered the distance between the rue du Mont-Blanc -and the rue Pigale. I longed to tell Adolphe the realisation of all my -hopes. I was now, at last, sure of remaining in Paris. A most ambitious -career opened out before me, limitless and vast. God, on His side, had -done all that was necessary: He had left me with Aladdin's lamp in -the enchanted garden. The rest depended on myself. No man had ever, -I believe, seen his wishes more completely satisfied, his hopes more -entirely crowned. Napoleon could not have been prouder and happier -than I on the day when, having espoused Marie-Louise, he repeated -three times before nightfall, "My poor uncle Louis XVI.!" Adolphe -entered very heartily into my delight. M. de Leuven, to be still -characteristic, quietly ridiculed my raptures. Madame de Leuven, the -most perfect of women, rejoiced in advance over the joy my mother would -shortly experience. All three wanted to keep me to dinner with them; -but I remembered that a diligence left at half-past four o'clock, and -that by it I should be able to reach home by one in the morning. It -was odd I should be as eager to return to Villers-Cotterets as I had -been to come to Paris. True, I was not returning for long. I reached -Villers-Cotterets at one o'clock. One thing marred my joy: everybody -was asleep; no one was in the dark streets; I could not cry out from -the door of the diligence, "Here I am! but only for three days; I am -going back to Paris for good." Oh! what an incontestable reality had -the fable of King Midas become to me! When I reached Cartier's house, -I leapt from the coach to the ground without thinking of making use of -the step. When on mother-earth I rushed off, shouting to Auguste-- - -"It is I, it is I, Auguste! Put my fare down to your father's account." - -In five minutes I was at home. I had a special way of my own of opening -the door, after my nocturnal escapades; I turned it to account, and I -entered my mother's room, who had hardly been an hour in bed, crying-- - -"Victory, dear mother, victory!" - -My poor mother sat up in bed in great agitation: such an early return -and one so completely successful had never entered her head. She was -obliged to believe my word when, after kissing her, she saw me dance -round the room still shouting "Victory!" I told her the whole story: -Jourdan and his lackeys, Sébastiani and his secretaries, Verdier and -his pictures, the Duc de Bellune refusing to receive me and General -Foy receiving me twice. And my mother made me repeat it over and over -again; unable to believe that I, her poor child, had in three days, -without support, without acquaintances, without influence, by my -persistence and determination, myself changed the course of my destiny -for ever. - -At last I got to the end of my tale and sleep had a hearing. I went -to the bed that was scarcely cold since I had last used it, and, -when I woke up, I wondered if I could really have been absent from -Villers-Cotterets during those three days, and if it had not all been -a dream. I leapt out of my bed, I dressed myself, I kissed my mother -and I ran off along the road to Vouty. M. Danré ought to be the first -to hear of my good fortune. This was but fair, since he had brought it -about. - -M. Danré learnt the news with feelings of personal pride. There is -something very comforting to poor human nature when a man counts on -a friend for a good action, and this friend accomplishes the deed, -without ostentation, in fulfilment of his promise. - -M. Danré would have liked me to have stayed there all day; but I was -as slippery as an eel. I was not merely in haste that everybody should -know of my happiness, but I wanted to increase this happiness twofold, -by telling it myself. Dear M. Danré understood this, like the good soul -he was. We lunched, and then he set me free. Without, I am thankful to -say, representing the same mythological idea as Mercury, my heels, like -his, were endowed with wings: in twenty or twenty-five minutes, I was -back in Villers-Cotterets; but the news had spread in my absence, in -spite of my celerity. Everybody already knew, on my return, that I was -a supernumerary in the secretariat of the Duc d'Orléans, and everybody -was waiting for me at their doors to congratulate me on my good -fortune. They followed me in procession to the door of Abbé Grégoire's -house. What recollections of my own have I not put in the story of my -poor fellow-countrywoman Ange Pitou! I found our house full of gossips -when I returned. Besides our friend Madame Darcourt, our neighbours -Mesdames Lafarge, Dupré, Dupuis were holding a confabulation. I was -welcomed with open arms, fêted by everybody. They had never doubted my -powers; they had always said that I should become somebody; they were -delighted to have prophesied an event to my poor mother which was now -realised. These ladies, with the exception of Madame Darcourt, let it -be noted, were those who had predicted to my mother that her darling -son would always be a good-for-nothing. But Fate is the most powerful, -the most inexorable of kings; it is not, then, to be wondered at that -it has its courtiers. We were never left alone together the whole of -the day. I took advantage of the numbers in the house to go and pay a -special farewell visit to my good Louise, who would fain have comforted -me after Adèle's marriage, if I had been consolable, and whom I would -assuredly have comforted after Chollet had gone, had not I myself left. - -In the evening my mother and I at last found ourselves alone together -for a little while. We took the opportunity to talk over our private -affairs. I wanted my mother to sell everything that we did not need -and come as soon as possible to settle with me in Paris. Twenty years -of misfortunes had sown distrust in my mother's heart. In her opinion, -it was far too hasty to act like this. Then, the twelve hundred francs -that I looked upon as a fortune was a very small amount to live upon in -Paris. Besides, I had not got the salary yet. A supernumerary is but a -probationer: if at the end of one month, or two months, they thought -that I was not suitable for the post, and if M. Oudard, the head of my -office, should make me take a seat as Augustus had made Cinna, as M. -Lefèvre had made me, and ask me, as M. Lefèvre had asked me, "Monsieur, -do you understand mechanics?" we were lost; for my mother would not -even have her tobacco-shop to fall back upon, which she would have left -and which she could not sell merely temporarily. My mother, therefore, -decided on a common-sense course, which was as follows-- - -I was to return to Paris, where my bed, my bedding, my sheets, my table -linen, four chairs, a table, a chest of drawers and two sets of plate -would be forwarded; I would hire a small room, the cheapest possible; I -would stay there until my position was established; and when my place -was secure, I would write to my mother. Then my mother would hesitate -no longer: she would sell everything and come to join me. - -The next day was a Thursday. I utilised my being at Villers-Cotterets -to draw for the conscription; my years would have called me to the -service of my country, had I not been the son of a widow. I took No. 9, -which was no inconvenience to myself, and did not deprive another of a -good number I might have taken. I met Boudoux, my old friend of the -_marette_ and the _pipée._ - -"Ah! Monsieur Dumas," he said, "as you have obtained such an excellent -situation, you can surely give me a four-pound loaf." - -I took him off to the baker; and instead of a four-pound loaf I paid -for one of eight pounds for him. - -I held my conscription ticket in my hand. - -"What is that?" asked Boudoux. - -"That? It is my number." - -"You have taken No. 9?" - -"As you see." - -"Well, now, I have an idea: in return for your eight-pound loaf, -Monsieur Dumas, if I were you, I would go to my aunt Chapuis, and I -would put a thirty-sous piece on No. 9. Thirty sous wont ruin you, and -if No. 9 turns up, it will bring you in seventy-three francs." - -"Here are thirty sous, Boudoux; go and put them on in my name, and -bring me back the ticket." - -Boudoux went off, breaking off, with his right hand, huge chunks of the -bread which he carried under his left arm. His aunt Chapuis kept both -the post-office and the lottery-office. - -Ten minutes later, Boudoux returned with the ticket. There was only a -fragment of crust left of the eight-pound loaf, and that he finished -before my eyes. It was the final day of the lottery. I should know, -therefore, by Saturday morning whether I had won my seventy-three -francs or lost my thirty sous. - -Friday was taken up with making preparations for my Parisian -housekeeping. My mother would have liked me to carry off everything -in the house; but I realised that, with my twelve hundred francs per -annum, the smaller the room the more economical it would be, and I -stuck to the bed, the four chairs, and the chest of drawers. - -One slight inconvenience remained to me. General Foy had told me that -I was a supernumerary at twelve hundred francs; but these hundred -francs per month which the munificence of Monseigneur the Duc d'Orléans -conceded me would not be paid me until the end of the month. I had not -Boudoux's appetite, but I could certainly eat and eat very heartily: -General Verdier had not been out in his surmise. - -I had thirty-five francs left out of my fifty. My mother decided to -part with another hundred francs: it was half of what she had left. It -went to my heart very bitterly to take my poor mother's hundred francs, -and I was just thinking of having recourse to the purse of M. Danré, -when, in the midst of our discussion, which took place on Saturday -morning, I heard Boudoux's voice shouting out-- - -"Ah! M. Dumas, now this is well worth a second eight-pound loaf." - -"What is worth an eight-pound loaf?" - -"No. 9 came up! If you go to aunt Chapuis's office, she will count you -out your seventy-three francs." - -My mother and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Boudoux. - -"Are you telling me the truth, Boudoux?" - -"Before God, I am, M. Dumas; that rascally No. 9 turned up: you can go -and see for yourself on the list; it is the third." - -There was nothing astonishing about this: had we not struck a vein of -good fortune? - -My mother and I went to Madame Chapuis. We were even better off than we -supposed. Boudoux had calculated upon the number coming out along with -others; I had put my thirty sous on the single item: the result of this -difference was that my thirty sous brought me in a hundred and fifty -francs, instead of seventy-three. - -I have never rightly understood the reason why Madame Chapuis doubled -the amount, which was paid me, I remember, in crowns of six livres, -plus the necessary smaller change; but when I saw the crowns, when I -was allowed to carry them off, I did not ask for further explanation. I -was the possessor of the sum of a hundred and eighty-five francs! I had -never had so much money in my pocket. Therefore, as all these six-livre -crowns made a great chinking and took up a lot of room, my mother -changed them for me into gold. - -Oh! what a fine thing gold is, however much decried, when it is the -realisation of the dearest hopes in life! Those nine gold coins were -little enough; but nevertheless, at that moment, they were of more -value in my eyes than the thousands of similar pieces which have passed -through my hands since; and which, after the fashion of Jupiter, I have -showered upon that most costly of all mistresses men call _Fancy._ So I -cost my mother nothing, not even for the carriage of my furniture, for -which I paid the carrier in advance, bargaining with him for the sum -of twenty francs to bring them to Paris, to the door of the hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins, to be removed from there when I should have chosen my -lodgings. They were to be delivered on the Monday night. - -At last the hour of parting came. The whole town assisted at my -departure. It was for all the world as though one of the navigators -of the Middle Ages were leaving to discover an unknown land, and the -wishes and the cheering of his compatriots were giving him a send-off -across the seas. - -In truth, those dear good friends realised, with their simple and -kindly instinct, that I was embarking on an ocean quite as stormy and -uncertain as that which, according to the blind soothsayer, surrounded -the shield of Achilles. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I find lodgings--Hiraux's son--Journals and journalists in 1823--By -being saved the expense of a dinner I am enabled to go to the play at -the Porte-Saint-Martin--My entry into the pit--Sensation caused by my -hair--I am turned out--How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one--A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs - - -The reader will have observed that my balance increased each journey -I made to Paris. It was but four months since the firm of Paillet and -Company had entered the city with thirty-five francs apiece; only a -week ago I had reached the barrier with fifty francs in my pocket; now, -finally, I alighted at the door of the _Hôtel des Vieux Augustins_ with -one hundred and eighty-five francs. - -I began to search for lodgings the same day. When I had climbed and -descended a good many staircases, I stopped at a little room on a -fourth floor. This room, which contained the luxury of an alcove, -belonged to that immense mass of houses called the Italian quarter, -and formed part of No. 1. It was papered with a yellow paper at twelve -sous the piece, and looked out on the yard. It was let to me for the -sum of a hundred and twenty francs per annum. It suited me in every -respect, so I did not haggle. I told the porter I would take it, and -I advised him that my furniture would come in on the following night. -The porter asked me for the _denier à Dieu._ I was a complete stranger -to Parisian habits and I did not know what the _denier à Dieu_ meant. -I thought it must be a commission on letting the room: I majestically -took a napoleon out of my pocket, and I dropped it into the hand of the -porter, who bowed down to the ground. - -In his eyes I evidently passed for a prince travelling incognito. -To give twenty francs as _denier à Dieu_ for a room at a hundred and -twenty!... Such a thing had never been heard of. Twenty francs! it was -a sixth of the rent!... So his wife instantly asked for the honour -of looking after me. I granted her this favour for five francs per -month--always with the same regal air. - -From there, I ran to General Verdier's to get up my appetite, and I -told him the good news. I had left Paris at such short notice, on the -previous Monday, that I had not had time to ascend his four flights of -stairs. I mounted them, this time, fruitlessly: the general had taken -advantage of its being Sunday and had gone out. I followed his example: -I strolled about the boulevards,--the only place where I ran no risk -of being lost,--and I reached the _Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré_ -at the end of my strolling. Suddenly, through the windows, I saw -someone I knew: it was Hiraux, the son of good old Hiraux, who had so -unsuccessfully endeavoured to make a musician of me. I entered the -café. Hiraux had recently bought it: he was the proprietor of it.... -I was in his house!... Although he was slightly older than myself, we -had been very good chums in our childhood. He kept me to dinner. While -waiting for dinner, he put all the journals of the establishment before -me. Some of those papers have since disappeared. The chief of them at -that time were: the _Journal des Débats_, always under the direction of -the brothers Bertin, and a supporter of the Government. It reflected -the views of Louis XVIII. and of M. de Villèle--namely, a moderate -and conciliatory Royalism, a policy of optimism and vacillation; the -system, in fact, by which, in the midst of the plots of the Carbonari -and the intrigues of the Extreme Party, Louis XVIII. managed to die -almost in tranquillity: if not on the throne, at any rate close by it. - -The old _Constitutionnel_--of Saint-Albin, Jay, Tissot and Évariste -Dumoulin--was suppressed one day for an article which the Censorship -placed on the Index, an article which somehow had managed to get -inserted without any trace of the claws and teeth of the censors. Then, -with a rapidity of decision which indicated the extreme devotion the -_Constitutionnel_ of every epoch has always exhibited in its own cause, -it bought for a mere song the _Journal du Commerce_, which had four -hundred subscribers; and, under the title of the _Journal du Commerce_ -appeared next morning: it need hardly be said that the good old rogue -was recognised under this transparent disguise, and just about the -time when I arrived in Paris, it had resumed, or was about to resume, -its old title, so dear to the citizens of Paris. The _Constitutionnel_ -was very timid: it represented the Liberal opinion, and never really -breathed out thunder and lightning except against the Jesuits, towards -whom it had vowed the same cruel and magnificent hatred that nowadays -it fulminates against _demagogues_. - -The _Drapeau blanc_ was edited by Martainville, a man of infinite -resource, but one who could hate and was hated in return. Charged with -the defence of the bridge of Pecq, as commandant of the National Guard -of Saint-Germain, he was reproached with having, in 1814, delivered -up this bridge to the Prussians; and he replied to the reproach, not -merely by an avowal, but with bravado: not being able to deny it, he -boasted about it. But as all treachery torments the heart of the man -who has committed it, irrespective of what he said, so it preyed on -his vital forces. M. Arnault had infuriated him by deriving his name -from _Martin_ on his father's, and _Vil_ (vile) on his mother's side. -He was courageous enough, and, ever ready to tackle an adversary, he -did battle with Telleville Arnault over his _Germanicus._ The bullet of -the poet's son merely grazed the thigh of the critic, leaving nothing -worse than a slight bruise behind it. "Bah!" said Arnault's father, "he -has not even felt it: a blow from a stick would have produced the same -effect." - -The _Foudre_ was the admitted journal of the Marsan Party, the -outspoken expression of the ultra-Royalists, who, through all the -reactions that followed, leant for support on the Comte d'Artois, and -who waited impatiently for that decomposition of the elements, which, -at the rate things were going, could not fail to be accomplished under -Louis XVIII. - -The editors of the _Foudre_ were Bérard, the two brothers Dartois (who -were also comic-opera writers), Théaulon and Ferdinand Langlé, Brisset -and de Rancé. - -At the opposite pole of Liberal opinion to the _Foudre_ was the -_Miroir_, a newspaper hussar, a delightful skirmisher, overflowing with -wit and _humour_; it was controlled by all the men who were noted for -their spirit of opposition to the times, and who, we hasten to say, -were really opposed to it. These men were MM. de Jouy, Arnault, Jal, -Coste, Castel, Moreau, etc. So the unfortunate _Miroir_ was the object -of relentless persecution at the hands of the Government, in whose eyes -it was for ever flashing a broken ray of sunlight from the days of the -Empire. Suppressed as the _Miroir_, it reappeared as the _Pandore;_ -suppressed as _Pandore_, it became the _Opinion;_ suppressed finally as -_Opinion_, it rose again under the title of the _Reunion;_ but this was -the last of its metamorphoses: Proteus was run to earth, and died in -chains. - -Do not let us forget the _Courrier français_, the sentinel of advanced -opinion, almost Republican, at a time when no one dared even to -pronounce the word republic. It was for the _Courrier français,_ edited -by Châtelain, one of the most honest and most enlightened patriots of -that period, that, as I have already mentioned, M. de Leuven worked. - -But I had really nothing to do with any of these political journals: -I only read the literary news. As I had found a dinner which cost me -nothing, I decided to spend the price of my dinner on a theatre ticket, -a ticket for a play: I hunted through the theatre advertisements in all -the newspapers, and, guided by Hiraux in the choice of the literature -on which I proposed to spend my evening, I decided to go to the -Porte-Saint-Martin. - -The play was the _Vampire._ It was only the third or fourth -representation of the revival of this piece. Hiraux advised me to make -haste; the piece had caught on and was drawing crowds. It was played -by the two actors who were popular at the Porte-Saint-Martin: Philippe -and Madame Dorval. I followed Hiraux's advice; but, in spite of all the -haste I made, it is a long way from the _Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré_ -to the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin: I found the approaches to it -blocked. - -I was quite fresh to Paris. I did not know all the various theatre -customs. I went along by the side of an enormous queue enclosed in -barriers, not daring even to ask where the entrance-money was taken. -One of the _habitués_ in the queue no doubt perceived my confusion, for -he called out to me-- - -"Monsieur! monsieur!" - -I turned round, wondering if he were addressing me. - -"Yes ... you, monsieur," continued the habitué, "you with the frizzy -locks ... do you want a place?" - -"Do I want a place?" I repeated. - -"Yes. If you put yourself at the bottom of this queue, you will never -get in to-night. Five hundred people will be turned away." - -This was Hebrew to me. Of his language I only gathered that five -hundred folk would be turned away and that I should be one of the -number. - -"Come, would you really like my place?" continued the habitué. - -"Have you got a place, then?" - -"Can't you see for yourself?" - -I could see nothing at all. - -"Taken in advance, then?" I asked. - -"Taken since noon." - -"And a good one ...?" - -"What do you mean by good?" - -Now it was the habitué who did not understand. - -"Well," I went on, "shall I have a good place?" - -"You can sit where you like." - -"What! I can sit where I like?" - -"Of course." - -"How much did your place cost?" - -"Twenty sous." - -I reflected within myself that twenty sous to sit where I liked was not -dear. I drew twenty sous from my pocket and gave them to the _habitué_, -who immediately, with an agility that proved he was well accustomed -to this exercise, climbed up the rails of the barrier, got over it and -alighted by my side. - -"Well," I said, "now where is your place?" - -"Take it, ... but look sharp; for, if they push up, you will lose it." - -At the same moment light broke in on my mind: "Those people, inside -that barrier, have no doubt taken and paid for their places in advance, -and it is in order to keep them they are penned in like that." - -"Ah! good, I see!" I replied; and I strode over the barrier in my turn, -the reverse way; so that, contrary to the action of my place-seller, -who had come without from within, I went from the outside within. I did -not understand matters at all. After a second, there was a movement -forward. They were just opening the offices. I was carried forward -with the crowd, and ten minutes later, I found myself in front of the -grating. - -"Well, monsieur, aren't you going to take your ticket?" asked my -neighbour. - -"My ticket? What do you mean?" - -"Of course, your ticket!" answered someone just behind me. "If you -aren't going to take your ticket, at least allow us to take ours." - -And a light thrust showed the desire of those behind me to have their -turn. - -"But," I said, "surely I have bought my place ...?" - -"Your place ...?" - -"Yes, I gave twenty sous for it, as you saw.... Why, I gave twenty sous -to that man who sold me his place!" - -"Oh, his place in the queue!" exclaimed my neighbours; "but his place -in the queue is not his place inside the theatre." - -"He told me that, with his place, I could go where I liked." - -"Of course you can go where you like; take a stage-box. You can do -what you like, and you can go where you like. But tickets for the -stage-boxes are at the other office." - -"Forward! forward! hurry up!" exclaimed those near me. - -"Gentlemen, clear the gangway, if you please," cried a voice. - -"It is this gentleman, who will not take his ticket, and who prevents -us from getting ours!" cried a chorus of my neighbours. - -"Come, come, make up your mind." - -The murmurs grew, and with them ringing in my ears, by degrees it -dawned upon me what had been pretty clearly dinned into me--namely, -that I had bought my place in the queue, and not my place in the -theatre. - -So, as people were beginning to hustle me in a threatening fashion, -I drew a six-francs piece from my pocket and asked for a pit ticket. -They gave me four francs six sous, and a ticket which had been white. -It was time! I was immediately carried away by a wave of the crowd. -I presented my once white ticket to the check-taker: they gave me in -exchange a ticket that had been red. I went down a corridor to the -left; I found a door on my left with the word PARTERRE written over it, -and I entered. And now I understood the truth of what the _habitué_ who -had sold me his place for twenty sous had said. Although I had scarcely -fifteen or twenty people in front of me in the queue, the pit was -nearly full. A most compact nucleus had formed beneath the lights, and -I realised then that those must be the best places. - -I immediately resolved to mix with this group, which did not look to me -to be too closely packed, for a good place therein. I climbed over the -benches, as I had seen several other people do, and balancing myself, -on the tops of their curved backs, I hastened to reach the centre. - -I was becoming, or rather, it must be admitted, I was, a very -ridiculous object. I wore my hair very long, and, as it was frizzy, it -formed a grotesque aureole round my head. Moreover, at a period when -people wore short frock-coats, hardly reaching to the knee, I wore a -coat which came down to my ankles. A revolution had taken place in -Paris, which had not yet had time to reach as far as Villers-Cotterets. -I was in 1 the latest fashion of Villers-Cotterets, but I was in the -last but one Parisian mode. Now, as nothing generally is more opposed -to the latest fashion than the last mode but one, I looked excessively -absurd, as I have already had the modesty to admit. Of course, I -appeared so in the eyes of those towards whom I advanced; for they -greeted me with shouts of laughter, which I thought in very bad taste. - -I have always been exceedingly polite; but at this period, coupled -with the politeness I had acquired from my maternal education, there -woke in me a restless, suspicious hastiness of temper which I probably -inherited from my father. This hastiness made my nerves an easy prey -to irritation. I took my hat in my hand--an action which revealed -the utter oddity of my way of wearing my hair--and the general -hilarity among the group in the rows to which I desired to gain access -redoubled. "Pardon me, gentlemen," I said in the politest of tones, -"but I should like to know the cause of your laughter, so that I may -be able to laugh with you. They say the piece we have come to see is -extremely sad, and I should not be sorry to make merry before I have to -weep." - -My speech was listened to in the most religious silence; then, from the -depths of this silence, a voice suddenly exclaimed-- - -"Oh! that 'ead of 'is!" - -The apostrophe seemed to be exceedingly funny, for it had hardly been -uttered before the bursts of laughter were redoubled; but the hilarity -had scarcely begun afresh before it was accompanied by the sound of a -stinging smack in the face which I gave to the wag. "Monsieur," I said, -as I slapped him, "my name is Alexandre Dumas. Until after to-morrow, -you will find me at the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_, in the road of the -same name, and after to-morrow at No. 1 place des Italiens." - -It would seem that I spoke a language quite unknown to these gentlemen; -for, instead of replying to me, twenty fists were flourished -threateningly, and everybody shouted-- - -"Put him out! put him out!" - -"What!" I cried, "put me to the door? That would be a nice thing, upon -my word, seeing that I have already paid for my place twice over--once -in the queue, and then again at the box-office." - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried the voices afresh, with redoubled -fury. - -"Gentlemen, I have had the honour to give you my address." - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried the people, in strident, raucous -tones. - -All the people present had risen from their seats, were leaning over -the gallery, and were almost half out of the boxes. I seemed to be at -the end of an immense funnel with everybody gazing at me from all sides. - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried those who did not even know what the -commotion was about, but who calculated that one person less would mean -room for one more. - -I was debating what course to take, from the depths of my funnel, when -a well-dressed man broke through the crowd, which deferentially opened -a way for him, and he asked me to go out. - -"Why am I to go out?" I asked in great surprise. - -"Because you are disturbing the performance." - -"What! I am disturbing the play?... The play has not begun yet." - -"Well, you are disturbing the audience." - -"Really, monsieur!" - -"Follow me." - -I remembered the affair that my father, at about my age, had had with a -musketeer at la Montansier, and although I knew that the constabulary -was dissolved, I expected I was in for something of the same sort. So -I followed without making any resistance, in the midst of the cheers -of the audience, who testified their satisfaction at the justice that -was being dealt out to me. My guide led me into the corridor, from the -corridor to the office, and from the office into the street. When in -the street he said, "There! don't do it again." And he returned to the -theatre. - -I saw that I had got off very cheaply, since my father had kept his -warder attached to him for a whole week, whilst I had only been in -custody for five minutes. I stood for a moment on the pavement, -whilst I made this judicious reflection, and seeing that my guide had -re-entered, I too decided to do the same. - -"Your ticket?" said the ticket collector. - -"My ticket? You took it from me just now, and, as a proof, it was a -white one, for which you gave me in exchange a red ticket." - -"Then what have you done with your red ticket?" - -"I gave it to a woman who asked me for it." - -"So that you have neither ticket nor check?" - -"Why, no, I have neither ticket nor check." - -"Then you cannot go in." - -"Do you mean to say I cannot enter, after having paid for my ticket -twice over?" - -"Twice?" - -"Yes, twice." - -"How did you do that?" - -"Once in the queue, and again at the box-office." - -"You humbug!" said the ticket collector. - -"What did you say?" - -"I said you cannot go in, that is what I said." - -"But I mean to get in, nevertheless." - -"Then take a ticket at the office." - -"That will be the second." - -"Well, what does that matter to me?" - -"What does it matter to you?" - -"If you have sold your ticket at the door, it is no affair of mine." - -"Ah! so you take me for a dealer in checks?" - -"I take you for a brawler who has just been turned out for disturbing -the peace, and if you go on doing it, you'll not be led out into the -road the next time, but into the police station." - -There could be no mistaking the threat. I began to understand that, -without intending it, I had infringed the law--or rather custom, which -is far more jealous of contravention than the law. - -"Ah, is this so?" I said. - -"That is about it," said the collector. - -"Well, well, you are the stronger of the two," I said. - -And I went out. - -When outside the door, I considered how stupid it was to have come to -see a play, to have paid for two places to see it-a place in the queue -and a place at the office--to have seen only a curtain representing -hangings of green velvet, and to come away without seeing anything -else. I went on to reflect that, since I had already paid for two -tickets, I might as well incur the expense of a third, and as people -were still going in and a double queue circled the theatre so that -the door formed as it were the clasp to the girdle, I placed myself -at the end of the queue which looked to me to be the shortest. It was -the opposite queue to the one I had gone in by before; it was not so -dense, as it led to the orchestra, the front galleries, the stage-boxes -and the first and second rows of stalls. This was what I was informed -by the clerk at the box-office when I asked for a ticket for the pit. -I looked up, and, as he had indicated, I saw upon the white plan the -designation of the places to be obtained at that particular office. The -cheapest places were those in the orchestra and second row of stalls. -Seats in the orchestra and in the second row of stalls cost two francs -fifty; centimes. I took two francs fifty centimes from my pocket, and -asked for an orchestra seat. The orchestra ticket was handed to me, and -my play-going cost me five francs all told. - -No matter: it was no good crying over spilt milk! My dinner had not -cost me anything, and to-morrow I was to enter the Duc d'Orléans' -secretarial offices; I could well afford to allow myself this trivial -orgy. I reappeared triumphant before the check barrier, holding my -orchestra ticket in my hand. The collector smiled graciously upon -me, and said, "On the right, monsieur." I noticed this was quite a -different direction from the first time. The first time I had tacked -myself on to the right-hand queue and gone in at the left; the second -time, I followed the left queue and they told me to enter on the right. -I augured from this that since I had this time reversed the order of my -proceedings, the manner of my reception would also be reversed, and, -consequently, that I should be welcomed instead of rejected. - -I was not mistaken. I found quite a different stamp of people in the -orchestra from those I had found in the pit, and, as the girl who -showed me to my seat pointed out to me a vacant place towards the -centre of a row, I set to work to reach it. Everyone rose politely -to allow me to pass. I gained my seat, and sat down by the side of a -gentleman, wearing grey trousers, a buff waistcoat and black tie. He -was a man of about forty or forty-two. His hat was placed on the seat -I came to fill. He was interrupted in the perusal of a charming little -book,--which I learnt later was an Elzevir,--apologised as he took up -his hat, bowed to me and went on reading. "Upon my word!" I said to -myself, "here is a gentleman who seems to me better brought up than -those I have just encountered." And, promising to enter into friendly -relations with my neighbour I sat down in the empty stall. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -My neighbour--His portrait--The _Pastissier françois_--A course in -bibliomania--Madame Méchin and the governor of Soissons--Cannons and -Elzevirs - - -At this period of my life, being made up entirely of ignorance, -optimism and faith, I did not know in the least what an Elzevir, or -rather Elzevier, was. I learnt that evening, as we shall see; but -I did not understand thoroughly until much later, after I had made -the acquaintance of my learned friend, _la bibliophile_ Jacob. So it -is a little previous to say that the polite gentleman was reading -an Elzevir; I ought to say simply that he was reading a book. I -have related how I had taken the seat next his, and how, having -been distracted from his reading by having to lift his hat off my -seat, he had immediately plunged back again into his reading, more -absorbedly than ever. I have ever admired men who are capable of doing -anything whole-heartedly _(passionnément_);--please do not confound -_passionnément_ with _passionnellement_; this latter adverb was not -invented in 1823, or, if it were, Fourier had not yet exploited it. - -It was not surprising that, interested as I was in literature, I should -endeavour to find out what the book was which could inspire such a -powerful influence over my neighbour, who was so deeply absorbed in -his reading that, metaphorically speaking, he gave himself up, bound -hand and foot, into my power. I had more than a quarter of an hour in -which to make this investigation before the curtain rose, therefore I -conducted it at my leisure. First of all, I tried to see the title of -the book; but the binding was carefully hidden by a paper cover, so -it was impossible to read the title on the back of the book. I rose; -in that position I could look down on the reader. Then, thanks to the -excellent sight I have the good fortune to possess, I was able to -read the following curious title on the opposite side to the engraved -frontispiece:-- - - LE PASTISSIER FRANÇOIS - Où est enseignée la manière de faire toute sorte - de pastisserie - Très-utile à toutes sortes de personnes; - Ensemble le moyen d'apprester toutes sortes; - d'œufs pour les jours maigres et autres - En plus de soixante façons. - - AMSTERDAM - - CHEZ LOUIS ET DANIEL ELZÉVIER - - 1655 - -"Ah! ah!" I said to myself, "now I have it! This well-mannered -gentleman is surely a gourmand of the first order,--M. Grimod de la -Reyniere perhaps, whom I have so often heard described as a rival of -Cambacérès and of d'Aigrefeuille;--but stay, this gentleman has hands -and M. Grimod de la Reyniere has only stumps." At that moment, the -polite gentleman let his hand and the book he held fall on his knees; -then, casting his eyes upward, he appeared to be lost in profound -reflection. He was, as I have said, a man of forty or forty-two years -of age, with an essentially gentle face, kindly and sympathetic; he had -black hair, blue-grey eyes, a nose slightly bent to the left through an -excrescence, a finely cut, clever-looking, witty mouth--the mouth of a -born story-teller. - -I was yearning to get up a conversation with him--I, a hobbledehoy of a -country bumpkin, ignorant of everything, but _anxious to learn_ as they -put it in M. Lhomond's elementary lessons. His benevolent countenance -encouraged me. I took advantage of the moment when he stopped reading -to address a word or two to him. - -"Monsieur," said I, "pray forgive me if my question seems impertinent, -but are you extremely fond of eggs?" - -My neighbour shook his head, came gradually out of his reverie, -and, looking at me with a distraught expression, he said, in a very -pronounced Eastern French accent-- - -"Pardon me, monsieur, but I believe you did me the honour of addressing -me ...?" - -I repeated my sentence. - -"Why do you suppose that?" he said. - -"The little book you are reading so attentively, monsieur,--excuse -my rudeness, but my eyes fell involuntarily on the title,--contains -recipes, does it not? for cooking eggs in more than sixty different -ways?" - -"Oh yes, true...." he said. - -"Monsieur, that book would have been of great use to an uncle of -mine, a curé, who was, or rather still is, a great eater, and a fine -sportsman: one day he made a bet with one of his _confrères_ that he -would eat a hundred eggs at his dinner; he was only able to discover -eighteen or twenty ways of serving them ... yes, twenty ways, for he -ate them by fives at a time. You see, if he had known sixty ways of -cooking them, instead of a hundred, he could have eaten two hundred." - -My neighbour looked at me with a certain attention which seemed to -imply that he was asking himself, "Am I by any chance seated next to a -young lunatic?" - -"Well?" he said. - -"Well, if I could procure such a book for my dear uncle, I am sure he -would be most grateful to me." - -"Monsieur," said my neighbour, "I doubt if, in spite of the sentiments -which do a nephew's heart the greatest credit, you could procure this -book." - -"Why not?" - -"Because it is exceedingly rare." - -"That little old book exceedingly rare?" - -"Do you not know that it is an Elzevir, monsieur?" - -"No." - -"Do you not know what an Elzevir is?" exclaimed my neighbour, -overwhelmed with astonishment. - -"No, monsieur, no; but do not be alarmed at such a trifle: since I came -to Paris not quite a week ago, I have discovered that I am ignorant of -nearly everything. Tell me what it is, please: I am not well enough off -to afford myself masters, I am too old to go back to college and I have -made up my mind to take _the whole world_ as my teacher--a teacher whom -report says is even more learned than Voltaire." - -"Ah! ah! quite right, monsieur," said my neighbour, looking at me with -some interest; "and if you profit by the lessons that teacher will give -you, you will become a great philosopher, as well as a great savant. -Well, what is an Elzevir?... First of all, and in particular, this -little volume that you see is one; or, in general, every book that -came from the establishment of Louis Elzevir and of his successors, -booksellers of Amsterdam. But do you know what a bibliomaniac is?" - -"I do not know Greek, monsieur." - -"You know your ignorance and that is something. The bibliomaniac--root, -βιβλιο, book; μανια, madness--is a variety of the species -man--_species bipes et genus homo._" - -"I understand." - -"This animal has two legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and -down the quays and the boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, -turning over every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that -is too long for him and trousers that are too short; he always wears on -his feet shoes that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, -under his coat, and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together -with string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he -never washes his hands." - -"But you are describing a perfectly disgusting animal. I hope the race -does not consist entirely of specimens like that, and that there are -exceptions." - -"Yes, but these exceptions are rare. Well, what this creature is in -particular quest after, among the old shopkeepers and on the old -bookstalls,--for you know that all animals hunt for something or -other,--is for Elzevirs." - -"Are they hard to find?" - -"Yes, more and more difficult every day." - -"And how can Elzevirs be recognised?... Pray remember, monsieur, that -you are not risking anything by instructing me; I do not ever expect to -become a bibliomaniac, and my questions are solely out of curiosity." - -"How can they be recognised? I will tell you. In the first place, -monsieur, the first volume in which one finds the name of Elzevir or -Elzevier is one entitled _Eutropii histories romanæ_, _lib. X. Lugduni -Batavorum, apud Ludovicum Elzevierum_, 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 -pages. The design on the frontispiece,--remember this carefully, it is -the key to the whole mystery,--the design on the frontispiece is that -of an angel holding a book in one hand and a scythe in the other." - -"Yes, I understand: 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 pages, an angel holding -a book in one hand and a scythe in the other." - -"Bravo!... Isaac Elzevir--whom some declare to be the son and others -the nephew of Louis Elzevir: I maintain that he is the son; Bérard -maintains that he is the nephew, and, although he has Techener on his -side, I still think I am right--Isaac Elzevir substituted for this -design an elm tree, encircled by a vine laden with grapes, with this -device: _Non solus._ Do you follow me?" - -"The Latin, yes." - -"Well, then, Daniel Elzevir, in his turn, adopted Minerva and the olive -tree as his mark, with the device: _Ne extra oleas_. You still follow -me?" - -"Perfectly: Isaac, a vine laden with grapes; Daniel, Minerva and the -olive tree." - -"Better and better. But, besides these recognised editions, there -are anonymous and pseudonymous editions, and there is where the -inexperienced bibliomaniacs get confused. Ah!" - -"Will you be my Ariadne?" - -"Well, these editions are usually designated by a sphere." - -"Then that is a guide." - -"Yes, but you will see! These brothers, cousins or nephews Elzevir were -a very capricious lot of fellows. Thus, for example, one finds, since -1629, a buffalo head forming part of the headpieces in their books, at -the beginning of prefaces, dedicatory epistles and text." - -"Well, thanks to the buffalo's head, it seems...." - -"Wait a bit ... this lasted for five years. Since the _Sallust_ of 1634 -and even perhaps earlier, they adopted another sign which resembled a -siren. Also in this edition...." - -"The _Sallust_ of 1634?" - -"Exactly! They adopted also, for the first time, on page 216, a -tail-piece of a head of Medusa." - -"So, when once this principle is fixed and one knows that on page 216 -of the _Sallust_ of 1634 there is a figure representing ...." - -"Yes, yes, upon my word, that would be delightful, if it could be laid -down as a positive rule; but, bah! Daniel did not remain constant to -his designs. For example, in the 1661 _Terence_, he substitutes a -garland of hollyhocks for the buffalo head and the siren, and this -garland is to be found in a great many of his editions. But, in the -_Persius_ of 1664 he does not even put that." - -"Oh, gracious! and what does he adopt in the _Persius_ of 1664?" - -"He adopts a large ornament, in the centre of which are two swords -crossed over a crown." - -"As though to indicate that the Elzevirs are the kings of the -book-selling world." - -"You have hit it exactly, monsieur: a sovereignty no one disputes with -them." - -"And the one you have there, monsieur,--which treats of French -confectionery and the sixty ways of cooking eggs,--is it the angel with -the book and the scythe? Is it the vine cluster? Is it the Minerva and -the olive tree? Is it the buffalo head? Is it the siren? Is it the head -of Medusa? Is it the garland of hollyhocks? Or is it the crown and two -swords?" - -"This one, monsieur, is the rarest of all. I found it, this evening, -as I was coming here. Just think how I have argued with that idiot of -a Bérard over this Elzevir, for three years; he thinks himself a great -savant, and is not even half instructed." - -"And, without seeming too inquisitive, monsieur, may I ask what was the -object of the discussion?" - -"He would have it that _le Pastissier françois_ was printed in 1654, -and contained only four preliminary leaves; whilst I maintained, and -with reason, as you see, that it was printed in 1655 and that it had -five preliminary leaves and a frontispiece. Now here is the very -date, 1655; here are the five preliminary leaves; here is the very -frontispiece." - -"Upon my word, so it is." - -"Ah! ah! how sheepish, how utterly foolish my friend Bérard will look -now!" - -"But, monsieur," I suggested timidly, "did you not tell me that you had -argued over this little volume for the past three years?" - -"Yes, indeed, for more than three years." - -"Well, it seems to me that if the discussion no longer amused you, you -had a very simple remedy at hand to stop it." - -"What?" - -"Does not one of the ancient philosophers prove the incontestability of -movement to another philosopher who denies movement, by walking before -him?" - -"Well?" - -"Well, then, you must prove to M. Bérard the superiority of your -knowledge over his, by showing him the Elzevir you have there, and -unless he is more incredulous than St. Thomas...." - -"But, to show it, monsieur, it was necessary to possess it, and I had -it not." - -"This little volume is, then, very rare?" - -"It is the rarest of the lot! There are probably only ten examples of -it left in Europe." - -"And why is this particular volume rarer than the others? Were there -fewer copies printed?" - -"On the contrary, Techener declares that there were five thousand five -hundred copies issued, and I maintain that there were more than ten -thousand printed." - -"The deuce! was the edition burnt, then, with the library of -Alexandria?" - -"No; but it was lost, spoilt, torn up in kitchens. You can quite -understand that chefs and cookmaids are indifferent bibliomaniacs: -they served the _Pastissier françois_ as they served _Carême_ or the -_Cuisinier royal_; hence the rarity of the book." - -"So rare that, as you say, you have not found one before to-night?" - -"Oh, I knew of it six weeks ago. I told Frank to keep it for me, as I -was not well enough off to buy it." - -"What! You were not rich enough to buy it, not rich enough to buy that -little old book?" - -The bibliomaniac smiled disdainfully. - -"Do you know, monsieur," he said to me, "what a copy of the _Pastissier -françois_ is worth?" - -"Why, I should judge it worth about a crown." - -"A copy of the _Pastissier françois,_ monsieur, is worth from two -hundred to four hundred francs." - -"From two to four hundred francs ...?" - -"Yes, indeed.... Only a week ago, old Brunet, the author of _Manuel des -libraires_, an enthusiastic Elzeviriomaniac, inserted a notice in the -papers that he was willing to pay three hundred francs for a copy such -as this. Luckily, Frank did not see the notice." - -"Pardon me, monsieur! but I warned you what an ignoramus lam ... you -said a book like that was worth from two hundred to four hundred -francs." - -"Yes, from two hundred to four hundred francs." - -"Why is there such a difference in the price?" - -"Because of the margins." - -"Ah! the margins?" - -"All the value of an Elzevir consists in the width of its margins; the -wider they are, the dearer the Elzevir. An Elzevir without a margin is -worth next to nothing; they measure the margins with compasses, and, -according as they have twelve, fifteen or eighteen lines, the Elzevir -is worth two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and even six hundred -francs." - -"Six hundred francs!... I am of Madame Méchin's way of thinking." - -"And what was Madame Méchin's way of thinking?" - -"Madame Méchin is a very witty woman." - -"Yes, I am aware of that." - -"Her husband was prefect of the department of Aisne." - -"I know that too." - -"Well, one day when she was visiting Soissons with her husband, the -governor of the place, to do her honour, showed her the guns upon the -ramparts, one after the other. When she had seen all the kinds, of -every date and every shape, and had exhausted her repertory of _Ohs!_ -and _Reallys!_ and _Is it possibles! _ Madame Méchin, who did not know -what to say next to the governor, asked him, 'How much does a pair of -cannon cost, M. le gouverneur?' 'A twelve, twenty-four or thirty-six -pounder, madame la comtesse?' 'Oh, let us say thirty-six?' 'A pair -of thirty-six cannon, madame,' replied the governor,--'a pair of -thirty-six cannon might cost from eight to ten thousand francs. 'Well, -then,' replied Madame Méchin, 'I am not going to put my money on them.'" - -My neighbour looked at me, doubtful whether I had told the story -innocently or jokingly. He was possibly going to question me on that -head, when we heard the call bell; the overture began, and there were -cries for silence. Upon this, I prepared myself to listen, whilst -my neighbour plunged more deeply than ever into the reading of his -precious Elzevir. - -The curtain rose. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -Prologue of the _Vampire_--The style offends my neighbour's ear--First -act--Idealogy--The rotifer--What the animal is--Its conformation, its -life, its death and its resurrection - - -The overture was intended to represent a storm. The scene opened in the -cave of Staffa. Malvina slept on a tomb. Oscar sat on another. A third -enclosed Lord Ruthven, who was to come out of it at a given moment. -The part of Malvina was taken by Madame Dorval; Oscar, or the angel of -marriage, by Moessard; Lord Ruthven, or the Vampire, by Philippe. - -Alas! who could have known at that moment, when I was looking eagerly -beyond the curtain, taking in the whole scene, decorations and -characters combined, that I should be present at Philippe's funeral, -watch by Madame Dorval's death-bed, and see Moessard crowned? - -In the prologue, there was another angel, called Ithuriel, the angel -of the moon, talking with the angel of marriage. This was Mademoiselle -Denotte. I do not know whether she is now living or dead.... The -narrative was carried on between the angel of marriage and the angel of -the moon, two angels who, as they wore the same armour, might have been -taken to belong to the same family. - -Malvina had lost herself in hunting; the storm terrifying her, she had -taken shelter in the cave of Staffa. There, unable to keep awake, she -had fallen asleep on a tomb. The angel of marriage was watching over -her. The angel of the moon, who had slid down on a ray of the pale -goddess, through the cracks of the basaltic roof, asked why the angel -of marriage sat there, and, above all, how it came about that there -was a young girl in the grotto of Staffa. - -The angel of marriage replied that, as Malvina, sister of Lord -Aubrey, was to espouse Lord Marsden next day, he had been summoned -by the importance of the occasion, and that his looks, when Ithuriel -interrupted him in the act of silently gazing upon the beautiful -betrothed girl, and the sadness depicted upon his face, sprang from -knowledge of the misfortunes in store for the young maiden, who was -about to fall from the arms of Love into those of Death. Then Ithuriel -began to understand. - -"Explain thyself," said Ithuriel, "is it true that horrible phantoms -_come (viennent)_ sometimes ...?" - -My neighbour trembled, as though an asp had bitten him in his sleep. - -"_Vinssent!_" he cried,--"_vinssent!_3" - -Cries of "Silence!" burst forth all over the theatre, and I too -clamoured loudly for silence, for I was enthralled by this opening. - -The angel of the moon, interrupted in the middle of her sentence, threw -an angry look across the orchestra, and went on: - -"Is it true that horrible phantoms come _(viennent)_ under the cloak -of the rights of marriage, to suck blood from the throat of a timid -maiden?" - -"_Vinssent! vinssent! vinssent!_" murmured my neighbour. - -Fresh cries of "_Hush!_" drowned his exclamation, which it must be -confessed was less bold and less startling this time than the first. - -Oscar replied: "Yes! and these monsters are called vampires. A Power -whose inscrutable decrees we are not permitted to call in question, -has permitted certain miserable beings, who are tormented by the -punishments which their crimes have drawn down upon them on this earth, -to enjoy a frightful power, which they exercise by preference over the -nuptial couch and over the cradle; sometimes their formidable shapes -appear clothed in the hideous guise death has bestowed upon them; -others, more highly favoured, because their career is more brief and -their future more fearful, obtain permission to reclothe themselves -with the fleshy vesture lost in the tomb, and reappear before the -living in the bodily shapes they formerly possessed." - -"And when do these monsters appear?" asked Ithuriel. - -"The first hour of the morning wakes them in their sepulchre," replied -Oscar. "When the sound of its sonorous stroke has died away among the -echoes of the mountains, they fall back motionless in their everlasting -tombs. But there is one among them over whom my power is more limited -... what am I saying?... Fate herself can never go back on her -decisions! ... After having carried desolation into twenty different -countries, always conquered, ever continuing, the blood which sustains -its horrible existence ever renewing its vitality ... in thirty-six -hours, at one o'clock in the morning, it has at length to submit to -annihilation, the lawful punishment of an infinite succession of -crimes, if it cannot, at that time, add yet another crime, and count -one more victim." - -"My God! think of writing a play like that!" murmured my neighbour. - -It seemed to me that he was too critical; for I thought this -dialogue was couched in the finest style imaginable. The prologue -continued. Several persons who had heard my neighbour gave vent to -various whispered comments on the presumption of this indefatigable -interrupter; but, as he buried himself in his _Pastissier françois,_ -the murmurs ceased. - -It is unnecessary to point out that the young betrothed asleep on the -tomb was the innocent heroine who was destined to be the bride of the -Vampire, and had the public been in any doubt, all their doubts would -have been dispersed after the last scene of the prologue. - -"What do I hear?" said Ithuriel; "thy conversation has kept me long -while in these caves." - -As the angel of the moon asks this question, the silvery chime of a -distant clock is heard striking one, and the reverberation is repeated -in echoes again and again. - -_Oscar._ "Stay and see." - -All the tombs open as the hour sounds; pale shades rise half out of -their graves and then fall back under their monumental stones as the -sound of the echoes dies away. - -A SPECTRE, clad in a shroud, escapes from the most conspicuous of these -tombs: his face is exposed; he glides to the place where Miss Aubrey -sleeps, exclaiming-- - -"Malvina!" - -_Oscar._ "Withdraw." - -_Spectre._ "She belongs to me!" - -Oscar puts his arms round the sleeping girl. "She belongs to God, and -thou wilt soon belong to the regions of nothingness." - -The Spectre retires, but repeats threateningly, "To nothingness." - -Ithuriel crosses the stage in a cloud. - -The scene changes and represents an apartment in the house of Sir -Aubrey. - -"Absurd! absurd!" exclaimed my neighbour. And he resumed his reading of -_le Pastissier françois._ - -I did not at all agree with him: I thought the staging magnificent; I -had nothing to say about Malvina, for she had not spoken; but Philippe -seemed to me exceedingly fine, notwithstanding his paleness, and -Moessard very good. Moreover, crude as it was, it was an attempt at -Romanticism--a movement almost entirely unknown at that time. This -intervention of immaterial and superior beings in human destiny had -a fanciful side to it which pleased my imagination, and maybe that -evening was responsible for the germ in me from which sprang the _Don -Juan de Marana_ of eleven years later. The play began. - -_Sir_ Aubrey (the reader will see presently why I underline the word -_Sir)--Sir_ Aubrey met Lord Ruthven, a rich English traveller, at -Athens, and they became friends. During their wanderings about the -Parthenon and their day-dreams by the seashore, they planned means -for tying the bonds of their friendship more firmly, and, subject to -Malvina's consent, they decided upon a union between the young girl, -who was at home in the castle of Staffa, and the noble traveller, -who had become her brother's closest friend. Unfortunately, during -an excursion which Aubrey and Ruthven made to the suburbs of Athens, -to attend the wedding of a young maiden endowed privately by Lord -Ruthven, the two companions were attacked by brigands: a sharp defence -put the assassins to flight; but Lord Ruthven was struck down mortally -wounded. His last words were a request that his friend would place him -on a hillock bathed by the moon's rays. Aubrey carried out this last -request, and laid the dying man on the place indicated; then, as his -friend's eyes closed and his breathing ceased, Aubrey began to search -for his scattered servitors; but when he returned with them, an hour -later, the body had disappeared. Aubrey fancied that the assassins must -have taken the body away to remove all traces of their crime. - -When he returned to Scotland, he broke the news of Lord Ruthven's death -to his brother, Lord Marsden, and told him of the close relationship -that had united them during their travels. Then Marsden claimed -succession to his brother's rights, and proposed to marry Malvina, if -Malvina would consent to this substitution. Malvina, who did not know -either the one or the other, made no objection to Lord Marsden's claim -or to her brother's wishes. - -Lord Marsden is announced. Malvina feels that slight embarrassment -which, like an early morning mist, always comes over the hearts of -young maidens at the approach of their betrothed. Aubrey, overjoyed, -rushes to greet him; but when he sees him he utters a cry of surprise. -It is not Lord Marsden--that is to say, a person hitherto unknown--who -stands before him; it is his friend Lord Ruthven! - -Aubrey's astonishment is intense; but all is explained. Ruthven did not -die; he only fainted: the coolness of the night air brought him back -to consciousness. Aubrey's departure and his return to Scotland had -been too prompt for Ruthven to send him word; but when he was well he -returned to Ireland, to find his brother dead; he inherited his name -and his fortune, and, under that name, with twice the fortune he had -before, he offered to espouse Malvina, and rejoiced in anticipation at -the joy he would cause his beloved Aubrey, by his reappearance before -him. Ruthven is charming: his friend has not overrated him. He and -Malvina were both so favourably impressed with one another that, under -the pretext of very urgent business, he asked to be allowed to marry -her within twenty-four hours. Malvina makes a proper show of resistance -before yielding. They return to Marsden's castle. The curtain falls. - -Now I had been watching my neighbour almost as much as the play, and, -to my great satisfaction, I had seen him close his Elzevir and listen -to the final scenes. When the curtain fell, he uttered an exclamation -of disdain accompanied by a deep-drawn sigh. - -"Pooh!" he said. - -I took advantage of this moment to renew our conversation. - -"Excuse me, monsieur," I said, "but at the conclusion of the prologue -you said,'How absurd!'" - -"Yes," said my neighbour, "I suppose I did say so; or, if I did not say -it, I certainly thought it." - -"Do you then condemn the use of supernatural beings in the drama?" - -"Not at all; on the contrary, I admire it extremely. All the great -masters have made potent use of it: Shakespeare in _Hamlet_, in -_Macbeth_ and in _Julius Cæsar_; Molière in _le Festin de pierre_, -which he ought rather to have called _le Convive de pierre_, for -his title to be really significant; Voltaire in _Sémiramis_; Goethe -in _Faust._ No, on the contrary, I highly approve of the use of the -supernatural, because I believe in it." - -"What! you have faith in the supernatural?" - -"Most certainly." - -"In everyday life?" - -"Certainly. We elbow every moment against beings who are unknown to us -because they are invisible to us: the air, fire, the earth, are all -inhabited. Sylphs, gnomes, water-sprites, hobgoblins, bogies, angels, -demons, fly, float, crawl and leap around us. What are those shooting -stars of the night, meteors which astronomers in vain try to explain to -us, and of which they can discover neither cause nor end, if they are -not angels carrying God's orders from one world to another? Some day we -shall see it all." - -"Did you say, we shall see?" - -"Yes, by heaven! we shall see. Do you not think that we see these -miracles?" - -"You said 'we'; do you think we personally shall see them?" - -"Well, I did not exactly say that ... not I, for I am already old; -perhaps you, who are still young; but certainly our descendants." - -"And why, for heaven's sake, will our descendants see anything that we -cannot see?" - -"In the same way that we see things which our ancestors never did." - -"What things do we see which they did not?" - -"Why, steam, piston guns, air-balloons, electricity, printing, -gunpowder! Do you suppose the world progresses only to stop half-way? -Do you imagine that after having conquered successively the earth, -water and fire, man, for instance, will not make himself master of the -air? It would be ridiculous to hold that belief. If perchance you doubt -it, young man, so much the worse for you." - -"I confess one thing, monsieur, and that is, I neither doubt nor -believe. My mind has never dwelt on such theories. I have been wrong, I -see, since they can be interesting, and I should take to them if I had -the pleasure of talking for long with you. So you believe, monsieur, -that we shall gradually attain to a knowledge of all Nature's secrets?" - -"I am convinced of it." - -"But we should then be as powerful as the Almighty." - -"Not quite.... As knowing, perhaps; as powerful, no." - -"Do you think, then, that there is such a great distinction between -knowledge and power?" - -"There is an abyss between those two words! God has given you authority -to make use of all created things. None of these things is useless -or idle: all at the right moment are capable of contributing to the -well-being of man, to the happiness of humanity; but, in order to be -able to apply these things to the good of the race and to the welfare -of the individual, man must know precisely the cause and the end of -everything. He will utilise all, and when he has utilised the earth, -water, fire and air, neither space nor distance will any longer exist -for him: he will see the world as it is, not merely in its visible -forms, but also in its invisible forms; he will penetrate into the -bowels of the earth, as do gnomes; he will inhabit water, like nymphs -and tritons; he will play in fire, as do hobgoblins and salamanders; -he will fly through the air, like angels and sylphs; he will ascend, -almost to God, by the chain of being and by the ladder of perfection; -he will see the supreme Ruler of all things, as I see you; and if, -instead of learning humility through knowledge, he should gain pride; -if, instead of worshipping, he be puffed up; if because of his -knowledge of creation, he thinks himself equal to the Creator, God will -say to him, 'Make Me a star or a _rotifer_!'" - -I thought I had not heard him correctly, and I repeated-- - -"A star or a...?" - -"Or a rotifer:--it is an animal I have discovered. Columbus discovered -a world and I an ephemera. Do you imagine that Columbus weighed -heavier, for all that, before the eyes of God, than I?" - -I remained in thought for a moment. Was this man out of his mind? -Whether or no, his madness was a fine frenzy. - -"Well," he went on, "one day people will discover water-sprites, -gnomes, sylphs, nymphs, angels, just as I discovered my animalcule. -All that is needed is to find a microscope capable of perceiving -the infinitely transparent, just as we have discovered one for the -infinitely little. Before the invention of the solar microscope, -creation, to man's eyes, stopped short at the acarus, the seison; he -little thought there were snakes in his water, crocodiles in his -vinegar, blue dolphins ... in other things. The solar microscope was -invented and he saw them all." - -I sat dumbfounded. I had never heard anyone speak of such extraordinary -things. "Good gracious! monsieur," I said to him, "you open out to me a -whole world of whose existence I knew nothing. What! are there serpents -in water?" - -"Hydras." - -"Crocodiles in our vinegar?" - -"Ichthyosauri." - -"And blue dolphins in ...? But it is impossible!" - -"Ah! that is the usual formula--'It is impossible!' ... You said just -now,'It is impossible!' in reference to things we do not see. And now -you say 'It is impossible' of things that everybody else but yourself -has seen. All 'impossibility' is relative: what is impossible to the -oyster is not impossible to the fish; what is impossible to the fish -is not impossible to the serpent; what is impossible to the serpent is -not impossible to the quadruped; what is impossible to the quadruped -is not impossible to man; what is impossible to man is not impossible -with God. When Fulton offered to demonstrate the existence of steam to -Napoleon, Napoleon said, as you, 'It is impossible!' and had he lived -two or three years longer he would have seen pass by, from the top of -his rocky island, their funnels smoking, the machines that might still -have kept him emperor, had he not scorned them as the creatures of a -dream, utopian and impossible! Even Job prophesied steamships...." - -"Job prophesied steamships?" - -"Yes, most certainly.... What else do you think his description of -leviathan meant, whom he calls the king of the seas?--'I will not -forget the leviathan, his strength and the marvellous structure of -his body. By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like -the eyelids of the morning. Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out -of a seething pot or caldron. His breath kindleth coals: his heart is -as firm as a stone, yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. -He maketh the deep to boil as a pot; he maketh the sea like a pot of -ointment. He maketh a path to shine after him: one would think the -deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without -fear.' Leviathan is, of course, the modern steamship!" - -"Indeed, monsieur," I said to my neighbour, "you make my head reel. You -know so much and you talk so well, I feel carried away by all you tell -me, like a leaf by a whirlwind. You spoke of a tiny animal that you -discovered--an ephemera: do you call that a rotifer?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you discover it in water, in wine or in vinegar?" - -"In wet sand." - -"How did it come about?" - -"Oh! why, in a very simple way. I had begun making microscopic -experiments upon infinitely small things, long before Raspail. One day, -when I had examined under the microscope water, wine, vinegar, cheese, -bread, all the ingredients in fact that experiments are usually made -upon, I took a little wet sand out of my rain gutter,--I then lodged on -a sixth floor,--I put it on the slide of my microscope and applied my -eye to the lens. Then I saw a strange animal move about, in shape like -a velocipede, furnished with two wheels, which it moved very rapidly. -If it had a river to cross, these wheels served the same purpose as -those of a steamboat; had it dry land to go over, the wheels acted the -same as those of a tilbury. I watched it, I studied its every detail, I -drew it. Then I suddenly remembered that my rotifer,--I had christened -it by that name, although I have since called it a _tarentatello_>--I -suddenly remembered that my rotifer had made me forget an engagement. I -was in a great hurry; I had an appointment with one of the animalculæ -which do not like being kept waiting--an ephemera whom mortals call a -woman.... I left my microscope, my rotifer and the pinch of sand which -was his world. I had other work to do where I went, protracted and -engaging work, which kept me all the night. I did not get back until -the next morning: I went straight to my microscope. Alas! the sand had -dried up during the night, and my poor rotifer, which needed moisture, -no doubt, to live, had died. Its almost imperceptible body was -stretched on its left side, its wheels were motionless, the steamboat -puffed no longer, the velocipede had stopped." - -"Ah! poor rotifer!" I exclaimed. - -"Wait, wait!" - -"Ah! was it like Lord Ruthven, then? He was not dead? Was he, like Lord -Ruthven, a vampire?" - -"You will see! Quite dead though he was, the animal was still a curious -variety of ephemera, and his body was as worth preserving as that of a -mammoth or a mastodon. Only, you understand, quite other precautions -have to be taken to handle an animal a hundred times smaller than a -seison, than to change the situation of an animal ten times greater -than an elephant! I selected a little cardboard box, from among all -my boxes; I destined it to be my rotifer's tomb, and by the help of -the feather end of a pen I transported my pinch of sand from the slide -of my microscope to my box. I meant to show this corpse to Geoffroy -Saint-Hilaire or to Cuvier; but I did not get the opportunity. I never -met these gentlemen, or, if I did meet them, they declined to mount my -six flights of stairs; so for three or maybe six months or a year I -forgot the body of the poor rotifer. One day, by chance, the box fell -into my hand; and I desired to see what change a year had wrought on -the body of an ephemera. The weather was cloudy, there had been a great -fall of stormy rain. In order to see better, I placed my microscope -close to the window, and I emptied the contents of the little box on -to the slide. The body of the poor rotifer still lay motionless on the -sand; but the weather, which remembers the colossal so ruthlessly, -seemed to have forgotten the tiny atom. I was looking at my ephemera -with an easily understood feeling of curiosity, when suddenly the wind -drove a drop of rain on to the microscope slide and wet my pinch of -sand." - -"Well?" I asked. - -"Well, then the miracle took place. My rotifer seemed to revive at -the touch of that refreshing coolness: it began to move one antenna, -then another; then one of its wheels began to turn round, then both -its wheels: it regained its centre of gravity, its movements became -regular; in short, it lived!" - -"Nonsense!" - -"Monsieur, the miracle of the resurrection, in which perhaps you -believe, although Voltaire had no faith in it, was accomplished, not -at the end of three days ... three days, a fine miracle!... but at the -end of a year.... I renewed the same test ten times: ten times the sand -dried, ten times the rotifer died! ten times the sand was wetted, and -ten times the rotifer came to life again! I had discovered an immortal, -not a rotifer, monsieur! My rotifer had probably lived before the -Deluge and would survive to the Judgment Day." - -"And you still possess this marvellous animal?" - -"Ah, monsieur," my neighbour replied, with a deep sigh, "I have not -that happiness. One day when, for the twentieth time, perhaps, I was -preparing to repeat my experiment, a puff of wind carried away the dry -sand, and, with the dry sand, my deathless phenomenon. Alas! I have -taken many a pinch of wet sand from my gutters since, and even from -elsewhere, but always in vain; I have never found again the equivalent -of what I lost. My rotifer was not only immortal but even unique.... -Will you allow me to pass, monsieur? The second act is about to begin, -and I think this melodrama so poor that I much prefer to go away." - -"Oh, monsieur," I said, "I beg of you not to go; I have many more -things to ask of you, and you seem to me to be very learned!... You -need not listen if you don't want to; you can read _le Pastissier -françois,_ and in the intervals we can talk of Elzevirs and -rotifers.... I will listen to the play, which, I assure you, interests -me greatly." - -"You are very good," said my neighbour; and he bowed. - -Then came the three raps and, with the charming suavity I had already -noticed in him, he resumed his reading. - -The curtain rose, revealing the entrance to a farm, a chain of snowy -mountains, and a window. The farm represented on the stage was that -belonging to Marsden Castle. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Second act of the _Vampire_--Analysis--My neighbour again objects--He -has seen a vampire--Where and how--A statement which records the -existence of vampires--Nero--Why he established the race of hired -applauders--My neighbour leaves the orchestra - - -While Ruthven's preparations for marrying Malvina were in progress, -Edgard, one of his vassals, married Lovette. Lovette made the -prettiest, the sweetest and the most graceful betrothed imaginable: she -was Jenny Vertpré, at twenty. - -Lord Ruthven, who really loved Malvina, would much rather have sucked -the blood of another man's wife than that of his own; so, at the -request of Edgard, his servant, he willingly acceded to be present at -his nuptials. The marriage takes place. Lord Ruthven is seen sitting -down: the ballet is just about to begin, when an ancient bard comes -forward with his harp; he was a guest at every castle, the poet invited -to every marriage. He recognised Ruthven, who did not recognise him, -being otherwise employed in ogling poor Lovette. - -The bard tunes his harp and sings:-- - - "O jeune vierge de Staffa - Brûlant de la première flamme, - Dont le cœur palpite déjà - Aux doux noms d'amante et de femme! - Au moment d'unir votre sort - A l'amant de votre pensée, - Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -This first couplet rouses Lord Ruthven's anger, who sees in it a -warning addressed to Lovette, and who consequently fears to see his -victim snatched away from him. So he turns his bewitching glance -from the young girl to glare furiously on the bard, who continues -unconcernedly:-- - - "Quand le soleil de ces déserts - Des monts ne dore plus la cime, - Alors, les anges des enfers - Viennent caresser leurs victimes.... - Si leur douce voix vous endort, - Reculez, leur main est glacée! - Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -A third stanza and Lovette will escape from the Vampire. The bard, who -is the angel of marriage in disguise, must not therefore be allowed to -sing his third stanza. Lord Ruthven complains that the song brings back -unhappy memories, and sends the old man away. - -Then, as night draws on, as there is no time to lose, since, unless -he can suck the blood of a maiden before one o'clock in the morning, -he must die, he seeks an interview with Lovette. Lovette would fain -decline; but Edgard is afraid of displeasing his lord and master, who, -left alone with Lovette, endeavours to seduce her, swears to her that -he loves her, and places a purse full of gold in her hand. Just at that -moment the bard's harp is heard and the refrain of the song:-- - - "Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -Then everybody comes on, and the ballet begins. Towards the middle of -the ballet, Lovette withdraws, tired; Ruthven, who has not let her go -out of sight, follows her. Edgard soon perceives that neither Lovette -nor his lord are present. He goes out in his turn. Cries are heard from -the wing; Lovette runs on, terrified; a pistol-shot is heard: Lord -Ruthven falls mortally wounded on the stage. - -"He tried to dishonour my betrothed!" cries Edgard, who appears, his -pistol still smoking in his hand. - -Aubrey dashes towards the wounded man. Lord Ruthven still breathes; he -asks to be left alone with his friend. Everybody goes off. - -"One last promise, Aubrey," says Lord Ruthven. - -"Oh, ask it, take my life!... it will be unbearable to me without -thee," replies Aubrey. - -"My friend, I only ask thee for profound secrecy for twelve hours." - -"For twelve hours?" - -"Promise me that Malvina shall not know anything of what has -happened--that you will not do anything to avenge my death before the -hour of one in the morning has struck.... Swear secrecy by my dying -breath!..." - -"I swear it!" says Aubrey, stretching forth his hands. The moon comes -out from behind clouds and shines brilliantly during Ruthven's last -words. - -"Aubrey," says Ruthven, "the queen of night casts light upon me for the -last time.... Let me see her and pay my final vows to heaven!" - -Ruthven's head falls back at these words. Then Aubrey, helped by -Lovette's father, carries the dead man to the rocks in the distance, -kisses his hand for the last time, and retires, led away by the old -man. At that moment the moonlight completely floods Ruthven's body with -its rays and lights up the frozen mountains.... - -The curtain falls, and the whole house applauds enthusiastically, -save my neighbour, who still growls under his breath. Such inveterate -animosity against a play which appeared to me to be full of interest -astonished me, coming from a person who seemed so well disposed as he. -He had not merely contented himself with noisy exclamations, as I have -indicated, but, still worse, during the whole of the last scene he had -played in a disturbing fashion with a key which he several times put to -his lips. - -"Really, monsieur," I said, "I think you are very hard on this piece." - -My neighbour shrugged his shoulders. - -"Yes, monsieur, I know it, and the more so because the author considers -himself a man of genius, a man of talent, the possessor of a good -style; but he deceives himself. I saw the piece when it was played -three years ago, and now I have seen it again. Well, what I said then, -I repeat: the piece is dull, unimaginative, improbable. Yes, see how he -makes vampires act! And then _Sir_ Aubrey! People don't talk of _Sir_ -Aubrey. Aubrey is a family name, and the title of _Sir_ is only used -before the baptismal name. Ah! the author was wise to preserve his -anonymity; he showed his sense in doing that." - -I took advantage of a moment when my neighbour stopped to take breath, -and I said-- - -"Monsieur, you said just now, 'Yes, see how he makes vampires act!' Did -you not say so? I was not mistaken, was I?" - -"No." - -"Well, by employing such language you gave me the impression that you -believe they really exist?" - -"Of course they exist." - -"Have you ever seen any, by chance?" - -"Certainly I have seen them." - -"Through a solar microscope?" I laughingly suggested. "No, with my own -eyes, as Orgon and Tartuffe." - -"Whereabouts?" - -"In Illyria." - -"In Illyria? Ah! Have you been in Illyria?" - -"Three years." - -"And you saw vampires there?" - -"Illyria, you must know, is the historic ground of vampires like -Hungary, Servia and Poland." - -"No, I did not know.... I do not know anything. Where were the vampires -you saw?" - -"At Spalatro. I was lodging with a good man of sixty-two. He died. -Three days after his burial, he appeared to his son, in the night, and -asked for something to eat: the son gave him all he wanted; he ate it, -and then vanished. The next day the son told me what had happened, -telling me he felt certain his father would not return once only, and -asking me to place myself, the following night, at a window to see -him enter and go out. I was very anxious to see a vampire. I stood -at the window, but that night he did not come. The son then told me, -fearing lest I should be discouraged, that he would probably come on -the following night. On the following night I placed myself again at my -window, and sure enough, towards midnight, the old man appeared, and I -recognised him perfectly. He came from the direction of the cemetery; -he walked at a brisk pace, but his steps made no sound. When he reached -the door, he knocked; I counted three raps: the knocks sounded hard on -the oak, as though it were struck with a bone and not with a finger. -The son opened the door and the old man entered...." - -I listened to this story with the greatest attention, and I began to -prefer the intervals to the melodrama. - -"My curiosity was too highly excited for me to leave my window," -continued my neighbour; "there I stayed. Half an hour later, the old -man came out; he returned whence he had come--that is to say, in the -direction of the cemetery. He disappeared round the corner of a wall. -At the same moment, almost, my door opened. I turned round quickly and -saw the son. He was very pale. 'Well,' I said,'so your father came?' -'Yes ... did you see him enter?' 'Enter and come out.... What did -he do to-day?' 'He asked me for food and drink, as he did the other -day.' 'And did he eat and drink?' 'He ate and drank.... But that is -not all ... this is what troubles me. He said to me ...' 'Ah!' he said -something else than a mere request for food and drink?' 'Yes, he said -to me, "This is the second time I have come and eaten with thee. It -is now thy turn to come and eat with me."' 'The devil!...' 'I am to -expect him the same hour the day after to-morrow.' 'The deuce you are!' -'Yes, yes, that is just what worries me.' The day but one after, he was -found dead in his bed! The same day two or three other people in the -same village who had also seen the old man, and to whom he had spoken, -fell ill and died too. It was then recognised that the old man was a -vampire. I was questioned; I told all I had seen and heard. Justice -demanded an examination of the graveyard. They opened the tombs of all -those who had died during the previous six weeks: every corpse was in -a state of decomposition. But when they came to Kisilowa's tomb--that -was the old man's name--they found him with his eyes open, his lips -red, his lungs breathing properly, although he was as rigid as if in -death. They drove a stake through his heart; he uttered a loud cry and -blood gushed out from his mouth: then they laid him on a stack of wood, -reduced him to ashes and scattered the ashes to the four winds.... I -left the country soon after. I never heard if his son turned into a -vampire too." - -"Why should he have become a vampire too?" I asked. - -"Ah! because it is the custom of those who die from a vampire's bite to -become vampires." - -"Really, you say this as though it were a known fact." - -"But indeed it is a known, registered and well established fact! Do you -doubt it?... Read Don Calmet's _Traité des apparitions_, vol ii. pp. -41 _et sqq_.; you will find a record signed by the hadnagi Barriavar -and the ancient heïduques; further by Battiw, first lieutenant of the -regiment of Alexander of Wurtemberg; by Clercktinger, surgeon-major of -the Fürstenberg regiment; by three other surgeons of the company and by -Goltchitz, captain at Slottats, stating that in the year 1730, a month -after the death of a certain heïduque, who lived in Medreiga, named -Arnold-Paul, who had been crushed by the fall of a hay waggon, four -people died suddenly, and, from the nature of their death, according -to the traditions of the country, it was evident that they had been -the victims of vampirism; they then called to mind that, during his -life, this Arnold-Paul had often related how, in the neighbourhood -of Cossova, on the Turko-Servian frontier, he had been worried by a -Turkish vampire,--for they too hold the belief that those who have -been passive vampires during their lives become active vampires after -their death,--but that he had found a cure in the eating of earth -from the vampire's grave, and in rubbing himself with its blood-- -precautions which did not prevent him from becoming a vampire after -his death; for, four persons having died, they thought the deed was -due to him, and they exhumed his body forty days after his burial: -he was quite recognisable, and his body bore the colour of life; his -hair, his nails and his beard had grown; his veins were filled with a -bloody fluid, which exuded from all parts of his body upon the shroud -in which he was wrapped round: the hadnagi, or bailiff of the place, -in the presence of those who performed the act of exhumation, and who -was a man experienced in cases of vampirism, caused a very sharp stake -to be driven through the heart of the said Arnold-Paul, after the -usual custom, piercing his body through and through, a frightful cry -escaping from his lips, as though he were alive; this act accomplished, -they cut off his head, burned him to ashes, and did the same with the -corpses of the four or five other victims of vampirism, lest they, -in their turn, should cause the deaths of others; but none of these -precautions prevented the same wonders from being renewed, five years -later, about the year 1735, when seventeen people, belonging to the -same village, died from vampirism, some without any previous illness, -others after having languished two or three days; among others a young -person, named Stranoska, daughter of the heïduque Jeronitzo, went to -bed in perfect health, waked up in the middle of the night, trembling -all over, uttering fearful shrieks, and saying that the son of the -heïduque Millo, who had died nine weeks before, had tried to strangle -her during her sleep; she languished from that instant, and died in -three days' time: since what she had said of the son of Millo led them -to suspect him of being a vampire, they exhumed him, and found him in -a state which left no doubt of the fact of vampirism; they discovered, -in short, after prolonged investigation, that the defunct Arnold-Paul -had not only killed the four persons already referred to, but also -many animals, of which fresh vampires, and particularly Millo's son, -had eaten; on this evidence, they decided to disinter all who had died -since a certain date, and among about forty corpses they discovered -seventeen which bore evident signs of vampirism; so they pierced their -hearts, cut off their heads, then burnt them and threw their bodies -into the river." - -"Does the book which contains this evidence cost as much as an Elzevir, -monsieur?" - -"Oh dear no! You will pick it up anywhere, two volumes, in 18mo, of 480 -pages each. Techener, Guillemot or Frank will have a copy. It will cost -you from forty sous to three francs." - -"Thanks, I shall give myself the pleasure of buying a copy." - -"Now will you allow me to depart?... Three years ago I thought the -third act pretty bad; it will seem worse to me to-day." - -"If you really must, monsieur ..." - -"Yes, really you must let me go." - -"But first may I ask your advice?" - -"With the greatest pleasure.... Speak." - -"Before I came into the orchestra, I entered the pit, and there I had a -slight breeze." - -"Ah! It was you, was it?" - -"It was I." - -"You ...?" - -"Yes." - -"Smacked ...?" - -"Yes." - -"What occasioned you to allow yourself that diversion?" - -I told him my adventure, and asked him if I ought to forewarn my -witnesses overnight, or if it would be time enough next morning. - -He shook his head. - -"Oh, neither to-night nor to-morrow morning," he said. - -"What! neither to-night nor to-morrow?" - -"No; it would be useless trouble." - -"Why so?" - -"Because you fell into a nest of hired applauders." - -"A nest of hired applauders!... What are they?" I asked. - -"Oh! young man," exclaimed my neighbour in paternal accents, "do your -utmost to preserve your holy innocence!" - -"But suppose I beg you to put an end to it ...?" - -"Have you ever heard that in former times there were emperors of Rome?" - -"Certainly." - -"Do you remember the name of the fifth of those emperors?" "I think it -was Nero." - -"Right.... Well, Nero, who poisoned his cousin Britannicus, -disembowelled his mother Agrippina, strangled his wife Octavia, -killed his wife Poppæa with a kick in the stomach, had a tenor voice, -after the style of Ponchard; only his style was less cultivated, and -occasionally he sang false! That did not matter whilst Nero sang before -his roystering companions or before his courtesans at the Palatine -or Maison-Dorée; neither was it of much consequence when Nero sang -as he watched Rome burn: the Romans were too much occupied with the -fire to pay any attention to a semi-tone too high or a flat too low. -But when he took it into his head to sing in a public theatre, it was -a different matter: every time the illustrious tenor deviated in the -slightest degree from musical correctness, some spectator allowed -himself--what I shall permit myself to do immediately, if you insist on -my remaining to the end of this silly melodrama--to whistle. Of course -the spectator was arrested and promptly flung to the lions; but as he -passed before Nero, instead of saying simply, according to custom, -'Augustus, he who is about to die salutes thee!' he said,'Augustus, -I am to die because you sang false; but when I am dead, you will not -sing the more correctly.' This final salutation, taken up and added -to by other culprits, annoyed Nero: he had the whistlers strangled in -the corridors, and no one whistled any more. But it was not enough for -Nero,--that _hankerer after the impossible,_ as Tacitus called him,--it -was not enough that no one whistled any more, he wanted everybody to -applaud him. Now, he could indeed strangle those who whistled, but he -could not exactly strangle those who did not applaud; he would have -had to strangle the whole audience, and that would have been no light -job: Roman theatres held twenty, thirty, forty thousand spectators!... -As they were so strong in numbers, they could easily have prevented -themselves from being strangled. Nero went one better: he instituted a -body composed of Roman nobles--a kind of confraternity consisting of -some three thousand members. These three thousand chevaliers were not -the emperor's pretorians, they were the artist's body-guard; wherever -he went, they followed him; whenever he sang, they applauded him. Did -a surly spectator raise a murmur, a sensitive ear allow its owner -to utter a slight whistle, that murmur or whistle was immediately -drowned by applause. Nero ruled triumphant in the theatre. Had not -Sylla, Cæsar and Pompey exhausted all other kinds of triumph? Well, -my dear sir, that race of chevaliers has been perpetuated under the -name of _claqueurs_. The Opéra has them, the Théâtre-Français has -them, the Odéon has them--and is fortunate in having them!--finally, -the Porte-Saint-Martin has them; nowadays their mission is not only -to support poor actors--it consists even more, as you have just seen, -in preventing bad plays from collapsing. They are called _romains_, -from their origin; but our _romains_ are not recruited from among the -nobility. No, managers are not so hard to please in their choice, and -it is not necessary to show a gold ring on the first finger; provided -they can show a couple of big hands, and bring these large hands -rapidly and noisily together, that is the only quartering of nobility -required of them. So, you see, I am quite right to warn you not to -upset two of your friends for one of those rapscallions.... Now that I -have enlightened you, will you allow me to leave?" - -I knew it would be impertinent to retain my neighbour any longer. -Though his conversation, which had covered a wide range of subjects -in a short time, was agreeable and highly edifying to myself, it was -evident he could not say the same of mine. I could not teach him -anything, save that I was ignorant of everything he knew. So I effaced -myself with a sigh, not daring to ask him who he was, and allowing him -to pass by with his _Pastissier françois_ hugged with both hands to -his breast, fearing, no doubt, lest one of the chevaliers of whom he -had just spoken, curious in the matter of rare books, should relieve -him of it. - -I watched him withdraw with regret: a vague presentiment told me that, -after having done me so much service, this man would become one of my -closest friends. In the meanwhile, he had made the intervals far more -interesting than the play. - -Happily the bell was ringing for the third act, and so the intervals -were at an end. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -A parenthesis_--Hariadan Barberousse_ at Villers-Cotterets--I play the -rôle of Don Ramire as an amateur--My costume--The third act of the -_Vampire_--My friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment--He is expelled from the theatre--Madame Allan-Dorval--Her -family and her childhood--Philippe--His death and his funeral - - -The only definite feeling I was conscious of, when my neighbour had -gone, was one of utter loneliness in that vast building. So I gave -my whole attention to the play. Could I judge clearly? No, certainly -not as yet: the _Vampire_ was one of the first melodramas I had come -across. The first was _Hariadan Barberousse._ I have forgotten to tell -at the proper time and place how I became acquainted with the work of -MM. Saint-Victor and Corse. - -A troop of poverty-stricken actors came to Villers-Cotterets -(you will understand they must have been poor indeed to come to -Villers-Cotterets), and there they pretty nearly died of starvation. -They consisted of but one family named Robba. These poor devils were -possessed with the idea of giving a benefit for themselves, and they -thought of begging two or three young ladies and young gentlemen of the -town to play with them and for them. Naturally I was applied to. Nature -had already implanted in my heart that fountain of goodwill through -which everything that I had, that I have, that I shall have, passed, -passes, and always will pass. I agreed to undertake the rôle of Don -Ramire. All the other mothers refused to allow their boys and girls -to act. Were their children going to mount the boards and play with -ordinary actors? No indeed! My mother alone kept her promised word, and -I was the only artiste on this special occasion whose name, printed in -big letters on the bills, was utilised in the philanthropic mission of -obtaining a good audience for them. - -I had to concoct a costume. It was a lengthy business to bring such an -operation to a conclusion. Happily, no one was very exacting at that -period, above all at Villers-Cotterets. Even Talma, who was a great -renovator, played _Hamlet_ in white satin breeches, _bottes à cœur_ -and a polonaise. But of this wardrobe I only had the _bottes à cœur:_ -I could not play Don Ramire with the aid only of the boots. We made -a tunic,--everybody played in tunics at that epoch,--and a splendid -tunic it was, indeed, for it was made out of two red cashmere shawls, -ornamented with a great gold-flowered pattern; my father had brought -the shawls from Egypt, and I believe I have already referred to them. -We contented ourselves with sewing them together, leaving an opening -on each side for my arms, a sword-belt at the waist serving as a -girdle; out of each arm-hole appeared a satin sleeve, and Don Ramire -was, if not exactly sufficiently, at least sumptuously and modestly, -clad from the shoulders to half-way down his thighs. A turned-down -collar and a satin toque to match the tunic in colour completed the -upper part of the costume. But the question of the lower half was more -serious. Tights were rare in Villers-Cotterets; I might even say that -they were unknown; so it was of no use wishing to procure tights: it -would have been time wasted, a vision, a dream. The longest pair of -silk stockings that could be found, sewed into a pair of drawers, did -the business. Then came the laced boots. Ah! these laced boots, they -were an invention of my own. A second pair of silk stockings were dyed -red; soles were sewed to them; they were put over the first pair, -then turned back, rolled up to within three inches of the ankle; the -roll was tied fast to make a pad; we imitated the lacing of a laced -boot with green ribbon; and then this footgear formed the base of a -presentable-looking Don Ramire, who, atop, indulged in the luxury -of a satin toque with an ostrich plume. Finally came the sword. My -father's sword, the sword of a Republican, with its cap of Liberty, -looked somewhat odd when compared with the rest of Don Ramire's attire. -The mayor, M. Mussart, lent me a silver-mounted Louis XV. sword: the -chain which had fastened it was detached; but, though the guard had -disappeared, the hilt and the sheath were left, and this was sufficient -to satisfy the most exacting. - -The announcement of this important entertainment made a great -sensation: people came from all the towns and all the villages round, -even from Soissons. I looked perfectly absurd, having never seen any -play but _Paul et Virginie_ at the age of three, and the _Jeunesse de -Henri V._ when I was eleven. But the Robbas took eight hundred francs -at the doors--a fortune to them; and a mother, a father, children and -grandchildren had wherewithal to keep themselves in food for two-thirds -of a year. - -Poor Robbas! I recollect that the whole of their _répertoire_ only -consisted of _Adolphe et Clara_ and the _Déserteur._ God alone knows -what became of the poor things! That was how I came to know _Hariadan -Barberousse_, which, with the _Vampire_, whose last act I was about to -see, completed the sum total of my melodramatic equipment. - -The third act was but a repetition of what had passed in the first. -Ruthven, whom his friend Aubrey believed dead at - -Marsden's farm, comes to life again, a sepulchral Endymion, under the -kisses of the moon. He returns to the castle before Malvina's brother -and urges forward his marriage; then Aubrey comes back and finds the -bride adorned and the chapel prepared. He approaches his sister to tell -her the terrible news of the death of her betrothed, and, seeing him -pale and distressed, Malvina exclaims-- - -"Dear brother, you are in trouble!... For heaven's sake, tell me all!" - -"Rally your courage, then," says Aubrey. - -"You terrify me!" exclaims Malvina. - -Then, turning towards the door-- - -"Milord is long a-coming," she says. - -"Since I must rend your heart, know that all my plans are broken. A -fearful, an unlooked-for event has deprived us, me of a friend, you of -a husband!... The unfortunate Ruthven." - -At this juncture Ruthven comes forward, seizes Aubrey by the arm and -says to him in a grim voice-- - -"Think of thy oath!" - -At these words, and just as the whole audience burst into applause, -a loud whistle sounded from one of the boxes. I turned round, and -everybody in the orchestra and the pit did likewise. The hired -applauders rose in a body and, climbing on the forms, shouted, "Put -him out!" This formidable mountain could be seen rising up in the -centre of the theatre, like the enormous counterfeit Parnassus of M. -Titon-Dutillet at the Bibliothèque. But the whistler continued to -whistle, hidden in his box, sheltered behind the railing as behind an -impregnable rampart. I do not know why, but I came to the conclusion -that it was my neighbour who was at last gratifying to his heart's -content his desire to deride the piece which had disgusted him -throughout the night. The play was totally stopped: Philippe, Madame -Dorval and Thérigny stood on the stage without being able to utter -a syllable; shouts of "Put him out!" increased and a police officer -was sent for. By dint of gazing hard into the box I could see through -the bars, and there I discerned, in the dusky interior, the untoward -whistler. It was indeed my neighbour the bibliomaniac. The police -officer arrived. In spite of all his protestations, the whistler was -expelled from the theatre, and the piece went on in the midst of -stampings and bravoes. - -The play was drawing to its close. Aubrey, seized by Lord Ruthven's -attendants, is carried away from Malvina's side, and she remains -unprotected. Ruthven bears her off; a door opens--it is that of the -chapel, illuminated for the nocturnal marriage. Malvina hesitates -to contract the marriage without the presence of her brother; but -Ruthven becomes more and more urgent; for unless the blood of a young -damsel gives him renewed life within a very few minutes, he _will -be annihilated,_ as the angel of marriage had predicted! Suddenly, -Aubrey, who has escaped from his guardians, appears in the chapel; he -stops his sister; he implores her not to go on any farther with the -proceedings. Ruthven again recalls Aubrey to his oath. - -"Yes," says Aubrey, "but the hour is just about to strike when I may -reveal everything." - -"Wretch!" cries Ruthven, drawing a dagger, "if you utter one word...." - -"You shall only take her bathed in my blood!" cries Aubrey, redoubling -his resistance. - -"Well, then, you shall both perish!" says Ruthven. - -He is about to strike Aubrey. One o'clock sounds; Malvina falls -fainting in the arms of Bridget; thunder rumbles. - -"Annihilation! annihilation!" shrieks Ruthven. - -He lets his dagger fall and tries to flee. Shades come up out of the -ground and carry him off; the destroying angel appears in a cloud; -lightning flashes, and Ruthven is engulfed amidst the shades. - -"_PLUIE DE FEU_" - -It will be gathered that we are copying from the manuscript itself. - -Philippe was recalled. But Madame Dorval's part was so execrable -that no one dreamt of recalling her; she was only engaged at the -Porte-Saint-Martin to play the worst parts; the favourite artiste, -Mademoiselle Lévesque, took the good ones. - -Allow me a few words concerning that poor dear creature, whom I then -saw for the first time, and who died in my arms twenty-six years -later.[1] - -A large portion of these Memoirs will be devoted to remarks concerning -the influence of eminent artistes, great comedians or famous poets; for -my pages are intended to deal with the development of art in France -during one half of the nineteenth century. - -Political events will also no doubt have their share of attention, -but only their due share. It is time things were relegated to their -proper positions, and, as our century is first and foremost one of -appreciation, it is desirable that men and things should be appreciated -at their proper value. - -Mademoiselle Mars and Talma, those two great artistic glories of the -Empire and the Restoration, will still survive in the thoughts of the -twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, when the very names of those -political actors whom men call ministers will long have been forgotten, -the men who disdainfully flung to these glorious mendicants the grant -annually allowed by the Chamber as though it were an alms. - -Who was minister in England the year Shakespeare wrote _Othello_? Who -was gonfalonier in Florence when Dante wrote his _Inferno_? Who was -minister to King Hiero when the author of _Prometheus_ came to beg -protection from him? Who was archon of Athens when the divine Homer -died on one of the Sporades, towards the middle of the tenth century -B.C.? - -To answer such queries one must needs be my neighbour,--my neighbour -who knew so many things, who could recognise Elzevirs, who knew where -vampires were to be found, who knew the origin of hired applauders -and who had been put out of the theatre for whistling at the prose -of MM.... for no name was ever printed on the _Vampire_ pamphlet, -published by Barba, who ostentatiously put below his name: _Publisher -of the Works of Pigault-Lebrun._ - -Let us return to Madame Allan-Dorval, as she was called at that period. -As I advance with these Memoirs there are many men and women, literary -or political comedians whom we shall meet with, who made a name for -themselves in their day, and I shall do for these personages what I am -just about to do for poor Marie Dorval. When she died I undertook to -raise a monument over her grave--a literary monument in my writings, -a sepulchral monument in stone. The stones were to be paid for by my -literary labours, and it pleased me to think of being the architect of -both monuments. - -Unluckily, I began the erection of my literary monument in the -_Constitutionnel._ At the second article, I referred to _Antony_ and -the old _Constitutionnel._ M. Véron's susceptibility took fright: -the literary monument was arrested at its first attempt. And as the -sepulchral monument depended on the literary monument, the sepulchral -monument was never begun. - -Some day we will take up this matter again, among many others we have -been compelled to drop, and with God's help, and in spite of the -ill-will of men, we will finish them. - -The age of artistes is ever a problem that is never solved until after -their death. I never learned Dorval's age until she died. She was born -on Twelfth Night in the year 1798; so in 1823, when I was twenty, she -was twenty-five. She did not call herself Marie Dorval then: those two -names, so easy to pronounce that they seem always to have belonged to -her, were not then linked to each other by the golden chain of genius. -Her real name was Thomase-Amélie Delaunay: she was born close to the -théâtre de Lorient and her earliest steps were patters across its -boards. Her mother was an actress who took the part of leading singer. -_Camille ou le Souterrain_ was then the comic opera in vogue. The -little maiden was rocked on the stage to these lines, which her mother -could hardly sing save with tears in her eyes:-- - - "Oh! non, non, il n'est pas possible - D'avoir un plus aimable enfant!" - -Directly she could talk, her lips stammered out the prose of Panard and -Collé, Sedaine and Favart; at seven, she passed into what was called -the _emploi des Betsy._ Her most popular air was in _Sylvani_-- - - "Je ne sais pas si mon cœur aime." - -An artist at Lorient painted her portrait at that time--that is to -say, in 1808. In 1839, Madame Dorval returned to Lorient, her native -town. The day following a striking success, an old white-haired man -came to call upon her to pay her his tribute. His offering was this -painting of her as a child: a third of a century had passed by and the -woman could not be recognised in it. To-day both painter and Madame -Dorval are dead, but the portrait still continues to smile. It hung in -Madame Dorval's bedroom. I saw it, for the first time, when I helped -to close her eyes. It was a melancholy contrast, I need hardly say, to -see the face of the rosy child in the picture confronting the livid -face on the death-bed opposite. How many joys, hopes, disappointments -and sorrows had passed between that childish smile and the death-agony! -At twelve years of age little Delaunay left Lorient with the whole -company. That was in 1810, when diligences did not traverse France in -every direction: in those days railways had not yet carved their way -through the valleys or tunnelled the mountains; if you wanted to go to -Strassbourg--that is to say, to cross France from west to east--you had -to club together and buy a large wicker carriage, and it took six weeks -to go from the Ocean, to the Rhine. - -The comedy company passed through Paris and stopped four days in the -capital. It was the zenith of Talma's reputation: how could anyone pass -through Paris without seeing Talma? For three days, the mother and -daughter economised in their breakfasts and in their dinners, and on -the fourth day they took two tickets for the second gallery. Talma was -playing _Hamlet_. - -Those of you who knew Madame Dorval will understand what it meant to a -nature such as hers to see the famous actor play; what it meant to that -heart which was so loyally filial in its early days and so motherly -in later years, to listen to the gloomy ravings of the Danish prince, -as he speaks of his father in a voice full of tears, in the way Talma -represented him. And at these three lines-- - - "On remplace un ami, son épouse, une amante; - Mais un vertueux père est un bien précieux - Qu'on ne tient qu'une fois de la bonté des cieux!"-- - -the young actress, who, with the intuition of genius in her, -comprehended the greatness of art displayed, as well as realised, the -depth of the pathos, leant backwards, sobbed and fainted away. They -carried her into an adjoining room; but the play continued in vain, so -far as she was concerned: she would not see any more of it. She did not -see Talma again until ten years later. - -The company continued its journey and reached Strassbourg. And then -Mademoiselle Delaunay gradually became famous. She changed her line -of character and played _les Dugazon._ She made a fascinating young -girl, overflowing with mischievousness and good humour, declaiming M. -Étienne's prose excellently, but singing M. Nicholo's music out of -tune. Now it is a great defect for a _Dugazon_ to sing falsely, while -speaking correctly. Happily, Perrier, who was acting at Strassbourg, -advised Madame Delaunay to let her daughter give up comic opera, and -turn her attention to comedy. In deference to this advice, _la Dugazon_ -became a young lover. Panard was given up for Molière and the actress -and the public profited by the change. - -From that time dated Madame Dorval's first successes. Alas! from that -time dated also her first sorrows. Her mother fell ill of a long and -painful disease. The engagements which Madame Delaunay found as first -singer became fewer as her voice grew weaker. Then the young girl -redoubled her labours; she knew that talent was not only a question -of art, but still more one of necessity. Thanks to her efforts, her -engagements brought in eighty francs to a hundred francs; and those of -her' mother diminished, at the same time, from three hundred francs to -one hundred and fifty francs, and from one hundred and fifty francs -they fell to nothing. From that time began the young girl's life of -devotion which continued on into womanhood. - -For a year Amélie Delaunay did everything for her mother: she was -servant, nurse, comforter; then, at the end of a year, the mother died, -and all those nights of watching and weeping, all her careful tendings, -were lost, except in the sight of God. - -When her mother died the young girl was left alone in the world. She -could never afterwards remember what she did during the two years after -her mother's death: memory was drowned in grief! The company moved -on from Lorient to Strassbourg, from Strassbourg to Bayonne, always -travelling in the same wicker carriage with the same horses, which -belonged to the company. However, one great event came about: - -Amélie Delaunay married a poor boy of fifteen, out of loneliness. -She had no love for him: he was one of her fellow-actors, who played -the rôle of _les Martins;_ his name was Allan-Dorval. He died at St. -Petersburg. Where he lived nobody ever knew. This marriage had no other -influence on the actress's life beyond giving her the name by which -she became known; her other name, that of Marie, was given her by us. -Antony was her godfather and Adèle d'Hervey her godmother. - -Their journeyings were continued and, as they were _en route_ for -Bayonne, they came close to Paris. I do not know in what village, -upon what road, at what inn, Potier, the great actor whom Talma -admired, met Madame Allan-Dorval, in what theatre he saw her play or -what part she was taking, when she uttered one of those heartfelt -phrases, one of those outbursts of fraternal affection by which great -artistes recognise each other's talents. I know nothing of all this, -for poor Marie forgot it herself; but, in a trice he described to her -Paris--that is to say, splendour, fame, suffering! - -The young wife came to Paris with a letter of introduction from Potier -to M. de Saint-Romain, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin. M. de -Saint-Romain engaged Madame Allan-Dorval on this recommendation, and -from that day her name became part of the recollections of Parisians, -her life became interwoven with the literary life of Paris. This was in -1818. - -What had this poor talented young woman played ere Potier's -encouragement had made a path for her genius? She had acted in the -_Cabane du Montagnard,_ the _Catacombes_, the _Pandoursy_ and, finally, -in the _Vampire_, at which my neighbour had hooted so shamelessly. Poor -Marie! only she herself could relate the sufferings of those early -days. There was, I remember, one special costume on which she had to -sew some lace trimming every evening before the performance, and it had -to be unsewn every evening after the play.--O Frétillon! Frétillon! thy -cotillion never saw half what that dress did! - -She whom I now saw for the first time was the Eve from whose womb a -new dramatic world was to spring. As for Philippe, who eclipsed her at -that time, with the dignity and majesty of his steps and gestures, his -was the acting of the pure old-fashioned melodrama of Pixérécourt and -Caignez. No one could wear yellow top boots, a buff tunic embroidered -in black, a plumed toque and a cross-handled sword like Philippe. This -attire, at that period, went by the name of the costume of a cavalier. -Lafont carried it off perfectly in _Tancrède_ and in _Adélaïde -Duguesclin._ - -Philippe died the first. His death made almost as much stir as his -life. As I shall not have occasion to speak of him again, and as, had -he lived, he would not have had anything to do with contemporary art, -we will finish his story here. Philippe died on 16 October 1824--that -is to say, one month, to the day, after the death of Louis XVIII. On -the 18th, they brought his body to the church of Saint-Laurent, his own -parish church; but the clergy refused to take it in. The same thing -happened with regard to Mademoiselle Raucourt. But Philippe's comrades -and all his public admirers decided to go forward with stout hearts, to -proceed without uproar, or violent acts, or rebellious deeds. They drew -the shell from the hearse: six actors from the different Paris theatres -bore it on their shoulders, and, followed by over three thousand -people, they took it to the Tuileries. They meant to deposit the coffin -in the Castle courtyard, to demand justice, and not to withdraw until -they had received it. The resolution was all the more impressive as it -was accomplished with composure and solemnity. The cortège was moving -along the boulevards, and had reached the top of the rue Montmartre, -when a squadron of police rushed out at full gallop, swords in hand, -and barred the entire width of the boulevard. Then a council of -deliberation was held over the bier, and, still with the same calmness -and the same composure, a deputation of five was elected to go to the -Tuileries and to ask for the prayers of the Church and a Christian -burial for the body of poor Philippe. These five deputies were: MM. -Étienne, Jourdan, Colombeau, Ménessier and Crosnier. Charles X. refused -to receive them, and sent them back to M. de Corbières, the Minister -for the Interior. M. de Corbières, very brutal by nature, replied -roughly that the clergy had their laws, that it was not his business -to transgress them, although he was in charge of the police of the -realm. The five deputies brought back this reply to the three thousand -Parisians camped in the boulevard, round the coffin that was craving -burial. The bearers then took the body up again on their shoulders and -pursued their course with it along the road to Père-Lachaise. Victory -remained on the side of authority, as the saying is; only, it is by -such kinds of victories that authority cuts its own throat. "Another -victory like that," said Pyrrhus, after the battle of Heracles, "and we -shall be lost!" - -From that moment the generous promises made by Charles x. on his -accession to the throne were valued at their true worth: and who shall -say that one of the clouds that caused the storm of 27 July 1830, was -not whirled into being on 18 October 1824? - - -[1] See _les Morts vont vite_, vol. ii. pp. 241 ff. - - - - -BOOK IV - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -My beginning at the office--Ernest Basset--Lassagne--M. Oudard--I see -M. Deviolaine--M. le Chevalier de Broval--His portrait--Folded letters -and oblong letters--How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters--I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac and whistler - - -The next day I waited from eight o'clock in the morning until ten -o'clock; but, as my neighbour in the orchestra had predicted, nobody -came to demand satisfaction for the blow I had dealt on the previous -evening. However, I had now arrived at two convictions--namely, that -there must be something extravagant about my appearance and about -some portion of my clothing. For fear of falling out egregiously with -everybody I met abroad, I ought to cut my locks and to shorten the -length of my coat. My hair was fully two inches too long; my coat -certainly a foot beyond regulation length. I called in a barber and a -tailor. The barber asked me for ten minutes; the tailor for a day. I -gave up my coat to the tailor and my head to the barber. I intended to -go to the office in a morning coat: it should be understood that my -first visit to the office was almost in the nature of a call upon my -chiefs. A morning coat would not be out of place. - -My face was completely changed by the cropping of my hair: when it -was too long, I looked like one of the sellers of "Lion Pomade," who -make their own heads their principal prospectuses; when my hair was -too short, I looked like a seal. Of course the barber cut my hair -too short; unfortunately, there was then no remedy left me but to -wait until it grew again. When I had breakfasted fairly well at my -hotel, and given notice that I should settle my account and leave the -establishment that evening, I made my way towards the office. - -As a quarter-past ten struck, I made inquiries of the porter in the -hall and he told me which staircase led to M. Oudard's offices, -otherwise the Secretariat. They were situated at the right angle of -the second court of the Palais-Royal, looking upon the square from -the side of the garden. I went towards this staircase and I furnished -myself with fresh instructions from a second porter: the offices were -on the third floor, so I climbed up. My heart was beating violently: I -was entering upon another life--one which I had desired and chosen for -myself this time. This staircase was leading me to my future office. -Where would my future office lead me?... No one had arrived. I waited -with the office-boys. The first employé who appeared was a fine big -fair youth; he came singing up the stairs, and took down the office -door key from a nail. I rose. - -"Monsieur Ernest," said one of the office-boys, the eldest of them, a -lad called Raulot, "this young man wants to speak to M. Oudard." - -The person addressed as Ernest looked at me for a moment with his keen, -clear blue eyes. - -"Monsieur," I said to him, "I am one of the supernumeraries, of whom -you may perhaps have heard." - -"Ah yes! M. Alexandre Dumas," he exclaimed; "the son of General -Alexandre Dumas, recommended by General Foy?" - -I saw he knew all about me. - -"I am the same," I said. - -"Come in," he said, going in before me and opening the door of a small -room, with one window in it and three desks. "See," he continued, "you -are expected; here is your seat. Everything is ready--paper, pens, ink; -you have but to sit down and to draw up your chair to your desk." - -"Have I the pleasure of talking to one of those with whom I am destined -to spend my days?" I asked. - -"Yes.... I have just been promoted as ordinary clerk at eighteen -hundred francs; I am giving up my place as copying-clerk, and that -place will be yours, after a longer or shorter probationary period." - -"And who is our third companion?" - -"He is our deputy head clerk, Lassagne." - -The door opened. - -"Hullo! who is talking about Lassagne?" asked a young man of -twenty-eight to thirty, as he came in. - -Ernest turned round. - -"Ah! it is you," he replied. "I was just saying to M. Dumas,"--he -pointed to me, I bowed,--"I was just telling M. Dumas that this was -your place, that his, and the other mine." - -"Are you our new colleague?" Lassagne asked me. - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"You are welcome." And he held out his hand to me. - -I took it. It was one of those warm and trembling hands that it is a -pleasure to shake from the first touch--a loyal hand, revealing the -nature of him to whom it belonged. - -"Good!" I said to myself: "this man will be friendly to me, I am sure." - -"Listen," he said: "a word of advice. It is rumoured that you have come -here with the idea of entering upon a literary career: do not talk too -loudly of such a project; it will only do you harm.... Hush! that is -Oudard entering his room." - -And I heard in the neighbouring room the self-possessed, measured tread -of a man accustomed to rule an office. A moment later, the door of our -office opened and Raulot appeared. - -"M. Oudard wants M. Alexandre Dumas," he said. - -I rose and cast a glance at Lassagne: he understood what I felt like. - -"Go along," he said; "he is a capital fellow, but you have to become -acquainted with him: however, you will soon do that." - -This was not altogether reassuring; so it was with my heart beating -very rapidly that I proceeded along the corridor and entered M. -Oudard's office. - -I found him standing before the fireplace. He was a man of five feet -six inches high, with a brown complexion, black hair and an impassive -face, gentle although firm. His black eyes had that direct look to be -found in men who have risen from a lower class to a high position; its -expression was almost stonily hard when it was fixed on you; you would -have said he had ridden rough-shod over everything and everybody that -had come in his way, as so many obstacles on the road towards that -goal, known only to himself, which he had made up his mind to reach. -He had fine teeth; but, contrary to the habit of those who possess -this advantage, he rarely smiled: one could see that nothing--not even -the most insignificant event--was indifferent to him; a pebble under -the foot of an ambitious man will raise him higher by the size of that -pebble. Oudard was very ambitious; but as he was also essentially -honest, I doubt whether his ambition had ever, I will not say inspired -him with an evil thought--what man is master of his thoughts?--but -caused him to commit a mean action. Later, it will be seen that he was -hard on me, almost pitiless. He was, I am sure, well intentioned in -being so; he did not think of the future I wanted to carve for myself, -and he feared I should only lose the position I had made--the position -which he had helped me to make. Oudard, unlike other upstarts (and let -us admit, he was really more a man who had achieved success than a mere -parvenu), talked a great deal of the village where he was born, of the -home in which he had been brought up, of his old mother, who came to -see him, dressed in her peasant's costume, with whom he would walk out -in the Palais-Royal or whom he would take to the play, just as she was: -perhaps all this talk was only another form of pride, but it is a pride -I like. He was devoted to his mother--a sentiment sufficiently rare -in ambitious men to be noted here as out of the common. Oudard must -have been thirty-two at that period; he was head of the Secretarial -Department, and private secretary to the Duchesse d'Orléans. These two -posts combined must have been worth about twelve thousand francs a year -to him, perquisites included. He was clad in black trousers, a white -piqué waistcoat and a black coat and cravat. He wore very fine cotton -stockings and slippers. Such was the get-up of a man who was not merely -chief clerk of an office, but one who might be called into the presence -of a prince or princess at any moment. - -"Come in, Monsieur Dumas," he said. - -I went up to him and bowed. - -"You have been very especially commended to me by two persons, one of -whom I greatly respect and the other of whom I love dearly." - -"Is not General Foy one of these, monsieur?" - -"Yes, he is the man I respect. But how is it you do not guess the name -of the other?" - -"I confess, monsieur, I should be puzzled to name anyone else in whom I -can have inspired sufficient interest to cause him to take the trouble -to recommend me to you." - -"It was M. Deviolaine." - -"M. Deviolaine?" I repeated, in considerable surprise. - -"Yes, M. Deviolaine.... Is he not related to you?" - -"Certainly, monsieur; but when my mother begged M. Deviolaine to have -the goodness to recommend me to Monseigneur le Duc d'Orléans, M. -Deviolaine met the request so coldly...." - -"Oh, you know, brusqueness is almost the leading trait in the character -of our worthy Conservator.... You must not pay any heed to that." - -"I fear, monsieur, that if my good cousin spoke much of me to you, in -recommending me to you, he has not flattered me." - -"That would not be bad for you, since it would but give you a chance to -surprise me agreeably." - -"He has probably told you I was idle?" - -"He told me you had never done much work; but you are young, and you -can make up for lost time." - -"He told you I cared for nothing but shooting?" - -"He confessed you were something of a poacher." - -"He told you I was wayward and changeable in my ideas and fancies?" - -"He said you had been under all the solicitors in Villers-Cotterets -and Crespy and had not been able to stop with any of them." - -"He exaggerated somewhat.... But if I did not remain with either -of the two solicitors under whom I worked, it was on account of my -unalterable, intense desire to come to Paris." - -"Very well, here you are, and your desire is fulfilled." - -"Was that all M. Deviolaine told you about me?" - -"Well, no; ... he said, too, that you were a good son, and that, -although you constantly made your mother miserable, you adored her; -that you had never really wished to learn anything, but more from -over-quickness, than from want of intelligence; he told me, besides, -that you had certainly a poor head, but that he also believed you were -good-hearted.... Go and thank him, go and thank him." - -"Where shall I find him?" - -"One of the office-boys will take you to him." - -He rang. - -"Take M. Dumas to M. Deviolaine's rooms," he said. - -Then, addressing me-- - -"You have already met Lassagne?" he said. - -"Yes, I have just had five minutes' talk with him." - -"He is a very good fellow with but one failing: he will be too weak -with you; luckily I shall be at hand. Lassagne and Ernest Basset will -tell you what your work will be." - -"And M. de Broval?" I asked. - -M. de Broval was the general manager. - -"M. de Broval will be told you have come, and will probably ask for -you. You know that your whole future depends on him?" - -"And on you, monsieur, yes." - -"I hope, so far as I am concerned, that that will not cause you much -uneasiness.... But go and thank M. Deviolaine; go! You have already -delayed too long." - -I bowed to M. Oudard and I went out. Five minutes afterwards, I was at -M. Deviolaine's. He worked in a large room by himself, and at a desk -which stood alone in the middle of the room. As I was preceded by an -office-boy, and as it was presumed that I had been sent by M. Oudard, -they let me enter unannounced. M. Deviolaine heard the door open and he -waited an instant for someone to speak; then, as I also was waiting, he -looked up and asked-- - -"Who is there?" - -"It is I, M. Deviolaine." - -"Who, you? (_toi_)" - -"I see you recognise me, by the way you speak." - -"Yes, I recognise you.... So there you are! Well, you are a fine lad!" - -"Why, if you please?" - -"Well! you have been to Paris three times without paying me a single -call." - -"I did not know you would care to see me." - -"It was not for you to question whether it would please me or not; it -was your duty to come." - -"Well, here I am; better late than never." - -"What have you come for now?" - -"I have come to thank you." - -"What for?" - -"For what you said about me to M. Oudard." - -"You are not difficult to please, then." - -"Why?" - -"Do you know what I did say?" - -"Certainly: you told him I was an idle lad; that I was no good except -for copying deeds; that I had tired out the patience of every solicitor -in Villers-Cotterets and in Crespy." - -"Well, is there much thanks due to me for all that?" - -"No, it was not for that I came to thank you; it was for what you -added." - -"I did not add anything." - -"But you did!... you went on to say...." - -"I tell you I added nothing; but I will add something now you are here: -that is, that if you are so ill-advised as to write filthy plays and -trashy verses here, as you did in Villers-Cotterets, I will report you, -I will carry you off with me, I will confine you in one of my offices -and I will lead you a dog's life ... see if I don't!" - -"Let me say, cousin...." - -"What?" - -"While I am here...." - -"Well?" - -"Even if you do not let me go back." - -"Well?" - -"Because that,--_A cause que_, a grammatical error, I know quite well; -but Corneille and Bossuet made use of it,--because that I have only -come to Paris to write filthy plays and trashy verses, whether I am -in the Secretarial Department or here, I must still continue to write -them." - -"Ah, is that so? Do you seriously imagine you can become a Corneille, a -Racine or a Voltaire after an education of three francs a month?" - -"If I were to become such a man as any one of those three, I should be -only what another man has been, and that would not be worth while." - -"You mean, then, that you would do better than they?" - -"I would do something different." - -"Come a little nearer me, so that I can give you a good kick, you -conceited lad." - -I went nearer to him. - -"Here I am!" - -"I believe the impudent boy has actually come closer!" - -"Yes.... My mother told me to give you her love." - -"Is your poor mother quite well?" - -"I hope she is." - -"She is a good creature! How the devil did you happen to come into the -world by such a mother? Come, shake hands and be off with you!" - -"Good-bye, cousin." - -He kept hold of my hand. - -"Do you want any money, you rogue?" - -"Thanks.... I have some." - -"Where did you get it?" - -"I will tell you that some other time; it would take too long now." - -"You are right; I have no time to lose. Be off with you!" - -"Good-bye, cousin." - -"Come and dine with me when you like." - -"Oh! thanks, yes, for your people to look down on me." "To look down on -you! I would like to see them do that. My wife dined often enough with -your grandfather and your grandmother to justify you in coming to dine -with me as often as you like.... But now be off, cub! you are making me -waste all my time." - -M. Deviolaine's office-boy came in. His name was Féresse. We shall see -more of him later. - -"M. Deviolaine," he said, "M. de Broval wishes to know if the report on -the management of the forest of Villers-Cotterets is finished?" - -"No, not yet ... in a quarter of an hour." - -Then, turning to me-- - -"You see?... you see?" - -"I will make myself scarce, M. Deviolaine." - -And off I went, while M. Deviolaine buried his nose in the report, -growling as usual. - -I returned to our common office, and I sat down at my desk. My desk -was next to Lassagne's, so we were only separated from one another by -the width of our tables and by the little black set of pigeon-holes in -which the current work was usually put. Ernest had gone out, I know not -why. I asked Lassagne to tell me what to do. Lassagne got up, leant -over my desk and told me. I always took a great interest in studying -people around me, and especially the man whose position in the office -was that of my immediate superior; for, although Ernest was now a -full-fledged clerk and I only destined to be a simple copying-clerk, he -was more my comrade than my superior. - -Lassagne, as I think I have already said, was at that time a man -of twenty-eight or thirty, with an attractive face, enshrined in -beautiful black hair, animated by black eyes full of intelligence and -cleverness, and lighted up (if the phrase may be permitted) by teeth so -white and so regular that the vainest of women might have envied them. -The only defect in his face was his aquiline nose, which was a little -more inclined to one side than the other; but this very irregularity -gave an original touch to his face that it would not have had without -it. Add to these things a sympathetic voice which seemed gently to -vibrate in one's ear, and at the sound of which it was impossible not -to turn round and smile. In short, a delightful person whose like I -have rarely met; well informed; a brilliant song-writer; the intimate -friend of Désaugiers, Théaulon, Armand Gouffé, Brazier, Rougemont and -all the opera-writers of the time; so that he refreshed himself after -his official work, which he loathed, by entering into the literary -world, which he adored, and his daily labour alternated with desultory -work, consisting partly of articles for the _Drapeau blanc_ and the -_Foudre_ and partly of contributions to some of the most delightful -plays of the operatic theatres. It will be admitted that here was the -very superior I needed, and I could not have asked Providence for -anything that would have seemed to me better for me. - -Well, during the five years that we spent in the same office there was -never a cloud, or a quarrel, or a feeling of cross purposes between -Lassagne and me. He made me like the hour at which I began my daily -work, because I knew he would come in immediately after me; he made me -love the time I spent at my desk, because he was always ready there to -help me with an explanation, to teach me something fresh about life, -which had as yet, for me, scarcely opened, about the world of which I -was totally ignorant, and finally about foreign or national literature, -of which in 1823 I knew practically nothing, either of the one or of -the other. - -Lassagne arranged my daily work; it was entirely mechanical, and -consisted in copying out, in the finest handwriting possible, the -largest possible number of letters: these, according to their -importance, had to be signed by M. Oudard, M. de Broval, or even by the -Duc d'Orléans. In the midst of this correspondence, which concerned -the whole range of administration and which often, when addressed -to princes or foreign kings, passed from matters of administration -to politics, there occurred reports connected with the contentious -affairs of M. le Duc d'Orléans; for the Duc d'Orléans himself prepared -his litigious business for his counsel, doing himself the work that -solicitors do for barristers--that is to say, preparing the briefs. -These were nearly always entirely in the handwriting of the Duc -d'Orléans, or at all events corrected and annotated in his large thick -writing, in which every letter was fastened to its neighbouring letter -by a solid stroke, after the fashion of the arguments of a logical -dialectician, bound together, entwined, succeeding each other. - -I was attacking my first letter, and, by the advice of Lassagne, who -had laid great stress on this point, I was despatching it in my very -best handwriting, when I heard the door of communication between -Oudard's office and ours open. I pretended, with the hypocrisy of an -old hand, to be so deeply absorbed in my work that no noise could -distract my attention, when I heard the creak of steps advancing -towards my desk and then they stopped by me. - -"Dumas!" called out Lassagne to me. - -I raised my head and I saw, standing close to me on my left, a person -who was totally unknown to me. - -"M. le Chevalier de Broval," added Lassagne, adding information to his -exclamation. - -I rose from my seat. - -"Do not disturb yourself," he said. And he took the letter I was -copying, which was nearly finished, and read it. - -I took advantage of this respite to examine him. - -M. le Chevalier de Broval, as everyone knows, had been one of the -faithful followers of M. le Duc d'Orléans. He had never left him during -the last portion of his exile, serving him sometimes as secretary, -at other times as diplomatist; in this latter capacity he had been -mixed up in all the lengthy discussions over the marriage of the -Duc d'Orléans with Princess Marie-Amélie, daughter of Ferdinand and -Caroline, King and Queen of Naples; and in connection with this -marriage he had gained the Order of Saint-Janvier, which he wore on -a braided coat on high festivals, next to the cross of the Legion of -Honour. He was a little old man of about sixty years of age, with short -stubbly hair; he was slightly lame, walked crookedly on his left side, -had a big red nose, which told its own tale, and small grey eyes, that -expressed nothing; he looked a typical courtier, polite, obsequious, -fawning to his master, kind by fits and starts, but generally -capricious with his subordinates; he thought a great deal of trifles, -attaching supreme importance to the manner in which a letter was folded -or a seal was fastened; he really imbibed these notions from the Duc -d'Orléans himself, who was even more particular over little details -than perhaps was M. de Broval. - -M. de Broval read the letter, took my pen, added an apostrophe or a -comma here and there; then, replacing it in front of me: "Finish it," -he said. - -I finished it. - -He waited behind me, literally pressing on my shoulders. - -Every fresh face I saw in turn had its effect on me. I finished with a -very shaky hand. - -"There it is, M. le chevalier," I said. - -"Good!" he exclaimed. - -He took a pen, signed, threw sand over my writing and over his; then, -giving me back the epistle, which was for a simple inspector,--as, at -first, they did not risk confiding more than that to my inexperienced -hand,--he said-- - -"Do you know how to fold a letter?" - -I looked at him with astonishment. - -"I ask you if you know how to fold a letter. Answer me!" - -"Yes, yes ... at least, I believe so," I replied, astonished at the -fixed stare his little grey eyes had assumed. - -"You believe? Is that all? You are not sure?" - -"Monsieur, I am not yet sure about anything, as you see, not even about -the folding of a letter." - -"And there you are right, for there are ten ways of folding a letter, -according to the rank of the person to whom it is addressed. Fold this -one." - -I began to fold the letter in four. - -"Oh! what are you about?" he said. - -I stopped short. "Pardon, monsieur," I said, "but you _ordered_ me to -fold the letter, and I am folding it." - -M. de Broval bit his lip. I had laid emphasis on the word "ordered" in -the spoken phrase as I have just underlined it in the written phrase. - -"Yes," he said; "but you are folding it square--that is all right for -high functionaries. If you give square-folded letters to inspectors and -sub-inspectors, what will you do for ministers, princes and kings?" - -"Quite so, M. le chevalier," I replied; "will you tell me what is the -correct way for inspectors and sub-inspectors?" - -"Oblong, monsieur, oblong." - -"You will pardon my ignorance, monsieur; I know what an oblong is in -theory, but I do not yet know what it is in practice." - -"See...." - -And M. de Broval condescended willingly to give me the lesson in things -oblong I had asked of him. - -"There!" he said, when the letter was folded. - -"Thank you, monsieur," I replied. - -"Now, monsieur, the envelope?" he said. - -I had never made envelopes, except for the rare petitions I had written -for my mother, and once on my own account in General Foy's office, so -I was still more ignorant about the making of envelopes than about -the folding. I took a half-sheet of paper in my left hand, a pair of -scissors in my right hand, and I began to cut the sheet. - -M. le Chevalier de Broval uttered a mingled cry of surprise and terror. - -"Oh! good Lord!" he said, "what are you going to do?" - -"Why, M. le chevalier, I am going to make the envelope you asked me to -make." - -"With scissors?" - -"Yes." - -"First learn this, monsieur: paper should not be cut, it should be -torn." - -I listened with all attention. - -"Oh!" I exclaimed. - -"It should be torn," repeated M. de Broval; "and then in this case -there is no need even to tear the paper, which perhaps you do not -realise either?" - -"No, monsieur, I do not." - -"You will learn.... It only wants an English envelope." - -"Ah! an English envelope?" - -"You do not know how to make an English envelope?" - -"I do not even know what it is, M. le chevalier." - -"I will show you. As a general rule, monsieur, square letters and -square envelopes are for ministers, for princes and for kings." - -"Right, M. le chevalier; I will remember." - -"You are sure?" - -"Yes." - -"Good.... And for heads of departments, chief assistants, inspectors -and sub-inspectors, oblong letters and English envelopes." - -I repeated, "Oblong letters and English envelopes." - -"Yes, yes, of course.... There, that is what we call an English -envelope." - -"Thank you, monsieur." - -"Now the seal.... Ernest, will you light me a taper?" Ernest hastened -to bring us the lighted taper; and now, I confess to my shame, my -confusion increased: I had never hitherto sealed my letters except with -wafers--that is to say, when I had sealed them. - -I took the wax in so awkward a fashion, I heated it in such a queer -way, I blew it out so quickly, for fear of burning the paper, that -this time I excited pity rather than impatience in the breast of M. de -Broval. - -"Oh! my friend," he said, "have you really never even sealed a letter?" - -"Never, monsieur," I replied. "Who was there for me to write to, buried -away as I have been in a little country town?" - -This humble confession touched M. de Broval. - -"See," he said, heating the wax, "this is how one seals a letter." - -And, believe me, he sealed the letter at arm's length, with as steady -a hand as though he had been twenty-five years of age. Then, taking -a large silver seal, he pressed it on the lake of burning wax, and -did not withdraw it until the impress was clearly defined and I could -see the escutcheon with the three heraldic fleurs-de-lis of Orléans, -surmounted by the ducal coronet. - -I was disheartened, I must confess. - -"Write the address," M. le Chevalier de Broval said imperiously. - -I wrote the address with a trembling hand. - -"Good, good!" said M. le Chevalier de Broval; "don't be discouraged, my -boy.... It is all right; now countersign it." - -I stopped, completely ignorant of what a countersign was. - -M. de Broval began to realise, as General Foy had done, how ignorant I -was. He pointed with a finger to the corner of the letter. - -"There," he said, "write there _Duc d'Orléans._ That is to frank the -letter. You hear?" - -I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly -understood what was said. - -"There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it -with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all -these things.... Ernest,"--Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and -in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian -name,--"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and -to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off. - -The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to -begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with -hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making -envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole will into it, and it was not -long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill. - -When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had -become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the -third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was -this-- - -"The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have -ever seen." - -While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, -Lassagne was reading the papers. - -"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!" - -"What is it?" I asked. - -Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:--"A scene which recalls -that of la Fontaine at the first representation of _Florentin_ took -place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of -the _Vampire._ Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled -from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. -Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the _Vampire_." - -"So!" I cried, "my neighbour of the orchestra was Charles Nodier!" - -"Did you have any talk with him?" asked Lassagne. - -"I did nothing else during the intervals." - -"You were fortunate," continued Lassagne: "had I been in your place, I -should have greatly preferred the intervals to the play." - -I knew Charles Nodier by name, but I was in complete ignorance as to -what he had done. - -As I left the office, I entered a bookshop and asked for a novel by -Nodier. They gave me _Jean Sbogar._ - -The reading of that book began to shake my faith in Pigault-Lebrun. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Illustrious contemporaries--The sentence written on my foundation -stone--My reply--I settle down in the place des Italiens--M. de -Leuven's table--M. Louis-Bonaparte's witty saying--Lassagne gives me my -first lesson in literature and history - - -When I came up to Paris, the men who held illustrious rank in -literature, among whom I sought a place, were--MM. de Chateaubriand, -Jouy, Lemercier, Arnault, Étienne, Baour-Lormian, de Béranger, Ch. -Nodier, Viennet, Scribe, Théaulon, Soumet, Casimir Delavigne, Lucien -Arnault, Ancelot, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Désaugiers and Alfred de -Vigny. It will, of course, be understood that I do not rank them in the -order I have written down their names. Then follow men whose interests -were half literary half political, such as--MM. Cousin, Salvandy, -Villemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, -Mérimée and Guizot. Then, finally, those who were not yet famous, but -were gradually coming forward, such as Balzac, Soulié, de Musset, -Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier. - -The three women of the day were all poets--Mesdames Desbordes-Valmore, -Amable Tastu, Delphine Gay. Madame Sand was still unknown, and did not -reveal her powers until the production of _Indiana_, in 1828 or 1829, I -believe. - -I knew the whole of this _pléiade_, who entertained the world with -their wit and poetry for over half a century--some as friends and -supporters, others as enemies and adversaries. Neither the benefits -I have received from the former, nor the harm the latter sought to -do me, shall influence in the slightest degree the judgments I shall -pass on them. The first, in supporting me, have not caused me to climb -higher by one step; the second, in trying to hinder me, have not kept -me back one step. Through all the friendships, hatreds, jealousies of -a life that has been harassed in its minor details, but ever calm and -serene in its progress, I reached the position God had assigned me; -I attained it without the aid of intrigues or cliques, and advanced -only by my own endeavours. I have reached the summit which every man -mounts half-way through life, and I ask for nothing, I desire nothing, -I covet nothing. I have many friendships, I have not a single enmity. -If, at the starting-point of my life, God had said to me, "Young -man, what do you desire?" I should not have dared to demand from His -infinite greatness that which He has condescended to grant me out of -His fatherly goodness. So I will say all I have to say of the men I -have named, according as they have appeared to me on my path through -life: if I conceal anything, it will be the evil I know about them. -Why should I be unjust to them? Not one among them possessed a single -honour or good fortune in exchange for which I ever had any desire to -barter my reputation or my purse. - -Yesterday I read the following words, written by an unknown hand on the -foundation stone of a house which I had caused to be built for me, and -which, until I or someone else can inhabit it, as yet shelters only -sparrows and swallows:-- - -"O Dumas! tu n'as pas su jouir, et pourtant tu regretteras! E. L." - -I wrote underneath:-- - -"Niais!... si tu es un homme. Menteuse!... si tu es une femme. A. D." - -But I took good care to obliterate the sentence. - -Let us return to my contemporaries, and add to the list of famous names -that led me to these reflections. - -Among musical composers, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Auber, Donizetti, -Bellini, Liszt, Thalberg. Among dramatic artists, Talma, Lafont, Mars, -Duchesnois, Georges, Leverd, Frédérick (Lemaître), Dorval, Potier, -Monrose père, Déjazet, Smithson, Lablache, Macready, Karatikin, Miss -Faucit, Schroeder-Devrient, la Malibran, la Hungher. - -I have had the honour to know several kings and princes,--they will -have their place,--but my kings in the realms of art come before all, -my princes in imagination have first place. To each sovereign his due -honour. - -When I came out of my office, or rather from the bookshop where I had -bought _Jean Sbogar_, I made haste to the place des Italiens. My waggon -load of furniture was waiting at the door; it took but an hour to -settle my household arrangements, and at the end of that time all was -finished. - -Of a poet's usual equipment I now had the attic; of the possessions of -the happy man, I now had a loft under the tiles. Better than all these -things, I was only twenty! I cleared the distance between the place des -Italiens and the rue Pigale in no time. I was longing to tell Adolphe -that I was installed at the Duc d'Orléans'; that I possessed a desk, -paper, pens, ink, sealing-wax, in the Palais-Royal; four chairs, a -table, a bed and a room papered yellow in the place des Italiens. - -Adolphe very sincerely shared my delight. M. de Leuven, chewing his -tooth-pick, gently ridiculed my enthusiasm. Madame de Leuven, the most -perfect of women, rejoiced in the joy my mother would feel. - -I was invited to fix a regular day on which I should dine at M. de -Leuven's. On that day my place should always be laid: it should be an -institution in perpetuity. In perpetuity! What a great word!--one so -often uttered in life, but one which really exists only in death! - -"You are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, monseigneur," said my -dear and good friend Nogent Saint-Laurent to Prince Louis-Bonaparte. - -"How long does perpetuity last in France, Monsieur Saint-Laurent?" -asked the prince. - -His perpetuity, as a matter of fact, lasted at Ham for five years--two -years less than the perpetuity of M. de Peyronnet and M. de Polignac. - -My perpetuity at M. de Leuven's table lasted exactly as long as that -of Prince Louis at Ham. I will tell how it came to cease, and I might -as well admit at once that the fault was not M. de Leuven's, nor Madame -de Leuven's, nor Adolphe's. It was arranged that I should dine there on -the following day to make the acquaintance of the Arnault family: this -was to be an extra dinner. - -It can be realised how preoccupied I was, throughout the twenty-two -hours that had to elapse before we sat down to the table, with the -thought of dining with the author of _Marius à Minturnes_, the man who -had written _Régulus._ - -I announced the great news to Ernest and to Lassagne. Ernest seemed -quite unmoved by it, and Lassagne was only indifferently interested. I -badgered Lassagne to know why he was so cold in matters concerning such -celebrities. - -He answered simply, "I am not of the same political views as those -gentlemen, and I do not think much of their literary value either." - -I stood astounded. - -"But," I asked, "have you not read _Germanicus_?" - -"Yes; but it is very bad!" - -"Have you not read _Régulus_?" - -"Yes; but it is very poor!" - -I lowered my head, more astonished than ever. - -Then, finally, I struggled to rise from under the weight of the -anathema. - -"But why are these plays so successful?" - -"Talma acts in them ..." - -"The reputation of these men ..." - -"They bring that about themselves through their newspapers!... When -M. de Jouy, M. Arnault or M. Lemercier produces a play in which Talma -takes no part, you will see it will only run ten nights." - -Again I hung down my head. - -"Listen, my dear boy," Lassagne went on, with that wonderful sweetness -of his in eyes and voice, and above all with that almost fatherly -kindliness that I still noticed in him, when I met him by chance -twenty-five years later and had the happiness to greet him,--"listen: -you want to become a literary man?" - -"Oh yes!" I exclaimed. - -"Not so loud!" he said, laughing; "you know I told you not to talk so -loud about that ... here, at any rate. Well, when you do write, do not -take the literature of the Empire as your model: that is my advice." - -"But what shall I take?" - -"Well, upon my word, I should be much puzzled to tell you. Our young -dramatic authors, Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot, -certainly possess talent; Lamartine and Hugo are poets--I therefore -leave them out of the question; they have not done theatrical work, and -I do not know if they are likely to, though if they ever do, I doubt -whether they would succeed...." - -"Why not?" - -"Because the one is too much of a visionary, and the other too much of -a thinker. Neither the one nor the other lives in the actual world, and -the theatre, you see, my lad, is humanity. I say, then, that our young -dramatic authors--Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot--have -talent; but take particular notice of what I am telling you: they -belong purely and solely to a period of transition; they are links -which connect the chain of the past to the chain of the future, bridges -which lead from what has been to what shall be." - -"And what is that which shall be ...?" - -"Ah! there, my young friend, you ask me more than I can tell you. The -public has not made up its mind; it knows already what it does not want -any longer, but it does not yet know what it wants." - -"In poetry, in drama or in fiction?" - -"In drama and in fiction ... there, nothing is settled; in poetry we -need not look farther than to Lamartine and Hugo, who represent the -spirit of the age quite sufficiently." - -"But Casimir Delavigne ...?" - -"Ah! he is different. Casimir Delavigne is the poet of the people: we -must leave him his circle; he does not enter into competition." - -"Well, in comedy, tragedy, drama, whom ought one to follow?" - -"In the first place, you should never imitate anybody; you should -study: the man who follows a guide is obliged to walk behind. Will you -be content to walk behind?" - -"No." - -"Then you must study. Do not attempt to produce either comedy, or -tragedy, or drama; take passions, events, characters, smelt them -all down in the furnace of your imagination, and raise statues of -Corinthian bronze." - -"What is Corinthian bronze?" - -"Don't you know?" - -"I know nothing." - -"What a happy state to be in!" - -"Why?" - -"Because then you can find things out for yourself: you need only -measure things by the standard of your own intelligence: you need no -other rule than that of your own capacity. Corinthian bronze?... have -you heard that once upon a time Mummius burnt Corinth?" - -"Yes; I think I translated that once somewhere, in the _De Viris._" - -"Then you will remember that the heat of the fire melted the gold, -silver and brass, which ran down the streets in streams. Now, the -mingling of these three, the most valuable of all metals, made one -single metal; and they gave to this metal the name of Corinthian -bronze. Well, then, the man who will be endowed with the genius to do -for comedy, tragedy and the drama that which Mummius, in his ignorance, -in his vandalism, in his barbarity, did for gold, silver and brass, who -will smelt by aid of the fire of inspiration, and who will melt into -one single mould Æschylus, Shakespeare and Molière, he, my dear friend, -will have discovered a bronze as precious as the bronze of Corinth." - -I pondered for a moment over what Lassagne had said to me. "What you -say sounds very beautiful, monsieur," I replied; "and, because it is -beautiful, it ought to be true." - -"Are you acquainted with Æschylus?" - -"No." - -"Do you know Shakespeare?" - -"No." - -"Have you read Molière?" - -"Hardly at all." - -"Well, read all that those three men have written. When you have read -them, re-read them; when you have re-read them, learn them by heart." - -"And next?" - -"Oh! next?... You will pass from them to those who preceded them--from -Æschylus to Sophocles, from Sophocles to Euripides, from Euripides -to Seneca, from Seneca to Racine, from Racine to Voltaire, and from -Voltaire to Chénier, in the realms of tragedy. Thus you will understand -the transformation that altered a race of eagles into a race of -parroquets." - -"And from Shakespeare to whom shall I turn?" - -"From Shakespeare to Schiller." - -"And from Schiller?" - -"To no one." - -"But Ducis?" - -"Oh, don't confound Schiller with Ducis. Schiller is inspired, Ducis -imitates; Schiller remains original, Ducis became a copyist, and a poor -copyist." - -"And what about Molière?" - -"As to Molière, if you want to study something that is worth taking -trouble over, you must ascend, not descend." - -"From Molière to whom?" - -"From Molière to Terence, from Terence to Plautus, from Plautus to -Aristophanes." - -"But it seems to me you are forgetting Corneille?" - -"I am not forgetting him: I have put him on one side." "Why?" - -"Because he is neither an ancient Greek nor an old Roman." - -"What is Corneille, then?" - -"He is a Cordouan, like Lucan; you will see, when you compare -them, that his verse has striking resemblance to the metre of the -_Pharsalia_." - -"May I write down all you have told me?" - -"What for?" - -"To act as a guide to my studies." - -"You need not trouble, seeing you have me at hand." - -"But perhaps I shall not always have you." - -"If you have not me, you will have someone else." - -"But he might not perhaps know what you do?" - -Lassagne shrugged his shoulders. - -"My dear lad," he said, "I only know what all the world knows; I only -tell you what the first person you met might tell you." - -"Then I must be ignorant indeed!" I murmured, letting my head fall into -my hands. - -"The fact is, you have much to learn; but you are young, you will -learn." - -"Tell me what needs to be done in fiction?" - -"Everything, just as in the drama." - -"But I thought we had some excellent novels." - -"What have you read in the way of novels?" - -"Those of Lesage, Madame Cottin and Pigault-Lebrun." - -"What effect did they have on you?" - -"Lesage's novels amused me; Madame Cottin's made me cry; -Pigault-Lebrun's made me laugh." - -"Then you have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper?" - -"I have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper." - -"Well, read them." - -"And when I have read them, what shall I do?" - -"Make Corinthian bronze all the time; only, try to put in a slight -ingredient they all lack." - -"What is that?" - -"Passion.... Goethe gives us poetry; Walter Scott character studies; -Cooper the mysterious grandeur of prairies, forests and oceans; but you -will look in vain for passion among them." - -"So, a man who could be a poet like Goethe, an observer like Walter -Scott, clever at description like Cooper, with the addition of a touch -of passion ...?" - -"Ah! such a man would be almost perfect." - -"Which are the first three works I ought to read of those three -masters?" - -"Goethe's _Wilhelm Meister_, Walter Scott's _Ivanhoe_ and Cooper's -_Spy."_ - -"I read _Jean Sbogar_ through last night." - -"Oh, that is another story altogether." - -"What kind is it?" - -"It belongs to the _genre_ style of novel. But France is not waiting -for that." - -"What is she waiting for?" - -"She is waiting for the historical novel." - -"But the history of France is so dull!" - -Lassagne raised his head and looked at me. - -"What!" he exclaimed. - -"The history of France is so dull!" I repeated. - -"How do you know that?" - -I blushed. - -"People have told me it is." - -"Poor boy! People have told you!... Read for yourself and then you will -have an opinion." - -"What must I read?" - -"Why, there is a whole world of it: Joinville, Froissart, Monstrelet, -Châtelain, Juvénal des Ursins, Montluc, Saulx-Tavannes, l'Estoile, -Cardinal de Retz, Saint-Simon, Villars, Madame de la Fayette, Richelieu -... and so I could go on." - -"How many volumes do those make?" - -"Probably between two and three hundred." - -"And you have read them?" - -"Certainly." - -"And I must read them?" - -"If you wish to write novels, you must not only read them, you must get -them off by heart." - -"Why, you frighten me! I should not be able to write a word for two or -three years!" - -"Oh! longer than that, or you will write ignorantly." - -"Oh, my God! what a lot of time I have lost!" - -"You must retrieve it." - -"You will aid me, will you not?" - -"What about the office?" - -"Oh! I will read and study at night; I will work at the office, and we -can have a chat from time to time...." - -"Yes, like to-day's; but we have talked too much." - -"One word more. You have told me what I ought to study in the drama?" - -"Yes." - -"In romance?" - -"Yes." - -"In history?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, now, in poetry, what ought I to study?" - -"First, what have you read?" - -"Voltaire, Parny, Bertin, Demoustier, Legouvé, Colardeau." - -"Good! forget the lot." - -"Really?" - -"Read Homer as representative of antiquity; Virgil among the Latin -poets; Dante in the Middle Ages. I am giving you giants' marrow to feed -on." - -"And among the moderns?" - -"Ronsard, Mathurin, Régnier, Milton, Goethe, Uhland, Byron, Lamartine, -Victor Hugo, and especially a little volume which has just been -published by Latouche." - -"What is the name of it?" - -"_André Chénier_." - -"I have read it...." - -"You have read Marie-Joseph.... Do not confuse Marie-Joseph with André." - -"But how am I to read foreign authors when I do not know either Greek -or English or German?" - -"The deuce! Why, that is simple enough: you must learn those languages." - -"How?" - -"I do not know; but remember this: one can always learn what one wants -to learn. And now I think it is time we gave our attention to business. -One more piece of advice." - -"What is it?" - -"If you mean to follow the instructions I give you...." - -"Indeed I do!" - -"You must not say a word to M. Arnault of this little scheme of study." - -"Why?" - -"Because you would not be a friend of his for long." - -"You think not?" - -"I am certain of it." - -"Thanks.... I will keep my mouth shut." - -"You will do well. Now, a second word of advice." - -"I am listening." - -"You must not repeat a word of our conversation either to Oudard or to -M. de Broval." - -"Why?" - -"Because they would not leave us long in the same office." - -"The devil! I want to stay in it dreadfully." - -"Then it depends on yourself." - -"Oh, if it depends on me, we shall be together for many years." - -"So be it." - -At this point M. Oudard entered, and I set to my task with an avidity -that won me many compliments from him at the end of the day. - -I made a splendid discovery--which was that I could copy without -thinking of what I was copying, and consequently I was able to think of -other things whilst copying. - -By the second day I had advanced as far as others who had been at work -for four or five years. - -As will be seen, I was making rapid progress. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase--M. Dormeuil--_Kenilworth -Castle_--M. Warez and Soulié--Mademoiselle Lévesque--The Arnault -family--The _Feuille--Marius à Minturnes_--Danton's epigram--The -reversed passport--Three fables--_Germanicus_--Inscriptions and -epigrams--Ramponneau--The young man and the tilbury-_Extra ecclesiam -nulla est salus_--Madame Arnault - - -It was well I could copy without taking in what I was doing; for -Lassagne's conversation, as may be imagined, gave me much to think -about. Every day showed me my deplorable ignorance more and more, and, -like a traveller lost in a marshy, unstable bog, I did not know whereon -to place my feet in order to find that solid ground which would lead me -to the end I was trying to reach. - -How was it Adolphe had never spoken to me of all these matters? So far -reaching were the vistas that opened before me every moment, that I -was bewildered. Did Adolphe think all this of little use in connection -with the art and practice of literature? Or was it that the kind -of literature he wanted me to produce could dispense with all such -knowledge? I had often noticed his father shrug his shoulders at our -theatrical schemes; was it not perchance that his father, who knew so -many things, laughed in his sleeve at me for being so ignorant? And M. -Deviolaine, who instinctively (for, except as a valuer and in questions -of forestry, he hardly knew more than I did) called my attempts filth -and my efforts at poetry mere rubbish, could he by chance be right? - -Of course, one could read, work and study, but how was it possible to -keep all the things I had heard about since the previous evening in my -mind without revealing them? I resolved to have an open talk about it -all with Adolphe. - -At half-past five I reached M. de Leuven's house, but Adolphe had not -yet returned: he was reading at the Gymnase a play he had written -in collaboration with Frédéric Soulié. He put in an appearance at -a quarter to six, looking more melancholy and more thoughtful than -Hippolytus on the road to Mycenæ. - -"Well, my poor friend," said I, "refused again?" - -"No," he replied; "but only accepted subject to correction." - -"Then all hope is not lost?" - -"True. Dormeuil made us go into his office, after the reading, and as -he thought there were tedious passages in the piece, he said to us,'My -dear fellows, my dear fellows, it must be cut down to the quick.' -At these words Soulié snatched the play out of his hands, crying, -'Monsieur Dormeuil, not a hand must be laid on it.' So, you will -understand, Dormeuil is furious." - -"Who is Dormeuil?" - -"One of the managers of the Gymnase." - -"And that means...." - -"And that means that Soulié has vowed the piece shall be played as it -is or not at all." - -"The deuce! Then Soulié doesn't mind if his things get played or not?" - -"You do not know that fellow's obstinacy; there is no way of turning -him. Did you hear what he said to Warez?" - -"Who is Warez?" - -"Warez is manager to Madame Oudinot, proprietor of the Ambigu." - -"Well, what did he say to Warez?" - -"We took him a melodrama to read, called _Kenilworth Castle;_ Warez -read it. He was not very much struck with the work. When we went, -yesterday, for his answer, 'Gentlemen,' he said to us, 'will you -allow me to read your play to M. Picard?' 'Ah!' replies Soulié, 'in -order that he can steal the idea from us. 'What! Monsieur Soulié,' -exclaims Warez, 'steal your play from you--an Academician!' 'Well,' -says Soulié, 'three-fourths of the Academicians certainly steal their -places, why should they stick at stealing other people's work?' I need -not tell you, my dear friend, that that meant another closed door! I -had some sort of an idea of going to Mademoiselle Lévesque, who is all -powerful at the theatre, to offer her the part of Marie Stuart, which -is magnificent...." - -"Well?" - -"You know what happened to Casimir Delavigne, at the reading of the -_Vêpres siciliennes_, at the Théâtre-Français?" - -"Yes, the piece was refused." - -"Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to -give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the -work was badly _written_.'" - -"And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?" - -"No; but she said that, at the _present_ moment, she had so many new -parts, she could not possibly undertake _ours."_ - -"The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study -so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of -my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?" - -"Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn -all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go -in to dinner." - -We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,--I was already -acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis. - -I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet -Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked -to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, -as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. -Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses -of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, -and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since -the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the -underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, took up his gun -and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by. - -"Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!" - -"Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then -asked her. - -"Oh, monsieur, you will see...." - -And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which -she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo. - -"You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he -sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and -note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished. - -M. Arnault's family consisted of Lucien and Telleville, his two sons by -a first marriage; of Louis and Gabrielle, his two children by a second -marriage. M. Arnault's second wife was a young lady from Bonneuil. Let -me say a few words about this excellent family. We will begin, like the -Gospels, with the meek and mild members. - -Gabrielle was a pretty child of fourteen or fifteen, with a dazzlingly -white complexion; she was of no more account in the household as yet -than a bud in a bouquet. Louis was about my own age, namely, twenty -or twenty-one. He was a good-looking lad, fair, fresh-coloured, -rosy-cheeked, a trifle spruce, ever laughing, on the most friendly -terms with his sister, full of respect for his mother and admiration -for his father. Telleville was a handsome captain; very brave, very -loyal, very daring, a Bonapartist like the rest of the family, thrown -into the midst of the artistic world, without ever having written a -verse of poetry, but possessing a delightful wit, and being full of -spirit and originality. Lucien, the author of _Régulus_, and, later, of -_Pierre de Portugal_ and of _Tibère,_ had too cold and calculating a -mind to be really poetical; yet there was a certain boldness of style -in his lines and a certain melancholy about his ideas, that appealed -both to the imagination and to the heart. There is one of the truest -and most charming lines I know, in _Pierre de Portugal_, a line such -as Racine wrote in his best days, universally known because it belongs -to that school:-- - - "Les chagrins du départ sont pour celui qui reste." - -The year before my arrival in Paris, _Régulus_ had achieved enormous -popularity. I will quote a few lines of it, to give some idea of the -author, who appears to have given up literary work. - -Regulus is about to leave Rome, to which he was devotedly attached, and -he says to Licinius:-- - - "Je meurs pour la sauver, c'est mourir digne d'elle! - Mais, toi, Licinius, parjure à l'amitié, - Disciple de ma gloire, as-tu donc oublié - Ces jours où j'opposais, dans les champs du carnage, - Ma vieille expérience à ton jeune courage? - Aimant un vrai soldat dans un vrai citoyen, - Ne le souvient-il plus que, par un doux lien, - Ma tendresse voulait vous unir l'un à l'autre? - Le hasard a trahi mon espoir et le vôtre; - Mais, des bords du tombeau, je puis enfin bénir - Les nœuds qui pour jamais doivent vous réunir. - Si tu l'aimes, viens, jure au dieu de la victoire - De servir, aujourd'hui, la patrie et la gloire; - D'éclairer les Romains par toi seul égarés; - De rétablir la paix dans ces remparts sacrés; - Jure! dis-je. A l'instant, je te donne ma fille, - Je te lègue mon nom, mon honneur, ma famille; - Et les dieux ne m'auront opprimé qu'à demi, - Si, dans un vrai Romain, je retrouve un ami!" - -Lucien was about thirty or thirty-two at this period. Until the -downfall of Napoleon his career had been administrative: he had been -made auditor to the State Council and a prefect at twenty-five. In -spite of much physical suffering which saddened his life, he was indeed -one of the best-hearted and most benevolent persons I ever knew. For -five years I saw Lucien two or three times a week; I do not think -that, during the long period of intimacy, I ever heard him jibe at -his _confrères_, or complain or whine; he was one of those gentle, -melancholy and tranquil spirits one sees in dreams. I do not know what -became of him; after 1829 I lost sight of him completely. Twenty-two -years of absence and of separation will certainly have driven me from -his remembrance; those twenty-two years have engraved him the more -deeply on mine. - -M. Arnault was quite different. I never knew a more subtle, mordant, -satirical nature than this brilliant person owned. In military parlance -he would have been described as a damned good shot. Neither Bertrand -nor Lozes ever returned a straight thrust more rapidly and more surely -than did M. Arnault, on every occasion, by a word or an epigram or -a flash of wit. He was but an indifferent dramatic author, but he -excelled in fables and satire. Once, in a fit of despondency, he let -fall what was probably the only tear he shed, like that of Aramis upon -the death of Porthos: he dipped his pen in the salt drops, and wrote -the following lines--a gem that André Chénier, or Millevoye, Lamartine -or Victor Hugo might have wished to write:-- - - - LA FEUILLE - - "De ta tige détachée, - Pauvre feuille desséchée, - Où vas-tu?--Je n'en sais rien. - L'orage a brisé le chêne - Qui seul était mon soutien; - De son inconstante haleine - Le zéphir ou l'aquilon, - Depuis ce jour me promène - De la forêt à la plaine, - De la montagne au vallon. - Je vais où le vent me mène - Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer; - Je vais où va toute chose, - Où vont la feuille de rose - Et la feuille de laurier!" - -I do not know what the famous poets of my day would have given to -have written those fifteen lines; I know I would have given any of -my plays the fates might have chosen. M. Arnault's great ambition -was, unluckily, to write for the stage. He had begun by _Marius à -Minturnes_, at the time when he was with Monsieur. The tragedy was -produced in 1790, and in spite of the prediction of the Comte de -Provence, who had asserted that a tragedy without a woman must be -a failure, it was a great success. Saint-Phal played young Marius, -Vanhove Marius, and Saint-Prix le Cimbre. That was the happy period -when men of the talent of Saint-Prix accepted parts in which they came -on only in one scene, and in that single scene uttered a few lines, -_e.g._:-- - - "Quelle voix, quel regard, et quel aspect terrible! - Quel bras oppose au mien un obstacle invincible?... - L'effroi s'est emparè de mes sens éperdus ... - Je ne pourrais jamais égorger Marius!" - -The play was dedicated to Monsieur. I have heard M. Arnault relate, in -his extremely fascinating way, that success made him very vain, very -peremptory and very scornful. One day, in 1792, he was in the balcony -of the Théâtre-Français, talking loudly, in his customary fashion, -making a great noise with his cane and hindering people from hearing; -this went on from the raising of the curtain till the end of the first -act, when a gentleman, who was behind M. Arnault and only separated -from him by one row, bent forward, and touching his shoulder with the -tips of his gloved hand, said, "Monsieur Arnault, pray allow us to -listen, even though they are playing _Marius à Minturnes_." - -This polite and, I might even add, witty gentleman was Danton. A -month later, this same polite and witty gentleman had instituted the -September massacres. M. Arnault was so alarmed by these massacres -that he fled on foot. On reaching the barricade, he found it guarded -by a sans-culotte in name and in reality; this sans-culotte was -engaged in preventing a poor woman from passing, under the pretext -that her passport for Bercy had not been _vised_ at the section des -Enfants-Trouvés. Now, while he noted the persistence of this honourable -sentinel, an idea occurred to M. Arnault--that this terrible Cerberus -could not read. Joking is a bad disease, of which one is rarely cured. -M. Arnault, who suffered much from this malady, boldly walked up to the -sans-culotte and presented his passport upside down to the man, saying-- - -"_Viséd_ at the Enfants-Trouvés: there is the stamp." - -M. Arnault guessed rightly. - -"Pass," said the sans-culotte. - -And M. Arnault passed. - -In the interval that had elapsed between _Marius_ and the 3rd of -September, the date at which we have arrived, M. Arnault had produced -his tragedy of _Lucrèce._ The play falling flat, the author laid its -want of success at Mademoiselle Raucourt's door.... It is known that -this famous actress's aversion to men was not entirely imputed to -virtuous causes. However that may be, later, we shall have to speak -of Mademoiselle Raucourt in connection with her pupil, Mademoiselle -Georges. - -M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very -amusing manner, in his memoirs entitled _Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire_, -the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an -Ossianic tragedy, called _Oscar_, which was very successful, and which -he dedicated to Bonaparte; then _les Vénitiens,_ the catastrophe of -which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people -would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good -people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of -Ducis's _Othello_, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, -according to the choice of the spectators. _Les Vénitiens_ was a -tremendous success. - -While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, -under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into -his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it -was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, the _Roi d'Yvetot._ -Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and -retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted -with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave -a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed -nearly all his fables, a charming collection but little known, as -very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going -to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these -three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, -I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case -of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about -to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams. - - LE COLIMAÇON - - "Sans amis comme sans famille, - Ici-bas, vivre en étranger; - Se retirer dans sa coquille, - Au signal du moindre danger; - S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes, - De soi seul emplir sa maison; - En sortir, selon la saison, - Pour faire à son prochain les cornes - Signaler ses pas destructeurs - Par les traces les plus impures; - Outrager les plus belles fleurs - Par ses baisers ou ses morsures; - Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison, - Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste; - C'est l'histoire de l'égoiste - Ou celle du colimaçon." - - - LE DROIT DE CHACUN - - "Un jour, le roi des animaux - Défendit, par une ordonnance, - A ses sujets, à ses vassaux, - De courir sans une licence - Sur quelque bête que ce soit; - Promettant, il est vrai, de conserver le droit - A quiconque en usait pour motif honnête. - Tigres, loups et renards, de présenter requête - A Sa Majesté: loups, pour courir le mouton, - Renards, pour courir le chapon, - Tigres, pour courir toute bête. - Parmi les députés, qui criaient à tue-tête, - Un chien s'égosillait à force d'aboyer. - 'Plaise à Sa Majesté, disait-il, m'octroyer - Droit de donner la chasse, en toute circonstance, - A tous les animaux vivant de ma substance. - --Gentilshommes, à vous permis de giboyer, - Dit, s'adressant au tigre, au loup, au renard même - Des forêts le maître suprême - Aux chasseurs tels que vous permis de déployer, - Même chez leurs voisins, leurs efforts, leurs astuces; - Mais néant au placet du chien!' - Que réclamait, pourtant, ce roturier-ta?--Rien, - Que le droit de tuer ses puces." - - - LES DEUX BAMBOUS - - "L'an passé--c'était l'an quarante,-- - L'an passé, le Grand Turc disait au grand vizir: - 'Quand, pour régner sous moi, je daignai te choisir, - Roustan, je te croyais d'humeur bien différente. - Roustan met son plus grand plaisir. - A me contrarier; quelque ordre que je donne, - Au lieu d'obéir, il raisonne; - Toujours des _si,_ toujours des _mais_; - Il défend ce que je permets: - Ce que je défends, il l'ordonne. - A rien ne tient qu'ici je ne te fasse voir - A quel point je suis las de ces façons de faire! - Va-t'en! Qu'on fasse entrer mon grand eunuque noir - C'est celui-là qui connaît son affaire, - C'est lui qui, toujours complaisant, - Sans jamais m'étourdir de droit ni de justice, - N'ayant de loi que mon caprice, - Sait me servir en m'amusant. - Jamais ce ton grondeur, jamais cet air sinistre! - Ainsi que tout désir, m'épargnant tout travail, - Il conduirait l'empire aussi bien qu'un sérail. - J'en veux faire un premier ministre. - --En fait de politique et de gouvernement, - Sultan, dit le vizir, chacun a son système: - Te plaire est le meilleur; le mien, conséquemment, - Est mauvais.... Toutefois, ne pourrais-je humblement, - Te soumettre un petit problème? - --Parle.--Ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui. - Que péniblement je me traîne, - Vieux et cassé, sultan, dans ma marche incertaine, - Ma faiblesse a besoin d'appui. - Or, j'ai deux roseaux de la Chine: - Plus ferme qu'un bâton, l'un ne sait pas plier, - L'autre, élégant, léger, droit comme un peuplier, - Est plus souple qu'une badine. - Lequel choisir?--Lequel?... Roustan, je ne crois pas - Qu'un flexible bambou puisse assurer nos pas. - --Tu le crois! lorsque tu m'arraches - Ton sceptre affermi par mes mains, - Pour le livrer à des faquins - Sans caractere et sans moustaches.' - - Rois, vos ministres sont, pour vous, - Ce qu'est, pour nous, le jonc dont l'appui nous assiste, - Je le dis des vizirs ainsi que des bambous, - On ne peut s'appuyer que sur ce qui résiste." - -If you read, one after the other, M. Arnault's one hundred and fifty -fables, you will find throughout, the same ease, the same touch, the -same carping spirit. When you have read them, you will certainly not -say of the author, "He is a delightful person," but you will assuredly -say, "He is an honest man." - -In 1815 M. Arnault was exiled. Why? For so slight a reason that no one -bothered even to think of it; his name was on the list, and that was -all! But who signed that list? Louis XVIII., formerly Monsieur--that is -to say, the very same Comte de Provence under whose protection the poet -had begun his career, and to whom he had dedicated his _Marius._ - -Now, although there was no reason for M. Arnault's exile, party spirit -invented one and said that he was proscribed as a regicide. There were, -however, two sufficient reasons why this could not be: first, because -M. Arnault did not belong to the Convention; secondly, because in 1792 -and 1793 he was abroad. Nevertheless, the rumour was tacitly accepted, -and soon nobody doubted that M. Arnault was exiled on that ground. - -M. Arnault sent _Germanicus_ from Brussels: it was played on the -22nd of March 1817, and forbidden the following day. During the -representation the tragedy shifted from the stage to the pit, where a -terrible fight took place, in which several people were hurt and one -even killed. The battle was waged between the Life Guards and the -partisans of the late Government. The weapon that was generally made -use of in this skirmish was that kind of bamboo upon which Roustan, -the Grand Turk's first vizir, whose grievances we have just heard, was -wont to lean. One can understand that the thicker and less pliable they -were, the better they served for defence and for attack. From the date -of that fray these canes were dubbed "_Germanicus"_ Angry feelings -waxed strong at this period. The day but one after the representation, -Martainville published a scurrilous article attacking M. Arnault's -private honour. This article, which was the result of a blow given the -critic by Telleville, led to a duel in which, as we said above, the -journalist had his thigh bruised by a bullet. - -_Germanicus_ was revived later. We were present at the revival; -but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a -success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added -a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature--a bitterness which cropped out -on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by -the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand -francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house -in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder -sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault -found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than -before he had inherited that sum. - -M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every -occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the -Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait -had been exhibited in the last Salon. - -Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's -wit, but also his very nature:-- - - VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR - - "Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix; - Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes, - En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois, - J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes." - - POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN - - "Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde, - Je suis votre humble serviteur; - Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœur - Ne s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde." - - - SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON[1] - - "Il est altéré de vin; - Il est altéré de gloire; - Il ne prend jamais en vain - Sa pinte ou son écritoire. - Des flots qu'il en fait couler, - Abreuvant plus d'un délire. - Il écrit pour se soûler, - Il se soûle pour écrire." - - - POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN - - "Je n'attaque jamais en traître, - Je caresse sans intérêt, - Je mords parfois, mais à regret: - Bon chien se forme sur son maître." - - - POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME - - "Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain, - En triompher est peu possible: - L'épée en main il est terrible, - Terrible il est la plume en main; - Et pour se battre et pour écrire, - Nul ne saurait lui ressembler; - Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire, - Il écrit à faire trembler." - -No matter what were his troubles, M. Arnault had always worshipped -dogs. Out of fifty of his fables, more than twenty have these -interesting quadrupeds for their heroes. When I was honoured by an -introduction into the private life of his family, the gate was guarded -by a horrible beast, half pug, half poodle, called Ramponneau. M. -Arnault never stirred without this dog: he had him in his study while -he worked, in his garden when he took his walks there. Only the king's -highway was denied him by M. Arnault, for fear of poisoned meat. M. -Arnault himself superintended his dog's education, and on one point -he was inexorable. Ramponneau would persist in committing ill manners -in his study. Directly the sight and the odour revealed the crime -committed, Ramponneau was seized by his flanks and the skin of his -neck, conducted to the spot where the indiscretion had been committed -and soundly thrashed. After this, Ramponneau's nose was rubbed in the -subject-matter of his crime, according to an old custom, the origin -of which is lost in the deeps of time--an operation to which he -submitted with visible repugnance. These daily faults and the ensuing -chastenings went on for nearly two months, and M. Arnault began to -fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this point, although he -learnt a crowd of pleasing tricks, such as feigning death, standing to -attention, smoking a pipe, leaping to honour the Emperor. I ask pardon -for the word "uneducatible." I could not find the word I wanted, so I -made one up. M. Arnault, I repeat, began to fear that Ramponneau was -uneducatible on this one point, when, one day, Ramponneau, who had -just committed his usual crime, seeing his master was far too much -absorbed in his tragedy of _Guillaume de Nassau_ to perceive what -had just happened, went and pulled at the hem of his dressing-gown. -M. Arnault turned round: Ramponneau jumped up two or three times to -attract his attention; then, when he was quite sure he had arrested it, -he went straight to the spot which we have termed the subject-matter of -his crime, and rubbed his nose in, purely of his own accord, without -any compulsion, certainly with evident repugnance, but with touching -resignation. The poor beast was deceived. He had thought that the -whippings and punishment which followed the crime had had no other end -than to teach him to rub his nose in the object in question of his own -accord. Ramponneau's education was completely at fault, and he kept -this defect all his life, the muzzle he was provided with making very -little difference to his habit. - -I have already referred to M. Arnault's remarkable gift of swift and -witty repartee. I will give two instances of it now, and others in -their due place and season later, as we come across them. - -One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A -young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of -his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. -Arnault, who was not a patient man. - -"You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?" - -"What did you say,--blackguard?" exclaimed the young man. - -"Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault. - -"Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my -address!" - -"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to." - -Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without -saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; -besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that -time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round. - -"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not -salute me."[2] - -"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the -Gospel: _Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."_[3] - -I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame -Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she -was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, -full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for -five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the -reader shall judge when the time comes. - - -[1] The Abbé Geoffrey. - -[2] Et qui ne me salue pas. - -[3] Hors de l'Église, pas de salut! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent--Choruses of the various -plays, sung as prologues and epilogues--Transformation of the -vaudeville--The Gymnase and M. Scribe--The _Folle de Waterloo_ - - -Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric -Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the -Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration -as a refusal. - -I shall often return to, and speak much of Soulié: he was one of the -most powerful literary influences of the day, and his personality was -one of the most marked I have known. He died young. He died, not only -in the full tide of his talent, but even before he had produced the -perfect and finished work he would certainly have created, some day -or other, had not death hastened its footsteps. Soulié's brain was a -little confused and obscure; his thoughts were only lighted up on one -side, after the fashion of this planet; the reverse side to the one -illuminated by the sun was pitifully dark. Soulié did not know how to -begin either a novel or a drama. The opening explanation of his work -was done hap-hazard: sometimes in the first act, sometimes in the -last, if it were a play; if it were a novel, sometimes in the first, -sometimes in the last volume. His introduction, timidly begun, nearly -always was laboriously unravelled. It seemed as though, like those -night birds which need the darkness to develop all their faculties, -Soulié was not at ease save in twilight. - -I was for ever quarrelling with him on this point. As he was gifted -with unrivalled imagination and power, when he was on the warpath, -I used to beseech him continually to let in the utmost possible -daylight at the beginning of his action. "Be clear to the verge of -transparency," I continually said to him. "God's greatness consists in -His making of light; without light, we should not have known how to -appreciate the sublime grandeur of creation." - -Soulié was twenty-six when I first knew him. He was a lusty young -man, of medium height, but capitally proportioned; he had a prominent -forehead; dark hair, eyebrows and beard; a well-shaped nose and full -eyes; thick lips and white teeth. He laughed readily, although it was -never a fresh young laugh. It sounded ironical and strident, which gave -it the quality of age. Being naturally of a bantering disposition, -irony was a weapon he could wield admirably. - -He had tried his hand at most things, and he retained some slight -knowledge of everything he had done. After having received an excellent -education in the provinces, I believe he studied law at Rheims, to -which we owe the admirable description of student's life in his book -entitled _Confession générale._ He passed his legal examinations and -was called to the Bar; but he did not take kindly to the profession. -Rather than follow that very liberal avocation, he preferred a -mercantile calling. This aversion led to his developing the notion of a -big steam sawmill in 1824 or 1825. - -In the meantime, Soulié (who then signed himself Soulié de Lavelanet) -lived upon a small allowance his father made him a hundred louis, as -far as I am able to remember. He lived in the rue de Provence, on the -first floor, in a bewitching room that seemed a palace to us. There -was, above all else, a most unwonted luxury in this room, a piano on -which Soulié could play two or three tunes. He was both very radical -and very aristocratic, two qualities which often went together at that -period: see, for example, Carrel, whom we have already seen in the -Béfort affair, and who will reappear on the scene presently, after the -amnesty to be accorded by Charles X. on his accession to the throne. - -Soulié was brave, without being quarrelsome; but he had the -sensitiveness both of the student and of the Southerner. He was -passably skilful as a swordsman and a first-rate shot. - -Soulié at first thought me a worthless lad, of no importance; and it -was quite natural he should. He was astonished and almost overwhelmed -by my early successes. By that time I knew Soulié as he was; jealous -almost to envy, but, by reason of the strong kindliness of his good and -upright heart, able to keep all the evil tendencies of his character -under control. A constant struggle was waged within him between good -and bad principles, and yet not once perhaps did the evil principle get -the better of him. He very often tried to hate me, but never managed to -succeed: very often, when he set out to run me down in conversation, -he would end by praising me. And, as a matter of fact, I was the man -who hampered his career more than any other: in the theatre, in the -newspapers, in the matter of books, I was everywhere in his path, doing -him involuntary but actual damage everywhere; and, in spite of this, -I was so certain of Soulié, and so sure of his supreme justice and -goodness of heart, that, if I had needed any act of service, I should -have gone to Soulié to ask it of him, rather than of any other--and he -would have rendered me this service, more readily than any other person -would. - -At first Soulié turned his attention towards poetry. It was in the -domain of poetry, I believe, that he looked to make his conquests. His -first stage-play was an imitation of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ -I never experienced greater emotion than that which I felt at the first -representation of this play. - -We were often months or a year without seeing each other; but when -fate turned us face to face, no matter how far off we might be, we -each walked straight to the other's heart and open arms. Perhaps, -before catching sight of me, Soulié had not particularly cared to meet -me; perhaps, had someone told him, "Dumas is over there," he would -have made a detour; but, directly he caught sight of me, the electric -current dominated his will and he was mine, body and soul, as though -never a single jealous thought had crossed his mind. It was different -with regard to Hugo or Lamartine: he did not like them, and he rarely -spoke impartially of their talent. I feel convinced that it was Hugo's -_Odes et Ballades_ and Lamartine's _M&ditations_ which led Frédéric -Soulié to write in prose. Rest in peace, friend of my youth, companion -of my first serious efforts, I will depict thee as thou wert; I will -design a statue of thee, not a bust; I will isolate thee; I will place -thee on the pedestal of thy works, so that all those who never knew -thee may take the measure of thy impressive figure; for thou art one -of those who can be studied from all aspects, and who, living or dead, -have no need to be afraid of being placed in a full light. - -At the time of which I am writing, Soulié was linked in literary -friendship with Jules Lefèvre and Latouche,--Latouche, with whom he -quarrelled so fiercely later over _Christine._ In private life, his -chief friend was a tall, stout fellow called David, who was at that -time, and may still be, a stockbroker. I do not know whether Soulié was -his only friend; but I believe that on the Exchange he made not a few -enemies. - -When we went to see Soulié, he was entertaining a dozen of his friends -to tea, cake and sandwiches. Such luxuries quite dazzled me. Soulié was -conscious of his own powers, and this rendered him extremely scornful -towards second-rate literature. In his efforts to poach upon other -writers' preserves, until the time came when he could do better than -they, he treated certain contemporary celebrities, whose positions I -envied greatly, with lofty off-handedness. He proposed, he said, to -publish an Almanac for the coming year, 1824, entitled the _Parfait -Vaudevilliste_, which should consist of ready-made verses from old -soldiers and young colonels. Among these verses from old soldiers were -some of the first order, and the following may be taken as a model: it -is one which Gontier sang in _Michel et Christine_, and for which he -was enthusiastically applauded nightly:-- - - "Sans murmurer, - Votre douleur amère, - Frapp'rait mes yeux, plutôt tout endurer! - Moi, j'y suis fait, c'est mon sort ordinaire; - Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire, - Sans murmurer!" - -There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of -representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current -events, and these found a fitting place in the _Parfait Vaudevilliste._ -Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. -Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his -collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the -choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what -period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard -waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and -legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the -names of their begetters. - -These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He -placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty -ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used -a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from the _Barbier -châtelain_, by Théaulon: to every man his due. - - "Bonne nuit! - Bonne nuit! - Ça soulage, - En voyage. - Bonne nuit! - Bonne nuit! - Retirons-nous sans bruit." - -This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to -hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, -of Brazier and Courcy, in the _Parisien à Londres,_ was also not devoid -of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it -was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair -number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised -during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a -lively curiosity among the audience. - -So the audience sang:-- - - "Nous allons voir juger - Cet étranger, - Qui fut bien léger!... - A l'audience, - On défend l'innocence, - Et l'on sait la venger." - -The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, -left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:-- - - "Nous _avons vu_ juger - Cet étranger, - Qui fut bien léger!... - A l'audience, - On défend l'innocence, - Et l'on sait la venger." - -But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres -than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus -of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the -table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers. - -They sang this:-- - - "Quel repas - Plein d'appas, - Où, gai convive, - L'Amour arrive!... - Quel repas - Plein d'appas! - On n'en fait pas - De pareils ici-bas!" - -In spite of the holy laws of propriety, more respected, one knows, -among dramatic authors than in any other class of society, Adolphe -one day allowed himself the liberty of using this couplet and had the -audacity to put it in one of his plays, without troubling to change -it one single iota. There is quite a long story about this: Adolphe, -threatened with a lawsuit by Dumanoir, was only able to settle matters -by offering a chorus for dancers in exchange for the drinking chorus. - -This is de Leuven's chorus: it will be seen that if Dumanoir did not -gain much through this, he did not lose much by it:-- - - "A la danse, - A la danse, - Allons, amis, que l'on séance! - Entendez-vous du bal - Les gais accords, le doux signal?..." - -Dumanoir faithfully adhered to the agreement, but only used the chorus -once; then he returned it to Adolphe, who, on regaining possession, -continued to use his chorus, to the great satisfaction of the audience. - -All these choruses, however, pale before that of _Jean de Calais_. This -was by Émile Vanderburch, one of the authors of the _Gamin de Paris_, -and it concluded the play. It runs thus:-- - - "Chantons les hauts faits - De Jean de Calais! - On dira, dans l'histoire, - Qu'il a mérité - Sa gloire - Et sa félicité!..." - -Indeed, a great revolution was taking place at this time in comic -opera; and this revolution was brought about by a man who has since -proscribed others as revolutionists. We refer to Scribe, who, in the -literary revolution of 1820 to 1828, played pretty nearly the rôle the -Girondists played in the political revolution of 1792 and 1793. - -Before Scribe, comic operas (with the exception of the delightful -sketches of Désaugiers) were hardly more than bare skeletons, left for -the actors to clothe as they liked. Nowadays the great thing is to -create rôles for M. Arnal, M. Bouffé, or Mademoiselle Rose Chéri, but -at that time no one thought of creating a rôle for M. Potier, M. Brunet -or M. Perrin. M. Perrin, M. Brunet or M. Potier found their rôles -outlined for them at the first rehearsal, and made them what they were -at the first representation. - -Scribe was the first author to make plays instead of outline sketches. -Plots developed in his clever hands, and so, in three or four years, -the Théâtre du Gymnase attained its full growth. It was not modelled on -any other company, but created what might well be called M. Scribe's -company: it was composed almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, -old soldiers and faithful servants. Never had such widows been seen, -never such colonels; never had old soldiers spoken thus; never had -such devoted servants been met with. But the company of the Gymnase, -as M. Scribe created it, became the fashion, and the direct patronage -of Madame la Duchesse de Berry contributed not a little towards the -fortune made by the manager, and to the author's reputation. The form -of verse itself was changed. The old airs of our fathers, who had been -satisfied with the gay repetition of _lon, lon, la, larira dondaine,_ -and the _gai, gai, larira dondé,_ were abandoned for the more -artificially mannered comic opera, pointed epigrams and long-drawn-out, -elegantly turned verses. When the situation became touching, eight or -ten lines would express the feelings of the character, borrowing charm -from the music, and sighing declarations of love, for which prose had -ceased to suffice. In short, a charming little bastard sprang into -being, of which, to use a village expression, M. Scribe was both father -and godfather, and which was neither the old vaudeville, nor comic -opera, nor comedy. - -The models of the new style were the _Somnambule, Michel et Christine_, -the _Héritière_, the _Mariage de raison, Philippe_ and _Marraine._ -Later, some vaudevilles went a degree farther; for example, the -_Chevalier de Saint-Georges, un Duel sous Richelieu,_ the _Vie de -bohème._ These bordered on comedy, and could at a pinch be played -without lines. Other changes will be pointed out, so far as they -affected the arts. Let us briefly state here that we had entered into -the age of transition. In 1818, Scribe began by the vaudeville; from -1818 to 1820 Hugo and Lamartine appeared in the literary world, the -former with his _Odes et Ballades_, the latter with his _Méditations,_ -the first attempts of the new poetry; from 1820 to 1824 Nodier -published novels of a kind which introduced a fresh type--namely, the -picturesque; from 1824 to 1828 it was the turn of painting to attempt -fresh styles; finally, from 1828 to 1835, the revolution spread to the -dramatic world, and followed almost immediately on the footsteps of the -historical and imaginative novel. Thus the nineteenth century, freed -from parental restraint, assumed its true colour and originality. Of -course it will be understood that, as I was so closely associated with -all the great artists and all the great sculptors of the time, each -of them will come into these Memoirs in turn; they will constitute a -gigantic gallery wherein every illustrious name shall have its living -monument. - -Let us return to Soulié. We had reached the date when his first -piece of poetry had the honour of print: it was called the _Folk de -Waterloo_, and had been written at the request of Vatout, for the work -he produced on the Gallery of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that -Soulié read it to us. Here it is: we give it in order to indicate the -point of departure of all our great poets. When we take note of the end -to which they have attained, we can measure the distance traversed. -Probably some contemporary grumblers will tell us it matters very -little where they started or where they ended: to such we would reply -that we are not merely writing for the year 1851 or the year 1852, but -for the sacred future which seizes chisel, brush, and pen as they drop -from the hands of the illustrious dead. - - - LA FOLLE DE WATERLOO - - "Un jour, livrant mon âme à la mélancolie, - J'avais porté mes pas errants - Dans ces prisons où la folie - Est offerte en spectacle aux yeux indifférents. - C'était à l'heure qui dégage - Quelques infortunés des fers et des verrous; - Et mon cœur s'étonnait d'écouter leur langage, - Où se mêlaient les pleurs, le rire et le courroux. - - Tandis que leur gardien les menace ou les raille, - Une femme paraît pâle et le front penché; - Sa main tient l'ornement qui, les jours de bataille. - Brille au cou des guerriers sur l'épaule attaché, - Et de ses blonds cheveux s'échappe un brin de paille - A sa couche arrache - - En voyant sa jeunesse et le morne délire, - Qui doit, par la prison, la conduire au tombeau, - Je me sends pleurer.... Elle se prit à rire, - Et cria lentement:'Waterloo! Waterloo!' - - 'Quel malheur t'a donc fait ce malheur de la France?' - Lui dis-je.... Et son regard craintif - Ou, sans voir la raison, je revis l'espérance, - S'unit pour m'appeler à son geste furtif. - - 'Français, parle plus has, dit-elle. Oh! tu m'alarmes! - Peut-être ces Anglais vont étouffer ta voix; - Car c'est à Waterloo que, la première fois, - Adolphe m'écouta sans répondre à mes larmes. - - 'Lorsque, dans ton pays, la guerre s'allumait, - Il me quitta pour elle, en disant qu'il m'aimait; - C'est là le seul adieu dont mon cœur se souvienne ... - La gloire l'appelait, il a suivi sa loi; - Et, comme son amour n'était pas tout pour moi, - Il servit sa patrie, et j'oubliai la mienne! - - 'Et, quand je voulus le chercher, - Pour le voir, dans le sang il me fallut marcher; - J'entendais de longs cris de douleur et d'alarmes; - La lune se leva sur ce morne tableau; - J'aperçus sur le sol des guerriers et des armes, - Et des Anglais criaient: "Waterloo! Waterloo!" - - 'Et moi, fille de l'Angleterre, - Indifférente aux miens qui dormaient sur la terre, - J'appelais un Français, et pleurais sans remords ... - Tout à coup, une voix mourante et solitaire - S'éleva de ce champ des morts: - - "Adolphe?" me dit-on. "Des héros de la garde - Il était le plus brave et marchait avec nous; - Nous combattions ici.... Va, baisse-toi, regarde, - Tu l'y retrouveras, car nous y sommes tous!" - - 'Je tremblais de le voir et je le vis lui-même.... - Dis-moi quel est ce mal qu'on ne peut exprimer? - Ses yeux, sous mes baisers, n'ont pu se ranimer.... - Oh! comme j'ai souffert à cette heure suprême; - Car il semblait ne plus m'aimer! - - Et puis ... je ne sais plus!... Connaît-il ma demeure? - Jadis, quand il venait, il venait tous les jours! - Et sa mère, en pleurant, accusait nos amours.... - Hélas! il ne vient plus, et pourtant elle pleure! - - La folle vers la porte adresse alors ses pas, - Attache à ses verrous un regard immobile, - M'appelle à ses côtés, et, d'une voix débile: - 'Pauvre Adolphe, dit-elle, en soupirant tout bas; - Comme il souffre!... il m'attend, puisqu'il ne revient pas!' - - Elle dit, dans les airs la cloche balancée - Apprit à la douleur que l'heure était passée - D'espérer que ses maux, un jour, pourraient finir. - La folle se cachait; mais, dans le sombre asile - Où, jeune, elle portait un si long avenir, - A la voix des gardiens d'où la pitié s'exile, - Seule, il lui fallut revenir. - - 'Adieu! je ne crains pas qu'un Français me refuse, - Dit-elle, en me tendant la main; - Si tu le vois, là-bas, qui vient sur le chemin; - D'un aussi long retard si son amour s'accuse, - Dis-lui que je le plains, dis-lui que je l'excuse, - Dis-lui que je l'attends demain!'" - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The Duc d'Orléans--My first interview with him--Maria-Stella-Chiappini ---Her attempts to gain rank--Herhistory--The statement of the Duc -d'Orléans--Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza ---Rectification of Maria-Stella'scertificate of birth - - -I had been installed nearly a month at the office, to the great -satisfaction of Oudard and of M. de Broval (who, thanks to my beautiful -handwriting, thought that M. Deviolaine had been too hard on me), -when the former sent word by Raulot that he wanted me in his office. -I hastened to respond to the invitation. Oudard looked very solemn. -"My dear Dumas," he said, "M. le Duc d'Orléans has just asked me for -someone to copy quickly and neatly a piece of work he has prepared -for his counsel. Although there is nothing secret about it, you must -understand that it will not do to have the papers left about in the -office while being copied. I thought of you, because you write rapidly -and correctly: it will be the means of bringing you before the duke. I -am going to take you into his room." - -I must confess I felt greatly excited on learning that I was about to -find myself face to face with a man whose influence might be of much -importance in the shaping of my destiny. - -Oudard noticed the effect this news produced on me, and tried to -reassure me by telling me of the perfect kindness of the duke. This did -not at all prevent me from feeling very nervous as I approached His -Royal Highness's room. I had a moment's respite, for His Royal Highness -was at breakfast; but I soon heard a step that I guessed was his, -and fear seized me once more. The door opened, and the Duc d'Orléans -appeared. I had seen him already, once or twice, at Villers-Cotterets, -when he came to the sale of the woods. I believe I said that he stayed -then with M. Collard, from whom he was the recipient of the most lavish -hospitality imaginable, although, so far as he himself was concerned, -the Duc d'Orléans always tried to restrain hospitality offered him -within the limits of a simple family visit. - -M. le Duc d'Orléans had, as a matter of fact, the good feeling to -recognise almost publicly his illegitimate relations: he had his two -natural uncles--the two abbés Saint-Phar and Saint-Albin--living with -him at the Palais-Royal, and he did not make any distinction between -them and the other members of his family. - -The prince would be fifty years old the following October: he was -still a very good-looking man, though his figure was marred by his -stoutness, which had increased during the past ten years; his face was -frank, his eyes bright and intelligent, without depth or steadfastness; -he was fluently affable, but nevertheless his words never lost their -aristocratic savour unless his sole interest were to conciliate a vain -citizen; he had a pleasant voice, which in his good-humoured moments -was usually kind in tone; and, when he was in the mood, he could be -heard, even a long way off, singing the mass in a voice almost as -out of tune as that of Louis XV. I have since heard him sing the -_Marseillaise_ as falsely as he sang the mass. To make a long story -short, I was presented to him: not much ceremony was observed in my -case. - -"Monseigneur, this is M. Dumas, of whom I have spoken to you, the -protégé of General Foy." - -"Oh, good!" replied the duke. "I was delighted to do something to -please General Foy, who recommended you very warmly to me, monsieur. -You are the son of a brave man, whom Bonaparte is said to have left -almost to die of starvation." - -I bowed in token of affirmation. - -"You write a very good hand, you make and seal envelopes excellently; -work, and M. Oudard will look after you." - -"In the meantime," Oudard interposed, "Monseigneur wishes to entrust -you with an important piece of work: His Highness desires it to be done -promptly and correctly." - -"I will not leave it until it is finished," I replied, "and I will do -my utmost to be as accurate as His Highness requires." - -The duke made a sign to Oudard, as much as to say, "Not bad for a -country lad." - -Then, going before me, he said-- - -"Come into this room and sit down at that table." - -And with these words he pointed out a desk to me. - -"Here you will be undisturbed." - -He then opened a bundle in which about fifty pages were arranged in -order, covered on both sides with his big handwriting and numbered at -the front of each page. - -"See," he said, "copy from here to there: if you finish before I come -back, you must wait for me; I have several corrections to make in -certain passages, and I will make them as I dictate them to you." - -I sat down and set to work at my task. The work with which I was -entrusted was concerned with an event which had recently made a great -stir, and which could not fail to take up the attention of Paris. This -was the claim made by Maria-Stella-Petronilla Chiappini, Baroness of -Sternberg, to the rank and fortune of the Duc d'Orléans, which she -contended belonged to her. - -Here is the fable upon which her pretension was founded. We give it -from Maria-Stella's point of view, without, be it well understood, -believing for a single instant in the justice of her claim. - -Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans, who was married in 1768, had, -to the beginning of January 1772, only presented her husband, -Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orléans, with a still-born daughter. The -absence of male issue troubled the Duc d'Orléans greatly, as his -fortune, derived chiefly from portions granted him as a younger son, -would, in default of male issue, revert to the Crown. It was with this -in his mind and in the hope that travel might perhaps lead to the -Duchesse d'Orléans being again pregnant, that Louis-Philippe and his -wife set out for Italy, in the early part of the year 1772, under the -name of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville. - -I repeat for the last time, that throughout this narrative it is not I -who am speaking, but the claimant, Maria-Stella-Petronilla. - -Well, the august travellers had scarcely reached the top of the -Apennines before symptoms of a fresh pregnancy declared themselves, -which caused the Duchesse d'Orléans to stay at Modigliana. - -In the village of Modigliana there was a prison, and a gaoler to watch -over the prison. The gaoler was called Chiappini. M. le Duc d'Orléans, -faithful to his traditions of familiarity with the people, became on -still more easy terms with the gaoler as the intimacy took place under -cover of his incognito. There was, besides, a reason for the intimacy. -Chiappini's wife was expecting her confinement just at the same time -as Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans. A treaty was accordingly entered into -between the illustrious travellers and the humble gaoler, to the effect -that should Madame la Comtesse de Joinville by chance give birth to -a girl, and the wife of Chiappini to a boy, the two mothers should -exchange their two children. - -Fate ordained matters as the parents had foreseen: the gaoler's wife -gave birth to a boy, the prince's wife gave birth to a girl; and the -agreed exchange was made, the prince handing over a considerable sum to -the gaoler as well. - -The child destined to play the part of prince was then transported -to Paris, and although he was born as far back as 17 April 1773, the -fact was kept secret till 6 October, on which date it was declared, -and the child was baptized by the almoner of the Palais-Royal, in the -presence of the parish priest and of two valets. In the meantime, the -duchess's daughter, left in Italy, was brought up there under the name -of Maria-Stella-Petronilla. The rest of the story can be guessed. -Nevertheless, we will give it in detail. Maria-Stella did not know -the story of her birth until after the death of the gaoler Chiappini. -She had a melancholy childhood. The gaoler's wife, who regretted her -son and who was for ever reproaching her husband for the agreement -made, rendered the child's life very miserable. The young girl was, it -seems, extremely beautiful, and at the age of seventeen she made such a -deep impression upon Lord Newborough, one of the wealthiest noblemen -of England, who was passing through Modigliana, that he married her -almost in spite of herself, and took her away to London. She was left -a widow very young, with several children,--one of whom is now a peer -of England,--but she soon married the Baron de Sternberg, who took her -away to St. Petersburg, where she presented him with a son. - -One day, the Baroness de Sternberg, who was almost separated from her -husband, received a letter with an Italian postmark; she opened it -and read the following lines, written by the hand of the man whom she -believed to be her father:-- - - "MILADY,--I have at last reached the close of my life, - without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely - concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:-- - - "The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name - I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this - life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked - to make an exchange, and taking into consideration - the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I - consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made - to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and - at the same time the other person adopted my son. I - perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since - you are placed in a higher station in life than your - father--though he was in almost the same rank--and it is - this reflection which allows me to die with some degree - of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you - may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your - forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to - keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be - able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter - will not even be sent you until after my death. LAURENT - CHIAPPINI" - -Upon receipt of this letter, Maria-Stella at once prepared to travel -to Italy. She did not agree with the gaoler Chiappini in thinking the -matter irremediable: she wished to know who was her true father. She -gathered information wherever she could find it, and at length she -learned that in 1772--in other words, a year before her birth--two -French travellers arrived at Modigliana, and remained there until the -month of April 1773. These two travellers called themselves the Comte -and Comtesse de Joinville. Upon this slight clue, the Baroness de -Sternberg set off to France, and began by visiting the little town of -Joinville, whose name her father bore. Here she learnt that Joinville -had once been an inheritance belonging to the Orléans family, and that -Duc Louis-Philippe-Joseph, who had been travelling in Italy in 1772, -had died upon the scaffold in 1793. - -Only his son, the Duc d'Orléans, was left (the two younger brothers -having died, the Duc de Montpensier in England and the Duc de -Beaujolais at Malta), the inheritor of the whole of his father's -wealth. He lived in Paris, and he was the only prince of the blood of -the house of Orléans. - -Maria-Stella left immediately for Paris, made useless efforts to gain -access to the duke himself, gave herself into the hands of intriguing -persons who exploited her cause, to business men who cheated her, and -ended by writing to the papers, stating that the Baroness de Sternberg, -who was the bearer of a communication of the greatest importance to -the heirs of the Comte de Joinville, had arrived in Paris, and desired -to acquaint them with this communication at the earliest possible -opportunity. - -The Duc d'Orléans did not wish to receive this communication direct; -neither did he desire to have recourse to the agency of a business man: -he commissioned his uncle, the old Abbé of Saint-Phar, to call on the -baroness.[1] Then everything was laid bare, and the duke discovered -the whole plot that was being weaved about him. Learning that, whether -from honest belief or from cupidity, Maria-Stella seriously meant to -pursue her cause, and that she was going to return to Italy to furnish -herself with documents wherewith to establish her identity, he hastened -to take the precaution of preparing a memoir, intended for his counsel, -to refute the fabrication by the aid of which Maria-Stella intended to -take away his rank and his fortune, or at all events to make him pay -for the right to keep them. In the meantime, she was appealing to the -Duchesse d'Angoulême as the likeliest person to harbour the liveliest -feelings of resentment against the Orléans family. - -It was this memoir that I was called upon to copy. I must own that I -did not transcribe it without reading it, although my total ignorance -of history left many points obscure to me in the prince's refutation. -Not only was this paper based upon fact, but it was written with that -customary power of reasoning which the Duc d'Orléans was noted for -exercising, even in minor matters of diplomacy. He employed counsel for -form's sake only, for he himself drew up not merely notes on the case -he wished to prove, but lengthy statements, which roused the admiration -of the celebrated barrister Me. Dupin, to whom they were always sent. - -I came to the end of the portion the duke had told me to write, after a -couple of hours' work; so I put down my work and waited. When the duke -returned, he came to the table at which I was writing, picked up my -copy, made a gesture indicative of his approval of my handwriting, but -almost immediately afterwards said-- - -"Oh! oh! you have a punctuation of your own, I see;" and taking a pen, -he sat down at a corner of the table and began to punctuate my copy -according to the rules of grammar. - -The duke flattered me highly by saying I had a punctuation of my -own. I knew no more about punctuation than about anything else: I -punctuated according to my fancy, or rather, I did not punctuate at -all. To this day, I only punctuate on my proofs: I believe you could -take up any of my manuscripts hap-hazard and run through a whole volume -without finding a single exclamation mark, or an acute accent or a -grave accent. After the duke had read the statement and corrected my -punctuation, he got up and, walking up and down, dictated to me the -part he wanted to correct. I wrote almost as quickly as he dictated, -which seemed to please him extremely. I reached this sentence: "And if -there were nothing else but the _striking resemblance which exists -between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis -XIV._, would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the -falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?" - -Although, as I have previously stated, I was not very well read in -history, yet in this matter I knew quite enough (as they say in -duelling of a man who has had three months' training in a fencing -school) to make a fool of myself--that is to say, I knew that M. le Duc -d'Orléans was descended from Monsieur, that Monsieur was the son of -Louis XIII. and brother of Louis XIV., and that, consequently, Louis -XIV., being Monsieur's brother, could not be the grandfather of the Duc -d'Orléans, who was honouring me by dictating to me a memorandum against -Maria-Stella's claim. So, when he came to these words, "And if there -were nothing else but the _striking resemblance which exists between -the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV."_ I looked -up. It was most impertinent of me! A prince is never mistaken, and in -this instance the prince did not allow himself to be taken in. - -So, the Duc d'Orléans stopped in front of me and said to me, "Dumas, -you should know this: when a person is descended from Louis XIV. even -if only through bastards, it is a sufficiently great honour to boast -about!... Proceed." - -And he resumed: "Would not that likeness alone be sufficient to -demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?..." - -I wrote this time without raising an eye, and I never looked up again -throughout the remainder of the sitting. - -At four o'clock the Duc d'Orléans set me free, asking me if I could -come to work in the evening. - -I replied that I was at His Highness's disposition. I picked up my hat, -I bowed, I went out, I took the stairs four at a time and I ran to find -Lassagne. He chanced to be still at his desk. - -"How can Louis XIV. be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans?" I asked -as soon as I got in, without any preliminary explanation. - -"Good gracious!" he said, "it is plain enough: because the regent -married Mademoiselle de Blois, who was Louis XIV.'s natural daughter by -Madame de Montespan--a marriage that procured him a sound smack in the -face when it was announced by him to the Princess Palatine, Monsieur's -second wife, who thus expressed her feelings at the _mésalliance._ ... -You will find all this in the memoirs of the Princess Palatine and in -Saint-Simon." - -I felt extinguished by the ready and accurate answer given me. - -"Oh!" I said, with downcast head, "I shall never be as learned as that!" - -I finished the copy of the statement by eleven o'clock that same -evening. It was sent next day to M. Dupin, who should have it still, -written in my handwriting. - -We will now finish the story of Maria-Stella. - -When she had threatened the Duc d'Orléans, she returned to Italy, to -hunt up evidence that would establish the authenticity of her birth, -and the substitution of the daughter of the Comtesse de Joinville for -the son of the gaoler Chiappini. - -She did, in fact, obtain the following decree from the Ecclesiastical -Court of Faenza, on 29 May 1824: we will give it for what it is worth, -or rather for what it was worth. This decree is followed by the -official rectification of the birth certificate:-- - - JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA - - "Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, - sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and - His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded - or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any - other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria - Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, - petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles - Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte - Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other - person not present having or claiming an interest in - the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also - the most excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at - Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before - the law;--whereas the petitioner, appearing before this - episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of - the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to - its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to - have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the - insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas - the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the - claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and - whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not - appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by - an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, - according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the - effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its - bearing on the case; - - "In virtue of the acta, etc.;--having heard the - respective defendants, etc.;--Considering that Laurent - Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, - by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after - the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said - petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to - her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of - a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; - that it has been clearly proved by experts that this - letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that - the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is - not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, - presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that - such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a - solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of - his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee - would essay in vain to impair the validity of the - evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention - is made therein as to who were the real father and mother - of the petitioner, seeing that--though such mention is - in effect wanting--recourse has nevertheless been had, - on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, - to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is - written proof, as in the present case, testimonial - proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when - it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a - case of identity, following on the principle of written - proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much - the more should it hold good in this case, where the - demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, - in the question of identity;--considering that it - clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of - the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters - Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte - and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective - children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter - and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in - effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come - to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of - the priory of Modigliana, in the name of _Maria-Stella_, - her parents being falsely declared to be the couple - Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the - date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the - birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons - in support of their cognisance, etc.;--considering that - it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood - of this evidence, since not only is there nothing - impossible in their statements, but they are, on the - contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large - number of other presumptions and conjectures; that - one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour - and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection - with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to - past events, having the value of truth and of full - cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only - by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, - but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique - de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of - Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which - were legally and judicially examined in their places of - origin and before their respective tribunals; that the - vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing - testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is - documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of - the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the - said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to - take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. - Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he - was arrested, and then, after having been detained some - time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken - by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. - le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that - M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial - examination, that, while sorting some old papers of - the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from - Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he - does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' - which stated that the changeling had died, and that any - scruple on its account was now removed;--considering - that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance - in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is - further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes - of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the - exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; - that the petitioner received an education suitable to - her distinguished rank, and not such as would have - been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it - results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, - and from several others contained in the pleadings, - that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of - birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, - and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame - la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, - a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of - the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said - Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead - of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy; - - "Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we - declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as - follows:--that the objections raised by the trustee, the - aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; - and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely - adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April - 1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory - church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, - in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that - Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and - of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and - that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter - of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de - Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also - order that the rectification in question be forthwith - executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, - by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, - Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, - to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and - rectified to all who may demand it, etc.; - - "Preambles pronounced by me:--domestic canon - - "_(Signed)_ VALERIO BORCHI, Pro-Vicar General - - "The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by - these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and - very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting - in public audience, and it has been read and published - by me, the undersigned prothonotary, in the year of our - Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 - May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in - the first year of his pontificate, there being present, - amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. - Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses. - - (_Signed_) ANGE MORIGNY - - "Episcopal Prothonotary General - - "Correction of the Certificate of Birth:-- - - "This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the - holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, - happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, - indiction XII, at Faenza;--the delay of ten days, the - time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the - day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the - Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,--in - the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de - Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that - town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis - and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others - absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, - or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as - well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in - the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered - an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers - given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded - to put the same judgment into execution--namely, the - rectification of the certification of birth produced in - the pleadings of the trial, as follows:-- - - "In the name of God, _Amen_, I the undersigned canon - chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of - Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of - Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese - of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth - book of the birth register, the following notice: - '_Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the - married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, - public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia - Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, - was baptized, on_ 17 _April_ 1773, _by me, Canon - François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather - and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and - Stella Ciabatti_.--Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April - 1824; (_signed_) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I - say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into - execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, - which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms - following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday - of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la - Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,--then - dwelling in the district of Modigliana,--was baptized on - April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the - chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François - Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.' - - "_(Signed)_ ANGE MORIGNY - - "Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"[2] - -Furnished with these documents, the Baroness de Sternberg returned -to Paris towards the close of the year 1824; but, it seems, neither -these documents nor the personages who had set her going inspired -great confidence; for, neither from Louis XVIII.,--who was not very -fond of his cousin, since, under no pretext, would he ever allow him -to be styled Royal Highness, while he reigned, saying that he would be -always quite close enough to the throne,--nor from Charles X., could -she obtain any support in aid of the restitution of her name and of her -estates. - -When Charles X. fell and the Duc d'Orléans became king, matters were -even worse for her. There was no means of appealing from Philip asleep -to Philip awake. Intimidation had no effect; the most determined -enemies of the new king did not wish to soil their hands with -this claim, which they regarded in the light of a conspiracy, and -Maria-Stella remained in Paris, without so much as the notoriety of the -persecution she expected to receive. She lived at the top of the rue -de Rivoli, near the rue Saint-Florentin, on the fifth floor; and in -the absence of two-footed, featherless courtiers, she held a court of -two-clawed feathered creatures which waked the whole rue de Rivoli at -five o'clock in the morning with their chatter. Those of my readers who -live in Paris may perhaps recollect to have seen flocks of impudent -sparrows swooping down, whirling by thousands about the balconied -windows: these three windows were those of Maria-Stella-Petronilla -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, who, in order not to give the lie to -herself, to the end of her life signed herself "Née Joinville." - -She died in 1845, the day after the opening of the Chambers. Her last -words were-- - -"Hand me the paper, that I may read the speech of that villain!" - -She had not been outside her door for five years, for fear, she said, -of being arrested by the king. The poor creature had become almost -mad.... - -About three weeks after I had made the copy of the memorandum -concerning her, M. Oudard called me into his office and informed me -that I had been _placed on the regular staff._ In other words, I was -given a berth at a salary of twelve hundred francs, in reward for my -good handwriting and my cleverness in the matter of making envelopes -and sealing. I had no reason to complain: Béranger had exactly the same -on his entry into the University. - -I sent my mother this good news the same day, begging her to get -ready to come to me as soon as I had received the first payment of my -increased salary. - - -[1] I do not know whether the Abbé de Saint-Phar saw or did not see -Maria-Stella. I merely transcribe the memoirs of that lady. - -[2] The translator is obliged to a legal friend for the version of the -above documents. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The "year of trials"--The case of Potier and the director of -the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin--Trial and condemnation -of Magallon--The anonymous journalist--Beaumarchais sent to -Saint-Lazare--A few words on censorships in general--Trial of -Benjamin Constant--Trial of M. de Jouy--A few words concerning the -author of _Sylla_--Three letters extracted from the _Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin_--Louis XVIII. as author - - -My anxiety to bring my readers along, without interruption, to the -moment when my lot and that of my mother was settled, by my being -placed on the staff as a copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs, has -caused me to pass over a host of events of far greater interest, no -doubt, to strangers, than those I have related, but which--if egotism -may be permitted me--in my own eyes, and to my mind, should take a -secondary place. - -The year 1823, which we might style the "year of trials," opened by the -trial of Potier on 7 January. Those who never saw Potier can form no -conception of the influence this great comedian, who was much admired -by Talma, had on the public; yet the damages and compensation that M. -Serres, the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin, demanded from him, may -give some idea of the value that was put upon him. One morning Potier, -faithful, as M. Étienne would have said, to his _first loves_, took it -into his head to return to the Variétés, a project which he carried -out, it appears, forgetting to ask M. Serres to cancel his engagement -before he left. Now Potier had been acting the part of old Sournois -in _Petites Dandaïdes_, with such success both in the way of applause -and in packed houses, that M. Serres not only refused to sanction this -desertion, but reckoning up the losses which he considered Potier had -caused him by his departure, and would cause him in the future, because -of this same departure, decided, after sending through the sheriffs -officer his account to the famous comedian, to send a duplicate copy -of it to the first Chamber of the Royal Court. The odd thing about the -account was that the manager of the theatre of Porte-Sainte-Martin -claimed absolutely nothing but what was due to him under the terms of -his contract. These are the particulars of his claim:-- - - 1. For each day's delay, reckoning at the - highest receipts taken in the theatre, - from 1 March 1822 to 1 April in - the same year, being at a rate - of three thousand six hundred and - eleven francs ... 144,408 fr. - 2. Restitution of money.. 30,000 " - 3. Amount paid in advance, forfeited. 20,000 " - 4. Damage and compensation.. 60,000 " - 5. For one hundred and twenty-two days - which have expired since the first claim.... 440,542 " - 6. For the seven years and ten months - which remain to run before the end of the - engagement.. 10,322,840 " - 7. Finally, as damages and compensation - in respect of this period of seven years.... 200,000 " - Total. 11,217,790 " - -If the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin had had the misfortune to win -his case, he would have been obliged to pay Potier, in order to notify -the sentence, a registration fee of three to four hundred thousand -francs. - -The Court condemned Potier to resume his engagement within a week's -time: as to damages and compensation, it condemned him, _par corps_, -to pay them according to the estimated scale. Three days later, it -was known that the matter had been settled, less a discount of eleven -million two hundred and seven thousand seven hundred and ninety francs -made by the manager. - -On 8 February it was the turn of Magallon, the chief editor of the -_Album._ Magallon appeared before the seventh Chamber of the Police -Correctional Court, accused of having hidden political articles under -the cloak of literature, with intent to incite hatred and contempt -towards the Government. The Court condemned Magallon to thirteen -months' imprisonment and to pay a fine of two thousand francs. - -It was a monstrous sentence, and it created great uproar; but a far -greater scandal still, or rather, what converted a matter of scandal -into an outrage, was that for this slight literary offence, and on the -pretext that the sentence exceeded one year, Magallon was taken to the -central prison of Poissy, on foot, with his hands bound, tied to a -filthy criminal condemned afresh to penal servitude, who, dead-drunk, -kept yelling unceasingly the whole way, "Long live galley slaves! -honour to, all galley slaves!" - -When they reached Poissy, Magallon was put into prison clothes. From -that evening he had to live on skilly and learn to pick oakum.... We -content ourselves with relating the bare facts; although we cannot -resist adding that they happened under the reign of a prince who -pretended to be a man of letters, since he had ordered a quatrain from -Lemierre and a comedy from Merville.... - -We have already related that M. Arnault, whose _Marius à Minturnes_ had -succeeded, in spite of Monsieur's prediction, paid, in all probability, -for this want of respect for the opinion of His Royal Highness by four -years of exile, on the return of the Bourbons. - -And this was not Louis XVIII.'s first attempt on his _confrères_, -the men of letters. Without mentioning M. de Chateaubriand, whom he -hounded out of the ministry as though he were a lackey,--an act which -caused that worthy gentleman to remark, on receiving his dismissal, -"It is strange, for I have not stolen the king's watch!"--without -counting Magallon, whom he sent to Poissy chained to a scurvy convict; -without counting M. Arnault, whom he banished from the country; there -was, besides, a little story of the same kind in connection with -Beaumarchais. - -More than once has M. Arnault related in my hearing the curious and too -little known history of Beaumarchais' imprisonment. These are the facts. - -There is always a public Censorship, except during the first two or -three months following the accession of princes to the throne, and the -two or three months after they are deposed; but when these three months -have elapsed, the Censorship reappears on the waters after its plunge, -and proceeds to discover some minister, preferably of Liberal or even -Republican tendencies, and to lay a snare for him. - -When the _Mariage de Figaro_ was running its course, M. Suard was -censor, and he was also a journalist. He was one of those who had most -bitterly opposed the representation of Beaumarchais' work, and he -was largely responsible for the fifty-nine journeys--_du marais à la -police_--that the illustrious author made without being able to obtain -leave for his play to be performed. - -At length, thanks to the intervention of the queen and the Comte -d'Artois, the _Folle Journée_, recovered intact out of the claws of -these gentlemen, was played on 27 April 1784. M. Suard was vindictive -both in his capacity as censor and as a journalist; so that if he -could not exercise the Censorship by the use of scissors, he had -recourse to his pen. M. Suard was on very familiar terms with the -Comte de Provence, and he served the Comte de Provence as a screen -when His Royal Highness wished to give vent, incognito, to some petty -literary spite. M. le Comte de Provence detested Beaumarchais almost -as much as did M. Suard himself; the result was that the Comte de -Provence hastened to unburden himself, by means of M. Suard, in the -_Journal de Paris_, against the unfortunate _Mariage de Figaro_, which -continued its successful run, in spite of M. Suard's signed articles -or the anonymous articles of His Royal Highness. In the meantime, -Beaumarchais handed over the sum of about thirty or forty thousand -francs which he received as author's rights in the _Mariage de Figaro_ -to the _association for helping poor foster-mothers._ - -Monsieur, who had not got a child (a less polite chronicler than myself -would say who was incapable of begetting one), and who consequently, -owing to his failing in this respect, had not much sympathy with -_foster-mothers_, indulged himself, always under the cloak of -anonymity, in attacking the man, after having attacked the play, and -wrote a letter against him in the _Journal de Paris_, overflowing with -venomous spleen. Beaumarchais, who thought he recognised this onslaught -as from the hand of M. Suard, proceeded to lash the pedant soundly. -As ill-luck would have it, it was His Royal Highness who received the -tanning intended for the censor's hide. Monsieur, smarting under the -stripes, went with the story of his grievances to Louis XVI., giving -him to understand that Beaumarchais was perfectly well aware that he -was not replying to the royal censor, but to the brother of the king. -Louis XVI.; offended on behalf of Monsieur, commanded the citizen who -dared to take the liberty of chastising a royal personage, regardless -of his rank, to be arrested and taken to a house of correction--not -to the Bastille, that prison being considered too good for such a -worthless scamp; and as His Majesty was playing loo when he made this -decision, it was on the back of a seven of spades that the order was -written for Beaumarchais' arrest and his committal to Saint-Lazare. - -Thus we see that, when Louis XVIII. had Magallon taken to Poissy, he -remained faithful to Monsieur's traditions. - -... Apropos of the Censorship, a good story of the present censor is -going the rounds this 6th of June, 1851. We will inquire into it and, -if it be true, we will relate it in the next chapter. - -This excellent institution furnishes so many other instances of a like -nature that its facts and achievements have to be registered regardless -of chronological order, where and when one can, lest one run the risk -of forgetting them, and that I would indeed be a sad pity!... - -_Revenons à nos moutons!_ our poor _moutons_ shorn to the quick, like -Sterne's lamb. - -I have remarked that the year 1823 was the "year of trials"; let us see -how it earned that name. - -During the week that elapsed between the Magallon affair and the -sentence passed on him, Benjamin Constant appeared before the Royal -Court, on account of two letters: one addressed to M. Mangin, -procurator-general at the Court of Poitiers, and the other to M. -Carrère, sub-prefect of Saumur. As it was a foregone conclusion that -Benjamin Constant was to be condemned, the Court sentenced him to pay a -fine of a thousand francs and costs. - -On 29 January--a week before this happened--the Correctional Police -sentenced M. de Jouy to a month's imprisonment, a fine of a hundred -and fifty francs and the costs of the trial, for an article in the -_Biographie des contemporains_ which had been recognised as his. This -article was the biography of the brothers Faucher. The sentence created -a tremendous sensation. M. de Jouy was then at the height of his fame: -the _Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ had made him popular, the hundred -representations of _Sylla_ had made him famous. - -I knew M. de Jouy well: he was a remarkably loyal man, with a -delightful mind and an easy pen. I believe he had been a sailor, -serving in India, where he knew Tippo-Sahib, upon whom he founded a -tragedy, commissioned, or very nearly so, by Napoleon, which was acted -on 27 January 1813. The work was indifferent and did not meet with much -success. - -On the return of the Bourbons, the Court was half-heartedly willing -to encourage men of letters, M. de Jouy in particular, who held one -of the highest positions among them. It was the more easily managed -since M. de Jouy was an old Royalist, and I believe a soldier of -Condi's army; it was not a case of making a convert but retaining an -old partisan. His articles in the _Gazette_, signed "l'Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin," had an enormous success. I heard it said at the -time that M. de Jouy was called up before M. de Vitrolles and asked to -mention what it was he wanted. What he wanted was the due recognition -of his services, namely, the Cross of Saint-Louis,--for, as a rule, -straightforward men only desire things they are entitled to;--desiring -the Cross, and having deserved it, he asked for it. But they wished to -force conditions upon him: they desired that he should not merely be -satisfied with refraining from pointing fun at the absurdities of the -Restoration; they wanted him to emphasise the glories of the Empire. -They wanted him to do a base action before he, a loyal soldier, a -clean-handed man, a poet of considerable repute among his _confrères_, -could obtain the Cross. What happened? The noted poet, the loyal -soldier, the honest man, said that the Cross should go to Hades first, -and he showed the person who came to propose these conditions to the -door. It was the right way to treat the minister, but it was unlucky -for the Cross, which would not have honoured M. de Jouy, but which M. -de Jouy would have honoured! And behold M. de Jouy in the Opposition, -behold M. de Jouy writing articles in the _Biographie_ which cost him a -month's imprisonment, and which increased his popularity twofold. What -fools Governments are to refuse a man the Cross he asks, and to grant -him the persecution he does not desire, the persecution which will be -far more benefit to him, in honour and in worldly goods, than the bit -of ribbon which nobody would have noticed! Moreover, M. de Jouy did not -write anything so very reprehensible. No; on the contrary, M. de Jouy -was distinguished for the suavity of his criticism, the urbanity of his -opposition, the courtesy of his anger. The manner adopted by this good -Ermite has long since been forgotten; and the generation which followed -ours has not even read his works. Heigho! if the said generation reads -me, it will read him; for I am about to open his works and to quote -some pages from them at hap-hazard. They go back to the first months -of the second return of the Bourbons, to the period when all the world -lived out in the squares, to the time when everybody seemed eager after -I know not what: after a Revolution, one has need to hate men; but -after a Restoration, one can do nothing but despise them! - -M. B. de L---- is overwhelmed with requests for positions and writes -to the Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin to beg him to insert the following -letters in his paper:-- - - "MONSIEUR,--We have neither of us time to spare, so I - will explain to you the object of my letter in a very few - words. I formerly had the honour to be attached to one - of the princes of the house of Bourbon; I may even have - been so fortunate as to show some proofs of my devotion - to that august family at a time when, if not meritorious, - it was at least dangerous to allow one's zeal to leak - out; but I endeavour not to forget that the Mornays, - the Sullys, the Crillons would modestly style this the - fulfilment of one's duty. I am unaware upon what grounds - people in my province credit me with what I do not enjoy, - and to which I am indebted for the hosts of solicitations - I receive, without being able to be of service to those - who apply to me. I have only discovered one method of - escaping from this novel form of persecution--that is, to - publish a letter of one of my relatives and the answer I - thought fit to make to it. The first is in some measure - a résumé of three or four hundred letters that I have - received on the same topic. I am the less reluctant to - make it public since I reserve to myself the right of - holding back the writer's name, and besides, this letter - reflects as much credit on the heart of the writer as it - displays the good sense of the mind that dictated it. - - "B. DE L----" - -This is the relative's letter:-- - - "How glad I am, my friend, that events have brought back - our illustrious princes to the throne! What good fortune - it is! You have no notion what reputation these events - and your stay in Paris give me here. The prefect is - afraid of me, and his wife, who never used to bow to me, - has invited me twice to dinner. But there is no time to - be lost, and we rely on you. Would you believe that my - husband has not yet taken any steps whatever to regain - his position, pretending that it exists no longer, and - that the commission was made up to him in assignats? - There isn't a more apathetic man in the whole of France. - - "My brother-in-law has laid claim to the Cross of - Saint-Louis: he had been waiting for it for nine years - when the Revolution broke out. It would be unjust of - them not to compensate him for the twenty years of - his services, the troubles and the misfortunes he has - undergone on his estates; he is counting on you to hasten - the prompt despatch of his patent. - - "I append a memorandum to my letter, from my oldest son, - the marquis; he had the right to his uncle's reversion, - and it will be easy for you to obtain it for him. I am - anxious that his brother, the chevalier, shall be placed - in the navy, but in a rank worthy of his name and the - past services of his family. And as my grandson, Auguste - de G----, is quite old enough I to become a page, you - have only to speak a word on his behalf. - - "We are coming to Paris early next month. I shall bring - my daughter with me, as I wish to present her at Court. - They will not refuse you this favour if you solicit it - with sufficient perseverance and willingness. - - "Think of poor F----. He failed us, it is true, at the - time of the Revolution; but he has made ample amends - during the past month: you know he is penniless, and - is ready to sacrifice everything for our rulers. His - devotion goes even so far as to be willing to take a post - as prefect, and he is well fitted for it. Do you not - remember the pretty song he made about me? - - "M. de B----, son of the late intendant of the province, - is coming to see you; try and be useful to him; he - is a friend of the family. If they are not going to - re-establish intendancies, he will be satisfied with a - post as receiver-general; it is the least they can do for - a man devoted to his sovereign, one who was imprisoned - for six months during the Terror. - - "I must not forget to recommend M---- to your notice. He - has been blamed for having served all parties, because - he has been employed in every Government in France for - the last twenty years; but he is a good fellow--you can - take my word for it: he was the first to don the white - cockade; besides, all he asks is to be allowed to keep - his place as superintendent of the posting service. Be - sure and write to me under cover of his frank. - - "I append my father-in-law's papers: a sum of forty-five - thousand francs is still owing to him from the estates - of Languedoc; I hope they will not keep you waiting for - its reimbursement, and that you will not hesitate to - make use of the money if you are under any temporary - embarrassment, though this is very unlikely in your - present situation. Adieu, my dear cousin. With greetings - in which the whole family unite, and expecting the - pleasure of seeing you soon in Paris. - - "J. DE P----" - -_[Answer]_ - - "PARIS, 15 _June_ 1814 - - "MY DEAR COUSIN,--You can hardly conceive with what - interest I have read the letter you have done me the - honour to send me, or with what zeal I have tried to - further the just and reasonable demands of all the - persons you recommend to my notice. You will, not be - more astonished than I have been myself at the obstacles - placed in my way, which you would deem insurmountable if - you knew as well as I the people with whom we have to - deal. - - "When I spoke of your son, who has long been desirous - of service, and asked for a berth as major in his - father's old regiment, they urged, as a not unreasonable - objection, that peace was concluded, and that before - thinking of a position for the Marquis de V----, they - must consider the lot of 25,000 officers, some of whom - (would you believe it?) press for the recognition of - their campaigns, their wounds, and even go so far - as to urge the number of battles in which they were - engaged; whilst others more directly associated with the - misfortunes of the royal family had returned to France - without any fortune beyond the goodwill and complaisance - of the king. I then asked, with a touch of sarcasm, what - they meant to do for your son and for the multitude of - brave Royalists who have suffered so much through the - misfortunes of the realm, and whose secret prayers for - the recall of the royal family to the throne of its - ancestors had been unceasing. They replied that they - rejoiced to see the end of all our afflictions and the - fulfilment of our prayers. - - "Your husband is a very extraordinary man. I can well - understand, my dear cousin, all you must be suffering - on account of his incredible apathy. To be reduced at - the age of sixty-five, or sixty-six at the outside, to - a fortune of 40,000 livres income, to bury himself in - the depth of a château, and to renounce all chance of an - ambitious career, as though a father had no duty towards - his children, as though a gentleman ought not to die - fighting! - - "I am sorry your brother-in-law should have laid claim - to the Cross of Saint-Louis before it had been granted - to him; for it may happen that the king will not readily - part with the right to confer this decoration himself, - and that he will not approve of the honour certain - persons are anxious to have conferred upon them. You will - realise that it would be less awkward not to have had the - Cross of Saint-Louis than to find oneself obliged to give - it up. - - "I did not forget to put forward the claims of your - son, the chevalier, and I do not despair of getting him - entered for the examination of officers for the Royal - Marines. We will then do our utmost to get him passed - into the staff of one hundred officers, who are far too - conscious of their worth, of the names they bear and of - the devotion they profess to have shown at Quiberon. - - "Your grandson Auguste is entered for a page; I cannot - tell you exactly when he will be taken into the palace, - my dear cousin, as your request followed upon three - thousand seven hundred and seventy-five other requests, - made on behalf of the sons of noblemen or officers slain - on the field of battle, though they cannot show the - slightest claim on account of services rendered to the - State or to the princes. - - "You are well advised in wishing to place your daughter - at Court, and it will not be difficult when you have - found a husband for her whose rank and fortune will - entitle her to a position there. If this is not arranged, - I do not quite see what she would do there, or what - suitable post she could occupy there, however able she - may be: maids of honour are not yet reinstated. - - "I have presented a petition in favour of F, to which I - annexed the pretty song he composed for you; but they - have become so exacting that such claims no longer - suffice to obtain a post as prefect. I will even go so - far as to tell you that they do not think much of your - protégé's conversion and of the sacrifices he is prepared - to make; his enemies persist in saying that he is not a - man who can be relied upon. - - "I witnessed his powers of work in former times, and I am - convinced that if he would serve the good cause nowadays - with half the zeal he formerly exerted on behalf of the - bad cause, they would be able very usefully to employ - him. But will this ever be put to the test? - - "I have not learnt whether intendances are to be - re-established, but they seem to think that public - receiverships will be diminished, if only in the number - of those which exist in departments beyond our bounds. - This makes me fear that M. de B---- will have to be - satisfied with the enormous fortune his father made - in the old revenue days, which he found means to hide - during the Revolutionary storms: he must learn to be - philosophical. - - "Do not be in the least uneasy over the lot of M----. I - know him: he has considerable elasticity of character - and of principle--for twenty years he has slipped in and - out among all parties, without having offended any. He - is a marvellously clever fellow, who will serve himself - better than anyone else ever will be served: he is no - longer superintendent of the posting bureau, having just - obtained a more lucrative post in another department of - the Government. Do you always take such great interest in - his affairs? - - "I return you your father-in-law's papers, dear cousin, - relative to the debt on the Languedoc estates. From - what I can gather, the liquidation does not seem likely - to take place yet a while, in spite of the justice of - your claim. They have decided that arrears of pay due - to troops, the public debt, military pensions and a - crowd of other objects of this nature shall be taken - into consideration--this measure is evidently the fruit - of some intrigue. You should tell F---- to draw up a - pamphlet upon the most urgent needs of the State and to - endeavour to refer to this debt in the first line of his - pamphlet. You have no idea how much the Government is - influenced by the multitude of little pamphlets which are - produced every day by ill-feeling, anger and hunger with - such commendable zeal. - - "You will see, my dear cousin, that, at the rate things - are going, you must possess your soul in patience. I - would even add that the journey you propose to take - to Paris will not advance your affairs. According to - the police reckoning, there are at this present moment - a hundred and twenty-three thousand people from the - provinces, of all ranks, of all sexes, of all ages, who - are here to make claims, furnished with almost as good - credentials as yours, and who will have the advantage - over you in obtaining a refusal of being first in the - field to put forward their cases. Finally, as I know you - are acquainted with philosophy and the best things in - literature, I beg you to read over again a chapter in - the English _Spectator_, on the just claims of these who - ask for posts: it is in the thirty-second section of the - seventh volume in the duodecimo edition: history repeats - itself. - - "Accept, my dear cousin, an expression of my most - affectionate greetings, coupled with my sincere regrets. - - "B. DE L----" - -In 1830, after the Revolution of July, Auguste Barbier produced a poem -on the same subject, entitled the _Curée._ When one re-reads those -terrible verses and compares them with work by M. de Jouy, the writings -of the latter seem a model of that Attic wit which was characteristic -of the old school, and Barbier an example of the brutal, fiery, -unpremeditated writing I so typical of his Muse. - -Meanwhile, at about the period we have reached, whilst Louis XVIII. was -hunting down men of letters with that ruthlessness of which we have -just cited a few examples, he was laying claim to a place in their -midst. Through the foolish advice of his sycophants, the regal author -published a little work entitled _Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles._ I do -not know whether it would be possible to-day to procure a single copy -of the royal brochure, wherein were to be found not only such errors -in French grammar as "J'étais déjà un peu gros, à cette époque, pour -_monter et descendre de cabriolet_," but, worse still, revelations of -ingratitude and heartlessness. - -A poor widow risks her head to take in fugitives, and sacrifices her -last louis to give them a dinner; Monsieur relates this act of devotion -as though it were no more than the fugitives' due, and ends the chapter -by saying, "The dinner was execrable!" - -It was written in kitchen French, as Colonel Morisel observed to M. -Arnault. - -"That is easily explained," replied the author of _Germanicus_, "since -the work was by a _restaurateur"_. - -The _Miroir_, ordered to review the _Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles_, -contented itself by saying, "If the work is by the august personage to -whom it is attributed, it is above the region of criticism; if it is -not by him, it is beneath criticism." - -Let us revert to Colonel Morisel, one of the most interesting -characters of the time. They could not get up the same kind of trial -against the author of the _Messéniennes_, of the _Vêpres siciliennes_, -of the _Comédiens_ and of _Paria_, as they did against M. de Jouy and -Magallon; they could not imprison him in Sainte-Pélagie or send him to -Poissy, bound hand to hand and side by side with a filthy convict; but -they could reduce him to poverty, and that is what they did. - -On 15 April we read in the Liberal papers: "We hear that M. Ancelot, -author of _Louis IX._ and of _Maire du Palais_, has just received -letters patent of nobility, and that M. Casimir Delavigne, author -of _Vêpres siciliennes_, of _Paria_ and of the _Messéniennes_, has -just lost his post in the Library of the Minister of Justice." It was -quite true: M. Ancelot had been made a baron, and M. Casimir Delavigne -was turned out into the street! It was at this juncture that, on the -recommendation of Vatout, who had just published the _Histoire de la -Fille d'un Roi_, the Duc d'Orléans appointed Casimir Delavigne to the -post of assistant librarian at the Palais-Royal, where, six years -later, I became his colleague. - -Vatout was an excellent fellow, a trifle conceited; but even his vanity -was useful as a spur which, put in motion by the example of others, -goaded him to do the work he would otherwise not have attempted. One -of his conceits was to pretend he was a natural son of a prince of the -House of Orléans--a very innocent conceit, as it did not harm anyone, -and nobody considered it a crime; for he used the influence he acquired -by his post at the Palais-Royal in rendering help to his friends, and -sometimes even to his enemies.... Just at this moment the information -I have been seeking concerning the last act of the Censorship has been -brought me. - -Ah! my dear Victor Hugo, you who are busy trying to wrest from the -jury, before whom you are defending your son, the entire abolition -of the death penalty; make an exception in favour of the censor, and -stipulate that he shall be executed twice over at the next Revolution, -since once is not nearly enough. - -I wish here to swear on my honour that what I am about to state is -actual truth. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The house in the rue Chaillot--Four poets and a doctor--Corneille and -the Censorship--Things M. Faucher does not know--Things the President -of the Republic ought to know - - -In the year III of the Second French Republic, on the evening of 2 -June, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon Faucher minister, M. -Guizard director of the Fine Arts, the following incident occurred, -in a salon decorated with Persian draperies, on the ground floor of a -house in the rue de Chaillot. - -Five or six persons were discussing art--a surprising fact at a time -when the sole topics of conversation were dissolution, revision and -prorogation. True, of these five persons four were poets, and one a -doctor who was almost a poet and entirely a man of culture. These four -poets were: first, Madame Émile de Girardin, mistress of the house in -the rue de Chaillot where the gathering took place; second, Victor -Hugo; third, Théophile Gautier; fourth, Arsène Houssaye. The doctor's -name was Cabarus. - -The gentleman indicated under number four held several offices: perhaps -he was rather less of a poet than were the other three, but he was far -more of a business man, thus equalizing the balance; he was manager of -the Théâtre-Français, the resignation of which post he had already sent -in three times, and each time it had been refused. - -You may perhaps ask why M. Arsène Houssaye was so ready to send in his -resignation. - -There is a very simple answer: the members of the Théâtre-Français -company made his life so unendurable that the poet was ever ready -to send to the right about his demi-gods, his heroes, his kings, -his princes, his dukes, his marquises, his counts and his barons of -the rue de Richelieu, in order to re-engage his barons, his counts, -his marquises, his dukes, his princes, his kings, his heroes and -his demi-gods of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whom he -knew and whose strings he could pull as though he were the Comte de -Saint-Germain, who was their familiar friend. - -Now why should the members of the Théâtre-Français company make their -manager's life so hard? Because he made money, and nothing irritates a -member of the Théâtre-Français company so much as to see his theatre -_make money._ This may seem inexplicable to sensible folk: it is indeed -a mystery; but I have not set myself to explain the fact; I state it, -that is all. - -Now, in his capacity as manager of the Théâtre-Français, M. Arsène -Houssaye thought of something which had not occurred to anyone else. -This was that as the day in question was 2 June 1851, in four days' -time--that is to say, on 6 June--it would be the two hundred and -forty-fourth anniversary of the birth of Corneille. - -He translated his thought into words, and turning to Théophile Gautier, -he said, "Come now! my dear Théo, you must write for me some sixty -lines, for the occasion, upon the Father of Tragedy: it will be much -better than what is usually given us on such anniversaries, and the -public will not grumble." - -Théophile Gautier pretended not to hear. - -Arsène Houssaye repeated his request. - -"Good gracious! no," said Gautier. - -"Why not?" - -"Because I do not know anything more tiresome to write than an official -panegyric, were it on the greatest poet in the world. Besides, the -greater the poet, the more difficult is it to praise him." - -"You are mistaken, Théophile," said Hugo; "and if I were in a position -at this moment to do what Arsène asks, I would undertake it." - -"Would you think of passing in review Corneille's twenty or thirty -plays? Would you have the courage to speak of _Mélite_, of _Clitandre_, -of the _Galerie du Palais_, of _Pertharite_, of _Œdipe_, of _Attila_, -of _Agésilas_?" - -"No, I should not mention any one of them." - -"Then you would not be extolling Corneille: when a poet is praised, you -must praise his bad work loudest of all; when one does not praise, it -savours of criticism." - -"No," said Hugo, "I do not mean anything like that: I would not -undertake a vulgar eulogy. I would describe the agèd Corneille, -wandering through the streets of old Paris, on foot, with a shabby -cloak on his shoulders, neglected by Louis XIV., who was less generous -towards him than his persecutor Richelieu; getting his leaky shoes -mended at a poor cobbler's, whilst Louis XIV., reigning at Versailles, -was promenading with Madame de Montespan, Mademoiselle de la Vallière -and Madame Henriette, in the galleries of Le Brun or in the gardens of -Le Nôtre; then I would pay compensation to the poet's shade by showing -how posterity puts each one in his proper place and, as days are added -unto days, months to months and years to years, increases the poet's -fame and decreases the power of the king...." - -"What are you looking for, Théophile?" asked Madame de Girardin of -Gautier, who had got up hastily. - -"I am looking for my hat," said Gautier. - -"Girardin is asleep on it," replied Cabarus drily. - -"Oh, don't wake him," said Madame de Girardin. "It will make an -article!" - -"Nevertheless, I cannot go without my hat," said Gautier. - -"Where are you off to?" asked Arsène Houssaye. - -"I am going to write you your lines, of course; you shall have them -to-morrow." - -They pulled Théophile's hat from under Girardin's shoulders. It had -suffered by reason of its position; but what cared Théophile for the -condition of his hat? - -He returned home and set to work. The next day, as he had promised, -Arsène Houssaye had the verses. - -But both poet and manager had reckoned without the Censorship. - -These are Théophile Gautier's lines on the great Corneille,--they were -forbidden by the dramatic censor, as I have said, in the year III -of the Second Republic, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon -Faucher minister and M. Guizard director of the Fine Arts:-- - - "Par une rue étroite, au cœur du vieux Paris, - Au milieu des passants, du tumulte et des cris, - La tête dans le ciel et le pied dans la fange, - Cheminait à pas lents une figure étrange. - C'était un grand vieillard sévèrement drapé, - Noble et sainte misère, en son manteau râpé! - Son œil d'aigle, son front, argenté vers les tempes - Rappelaient les fiertés des plus mâles estampes; - Et l'on eut dit, à voir ce masque souverain, - Une médaille antique à frapper en airain. - Chaque pli de sa joue, austèrement creusée, - Semblait continuer un sillon de pensée, - Et, dans son regard noir, qu'éteint un sombre ennui, - On sentait que l'éclair autrefois avait lui. - Le vieillard s'arrêta dans une pauvre échoppe. - - Le roi-soleil, alors, illuminait l'Europe, - Et les peuples baissaient leurs regards éblouis - Devant cet Apollon qui s'appelait Louis. - A le chanter, Boileau passait ses doctes veilles; - Pour le loger, Mansard entassait ses merveilles; - Cependant, en un bouge, auprès d'un savetier, - Pied nu, le grand Corneille attendait son soulier! - Sur la poussière d'or de sa terre bénie, - Homère, sans chaussure, aux chemins d'Ionie, - Pouvait marcher jadis avec l'antiquité, - Beau comme un marbre grec par Phidias sculpté; - Mais Homère, à Paris, sans crainte du scandale, - Un jour de pluie, eut fait recoudre sa sandale. - Ainsi faisait l'auteur d_'Horace_ et de _Cinna_, - Celui que de ses mains la muse couronna, - Le fier dessinateur, Michel-Ange du drame, - Qui peignit les Romains si grands, d'après son âme. - O pauvreté sublime! ô sacré dénûment! - Par ce cœur héroique accepté simplement! - - Louis, ce vil détail que le bon goût dédaigne, - Ce soulier recousu me gâte tout ton règne. - A ton siècle en perruque et de luxe amoureux, - Je ne pardonne pas Corneille malheureux. - Ton dais fleurdelisé cache mal cette échoppe; - De la pourpre où ton faste à grands plis s'enveloppe, - Je voudrais prendre un pan pour Corneille vieilli, - S'éteignant, pauvre et seul, dans l'ombre et dans l'oubli. - Sur le rayonnement de toute ton histoire, - Sur l'or de ton soleil c'est une tache noire, - O roi! d'avoir laissé, toi qu'ils ont peint si beau, - Corneille sans souliers, Molière sans tombeau! - Mais pourquoi s'indigner! Que viennent les années, - L'équilibre se fait entre les destinées; - A sa place chacun est remis par la mort: - Le roi rentre dans l'ombre, et le poëte en sort! - Pour courtisans, Versaille a gardé ses statues; - Les adulations et les eaux se sont tues; - Versaille est la Palmyre où dort la royauté. - Qui des deux survivra, génie ou majesté? - L'aube monte pour l'un, le soir descend sur l'autre; - Le spectre de Louis, au jardin de Le Notre, - Erre seul, et Corneille, éternel comme un Dieu, - Toujours sur son autel voit reluire le feu, - Que font briller plus vif en ses fêtes natales - Les générations, immortelles vestales. - Quand en poudre est tombé le diadème d'or, - Son vivace laurier pousse et verdit encor; - Dans la postérité, perspective inconnue, - Le poëte grandit et le roi diminue!" - -Now let us have a few words on this matter, Monsieur Guizard, for you -did not reckon things would end here; you did not hope to escape at -the cost of a few words written with a double meaning, inserted in a -newspaper printed yesterday, published to-day and forgotten on the -morrow. - -No, when such outrages are perpetrated upon art, it is meet that the -culprit should be deprived of his natural judges and taken to a higher -court, as your models carried Trélat and Cavaignac to the House of -Peers, as your friends carried Raspail, Hubert and Sobrier to the Court -of Bourges. And I call upon you to appear, Monsieur Guizard, you who -took the place of my friend Cavé, as superintendent of the department -of Fine Arts. - -Look you, now that things are being cut down all round, has not -a letter been economised in the description of your office? and -instead of being responsible for the _department_, are you not really -responsible for the _departure_ of the Fine Arts? Moreover, I have -something to relate that passed between us, three months ago. Do you -remember I had the honour of paying you a visit, three months ago? I -came to give you notice, on behalf of the manager of the Cirque, that -while we were waiting for the _Barrière de Clichy_ we were going to put -the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ in rehearsal. - -"The _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_!" you exclaimed. - -"Yes." - -"But is not the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ a drama written by -yourself?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it not in the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ that the famous chorus -occurs-- - - 'Mourir pour la patrie'?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then, we will not allow the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ to be -played." - -"You will not allow the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ to be played?" - -"No, no, no, no, no!" - -"But why not?" - -Then you looked me in the face and you said to me-- - -"Do you mean to tell me you do not know that the _Chevalier de -Maison-Rouge_ contributed to the establishment of the Republic?" - -You said that to me, Monsieur Guizard! You made that extraordinary -avowal to me, in the year III of the Republic! M. Léon Faucher being -minister of the Republic! you, Monsieur Guizard, being director of the -Fine Arts of the Republic! - -I was so astounded at the reply that I could find nothing else to say -than "How the devil does it come about that I, who lost nearly 200,000 -francs by the coming of the Republic, am a Republican, whilst you, who -gained thereby a post bringing you in 12,000, are a Reactionary?" - -True, you did not condescend to explain this anomaly: I left your -office without discovering a reason, and now, as I write these lines, I -am still at a loss for one! - -Now, in the hope that someone more clever than I at guessing riddles -might be found, I decided to print what happened to me, three months -ago, side by side with what happened to Gautier to-day! - -What can one expect? Every man makes use of the tool or of the -instrument he has in his hand: some have scissors, and they cut; others -have an engraver's tool, and they etch. - -What I write, I warn you, M. Guizard, is translated into eight or nine -different languages. So we shall have the assistance of learned men in -many lands to help us in our researches, and the archæologists of three -generations; for, suppose my works live no longer than the time it -will take for rats to devour them, it will take those creatures quite -a hundred years to eat my thousand volumes. You may tell me that the -order to stop M. Théophile Gautier's verses came from a higher source, -from the minister. To that I have nothing to say: if the order came -from the minister, you were obliged to obey that order. And I must in -that case wend my way to M. Léon Faucher. So be it! - -O Faucher! is it really credible that you, who are so halfhearted a -Republican, you who were so ill-advised, according to my opinion, as to -pay a subsidy to the Théâtre-Français to have the dead exhumed and, the -living buried,--is it really credible, I repeat, that so indifferent -a Republican as yourself, did not wish it said, on the stage that -Corneille created, that genius is higher than royalty, and that -Corneille was greater as a poet than Louis XIV. was as a monarch? - -But, M. Faucher, you know quite as well as I that Louis XIV. was only a -great king because he possessed great ministers and great poets. - -Perhaps you will tell me that great ministers and poets are created by -great kings? - -No, M. Faucher, you will not say that; for I shall retort, "Napoleon, -who was a great emperor, had no Corneille, and Louis XIII., who was a -pitiable king, could boast a Richelieu." - -No, M. le ministre, Louis XIV., believe me, was only great as a king -because (and Michelet, one of the greatest historians who ever lived, -will tell you exactly the same) Richelieu was his precursor, whilst -Corneille's precursor was ... who? Jodelle. - -Corneille did not need either Condé, or Turenne, or Villars, or de -Catinat, or Vauban, or Mazarin, or Colbert, or Louvois, or Boileau, -or Racine, or Benserade, or Le Brun, or Le Nôtre, or even M. de -Saint-Aignan to help him to become a great poet. - -No; Corneille took up a pen, ink and paper; he only had to lean his -head upon his hand and his poetry came. - -Had you but read Théophile Gautier's lines, M. le ministre,--but I am -sure you have not read them,--you must have seen that these verses are -not merely the finest Théophile Gautier ever penned, but the finest -ever written since verses came to be written. You must have seen that -their composition was excellent and their ideas above reproach. A -certain emperor I knew--one whom apparently you did not know--would -have sent the officer's Cross of the Legion of Honour and a pension to -a man who had written those verses. - -You, M. le ministre, sent orders that Théophile Gautier's lines were -not to be read on the stage of the Théâtre-Français! - -But perhaps this order came from higher authority still? Perhaps it -came from the President of the Republic? - -If it came from the President of the Republic, it is another matter -... and it is with the President of the Republic that I must settle my -grievance. - -I shall not take long in dealing with the President of the Republic. - -"Ah! M. le président de la République," I shall say to him, "you -who have forgotten so many things in the overwhelming rush of state -affairs, have you, by any chance, forgotten what Monsieur your uncle -said of the author of the _Cid_, 'If Corneille had lived in my time, I -would have made him a prince.'" - -Now that I have said to the President of the Republic, to M. le -Ministre de l'Intérieur, and to M. le Chef de Division Chargé du -Département des Beaux-Arts, what I had it in my mind to say, let us -return to the year 1823, which also possessed its Censorship, but one -that was much less severe than that of 1851. - - - - -BOOK V - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Chronology of the drama--Mademoiselle Georges Weymer--Mademoiselle -Raucourt--Legouvé and his works--Marie-Joseph Chénier--His letter -to the company of the Comédie-Française--Young boys _perfectionnés_ ---Ducis--His work - - -Now the Royalist reaction of which we were speaking--before we -interrupted ourselves to address the high public functionaries who had -the honour of appearing before our readers in the last chapter--did -not only strike at literary men, but it hit out cruelly, bitterly and -mortally at public men. It began by the expulsion of Manuel from the -Chamber; it closed with the execution of Riégo. But I must confess I -was not so much occupied at that time with the quarrels of the Chamber, -or the Spanish War, or the fête that Madame de Cayla (who was very -kind to me later) gave to Saint-Ouen to celebrate the return of Louis -XVIII., or the death of Pope Pius VII.; there were two events which -were quite as important to my thinking: the first production of Lucien -Arnault's _Pierre de Portugal_, and that of the _École des Vieillards_, -by Casimir Delavigne. Although the dramatic statistics for the year -1823 showed a total production of 209 new plays and of 161 authors -acted, the best theatres, especially during the first nine months of -the year, presented but a sorry show, and were very far removed from -reaching the level of the preceding year. - -Thus, on 26 April, 1822, the Odéon had produced _Attila_ by M. -Hippolyte Bis. On 5 June the Théâtre-Français played Lucien Arnault's -_Régulus._ On 14 June the Odéon played the _Macchabées_ by M. Guiraud: -Frédérick Lemaître, who belonged to the Cirque, played one of the -brothers Macchabées. On 7 November the Théâtre-Français produced M. -Soumet's _Clytemnestre_, in which Talma gave a realistic representation -of the tragic and unhappy fate of Orestes. On 9 November the Odéon put -on its boards the same author's _Saül,_ in which Joanny first began -to make his reputation. Finally, on 21 December, the Théâtre-Français -produced _Valérie_, by MM. Scribe and Mélesville. As against all these -new plays, the year 1823 only offered us the comedy of l'_Éducation -ou les Deux Cousines_ by M. Casimir Bonjour, and _Comte Julien_ by M. -Guiraud. - -_L'Éducation ou les Deux Cousines_ is M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy; -but M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy had the option of being a feeble -production, and it exercised that option. - -While _Comte Julien_ was honest, careful work, as were all the -author's plays, its principal attraction was that the company acting -it contained Mademoiselle Georges, who made her reappearance in Paris -after an absence of four or five years. Mademoiselle Georges was -extremely beautiful at that period, and still had _all her diamonds._ -Those who knew Harel and the fantastic posters he invented know -the part which Mademoiselle Georges' diamonds played in the rôles -Mademoiselle Georges acted. - -I have told my readers that as celebrated characters appear in these -Memoirs I will describe them all as clearly as I can, in the light of -contemporary knowledge; some of them only shone for a very short time -and their light is now extinguished for ever. But what I have to say -about them will be all the more interesting on that account, for what -follows describes my first impressions of them, when they were in the -zenith of their popularity. - -We have remarked that the age of any living actress is not to be -known; but reckoning from the year when Mademoiselle Georges made -her début--that is to say, from 29 November 1802--she must have been -thirty-eight in 1823. Just a word to explain how Mademoiselle Georges -gained access to the theatre and how she managed to remain on the -boards. Loved by Bonaparte, and retained in his favour when he became -Napoleon, Mademoiselle Georges, who begged to be allowed to accompany -Napoleon to Saint-Helena, is almost a historical personage. - -Towards the close of the year 1800 and the beginning of 1801 -Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was leading lady in tragedy at the -Théâtre-Français, went on tour in the provinces. This was at a time -when although Government had plenty to do, it was not ashamed to -concern itself with the arts in its spare moments. Mademoiselle -Raucourt had therefore received orders from the Government to look out -for any pupil during her tour whom she might think worth instruction, -and to bring her back to Paris. This young lady was to be considered -the pupil of the Government, and would receive a grant of 1200 francs. - -Mademoiselle Raucourt stopped at Amiens. There she discovered a -beautiful young girl of fifteen years of age who looked to be eighteen; -you might have thought that the Venus of Milo had descended from her -pedestal. Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was almost as classic in her -tastes as the Lesbian Sappho, admired statuesque beauty immensely. When -she saw the way this young girl walked--her gait that of the goddess, -to use Virgil's phrase--the actress made inquiries and found that her -name was Georges Weymer; that she was the daughter of a German musician -named Georges Weymer, manager of the theatre, and of Mademoiselle -Verteuil the actress who played the chambermaid parts. - -This young lady was destined for tragedy. Mademoiselle Raucourt -made her play Élise, with her, in _Didon_, and Aricie in _Phèdre._ -The experiment succeeded, and the very night of the performance of -_Phèdre,_ Mademoiselle Raucourt asked the young tragédienne's parents' -leave to take her. - -The prospect of being a Government pupil, and, better still, the pupil -of Mademoiselle Raucourt, was, with the exception of some slight -drawbacks in the way of regulations to which the young girl had -perforce to agree, too tempting an offer in the eyes of her parents to -be refused. The request was granted, and Mademoiselle Georges departed, -followed by her mother. The lessons lasted eighteen months. During -these eighteen months the young pupil lived in a poor hotel in the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs, which, probably ironically, was named the -_hôtel du Pérou._ - -Mademoiselle Raucourt lived at the end of the allée des Veuves, in a -magnificent house which had belonged to Madame Tallien and which, no -doubt also ironically, was called _The Cottage (la Chaumière)._ We have -called Mademoiselle Georges' residence "a magnificent house": we should -also have said "a small house," for it was a perfect specimen of a -bijou villa in the style of Louis XV. - -Towards the end of the eighteenth century--that strange epoch when -people called things by their right names--Sapho-Raucourt enjoyed a -reputation the originality of which she took not the least pains to -hide. - -Mademoiselle Raucourt's attitude towards men was more than -indifference, it was hatred. The writer of these lines has in his -possession a memorandum signed by this famous actress which is a -regular war-cry against the masculine sex, and in which the modern -Queen of the Amazons calls upon every lovely warrior enrolled under her -orders to open rupture with men. - -Nothing could be more odd than the form and, above all, the -subject-matter of this manifesto. And yet, strange to relate, in -spite of this contempt towards us, Mademoiselle Raucourt, whenever -the costume of her sex was not indispensable to her, adopted that of -our sex. Thus, very often, in the morning, Mademoiselle Raucourt gave -lessons to her beautiful pupil in trousers, with a dressing-gown over -them,--just as M. Molé or M. Fleury would have done,--a pretty woman by -her side who addressed her as "dear fellow," and a charming child who -called her "papa." - -We did not know Mademoiselle Raucourt,--she died in 1814, and her -funeral created a great sensation,--but we knew her mother, who died -in 1832 or 1833; and we still know the _childy_ who is to-day a man of -fifty-five. - -We were acquainted with an actor whose whole career was blighted by -Mademoiselle Raucourt on account of some jealousy he had the misfortune -to arouse in the terrible Lesbian. Mademoiselle Raucourt appealed to -the Committee of the Théâtre-Français, reminded them of her rights of -possession and of priority in respect of the girl whom the impertinent -comedian wished to seduce from her, and, the priority and the -possession being recognised, the impudent comedian, who is still living -and is one of the most straightforward men imaginable, was hounded -out of the theatre, the members of the company believing that, as in -the case of Achilles, Mademoiselle Raucourt, because of this modern -Briseis, would retire in sulks. - -Let us return to the young girl, whose mother never left her a -single instant during the visits she paid to her teacher: three -times a week had she to traverse the long distance between the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs and the allée des Veuves in order to take -her lessons. Her first appearances were fixed to take place at the -end of November. They were to be in _Clytemnestre_, in _Émilie,_ in -_Aménaïde_, in _Idamé_, in _Didon_ and in _Sémiramis._ - -A début at the Théâtre-Français in 1802 was a great affair both for -the artiste and for the public; it was a still greater matter to be -received into the company; for if one joined the troupe, it meant, -in the case of a man, becoming a colleague of Monvel, of Saint-Prix, -of Baptiste senior, of Talma, of Lafond, of Saint-Phal, of Molé, of -Fleury, of Armand, of Michot, of Grandménil, of Dugazon, of Dazincourt, -of Baptiste junior, of la Rochelle; in the case of a woman, one became -the companion of Mademoiselle Raucourt, of Mlle. Contat, of Mlle. -Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. -Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars. - -The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre -Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: -Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and -Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in -due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but -who detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I -came to Paris. - -Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. He it was who, -when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance, was directing the -débuts of Mademoiselle Duchesnois with an almost fatherly affection; -he had produced the _Mort d'Abel_ in 1793, a patriarchal tragedy which -owed its success, first to the talent of the author, secondly and more -especially, to its opposition to current events. It was played between -the execution of Louis XVI. and that of Marie-Antoinette, between the -September Massacres and the execution of the Girondists; it distracted -people's minds for the moment from the sight of the blood which flowed -down the gutters. When they had witnessed all day long bodies hanging -from the lamp-posts and heads carried on the ends of pikes, they were -not sorry to spend their evening with shepherds and shepherdesses. Nero -crowned himself with roses and sang Ionic verses after watching Rome -burn. - -In 1794 Legouvé had produced _Épicharis._ The last act contained a very -fine monologue, which he certainly had not created himself, but which -he had borrowed from a page of Mercier. This final act made the success -of the play. I heard Talma declaim the monologue in his pompous style. - -Finally, in 1799, Legouvé had produced _Étéocle. Étéocle_ was a -failure, or nearly so; and, seeing this, instead of providing a fresh -tragedy for the Théâtre-Français, Legouvé introduced a new tragic -actress. Mademoiselle Duchesnois had just completed her exceedingly -successful début when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance. - -As I have promised to speak in due course of Lemercier, Alexandre Duval -and Picard, I will now finish what I have to say about Chénier and -Ducis, of whom I shall probably not have occasion to speak again. - -Marie-Joseph Chénier possessed singular conceit. I have a dozen of his -letters before me, written about _Charles IX._; I will pick out one -which is a model of naïvete: it will show from what standpoint men whom -certain critics have the audacity to call masters, and who probably -are masters in their eyes, look upon historic tragedy. - -The letter was addressed to French comedians: it was intended to -make them again take up _Charles IX.,_ which those gentlemen refused -absolutely to play. Why did not French comedians want to play _Charles -IX.,_ since _Charles IX._ made money? Ah! I must whisper the reason in -your ear, or rather, say it out loud: it was because Talma's part in it -was such an enormous success. Here is the letter:-- - - "Pressed on all sides, gentlemen, by the friends - of liberty, several of whom are of the number - of confederated deputies, to give at once a few - representations of _Charles IX.,_ I ask you to announce - the thirty-fourth appearance of this tragedy on your - play-bills, for one day next week, independently of - another work that I have composed to celebrate the - anniversary of the Federation. - - You may like to know that I intend to add _several lines - applicable to this interesting event,_ in the part of the - Chancellor of the Hospital, for I am always anxious to - pay my tribute as a citizen; and you, gentlemen, could - not show your patriotism on this occasion in a better - way than by playing the only _truly national_ tragedy - which still exists in France, a tragedy philosophical in - subject, and worthy of the stage, even in the opinion of - M. de Voltaire, who, you will admit, knew what he was - talking about. In this tragedy I have made a point of - _sounding the praises of the citizen king_ who governs us - to-day.--Accept my sincere regards," etc. - -Can you imagine the Chancellor of the Hospital lauding the Fete of the -Federation, and Charles IX. singing the praises of Louis XVI.? - -Ah well!... - -Chénier had made his début in _Charles IX.,_ which he wanted to have -reproduced, and its reproduction caused Danton and Camille Desmoulins -to be taken before the police magistrate, accused of having got up -conspiracies in the pit. _Henri VIII._ followed _Charles IX._ with -similar success. Two years after _Henri VIII., Calas_ was produced. -Finally, on 9 January 1793, at the height of Louis XVI.'s trial, and -some days before that poor king's death, Chénier produced _Fénélon,_, -a rose-water tragedy, of the same type as the _Mort d'Abel_, which had -that kind of success one's friends term a triumph, and one's enemies a -failure. - -Chénier counted on reviving his success by _Timoléon_. But Robespierre, -who had heard the work talked of, read it and stopped it. Listen, you -wielders of the Censorship! Robespierre trod in your footsteps; he -stopped _Timoléon_ as your confrères, before him, had stopped _Tartufe_ -to no purpose; _Mahomet_, to no purpose; _Mariage de Figaro_, to no -purpose; and so we come at last to you, who have stopped _Pinto_ to no -purpose, _Marion Delorme_ to no purpose, and _Antony_ to no purpose. - -Robespierre, we repeat, stopped _Timoléon_, declaring that, as long as -he was alive, the piece should never be played. Yes, but Robespierre -proved himself ignorant of the temper of the age in which he and his -contemporaries lived; he counted without 9 Thermidor.... Robespierre -followed Danton to the scaffold, and _Timoléon_ was played. - -Unfortunately, two days before Robespierre, death claimed the -sweet-voiced swan whom men called André Chénier, a poet even as his -brother, though of a different make, and no writer of tragedies. - -How was it that Marie-Joseph Chénier found time to look after the -rehearsals of his tragedy, so soon after Thermidor, and immediately -upon the death of his brother? - -Ah! André was only his brother, and _Timoléon_ was his child. - -But many-headed Nemesis was watching over the forgotten poet and -preparing a terrible vengeance. _Timoléon_ killed his brother, and -Chénier was accused of not having saved his. - -Cries were raised for the name of the author. - -"No need!" cried a voice from the pit. "The author's name is _Cain_!" - -From that day Chénier renounced the theatre, although there were -rumours of two plays lying waiting to come forth some day from his -portfolio, called _Tibère_ and _Philippe II._ - -Ducis succeeded Chénier. - -After the death of Beaumarchais--who had written two charming comedies -of intrigue and three poor dramas--Ducis became the patriarch of -literature. - -There was in Rome, under all the popes down to the days of Gregory -XVI., who had them removed, a sign over certain surgeon's doors with -the inscription-- - -"Ici on _perfectionne_ les petits garçons." - -The reader will understand what that means: parents who desired that -their boys should remain beardless, and possess pretty voices, took -their children to these establishments, and by a twist of the hand they -were ... _perfectionnés_. - -Ducis did to Sophocles and to Shakespeare pretty much what Roman -surgeons did to small boys. Those who like smooth chins and sweet -voices may prefer the _Œdipe-roi, Œdipe à Colone, Hamlet, Macbeth, -Roméo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ of Ducis, to the _Œdipus_ of -Sophocles and the _Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ -of Shakespeare; but we must confess that we like Nature in all her -virility, that we think the stronger a man is, the more beautiful he -is and that we prefer entire dramas to castrated ones: this being -so, whether in the case of small boys or of tragedies, we hold all -_perfectionnement_ to be sacrilege. But let us give Ducis his due. He -led the way to Sophocles by a poor road, to Shakespeare by a narrow -path; but, at all events, he left those guide-posts by the way, -which Voltaire had taken such pains to remove. When Voltaire made a -veil for Zaire out of Desdemona's handkerchief, he was very careful -to obliterate the mark on the linen he stole. This was more than -imitation--it was theft. - -In the period that elapsed between 1769 and 1795, Ducis produced -_Hamlet, Œdipe chez Admète, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello_ and _Abufar._ -This was the condition of the Théâtre-Français, this was the state of -French literature, in the year of grace 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte -was First Consul, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were assistant consuls. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets--Luce de Lancival ---Baour-Lormian--_Lebrun-Pindare_--Lucien Bonaparte, the author--Début -of Mademoiselle Georges--The Abbé Geoffroy's critique--Prince -Zappia--Hermione at Saint-Cloud - - -Let us here insert a word or two about Bonaparte's little Court. We are -writing memoirs now, and not novels; we must therefore replace fiction -by truth, plot by digressions and intrigue by desultory pages. - -Oh! if only some man had left us information about the sixteenth, -seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such as I have attempted to leave -about the nineteenth, how I should have blessed him, and what hard work -he would have spared me! - -A few words, therefore, as I have hinted, about Bonaparte and his -little Court. - -The début of Mademoiselle Georges had made a great sensation at Paris -and at la Malmaison. Formerly, one would have said at Paris and at -Versailles,--but Versailles was no more in 1802. - -The First Consul and his family were greatly interested in literature -at that time. Bonaparte's favourite poets were at the two extremes of -art, Corneille and Ossian: Corneille as representative of the powers of -the intellect, Ossian in the realms of imagination. So Corneille and -Ossian took the most prominent place among the poets who figured in the -catalogue of his Egyptian library. This partiality for the Scottish -bard was so well known that Bourrienne, when he organised the library, -guessed who was meant, though Bonaparte had written the word "_Océan_." - -It was not Bonaparte's fault if poets failed him, although he had -proscribed three of the greatest of his time: Chateaubriand, Madame -de Staël and Lemercier. Bonaparte demanded poets from the Chancellor -of the University, just as he demanded soldiers from his Minister for -War. Unhappily, it was easier for M. le Duc de Feltre to find 300,000 -conscripts than for M. de Fontanes to find a dozen poets. So Napoleon -was obliged to hang on to all he could find, to Lebrun, to Luce de -Lancival, to Baour-Lormian: they all had posts and incomes as though -they were true poets--in addition to compliments. - -"You have written a fine tragedy," Napoleon once said to Luce de -Lancival, about his _Hector_: "I will have it played in one of my -camps." And on the night of the representation he authorised a pension -of six thousand francs to be granted Luce de Lancival, with the -message, "seeing that poets are always in need of money," he should be -paid a year in advance. Read _Hector_ and you will see that it was not -worth the first payment of six thousand francs. Napoleon also placed -Luce de Lancival's nephew, Harel, under Cambacérès, and made him a -sub-prefect in 1815. - -Baour-Lormian also received a pension of six thousand livres; but -according to the witty complaint he laid before the Bourbons concerning -the persecutions of the usurper, despotism had been pushed "to the -extreme of punishing him with a pension of two thousand crowns," which, -he adds, admitting his weakness, he had not dared to decline. - -One day--during the rumours of war that were spread abroad in the year -1809--an ode fell into Napoleon's hands which began with this strophe:-- - - "Suspends ici ton vol.... D'où viens-tu, Renommée? - Qu'annoncent tes cent voix à l'Europe alarmée?... - --Guerre!--Et quels, ennemis veulent être vaincus? - --Russe, Allemand, Suédois déjà lèvent la lance; - Ils menacent la France! - --Reprends ton vol, déesse, et dis qu'ils ne sont plus!" - -This beginning struck him, and he asked-- - -"Whose verses are these?" - -"M. Lebrun's, sire." - -"Has he a pension already?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"Add a second pension of one hundred louis to that which he already -has." - -And they added one hundred louis to the pension already drawn by -Lebrun, who went by the name of _Lebrun-Pindare_, because he turned out -ten thousand lines of this kind of thing:-- - - "La colline qui vers le pôle - Domine d'antiques marais,[1] - Occupe les enfants d'Éole[2] - A broyer les dons de Cérès;[3] - Vanvres, qu'habite Galatée,[4] - Du nectar d'Io, d'Amalthée, - Epaissit les flots écumeux; - Et Sèvres, de sa pure argile, - Nous pétrit l'albâtre fragile - Où Moka nous verse ses feux."[5] - -But something happened that no one had foreseen: there lived another -poet called Pierre Lebrun--not Lebrun-Pindare. The ode was written -by Pierre Lebrun, not by Lebrun-Pindare. So it came to pass that -Lebrun-Pindare enjoyed for a long time the pension earned by Pierre -Lebrun. Thus we see that Napoleon did his utmost to discover poets, and -that it was not his fault if they were not found. - -When Casimir Delavigne published his first work in 1811, a dithyrambic -to the King of Rome, it began with this line:-- - - "Destin, qui m'as promis l'empire de la terre!" - -Napoleon scented a poet, and, although the lines smacked of the -schoolboy, he bestowed the academic prize and a post in the excise on -the author. - -Talma was poetry personified. So, since 1792, Napoleon had allied -himself with Talma. Where did he spend his evenings? In the wings -of the Théâtre-Français; and more than once, pointing out the man -who, twenty years later, was to send from Moscow his famous decree -concerning comedians, the porter asked Talma-- - -"Who is that young officer?" - -"Napoleon Bonaparte." - -"His name is not down on the free list." - -"Never mind; he is one of my friends: he comes with me." "Oh, if he is -with you, that is another matter." - -Later, Talma had, in his turn, the run of the Tuileries, and more than -one ambassador, more than one prince, more than one king asked the -emperor-- - -"Sire, who is that man?" - -And Napoleon would reply-- - -"He is Talma, one of my friends." - -Once, when noticing the ease with which Talma draped himself in his -toga, Napoleon said, "That man will be able to teach me one day how to -wear the imperial mantle." - -It was not all joy to have a First Consul who liked Corneille and -Ossian; this First Consul had brothers who tried to become poets. -They did not succeed; but, at all events, they made the attempt. We -must give credit to good intentions. Lucien wrote poetry. The fierce -Republican--who refused kingships, and who ended by allowing himself -to be made a Roman prince: a prince of what? I ask you! Prince de -Petit-Chien (_Canino_),--wrote poetry. A poem of his, entitled -_Charlemagne_, remains to remind us of him, or rather, it does not -remain, for it is dead enough. Louis took up another line: he wrote -blank verse, finding it easier than to compose rhymed verse. He -travestied Molière's _l'Avare_ in this fashion. Joséphine, the creole -coquette, with her nonchalant grace and her adaptable mind, welcomed -everyone, letting the world spin as it liked around her, like Hamlet -and, like Hamlet, praising everybody. - -Talma was a privileged guest in the little bourgeois Court. He talked -of the débutante, Mademoiselle Georges; he spoke of her beauty and -promising talent. Lucien became excited over her, and for all the -world like John the Baptist in the rôle of a precursor, he managed to -have a peep at the subject of the talk of the day, through a keyhole -somewhere, or mayhap through a wide open door, and he returned to -Malmaison, with a rather suspicious enthusiasm, to report that the -débutante's physical beauty was certainly below the praises sung -concerning it. - -The great day arrived--Monday, 8th Frimaire, year XI (29 November -1802). There had been a crowd waiting outside the Théâtre de la -République since eleven o'clock in the morning. - -Here, with the reader's permission, we will introduce Geoffroy's -account. Geoffroy was a worthless, shallow, unconscientious critic, who -had won his reputation at the time of the Terror, and who handed on his -pen to a wretch of his own kidney, to whom justice had several times -been dealt by the police courts;-a way of dealing with things which -seems to me to be a great improvement on the times of our forefathers. -We cannot possibly have degenerated in everything! - -Geoffroy did not spoil débutants, male or female, especially if they -were not wealthy. Hear what this sometime prince of critics had to say -about Mademoiselle Georges. - -There has always been a man called the prince of critics in France. -It is not the rank that is called in question, but the dignity of the -particular holder of it. - - THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE - _Iphigénie en Aulide_ - Pour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymer - élève de Mademoiselle Raucourt - - "Sufficient measures were not taken to control the - extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. - All the police were busily engaged at the box offices - during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors - were almost unprotected and sustained a terrific siege. - Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic - account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary - actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I - was acquainted with the danger. - - ... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi, - Et quorum pars magna fui!' - - "The assailants were inspired with the desire to see - the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a - celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity - is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such - scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, - suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot - all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent - only on opening a passage at the expense of all who - surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than - such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and - philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among - a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have - better plays and better actors than the Athenians,--that - is not yet sufficiently established,--but it is certain - that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility - at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress - of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for - frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since - history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of - intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is - also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends - countenance to the theory that the plays most run after - must necessarily be the best...." - -Would my readers have suspected that the famous Geoffroy could write in -such a style?--No?--Well, neither would I. - -Let us proceed. As we advance, its dulness ceases: it becomes almost -fanciful. - - "When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they - exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth - fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace - is more to be desired.' - - "And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be - wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order - to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible - for her to be more beautiful than she is, it would still - be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; - for spectators will be more severely critical in their - estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a - sight of her. - - "Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly - extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does - not fall below expectation. Her features combine the - regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; - her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she - walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, - her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect - model for Guérin's chisel...." - -Ah, Geoffroy, I do not know whether the critics of the time of Pericles -were better than those of the age of Bonaparte, first of that name; -but I do know that at least one or two of ours can write in a better -style.... - -You think not? - -Well, then, here is a portrait of the same person, written by a critic -in 1835. Notice the progress in style made in the thirty-three years -between Geoffroy's time and that of Théophile Gautier. - - "If I mistake not, Mademoiselle Georges is like a - medallion from Syracuse or an Isis from an Æginæan - bas-relief. The arch of her eyebrows, traced with - incomparable fineness and purity, extends over dark eyes - which are full of fire and flashes of tragic lightning. - Her nose is thin and straight, with obliquely cut - nostrils which dilate when she is passionately moved; her - whole profile is grand in its simple uniformity of line. - The mouth is strong, superbly haughty and sharp at its - corners, like the lips of an avenging Nemesis, who awaits - the hour to let loose her iron-clawed lion; yet over her - lips flickers a charming smile, full of regal grace; and - it would be impossible to believe, when she chooses to - express the tender passions, that she has hurled forth, - but a short while before, a classic imprecation or a - modern anathema. Her chin is full of character and of - determination; it is firmly set, and its majestic curves - relieve a profile that belongs rather to a goddess than - to a mortal. Mademoiselle Georges possesses, in common - with all the beautiful women of pagan ages, a broad - forehead, full at the temples, but not high, very like - that of the Venus de Milo, a wilful, voluptuous, powerful - forehead. There is a remarkable peculiarity about her - neck: instead of rounding off inwardly from the nape, it - forms a full and unbroken curve and unites the shoulders - to the base of her head without the slightest flaw. The - set of her arms is somewhat formidable by reason of the - strength of the muscles and the firmness of contour; one - of her shoulder-straps would make a girdle for the waist - of a medium-sized woman; but they are very white, very - clear, and they end in a wrist of childlike fragility - and tiny dimpled hands--hands which are truly regal, - fashioned to hold the sceptre and to clasp the dagger's - hilt in the plays of Æschylus and Euripides." - -Thank you, my dear Théophile, for allowing me to quote that splendid -passage, and pardon me for placing you in such bad company. Faugh! - -I now return to Geoffroy. He continues:-- - - "Talent responded to beauty. The theatre was packed - throughout and thoroughly excited; the First Consul - and all his family were in the box to the right of the - proscenium; he clapped his hands several times, but this - did not prevent some signs of opposition breaking out at - the line-- - - 'Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit.' ..." - -Excuse me! I must again interrupt myself, or rather, I must interrupt -Geoffroy. - -The reader knows that it was the custom for the audience to look -forward to the way in which debutantes delivered this line. - -Why so? the reader may inquire. - -Ah! truly, one does not know these things unless one is compelled to -know them. - -I will explain. - -Because that line is too simple, and unworthy of tragedy. - -You may not, perhaps, have been aware of that, monsieur? Perhaps it -is news to madame, who does me the honour to listen to me? But your -servant Geoffroy, who is obliged to read everything, knew it. - -Now, listen carefully; for we have not reached the end. This line -being, from its simplicity, unworthy of tragedy, the audience wanted to -see how the actress, correcting the poet, would treat it. - -Mademoiselle Georges did not pretend to possess greater genius than -Racine: she delivered the line simply, and with the most natural -intonation imaginable, since it was written with the simplicity of -passion. The audience dissented; she repeated it with the same accent; -again they demurred. - -Fortunately, Raucourt was present, in spite of an accident she had met -with; she had had herself carried to the theatre, and encouraged her -pupil from a little box, concealed behind a harlequin's cloak. - -"Be bold, Georgine! Stick to it!" she cried. - -And Georgine--it will appear odd to you, I imagine, that Mademoiselle -Georges should ever have been called _Georgine_ repeated the line for -the third time in the same simple and natural accent. The audience -applauded. From that moment her success was assured, as they say in -theatrical parlance. - -"The only thing that marred the play (said Geoffroy) was _Talma's lack -of intelligence, proportion and nobility in the part of Achilles._" - -I begin to think we must have been deceived in the matter of worthy M. -Geoffroy's impartiality and that he had received before the play a very -significant message from one of the members of the Bonaparte family who -was in the box of the First Consul. - -Mademoiselle Georges played the part of Clytemnestra three times -running. It was an immense success. Then she went on to the part of -Aménaïde,--_that maiden attacked with hysterical vapours_, as Geoffroy -said later,--and her popularity went on increasing. Then, after the -rôle of Aménaïde, she took the part of Idamé in _l'Orphelin de la -Chine._ - -If men wondered how debutantes in the part of Clytemnestra would -deliver the famous line so unworthy of Racine-- - - "Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit...." - -women waited just as impatiently for the appearance of debutantes in -the part of Idamé to see how they would dress their hair. - -Mademoiselle Georges' hair was arranged very simply _à la -chinoise_--that is to say, with her locks arranged on the top of -her head and tied with a golden ribbon. This arrangement suited her -admirably, so I was told, not by Lucien but by his brother King Jérôme, -a keen appreciator of beauty in all its forms, who, like Raucourt, kept -the habit of calling Georges, _Georgine._ - -The night that the _Orphelin de la Chine_ was to be played, whilst -Georgine, about whom, at that hour, the whole of Paris was talking, -was partaking of a lentil supper at the _hôtel du Pérou_,--not -because, like Esau, she was fond of this fare, but because there was -nothing else in the house,--Prince Zappia was announced. Who might -Prince Zappia be? Was he, too, a prince among critics? Not so: he was -a real prince, one of those art-loving princes whose line died out -with the Prince de Ligne, a Prince Hénin, one of those princes who -frequented the lounge of the Comédie-Française, as Prince Pignatelli -did the lounge of the Opéra. The lounge of the Comédie-Française was, -apparently, a wonderful place in those days--I only saw the remains of -it. - -After each great representation--and every time such actors as Talma, -Raucourt, Contat, Monvel or Molé played was a great occasion--all the -noted people in the artistic, diplomatic or aristocratic circles went -to have a few minutes' chat in the box of the hero or of the heroine of -the evening; then they returned to the lounge and joined the general -company there. - -Bonaparte's budding Court, which made such efforts to establish -itself as a Court, was rarely as brilliant as the lounge of the -Théâtre-Français. - -We were privileged to witness the fading light of those brilliant days -when it shone on the box of Mademoiselle Mars. - -All came to these assemblies in full dress. There were scarcely -any who had not their own footstools, chairs and lounges. These -were very formal occasions and, indeed, to be called a "_dame de la -Comédie-Française_" meant a great deal; people still remember the -occasion of the first attack upon this crusted etiquette. - -It was Mademoiselle Bourgoin who broke through it, by asking for some -cakes and a glass of Alicante. The old members of the company raised -their hands to Heaven in that day and cried out at such an abomination -of desolation. And their dismay was quite logical: a breach, if not -repaired, is ever apt to grow larger, especially in a theatre. And that -very infraction is responsible for the beer and fried eggs of to-day. - -Well, as Georgine was eating her lentils, Prince Zappia was announced -to her. What did Prince Zappia want at such an hour? He came to offer -the key of a suite of rooms in the rue des Colonnes, which he had -furnished since the previous evening at a cost of over fifty thousand -francs. He assured the fair Georgine, as he handed her this key, that -it was the one and only key that existed. - -An oath was needed to induce the débutante to leave the _hôtel du -Pérou._ This oath Prince Zappia took. On what did he swear? We don't -know. We inquired of Mademoiselle Georges herself; but she replied to -us, with the magnificent naïvete of a Lucrezia Borgia-- - -"Why do you wish to know that, my dear fellow? Many people have sworn -oaths to me which they have not kept." - -Lucien was not at all pleased at this change of residence. Lucien was -not a prince at that time; Lucien was not wealthy; Lucien made love to -her as a scholar; Lucien laid claim to the position of lover, which is -always a rather difficult matter when one's apartments are dingy and -cupboards bare: he was present one evening, I repeat, when Hermione's -chambermaid came into her apartment, thoroughly scared, and told her -that the First Consul's valet de chambre had come. - -The First Consul's valet de chambre? he who had dressed him on the -morning of 18 Brumaire? No! quite another person than Prince Zappia! -They showed the First Consul's valet de chambre in with as much -deference as they would have shown in 1750 to M. Lebel when he visited -Madame Dumesnil. - -The First Consul awaited Hermione at Saint-Cloud. Hermione was to come -as she was: she could change her clothes there. The invitation was -curt, but quite characteristic of the First Consul's manners. - -Antony, it will be remembered, bade Cleopatra join him in Cilicia. -Bonaparte might well beg Hermione to join him at Saint-Cloud. The -Grecian princess was not prouder than the Queen of Egypt; Hermione -was not less beautiful than Cleopatra, and ought to have been taken -down the Seine in a gilded galley, just as the Queen of Egypt ascended -the Cydnus. But that would have taken too long: the First Consul was -impatient to pay his addresses and, admitting the weakness artistes -have for flattery, the débutante was probably in no less hurry to -receive them. - -Hermione reached Saint-Cloud half an hour after midnight, and left -it at six in the morning. She came out victorious as Cleopatra: like -Cleopatra, she had had the conqueror of the world at her feet. But the -conqueror of the world, who thought it astonishing that a débutante, -whom his brother had told him lived in the _hôtel du Pérou_, drank -water and lived on lentils, should possess an English veil worth a -hundred louis and a cashmere shawl worth a thousand crowns, tore in -pieces, in a fit of jealousy, both the cashmere shawl and the English -veil. - -I have often argued with Georges that this was not done out of -jealousy, but simply for the fun of the thing. She always persisted it -was done out of jealousy, and I had not the desire to contradict her. - -Some days after Georgine's little nocturnal journey, the rumour of her -triumph leaked out; she was playing the part of Émilie, and when she -declaimed, in accents of true Roman pride, the line-- - -"Si j'ai séduit Cinna, j'en séduirai bien d'autres...." the whole -audience turned towards the First Consul's box and burst into applause. - -From that night there sprang up two dramatic, and almost political, -factions in the Théâtre-Français: the partisans of Mademoiselle -Georges, and the partisans of Mademoiselle Duchesnois--the _Georgians_, -and the _Carcassians._ The word _Carcassians_ was doubtless substituted -for _Circassians_ as being more expressive. But what is the meaning of -the word? Upon my word, I dare not say: I leave it to the investigation -of savants and the research of etymologists. Lucien Bonaparte, Madame -Bacciochi and Madame Lætitia were at the head of the _Georgians_; -Joséphine flung herself headlong into the _Carcassian_ party; -Cambacérès remained neutral. - - -[1] Montmartre. - -[2] Le vent. - -[3] Le blé. - -[4] Galatée ayant été nymphe, _Vauvres, qu'habite Galatée_, signifie: -Vauvres où il y a des bergers. - -[5] Façon poétique de dire qu'il y a une manufacture de porcelaines à -Sèvres. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Imperial literature--The _Jeunesse de Henri IV_.--Mercier -and Alexandre Duval--The _Templiers_ and their author--César -Delrieu--Perpignan--Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the -Théâtre-Français--Her flight to Russia--The galaxy of kings--The -tragédienne acts as ambassador - - -In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français -under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at -a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were -practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour -that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of -Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that -this double result was attained. - -"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day. - -"He left me to become an emperor," she replied. - -Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges -and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as -emperor. - -This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; -but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his -usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until -the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his -audience with him. - -Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course. - -In 1803, Hoffmann's _Roman d'une heure_ was played. In 1804, -_Shakespeare amoureux_ by Alexandre Duval, _Molière avec ses amis_ -by Andrieux, and the _Jeune Femme colère_ of Étienne were played. -In 1805, the _Tyran domestique_ and the _Menuisier de Livonie_ of -Alexandre Duval were played; Charon's _Tartufe de mœurs_, Bouilly's -_Madame de Sévigné_ and the _Filles à marier_ of Picard; and in 1806 -appeared Picard's _Marionnettes_, Alexandre Duval's _Jeunesse de Henri -V._ _Omasis_ or _Joseph en Égypte_ by Baour-Lormian and the _Templiers_ -by Raynouard. - -The two greatest successes of this last period were the _Templiers_ -and the _Jeunesse de Henri V._ The _Jeunesse de Henri V._ was borrowed -from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and -published but not played, was called _Charles II, dans un certain -lieu._ One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier -had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its -offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the -theatre of the rue de Richelieu. - -On the night of the representation of the _Jeunesse de Henri V_., -Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to -him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the -Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, -the idiots!" - -Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and -wrote nothing for two years. - -But the real success of the year, the literary success, was the -_Templiers._ This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic -work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous -success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at -one bound into the Academy. - -The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had -created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. -At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. -Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy of _Télémaque._ Who -ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out of _Télémaque_? - -A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in -danger of deluding myself. Was it _Lebrun-Pindare_? Was it Lebrun the -ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun the future Academician, peer of France, -director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I -do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and -whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound -as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of -Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined -talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did the -_Cid d'Andalousie,_ twenty years later, in spite of the combined -efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars. - -As we were present at the first representation of the _Cid -d'Andalousie_, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. -Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of the _Templiers._ He -continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts -from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the -University. - -He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. -Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on -Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more -than three tragedies: the _Templiers_, of which we have spoken; the -_États de Blois_, which was not so good as the _Templiers_; and _Caton -d'Utique_, which was not so good as the _États de Blois_. Napoleon -was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand -conscripts and his poet. - -In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and -M. Baour-Lormian, the author of the _Templiers_ and the author of -_Omasis_. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of -fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad. - -We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the -Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets -of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who -counted only the dukes of his own creation. - -It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes -began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just -discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. -This poet's name was Luce de Lancival. We have already spoken of him, -when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy -M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions -called _Mucius Scævola_ and ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten -the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall -had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them. - -Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store by _Hector._ He was -appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." -This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands. - -A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the -preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy of -_Artaxercès._ There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time -Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" -This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him -thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less -talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings -of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the -archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called -Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended -by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals -of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the -actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which -might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of -the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece -performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection -with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the -expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play -was called the _Oncle d'Amérique_, and by inscribing Perpignan upon -the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow -with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to -add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this -privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did -take advantage of it. - -One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase -that led to the lounge of the Odéon. - -"Good-evening, confrère," he said. - -"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu. - -"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded -Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable. - -When _Artaxercès_ was again put on the stage, at the time when we saw -it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, -the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what -is called in theatrical parlance _a dead failure (un four complet)._ - -A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him-- - -"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?" - -"With them? Never!" - -"What have they done to you now?" - -"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know -my _Artaxercès_, a chef-d'œuvre?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its -emptiest!" - -And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the -Comédie-Française. - -But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from -the revival of _Artaxercès_ to its first performance, which will bring -us to 30 April 1808. - -Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played -it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous -rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the -town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had -carried her off--His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias. - -The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than -ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk -much better French than we do. - -The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. -In tragedy queens alone it could boast Mademoiselle Raucourt, -Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges. - -The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should -lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz -and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The -business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian -diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand -Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, -to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. -Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were -busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of -Mademoiselle Georges. - -But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français -fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever -been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the -news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection -the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful -Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not -stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; -but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred -himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, -in diplomatic terms, to a _casus belli_, and Mademoiselle Georges -received an invitation to continue her journey. - -If the reader does not know what a _casus belli_ is, he can learn it -from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. -Thiers presented two or three _casus belli_ to the Powers, to which the -Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to -him, quite fresh and unused. - -Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of -Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause -from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout -the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly -scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, -unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was -in St. Petersburg. - -When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before -his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning -empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded -by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in -St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. -Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might -carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his -poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on -those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great -poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic -poets. - -So _Mérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, Iphigénie_ and _Andromaque_ were played -in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. -Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, -kept to the front. - -Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree -concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother -Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his -brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of -Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he -deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded -her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful -strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever -a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his -footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden -behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave -birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose -fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, -Antony had offered to Cæsar. - -Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a -few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think -of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave -a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old -and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this -sumptuous entertainment. - -Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings -and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, -princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the -rendezvous. - -On 28 September 1808, _Cinna_ was performed before the Emperor -Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the -following day, the 29th, _Britannicus_ was played. In that interval of -twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William -of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, -who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the -death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, -mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost -that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre called _the sceptre of -the world._ - -On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to -present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned -(without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de -Grenelle) the name of the author of _Faust_ is perhaps the only one -which will survive. - -On the 3rd, _Philoctète_ was played. It was during this performance -that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line-- - - "L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!" - ---the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want -of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to -Waterloo. During the second act of _Philoctète_ the King of Wurtemberg -arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on -one of the seats reserved for kings. - -On 4 October, _Iphigénie en Aulide_ was played. The King and the Queen -of Westphalia arrived during the piece. - -Next day, _Phèdre_ was performed. The King of Bavaria and the -Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée. - -On the 6th, the _Mort de César_ was represented. The crowned audience -was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one -queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes. - -After the play, the emperor said to Talma-- - -"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I -have made you play before an audience of kings." - -On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left -Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe. - -Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of -the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree -from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, -regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. -Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at -Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were -called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the -world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East -and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five -years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the -other on the shores of the Sea of Azov. - -The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news -of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's -capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which -they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges. - -A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the -head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time -being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his -fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in -Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. -They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. -On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly -staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be -utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from -Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. -This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know -how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. -Hermione hid the letter among the busks of her corset. The busk of a -woman's corset is the sheath of her sword. - -M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn -from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left -in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She -held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred -thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns -without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, -and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within -two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of -Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the -diamonds were such a source of fear! - -Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, -and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting -arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd -of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young -Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful -in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect -the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their -knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than -before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly -escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached -the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, -Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. -King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick. - -King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was -hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great -haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not -know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know -that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be -readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest -after such an adventurous journey. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -The Comédie-Française at Dresden--Georges returns to -the Théâtre-Français--The _Deux Gendres_--_Mahomet -II._--_Tippo-Saëb_--1814--Fontainebleau--The allied armies enter -Paris--Lilies--Return from the isle of Elba--Violets--Asparagus -stalks--Georges returns to Paris - - -Mademoiselle Georges left for Dresden the day after her arrival -at Brunswick. The giant who had been confounded at Beresina had, -Anteus-like, recovered his strength as he neared Paris. Napoleon left -Saint-Cloud on 15 April 1813. He stopped on the 16th at Mayence, left -it on the 24th, and reached Erfürt the same day. - -Napoleon was still in command of forty-three millions of men at this -time, and had as his allies against Russia all the kings who had been -present at the theatrical entertainments recently mentioned by us. But -Napoleon had lost his prestige. The first bloom of his glory had been -smirched; the invincible one had been proved vulnerable. The snowy -campaign of 1812 had chilled all the friendships professed towards him. -Prussia set the example of defection. - -On 3 May--that is to say, eighteen days after his departure from -Paris--Napoleon despatched couriers to Constantinople, Vienna and Paris -from the battlefield of Lutzen, where slept twenty thousand Russians -and Prussians, to announce a fresh victory. Saxony had been won back in -a single battle. On 10 May, the emperor installed himself at Dresden, -in the Marcolini Palace. On the 12th, the King of Saxony, who had taken -refuge on the frontiers of Bohemia, returned to his capital. On the -18th, Napoleon proposed an armistice. - -As it was ignored, he fought and won the battles of Bautzen and of -Lutzen on the 20th and 21st. On 10 June, the emperor returned to -Dresden, still in hopes of the desired armistice. - -On 16 June, MM. de Beausset and de Turenne were appointed to look after -the Comédie-Française. M. de Beausset's work was to see to the stage -management of the theatre, to obtain lodgings for the actors and to -arrange the repertory. M. de Turenne took upon him the invitations and -all matters connected with court etiquette. On 19 June, the company of -the Comédie-Française arrived. It consisted of the following actors and -actresses: MM. Fleury, Saint-Phal, - -Baptiste junior, Armand, Thénard, Vigny, Michot, Bartier; and Mesdames -Thénard, Émilie Contat, Mézeray, Mars and Bourgoin. We have followed -the observances of etiquette _à la_ M. de Turenne, and placed these -gentlemen and ladies in the order of their seniority. - -All was ready to receive them by 15 June. Lodgings, carriages and -servants had all been hired in advance. An hour after their arrival, -the thirteen artistes were duly installed. At midnight, on the -following day, Mademoiselle Georges also arrived in Dresden. By one -o'clock the Duc de Vicence had taken up his residence with her. The -next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, she was received by the -emperor. That very day, a courier was sent off to command Talma -and Saint-Prix to set out for Dresden instantly, no matter in what -part of France they might be when the order reached them. The order -reached Saint-Prix in Paris, and found Talma in the provinces. Twelve -days after, Talma and Saint-Prix arrived, and the company of the -Comédie-Française was complete. - -A theatre had been arranged for comedy in the orangery belonging to the -palace occupied by the emperor. - -Tragedies, which require far more staging and much more scenery, were -to be performed in the town theatre. The first representation of comedy -took place on 22 June; it consisted of the _Gageure imprévue_ and -the _Suites d'un bal masqué._. The first representation of tragedy -was _Phèdre_, played on the 24th. But these entertainments were very -different from those at Erfürt! A veil of sadness had crept over the -past; a cloud of fear hung over the future. People remembered Beresina; -they foresaw Leipzig. Talma looked in vain among the audience for the -kings who had applauded him at Erfürt. There was only the old and -faithful King of Saxony, the last of those crowned heads who remained -true to Napoleon. - -The performances lasted from 22 June until 10 August. The emperor -invited either Talma or Mademoiselle Mars or Mademoiselle Georges to -lunch with him most mornings. They talked of art. Art had always filled -an important place in Napoleon's mind. He was in this respect not -only the successor, but also the heir to Louis XIV. It was on these -occasions that he gave expression to those incisive appreciations -peculiar to himself, and to his opinions on men and on their works. -It must have been fine indeed to listen to Napoleon's appreciation of -Corneille and his criticism of Racine. And it should be remembered -that, to be able to speak of Corneille or of Racine, his powerful mind -had to put aside for the moment all thought of the material world -which was beginning to press heavily upon him. It is true that he was -continually being deluded by hopes of peace; but on the evening of 11 -August all hopes of that nature were dispelled. - -On the 12 th, at three o'clock in the morning, M. de Beausset received -the following letter from Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel:-- - - "MY DEAR BEAUSSET,--The emperor commands me to tell you - that the French actors who are here must leave either - to-day or to-morrow morning at the latest, to return to - Paris. Have the goodness to inform them of this.--Yours, - etc., - - "ALEXANDRE" - -The actors left, and then the battle of Leipzig took place. The -Empire's dying struggle had begun. The actors meanwhile returned -to Paris. Mademoiselle Georges resumed her ascendency at the -Comédie-Française, after an absence of five years. Raucourt, though -still alive, had practically abandoned her career. For a long time -past the theatrical life had weighed upon her; she only acted when -obliged, and remained almost all the year round in the country. When -Mademoiselle Georges was reinstalled, it was arranged that she should -become a full member of the company, and her absence was reckoned -as though she were present. She reappeared as Clytemnestre when she -was still only twenty-eight years of age. Her success was immense. -There had not been many changes during those last five years at the -Théâtre-Français. The important pieces played during the absence of -Mademoiselle Georges were, _Hector_ and _Christophe Colombo_ to which -we have referred; the _Deux Gendres,_ by M. Étienne; _Mahomet II_., by -M. Baour-Lormian; and _Tippo-Saëb,_ by M. de Jouy. - -The success of the _Deux Gendres_ was not contested, and it could not -be contested. But since people must always contest some point or other -in the case of an author of any merit, the paternity of M. Étienne's -comedy was contested. - -A worm-eaten manuscript written by a forgotten Jesuit was dragged out -of some bookcase or other, and it was said that M. Étienne had robbed -this unlucky Jesuit. It should be stated that the plot of the _Deux -Gendres_ was the same that Shakespeare had utilised two centuries -before, in _King Lear_, and that M. de Balzac made use of twenty-five -years later, in _Père Goriot._ All these polemical discussions greatly -annoyed M. Étienne, and probably hindered him from writing a sequel to -the _Deux Gendres. Mahomet II._ met with but indifferent success: the -play was lifeless and dull. - -Nevertheless, M. Baour-Lormian was a meritorious writer: he left, or -rather he will leave, a few poems charged with melancholy feeling, all -the more striking as such a sentiment was entirely unknown during the -Empire, which can offer us, in this respect, nothing save the _Chute -des Feuilles_ by Millevoie, and the _Feuille de Rose_ by M. Arnault. -Besides, the _Chute des Feuilles_ was written before, and the _Feuille -de Rose_ after, the Empire. - -Let me quote a few of M. Baour-Lormian's pleasant lines:-- - - "Ainsi qu'une jeune beauté - Silencieuse et solitaire, - Du sein du nuage argente - La lune sort avec mystere.... - Fille aimable du ciel, à pas lents et sans bruit, - Tu glisses dans les airs où brille ta couronne; - Et ton passage s'environne - Du cortège pompeux des soleils de la nuit.... - Que fais-tu loin de nous, quand l'aube blanchissante - Efface, à nos yeux attristés, - Ton sourire charmant et tes molles clartés? - Vas-tu, comme Ossian, plaintive et gémissante, - Dans l'asile de la douleur - Ensevelir ta beauté languissante? - Fille aimable du ciel, connais-tu le malheur?" - -We must now return to Mademoiselle Georges. - -Mademoiselle Georges, as we have remarked, found, it seems, the -Théâtre-Français pretty much as she had left it. She resumed her old -repertory. Is it not curious that during the nine years she was at the -Théâtre-Français Mademoiselle Georges, who has created so many rôles -since, only created those of Calypso and of Mandane there?... - -All this time, the horizon in the North was growing darker and darker: -Prussia had betrayed us; Sweden had deserted us; Saxony had been -involved in the rout at Leipzig; Austria was recruiting her forces -against us. On 6 January 1814, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, signed -an armistice with England, the expiration of which had to be notified -three months in advance. On the 11th, he promised the Emperor of -Austria to go to war against France with thirty thousand men; in -exchange for which the Austrian monarch guaranteed the throne of Naples -to him and his heirs. - -Napoleon then began the marvellous campaign of 1814, that titanic -struggle in which a single man and one nation faced two emperors, four -kings and six nations of the first rank, including Russia, England, -Prussia and Spain. - -If we turn over the pages of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français -for the whole of the year 1814, the only new play we shall find is the -_Hôtel garni_, a comedy in one act, and in verse, by Désaugiers. - -Meanwhile, at each fresh victory, Napoleon lost a province. Driven-to -bay at Fontainebleau, he abdicated. Three days later, the allied forces -marched into Paris, and Napoleon left for the isle of Elba. There were -still two factions at the Comédie-Française, as there had been during -the time of the Revolution. Talma, Mars and Georges remained loyally -faithful to the emperor. Raucourt, Mademoiselle Levert, Madame Volnais -espoused the Royalist cause. Raucourt was the first to tear down the -eagle which decorated the imperial box. Poor soul! she little knew that -those whom she helped to recall would refuse her Christian burial, one -year later! - -The same kings who had been present at the Erfürt representations, -as Napoleon's guests and friends, came as enemies and conquerors to -see the same plays in Paris. Everybody knows the terrible reaction -that took place at first against the Empire. The actors who remained -faithful to the emperor were not persecuted, but they were made to -exclaim as they came on the stage, "Vive le roi!" - -One day Mademoiselle Levert and Madame Volnais outdid even the -exacting demands of the public: they came on the stage, in the _Vieux -Célibataire_, with huge bouquets of lilies in their hands. - -So things went on until 6 March 1815. On that day a strange, -incredible, unheard-of rumour spread through Paris, and, from Paris, to -all the four quarters of the earth. Napoleon had landed. Many hearts -trembled at the news; but few were more agitated than those of the -faithful actors who had not forgotten that once, when he was master of -the world and emperor he had conversed upon art and poetry with them. - -Nevertheless, nobody dared express his joy: hope was faint, the truth -of the rumour uncertain. - -According to the official newspapers, Napoleon was wandering, hunted -and beaten, among the mountains, where he could not avoid being -captured before long. Truth, like everything that is real, makes -itself seen in the end. A persistent rumour came from Gap, from -Sisteron, from Grenoble; the fugitive of the _Journal des Débats_ was -a conqueror round whom the people rallied in intoxicated delight. -Labédoyère and his regiment, Ney and his army corps rallied round him. -Lyons had opened its gates to him, and from the heights of Fourvières -the imperial eagle had started on the flight which, from tower to -tower, was to bring it at last to the towers of Nôtre Dame. - -On 19 March, the Tuileries was evacuated: a courier was sent to carry -this news to Napoleon, who was at Fontainebleau. People expected him -all day long on the 20th; they felt confident that he would make a -triumphal entry along the boulevards. Mars and Georges had taken a -window at Frascati's. They wore hats of white straw, with enormous -bunches of violets in them. They attracted much notice, for it was -known that they had been persecuted for a year at the Comédie-Française -on account of their attachment to the emperor. - -The bouquets of violets symbolised the month of March: the King of -Rome's birthday was in the month of March, and also the return of -Napoleon. From that day violets became a badge. People wore violets in -all sorts of fashions--in hats, hanging by their sides, as trimmings -to dresses. Some, more fanatic than others, wore a gold violet in -their buttonholes, as an order of chivalry. There was quite as great a -reaction against the Bourbons as there had been in their favour a year -before. - -When Talma, Mars and Georges appeared, they were overwhelmed with -applause. Georges saw the emperor again at the Tuileries. By dint of -his powerful character, Napoleon seemed to have put everything behind -him. One might have said he had not left the château of Catherine de -Médicis save, as had been his custom, to bring back news of a fresh -victory. The only thing that distressed him was that they had taken -away some of his favourite pieces of furniture. - -He missed greatly a little boudoir, hung with tapestry that had been -worked by Marie-Louise and the ladies of the Court. - -"Would you believe it, my dear," he said to Georges, "I found asparagus -stalks on the arm-chairs!" This was the worst with which he reproached -Louis XVIII. - -The return of the god was of as short duration as the apparition of a -ghost. Waterloo succeeded Leipzig; Saint-Helena, the isle of Elba. It -was a more terrible, a more melancholy counterpart! Leipzig was but a -wound, Waterloo was death; the isle of Elba was but exile, Saint-Helena -was the tomb! - -One might almost say that he carried everything away with him. We again -turn over the leaves of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français and we do -not find any play of importance produced throughout the year 1815. The -lilies reappeared and the poor violets were exiled;--with the violets, -Georges exiled herself. She went to the provinces, where she remained -for several years; she reappeared in 1823, more beautiful than she had -ever been. She was then thirty-eight. - -I will find an opportunity to pass in review the men of letters and -the literary works of the Empire, to which, on account of my callow -youth, I have scarcely referred, during the period in which these men -and their works flourished. Indeed, when Georges made her début, the -two men who were to add to her reputation by means of _Christine, -Bérengère_ and _Marguerite de Bourgogne, Marie Tudor_ and _Lucrèce -Borgia_, were still wailing at their mothers' breasts. Taken all round, -whatever people may say, these five rôles were Georges' greatest -successes. Meanwhile, on 12 April 1823, the great actress played in -_Comte Julien_ at the Odéon. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of a great -actor--Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de Portugal upon Talma declining -it--Lafond--His school--His sayings--Mademoiselle Duchesnois--Her -failings and her abilities--_Pierre de Portugal_ succeeds - - -The great day for the representation of _Pierre de Portugal_ came at -last. Talma, preoccupied with his creation of the part of Danville in -the _École des Vieillards_, had declined to take the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal. Lafond had accepted it, and he and Mademoiselle Duchesnois -had to bear the brunt of the whole play. Herein lay the indisputable -test pointed out by Lassagne: could the play possibly succeed without -Talma? The great inconvenience of that _rara avis_, as Juvenal puts -it, or, in theatre parlance, the actor who brings in the receipts, is -that on days when he does not play the theatre loses heavily; plays in -which he does not figure are judged beforehand to be unworthy of public -notice, since they have not been honoured by the actor's concurrence. - -At the time to which we are referring the Théâtre-Français was better -off than it is now. One day it made money by Talma's tragic acting; the -next, it made money by Mademoiselle Mars in comedy. Casimir Delavigne -began its downfall by making the two eminent artistes appear together -in the same play and on the same day. As for Lafond and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois, neither apart nor together did they bring in sufficient -receipts. - -Lafond would be about forty then: he came out first in 1800, at the -Théâtre-Français, in the part of Achilles. Later, when supported by -Geoffroy, in _Tancrède_, in _Adélaïde Duguesclin_ and in _Zaire_, he -became as successful as Talma. The scurvy race of sheep which we -have always with us, which takes its nutriment in the pastures of -poetry and which is too feeble to form its own opinion based on its -own mental capacity, adopts a judgment ready made wherever it can. It -bleated concerning Lafond, "Lafond is inimitable in the rôle of French -cavalier." - -There was always, at this period of the drama, a part called the -French cavalier. This part was invariably played by a person decorated -with a plumed toque, clad in a yellow tunic braided with black, -ornamented with representations of the sun, or of golden palms when -the cavalier was a prince, and wearing buff-leather boots. It was not -imperative that the hero should be French, or wear golden spurs, to -be a French cavalier: the rôle was designed on well defined lines, -and belonged to a particular school. Zamore was a French cavalier, -Orosmane was a French cavalier, Philoctètes was a French cavalier. -The only distinctions between them were as follows: Zamore played in -a cap decorated with peacock feathers, and in a cloak of parrot's -feathers, with a girdle of ostrich plumes. Orosmane played in a long -robe of white taffeta dropping with spangles and trimmed with minever, -in a turban opening out wide like a blunderbuss and decorated with a -crescent of Rhine stones, in red foulard trousers and yellow slippers. -Philoctètes played in a loose coat of red horse-hair, a cuirass of -velvet embroidered with gold, and was furnished with a warlike sword. - -Vanhove, in order to play Agamemnon, had a cuirass which cost him a -small fortune, two hundred louis, I believe; it was ornamented by two -trophies, hand-worked--a magnificent bit of work, representing cannons -and drums. - -I once said to Lafond-- - -"M. Lafond, why do you play Zamore in such a shabby girdle? Your -feathers look like fish-bones; they are positively indecent!" - -"Young man," replied Lafond, "Zamore is not rich; Zamore is a slave; -Zamore could not afford to buy himself a new girdle every day; I am -true to history." - -What was perhaps less true to history was the expansive Stomach which -the girdle enclosed. - -Lafond's triumphs in these cavalier parts made Talma nearly die of -envy. One day Geoffroy's articles exasperated him to such a degree -that, on meeting the critic in the wings, he flew at him and bit -him--at the risk of poisoning himself. But as the law of universal -stability decrees that every bullet shall find its billet, the -populace, by degrees, grew tired of Lafond's redundant declamation and -emphatic gestures, which, at the time of which we are speaking, being -used only by a few old-fashioned members of the school of Larive, drew -receipts no longer, even when they played the parts of _chevaliers -français._ - -Lafond was an odd fellow in other ways besides. Thanks to his Gascon -accent and to his way of saying things, one never knew whether he were -talking nonsense or saying something witty. - -He once came into the lounge of the Théâtre-Français when Colson (an -indifferent actor who was often hissed) was blurting out his caricature -of Lafond's trick of over-acting. Colson pulled himself up; but it was -too late: Lafond had heard his voice in the corridor. He made straight -for Colson. - -"Eh! Colson, my friend," he said, in that Bordelais accent of which -none but those who have heard and followed it could form any idea, -"they tell me you have been taking me off?" - -"Oh! M. Lafond," Colson replied, trying to recover himself, "take you -off?... No, I swear I...." - -"All right! all right! that was what I was told.... Come, Colson, do me -a favour." - -"What is it, M. Lafond?" - -"Act my part before me." - -"Oh, M. Lafond...." - -"I beg you to do it; I shall really be extremely obliged to you." - -"The deuce!" said Colson. "If you really wish it...." - -"Yes, I do wish it." - -Colson yielded, and began Orosmane's tirade-- - - "Vertueuse Zaire, avant que l'hyménée...." - -and declaimed it from the first line to the last, with such fidelity -of imitation that one might have thought Lafond himself were declaiming. - -Lafond listened to the end with the deepest attention, nodding his head -up and down and expressing his approbation by frequent and obvious -signs. - -Then, when Colson had finished, he said, "Well! why ever don't you act -like that, my dear fellow? The public would not hiss you if you did!" - -In the interval between the first and second acts of _Pierre de -Portugal_, Lucien Arnault was in the wings; during the second act, -Pierre de Portugal, disguised as a soldier of his army, insinuates -himself unrecognised into the house of Inès de Castro, who takes him -for a common soldier. - -Lucien saw Lafond advance in a costume resplendent with gold and jewels. - -He ran up to him. "Ah! my dear Lafond," he said, "your costume is all -wrong!" - -"Have you anything to say against my costume?" - -"Rather, I should just think so." - -"But it is blatantly new." - -"That is precisely what I take exception to: you have put on the garb -of a prince, not that of a common soldier." - -"Lucien," replied Lafond, "listen to this: I would rather arouse envy -than pity." Then, turning haughtily on his heels, no doubt in order -to show the back of his costume to Lucien, since he had shown him the -front, he said, "They can ring: Pierre de Portugal is ready." - -When, five years later, I read _Christine_ before the Théâtre-Français, -whether or not Lafond was a member of the committee, or whether he -did not care to trouble himself to listen to the work of a beginner, -I had the misfortune to read it in his absence. Although, as we shall -see in its proper place, the play was rejected, the reading excited -some interest, and it was thought that a drama might be made out of it -sooner or later. - -One day I saw the door of my humble office open and M. Lafond was -announced. I raised my head, greatly surprised, unable to imagine -why I should be favoured by a visit from the viceroy of the tragic -stage: it was indeed he! I offered him a chair; but he refused it -with a nod of the head, and stopping close to the door, with his -right foot forward and his left hand resting on his hips, he said, -"Monsieur Dumas, do you happen to have, by any chance, in your play, -a well-set-up gallant who would say to that queer queen Christine, -'Madame, your majesty has no right to kill that poor devil of a -Monaldeschi, for this, that, or any other reason'?" - -"No, monsieur, no! I have no such gallant in my play." - -"You are quite sure you haven't?" - -"Yes." - -"In that case I have nothing to say to you.... Good-day, M. Dumas." -And, turning on his heel, he went out as he had entered. He had come -to ask me for the part of this well-set-up gallant, as he called it. -Unfortunately, as I had been compelled to acknowledge, I had no such -part in my play. - -In the heyday of his popularity M. Lafond never spoke of Talma, or of -M. Talma: he said, _the other person_. - -The Comte de Lauraguais, who had been Sophie Arnould's lover, and who, -like the Marquis de Zimènes, was one of the most constant visitors to -the actors' green-room, said one day to M. Lafond, "M. Lafond, I think -you are too often _the one_ and not often enough _the other?_" - -Mademoiselle Duchesnois was quite different from Lafond: she was really -kind-hearted, and her great successes never made her vain. She was -born in 1777, one year before Mademoiselle Mars, at Saint-Saulve, near -Valenciennes, and she changed her name, after her début in _Phèdre_, -in 1802, from Joséphine Ruffin to Duchesnois. We have said that she -was Mile. Georges' rival in everything: her rival on the stage, her -rival in love. Harel was the handsome Paris who was the object of this -rivalry. Harel, who was in turn manager of the theatre de l'Odéon and -of the théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, will play a great part in -these Memoirs--the part that a clever man, be it known, has the right -to play everywhere. - -Mademoiselle Duchesnois had had to struggle all her life against -her plain looks: she was like one of those china lions one sees -on balustrades; she had a particularly big nose which she blew -stentoriously, as befitted its size. Lassagne did not dare to go -into the orchestra on days when she acted; he was afraid of being -blown away. On the other hand, she had a marvellous figure, and her -body could have rivalled that of the Venus de Milo. She doted on the -part of Alzire, which allowed her and Lafond to appear almost naked. -She possessed a certain simplicity of mind which her detractors -called stupidity. One day--in 1824--people were busy talking about -the inundation of St. Petersburg, and of the various more or less -picturesque accidents that had occurred through this inundation. - -I was in the wings, behind Talma and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, to whom -an actress, who had just arrived from the first, or rather from the -second, capital of the Russian Empire, was relating how one of her -friends, overtaken by the flood, had only had time to climb up on a -crane. - -"What! on a crane?" said Mademoiselle Duchesnois, in great -astonishment. "Is it possible, Talma?" - -"Oh! my dear," replied the actor questioned so oddly, "no one ought to -know better than yourself that it is done every day." - -But, in spite of her ugliness, in spite of her simplicity, in spite of -her hiccough, in spite of her nose-blowing, Mademoiselle Duchesnois -possessed the most profoundly tender inflections in her voice, and -could express such pathetic sorrow, that most of those who saw her in -_Marie Stuart_ prefer her to-day to Mademoiselle Rachel. Especially did -her qualities shine when she played with Talma. Talma was too great an -artiste, too superb an actor to fear being outbidden. Talma gave her -excellent advice, which her fine artistic nature utilised, if not with -remarkable intelligence, at least with easy assimilation. - -The poor creature retired from the stage in 1830, after having -struggled as long as she could against the pitiless indifference of the -public, and the cruel hints from other actors which generally embitter -the later years of dramatic artistes. She reappeared once again before -her death in 1835, in _Athalie_ at the Opera, I believe. - -It was very sad to see her: it inevitably brought to mind the line from -_Pierre de Portugal_-- - - "Inès, vivante ou non, tu seras couronnée!" - -Alas! poor Duchesnois was crowned when she was more than half dead. She -had a son, a good honest lad. After the Revolution of July, Bixio and I -got him a sub-lieutenancy; but he was killed, I believe, in Algeria. - -The tragedy of _Pierre de Portugal_ was a success; it was even a great -success; but it only ran fifteen or eighteen nights, and did not bring -in any money. - -Lassagne was right. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -General Riégo--His attempted insurrection--His escape and flight--He is -betrayed by the brothers Lara--His trial--His execution - - -We have mentioned that the _École des Vieillards_ ought to have come -after _Pierre de Portugal_, but between the comedy and tragedy two -terrible dramas took place in Madrid and Paris. In Madrid they made a -martyr; in Paris they executed a criminal. The martyr's name was Riégo: -the guilty criminal's Castaing. - -Riégo was born, in 1783, in the Asturias, so he would be about forty: -he was of a noble but poor family and, since the invasion of 1808, he -had enlisted as a volunteer. He became an officer in the same regiment -in which he had enlisted; he was taken prisoner and led away to France. -Sent back to Spain, when peace was declared, he attained the rank of -lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment, and, leading this regiment -into insurrection, seduced by him, it proclaimed the constitution of -1812 at las Cabesas-de-San-Juan. It will be seen later that it was -desired that his head should be exposed, in order that his mute lips -and the eyes closed by death might bear witness to the fact that -royalty can be cruel for more than a day's span, and common people -ungrateful. On 27 September he was arrested at Cadiz. Let us say a few -words concerning his arrest and death,--the latter especially, for, -alas I it belongs almost to French history. After his last defeat, -General Riégo wandered in the mountains with a score of his comrades, -all of whom belonged, like himself, to the Liberal party. Fifteen of -these fugitives were officers. They were all exhausted by fatigue and -hunger, and did not know either where to look for shelter or from whom -to beg food, when they caught sight of two men. They made straight for -them. These two men were the hermit of the district of Pédrogil and a -native of Valez named Lopez Lara. The general took them aside. - -"My friends," he said to them, "you have a chance to win a fortune for -yourselves and your families." - -"What must we do to gain it?" the two men asked. - -"Conduct me safe and sound to Carolina, to Carboneras and to Novas de -Tolosa." - -"And there...?" - -"There I shall find friends who will take me on to Estremadura, where I -have business to transact." - -Whether the journey appeared to them too long, or whether they fancied -they had to deal with outlaws, the hermit and his companion declined. -So Riégo arrested them, put them on a couple of mules, and told them -that, whether willingly or under compulsion, they would have to act as -guides to his band. The party waited until nightfall and then set forth. - -During the march in the darkness, Riégo talked with his comrades -concerning various events that had recently occurred, from which the -hermit and Lopez Lara soon guessed that they were in the company of -the notorious Riégo. From that moment Lopez Lara's whole thoughts were -filled with the idea of handing Riégo over to the Royalist authorities. -When daytime came, they had to stop. They were near the farm of -Baquevisones: Riégo announced that he meant to ask for shelter there, -so he ordered Lara to knock at the door. Lara obeyed. By chance, his -own brother Matéo opened it. Lara perceived that chance had brought him -the assistance he needed. Riégo, realising that too large an escort -might betray him, would only allow three of his comrades to go in with -him. One of these companions was an Englishman, even more daring than -Riégo. He at once locked the door of the farm behind him and put the -key in his pocket. When they had given the horses fodder, they rested -in the stable, each with his naked sword by his side. Three slept, -while the fourth mounted guard. When Riégo awaked, he discovered -that his horse was unshod. He ordered Lopez Lara to shoe the horse -immediately. - -"All right," replied he; "but I must take him to Arguillos to get him -shod." - -"No," returned Riégo; "you shall stay here and Matéo shall have him -shod. But the farrier shall come here; the horse shall not go to him." - -Lopez appeared to conform with indifference to this order; but, as he -transmitted it to his brother, he managed to say-- - -"The man who owns the horse is General Riégo." - -"So ho!" said Matéo; "arrange for him to be at breakfast by the time I -return; do not leave the place where they are or let them out of your -sight." - -Matéo returned, and made a sign to his brother that the commission was -executed. Then to Riégo he said-- - -"Señor, as the farrier will be here in five minutes, you had better -breakfast, if you wish to proceed on your journey directly your horse -is shod." - -Riégo went to breakfast without making any objection. But not so the -Englishman. - -The Englishman searched the high road with his field-glasses from a -window as far as he could see. Suddenly a score of armed men came into -sight, headed by an _alcade_ (magistrate). - -"General," he exclaimed, "we have been betrayed! There are soldiers -coming." - -"To arms!" cried Riégo, rising. He had time to utter this cry, but not -to accomplish its fulfilment. Lopez and Matéo seized their guns and -covered the outlaws with them. - -"The first man who moves is dead!" cried Lopez. - -"All right," said Riégo, "I surrender; but warn the soldiers who are -coming not to harm us, since we are your prisoners." - -The soldiers entered, led by the alcade. - -"Shake hands, brother, and do us no harm," said Riégo to the alcade. - -After some objection, the alcade greeted Riégo. But, in spite of this, -he told him he must bind his hands. Whereupon, Riégo took out of his -pocket all the money he had with him and distributed it among the -soldiers, asking them to treat him mercifully. The alcade, however, -forbade the soldiers to accept anything. A quarter of an hour later, -the civil commandant arrived from Arguillos with a guard, and they took -the prisoners to Andujar. - -When the captives entered that town, the people wanted to tear them -limb from limb. Riégo was accompanied by a French officer. When he -arrived in front of the same balcony from which, a year ago, he had -harangued the people, he pointed to the crowd which surrounded him -howling and shaking their fists and knives at him, and in a tone of -profound sadness he said to the officer, "These people whom you see -so relentless towards me, these people who if I had not been under -the protection of your escort would have butchered me long since, -these people carried me here in triumph only last year; the town was -illuminated the whole night through, and the very same individuals whom -I recognise surrounding me here, who then deafened me with cries of -'Vive Riégo!' now shout 'Death to Riégo!'" - -He was taken to the seminary of nobles; his trial lasted over a month. -A decree dated 1 October, the very day on which he was freed from -prison and reached the port of Sainte-Marie, degraded the general of -all his honours; consequently, he was tried by a civil court. The King -of Spain gained a twofold advantage by depriving the general of a -military court martial. - -First he knew that the civil court would condemn Riégo to death. -Second, if the sentence were pronounced by a civil court, the death -would be ignominious. Vengeance is such a sweet mouthful that it must -not be permitted to lose any of its flavour. - -On 4 November they led Riégo from the seminary of nobles to the -prison of la Tour. The court had not obtained all it demanded. The -attorney-general requisitioned that Riégo should be condemned to -the gallows; that his estate should be confiscated and given to the -Commune; that his head should be exposed at las Cabesas de San-Juan; -that his body should be quartered and one quarter sent to Seville, -another to the isle of Leon, the third to Malaga and the fourth -exposed in Madrid, in the usual places for such exhibitions,--"these -towns being," the attorney-general added, "the principal places where -the traitor Riégo scattered the sparks of revolt." - -The alcades decided that the mode of death should be by hanging and -that the goods should be confiscated; but they refused the request -concerning the four quarters. - -Once, towards the end of the fifteenth century, the inhabitants of -Imola, a small town in the Romagna, found, on waking up, the four -quarters of a man hanging each by a hook at the four corners of -the square. They recognised the man cut into four quarters for a -Florentine, and wrote to the worshipful Republic to advise them of -the unforeseen accident that had overtaken one of its citizens. The -Republic learnt of this by means of Machiavelli, its ambassador to -the Legations. Machiavelli's only reply was as follows: "Noble lords, -I have but one thing to say to you apropos of the corpse of Ramiro -d'Orco, which was found cut up into four quarters in the square of -Imola, and it is this: the illustrious Cæsar Borgia is the prince who -best knows how to deal with men according to their deserts." - -It riled the King of Spain not to be able to deal with Riégo as Borgia -had dealt with Ramiro d'Orco; but he had to content himself with the -prisoner being borne to the gibbet on hurdles and with the confiscation -of his property. Even that would be quite a pretty spectacle. - -On 5 November at noon Riégo's sentence was read to him: he listened -to it very calmly. This calmness disturbed the judges for it would -set a bad example if Riégo died bravely. They took him to the chapel, -and under pretence that fasting induced penitence sooner than -anything else, they gave him nothing to eat from that time. Two monks -accompanied him to his cell and never left him. At the prison door, -in the street, he could see a table with a crucifix thereon, and -passers-by placed their alms on the table. These alms were destined to -pay the expenses of his mass and funeral. - -On the 7th, at nine in the morning, the prison was besieged by over -thirty thousand curious spectators; a much greater number than that -lined the whole of the route, and formed a double line from the prison -square to the square where the execution was to take place. - -Riégo had asked that only Spanish troops should be present during his -last moments. This favour was granted him, because France did not wish -to dip one corner of its white flag in the blood of the unlucky Riégo. - -At half-past twelve, after fifty hours of fasting, the general was -led forth to the prison door. He was pale and weak. They had stripped -him of his uniform and they had clothed him in a dressing-gown with -a girdle fastened round his waist; his hands and feet were likewise -bound. He was laid on a hurdle, with a pillow under his head. Monks -walked on both sides of this hurdle to administer spiritual consolation -to him. An ass drew the hurdle, led by the executioner. The victim was -preceded and followed by a corps of cavalry. - -It was difficult to get a good sight of the general, so great was the -curiosity of the crowd: his head fell forward on his breast, and he had -only sufficient strength to raise it two or three times to reply to the -exhortations of the priests. - -The cortège took nearly an hour to get from the prison to the place of -execution. When the foot of the gallows was reached, the general was -raised from the hurdle, covered with dust, and placed on the first step -of the scaffold. There he made his last confession. Then they dragged -him up the ladder; for, his feet being bound, he could not mount it -himself. All the while a priest kept beseeching God to forgive him his -sins, as he forgave those who had trespassed against him. When they -had hauled him a certain height, those who raised the condemned man -stopped. The act of faith was begun and, at the last word, the general -was hurled from the top of the ladder. At the very instant that the -priest pronounced the word _Jésus-Christ_, which was the signal, the -executioner leapt on the shoulders of the martyr, while two men hung -from his legs, completing the hideous group. Twice the shout of "Vive -le roi!" went up, first from the rows of spectators near by; the -second time from a few individuals alone. Then a man leapt from out the -crowd, stepped towards the scaffold, and struck Riégo's body a blow -with his stick. That night they carried the corpse into the nearest -church, and it was interred in the Campo-Santo by the Brothers of -Charity. - -Nothing is known of Riégo's last moments, as no one was allowed to come -near him; the monks, his bitterest enemies, being desirous of throwing -all possible odium on his dying moments. - -"The last of the Gracchi," according to Mirabeau, "in the act of death, -threw dust steeped in his own blood into the air. Thence was born -Marius." - -Riégo left a song; from that song was born a revolution, and from that -revolution the Republic. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The inn of the _Tête-Noire_--Auguste Ballet--Castaing--His trial--His -attitude towards the audience and his words to the jury--His execution - - -The second drama which happened in Paris, and which was to have its -denouement on the place de Grève, on the same day that the _École des -Vieillards_ was played, was the poisoning of Auguste Ballet. - -We have spoken of the death of poor little Fleuriet, who was as -pretty, fresh and flower-like as her name, and who was carried off in -twenty-four hours without any apparent reason for her death. May I be -forgiven the accusation implied in this statement, for it may be a -calumny; but when the facts cited below are considered, the cause of -her death may be guessed. - -On 29 May, two young people arrived in what at that period was -called "une petite voiture," and drew up at the _Tête-Noire_ inn, at -Saint-Cloud. They had set off without leaving word where they were -going. Towards nine o'clock in the evening they were installed in a -double-bedded chamber. One of the couple paid a deposit of five francs. -The two friends walked about together the whole of the next day, -Friday, the 30th; they only appeared at the hotel at dinner-time, and -went out again immediately after their repast for another walk. It was -nine o'clock at night before they returned for the second time. When -going upstairs, one of them asked for a half-bottle of mulled wine, -adding that it need not be sugared, as they had brought sugar with -them. The wine was taken up a few minutes after nine, sugared with -the sugar that they had brought, and made tasty with lemons bought in -Saint-Cloud. The same young man who made the five francs deposit for -the room, who ordered the dinner, and forbade the sugar to be brought -upstairs, mixed the sugar and lemon juice in the bowl of warmed wine. - -One of the two seemed to be a doctor; for, having heard that one of -the servants of the house was ill, he went upstairs to see him, before -tasting the prepared wine, and felt his pulse. However, he did not -prescribe anything for him, and returned to his friend's room after an -absence of a quarter of an hour. The said friend had found the wine -very nasty, and had only drunk about a tablespoonful of it. He had -stopped short because of the bitter flavour of the beverage. In the -midst of all this, the chambermaid entered. "I must have put too much -lemon in this wine," said the young man, holding the bowl towards her: -"it is so bitter I cannot drink it." The servant tasted it; but she -spat it out as soon as she had had a mouthful of it, exclaiming, "Oh -yes!... rather, you have made it bitter!" Upon which she left the room. -The two friends went to bed. - -Throughout the night the young man who had tasted the wine was seized -with violent spasms of nervous shivering, which did not give him a -moment's rest; he complained to his companion several times that he -could not keep himself still. Towards two o'clock, he had fits of -colic and, at daybreak, about half-past three in the morning, he -said he did not think he would be able to get up, that his feet were -on fire and that he could not possibly put on his boots. The other -young man said he would take a turn in the park, and recommended his -friend to try and sleep in the meantime. But, instead of going for a -walk in the park, the young man whose visit to the sick servant led -people to suppose him a doctor, took a carriage, returned to Paris, -bought twelve grains of acetate of morphine from M. Robin, rue de la -Feuillade, and one drachm from M. Chevalier, another chemist, obtaining -them readily in the capacity of a medical man. He returned to the inn -of the _Tête-Noire_ at eight o'clock, after four hours' absence, and -asked for some cold milk for his friend. The sick man felt no better; -he drank the cup of milk prepared by the young doctor, and almost -immediately he was taken with fits of vomiting which rapidly succeeded -each other. Soon he was seized by colic. Strange to say, in spite of -the attack becoming worse, the doctor again left the patient alone, -without leaving any instructions and without appearing to be uneasy -at a condition of things which was arousing the anxiety of strangers. -While he was absent, the hostess of the hotel and the chambermaid went -up to the sick man and did what they could for him. He was in great -agony. The young doctor returned in about half an hour's time. He found -the patient in an alarming condition; he was asking for a doctor, -insisting that one should be fetched from Saint-Cloud, and he opposed -his friend's suggestion that one should be fetched from Paris. He felt -so ill, he said, that he could not wait. - -So they ran for the nearest available; but nevertheless it was not -until eleven o'clock in the morning that the doctor whom they went to -seek arrived. His name was M. Pigache. - -The sick man was a little easier by that time. M. Pigache asked to -see the evacuations, but he was told that they had been thrown away. -He ordered emollients, but the emollients were not applied. He came -back an hour later and prescribed a soothing draught. The young doctor -administered it himself to the invalid; but the effect it produced -was prompt and terrible: five minutes after, the patient was seized -by frightful convulsions. In the midst of these convulsions he lost -consciousness, and from that moment never regained it. - -Towards eleven o'clock at night, the young doctor, weeping bitterly, -informed a servant that his friend could not survive the night. The -servant ran for M. Pigache, who decided, in spite of the short time he -had attended him, to pay the dying man one more visit. He found the -unhappy youth lying on his back, his neck rigidly strained, his head -uncovered, hardly able to breathe; he could neither hear nor feel; -his pulse was slow, his skin burning; his limbs were stiff and rigid, -his mouth clenched; his whole body was running with a cold sweat and -marked with bluish spots. M. Pigache decided he must at once bleed -the patient freely, and he bled him twice--with leeches and with the -lancet. It made the sick man a little easier. M. Pigache pointed this -out to his young confrère, saying that the condition of the dying -man was desperate and that, as the good effect produced by the two -bleedings was so noticeable, he did not hesitate to propose a third. -But this the young doctor opposed, saying that the responsibility was -too great, and that, if the third bleeding ended badly, the whole of -the responsibility for the ending would rest on M. Pigache. Upon this, -the latter peremptorily demanded that a doctor should be sent for from -Paris. - -This course would have been quite easy, for, during that very day, -as the result of a letter despatched by the young doctor couched in -the following terms, "M. Ballet being ill at Saint-Cloud, Jean must -come to him at once, in the gig, with the grey horse; neither he nor -mother Buvet must speak a word of this to a single soul; if anybody -makes inquiry, they must say he is going into the country by order of -M. Ballet," Jean, who was a negro servant, arrived with the grey horse -and the gig. In spite of this facility of communication, the young -doctor made out that it was too late to send for a doctor from Paris. -They waited, therefore, until three o'clock, and at three o'clock Jean -started off with two letters from M. Pigache to two of his medical -friends. - -M. Pigache left the house, and as the young doctor accompanied him, -he said, "Monsieur, I think no time should be lost in sending for -the priest of Saint-Cloud; your friend is a Catholic and I think so -badly of his condition that you ought to have the last sacraments -administered to him without delay." - -The young man recognised the urgency of the advice, and, going himself -to the house of the curé, he brought him back with the sacristan. - -The priest found the dying man in the same unconscious condition. "What -is the matter with your unfortunate friend, monsieur?" asked the priest. - -"Brain fever," replied the young man. - -Then, as the curé was preparing to administer extreme unction, the -young doctor knelt down, and remained in that position, with clasped -hands, praying to God with such fervour that the sacristan could not -refrain from remarking when they had both left, "What a very pious -young man that was!" The young doctor went out after the priest, and -remained away for nearly two hours. - -Towards three o'clock, one of the two doctors that had been sent for -arrived from Paris. It was Doctor Pelletan junior. M. Pigache, informed -of his arrival, came and joined his confrère at the bedside of the sick -man. But, after a rapid examination, both concluded that the patient -was beyond human aid. - -Nevertheless, they tried various remedies, but without success. All -this time the young doctor appeared to be overcome with the most -poignant grief--a grief that expressed itself in tears and sobs. These -demonstrations of despair impressed M. Pigache all the more because, in -course of conversation, the young doctor had said to him, "I am all the -more unhappy as I am my unfortunate friend's legatee." - -Thereupon M. Pelletan, addressing the weeping young man, said to him, -"Have you reflected, monsieur, on the peril of your position?" - -"What do you mean, monsieur?" - -"Well, listen! You come, with your friend, for a couple of days to -Saint-Cloud; you are a doctor; you are, anyway, his legatee...." - -"Yes, monsieur, I am his residuary legatee." - -"Very well: the man who has bequeathed you his entire fortune is dying; -the symptoms of his illness are extremely peculiar and, if he dies, as -is probable, you will find yourself in a very awkward position...." - -"What!" exclaimed the young man. "You think I shall be suspected?" - -"I think that, at any rate," replied M. Pelletan, "all imaginable -precautions will be taken to ascertain the cause of death. As far as M. -Pigache and myself are concerned, we have decided that there ought to -be a post-mortem examination." - -"Oh! monsieur," cried the young man, "you could not do me a greater -service; insist upon it, demand a post-mortem examination, and you will -play the part of a father to me if you do." - -"Very well, monsieur," replied Doctor Pelletan, seeing him so much -excited; "do not be troubled. Not only shall the matter be carried -through, but it shall be carried through as delicately as possible, and -we will pay our utmost attention to it." - -Between noon and one o'clock--that is to say, within thirty or forty -minutes of this conversation--the dying man expired. - -The reader will already have recognised the two principal actors in -this drama by the designation of the place where it happened, and by -the details of the victim's agony. - -The dead man was Claude-Auguste Ballet, lawyer, aged twenty-five, son -of a rich Paris solicitor. His friend was Edme-Samuel Castaing, who in -a few days' time would be twenty-seven, doctor of medicine, born at -Alençon, living in Paris, No. 31 rue d'Enfer. His father, an honourable -and universally respected man, was Inspector-General of Forests, and -Chevalier of the _Légion d'honneur._ - -One hour after the death of Auguste Ballet, M. Martignon, his -brother-in-law, warned by a letter from Castaing that Auguste Ballet -could not live through the day, hurried to Saint-Cloud, where he found -the sick man already dead. - -While they were proceeding to search every object in the inn that might -possibly throw some light on the cause of death, Castaing, still at -large, absented himself for nearly two hours. No one knew what he did -in his second absence. He pretended he wanted fresh air, and stated -that he was going for a walk in the bois de Boulogne. - -M. Pelletan returned at ten o'clock next morning to make the -post-mortem examination. - -He had left Castaing in full possession of his liberty, but when he -returned he found him under the surveillance of two policemen. Castaing -appeared very uneasy at the results to which a post-mortem examination -might lead; but he seemed to feel sure that if the body did not present -any trace of poison, he would be set at liberty immediately. - -The examination took place and an extremely circumstantial official -report was drawn up; but nowhere, either in tongue, or in stomach or in -intestines, could they detect the presence of any poisonous substance. -As a matter of fact, acetate of morphine, like brucine and strychnine, -leaves no more trace than is left by congestion of the brain or a bad -seizure of apoplexy. It was because of this, a fact which Castaing -knew well, that when the priest had asked him from what his friend was -suffering, he had replied, "He has brain fever." - -When the post-mortem was finished, without having revealed any material -proof against the suspected person, M. Pelletan asked the _procureur du -roi_ if he had any objection to Castaing being informed of the result. - -"No," replied _the procureur du roi_; "simply communicate the result to -him in general terms, without making him think it is going to be either -in his favour or to his detriment." - -M. Pelletan found Castaing waiting for him upon the staircase. - -"Well," he asked the doctor eagerly, "have you concluded and come to -release me?" - -"I am unaware," replied M. Pelletan, "whether they mean to release you -or to detain you; but the truth is we can find no trace of violent -death in the body of Auguste Ballet." - -In spite of the temporary absence of material proof, Castaing was kept -a prisoner. The preliminary investigation began: it lasted from the -month of June to the end of September. - -On 10 November, Castaing appeared at the prisoner's bar. The affair -had created a great sensation even before it was made public; and the -Assize Court presented the appearance usual when an important case is -on--that is to say, so many lovely women and fashionably dressed men -put in an appearance that one might have thought it the first night -of a new play which had been announced with great pomp. The accused -was brought in. An indefinable movement of interest agitated the -spectators: they bent forward and oscillated with curiosity, looking -like a field of corn tossed about by the wind. He was a handsome young -man, well set up, with a pleasant face, although there was something -rather odd in his expression as he looked at you. Without being -elegantly attired, he was dressed with care. - -Alas! the preliminary investigation had revealed terrible facts. -Auguste Ballet's death had caused judicial attention to be bestowed -upon this unlucky family, and it was discovered that, since Castaing -had known the family, the father, the mother, the uncle had all -disappeared, struck down mortally within five months of each other, -leaving the two brothers Hippolyte and Auguste a very considerable -fortune; and, finally, Hippolyte died in his turn in Castaing's arms, -without either his brother Auguste or his sister Madame Martignon being -able to get to him. All these deaths had successively concentrated -pretty nearly the whole of the family fortune on the head of Auguste -Ballet. - -On 1 December 1822, Auguste Ballet, aged twenty-four, in health of -mind and body at the time, made a will, constituting Castaing, without -any motive, his residuary legatee, with no reservations beyond a few -small bequests to two friends and three servants. Auguste Ballet died -in his turn on 1 June, seven months after his brother. Now this is -what the proceedings had elicited concerning the two points which in -similar cases are specially investigated by those in charge of the -case--namely, Castaing's intellectual and his physical life. With -regard to his intellectual life, Castaing was a hard worker, urged -on by ambition, burning with the desire to become rich; his mother -revealed horrible things concerning him, if a letter that was seized -at her house was to be believed; his father reproached him with his -licentious life and the sorrow with which he overwhelmed both his -parents. In the midst of all this, he worked on perseveringly: he -passed his examinations; he became a doctor. - -Anatomy, botany and chemistry were the subjects to which he devoted -most time. Especially chemistry. His note-books were produced, full -of observations, extracts, erasures. They attested the determination -shown in his researches and the profound study he had made of poisons, -of their various kinds, of their effects, of the palpable traces some -leave on different bodily organs, whilst some, quite as deadly and more -insidious, kill without leaving any vestiges perceptible to the eyes of -the most learned and experienced anatomist. - -These poisons are all vegetable poisons: brucine, derived from false -angostura; strychnine from Saint-Ignatius nut; morphine from pure -opium, which is extracted from the Indian poppy. Now, it was a strange -and terrible coincidence that on 18 September 1822, seventeen days -before the death of Hippolyte Ballet, Castaing bought ten grains of -acetate of morphine. Twelve days later, Hippolyte, suffering from a -serious pulmonary disease, but not yet in danger, was seized with a -deadly attack and died, as we have said, far from his sister and his -brother, after five days' illness! He died in Castaing's arms. - -Then Castaing's fortunes changed: he who had been very hard up -heretofore lent his mother thirty thousand francs and invested under -assumed names or in bearer stock the sum of seventy thousand francs. -The matter was further complicated by matters arising out of the will -of Hippolyte Ballet, questions which will never be properly cleared up, -even in the law courts, and which seemed to imply that Auguste Ballet -became Castaing's accomplice. Hence Auguste's weakness for Castaing; -hence that will in his favour; hence the intimacy between these two -men, who never separated from one another; all these things were -explained, from the moment when, instead of the ordinary bond of pure -and simple friendship, the link between them was supposed to be the -indestructible chain of mutual complicity. - -For--and this is the time to return to his outward life, that we have -put to one side in order to speak of the intellectual life--Castaing -was not wealthy: he lived on a moderate income allowed him by his -mother; his own efforts barely produced him five or six hundred francs -per annum; he had a mistress, also very poor, a widow with three -children; he had two other children by her, so the young doctor had to -keep a family of six persons whilst as yet he had no practice. It seems -that he adored his family, especially his children. Letters were found -showing warm fatherly affection in a heart that was consumed, even -more on behalf of others than on his own account, with that thirst of -ambition and that craving for riches which brought him to the scaffold. - -We have seen that Castaing's finances suddenly became easier, that he -lent his mother thirty thousand francs and that he invested seventy -thousand francs in assumed names or in bearer bonds. - -Then, next, we saw that on 29 May he arrived at Saint-Cloud with -Auguste Ballet, and that, on 1 June, Auguste Ballet died, leaving him -residuary legatee. Castaing was in Paris on the evening he was absent -under pretence of taking a walk: he bought twelve grains from one -chemist and one drachm from a second, of acetate of morphine, or, in -other words, of that vegetable poison which leaves no traces and of -which he had already bought ten grains, seventeen days before the death -of Hippolyte Ballet. - -The above is a résumé of the accumulated evidence brought against -Castaing, who had to face the jury under the weight of fifteen charges -relative to the poisoning of Hippolyte Ballet, of thirty-four connected -with the business of the will and of seventy-six relative to the -poisoning of Auguste Ballet. People will remember the different phases -gone through during that long and terrible trial; the steady denials of -the prisoner, and his bearing on receipt of the sentence condemning him -to death; a sentence decided by the turn of only one vote--that is to -say, by seven against five. - -The criminal stood, with bared head, and listened with frigid -resignation to the sentence, his hands clasped together, silent, his -eyes and hands raised to Heaven. - -"Have you anything to say why sentence should not be carried out?" -asked the judge. - -Castaing sadly shook his head, the head so soon to feel the chilly grip -of death. - -"No, monsieur," he said in a deep but gentle voice,--"no, I have -nothing to say against the carrying out of the sentence decreed against -me. I shall know how to die, although it is a great misfortune to die, -hurried to the grave by such a dire fate as has overtaken me. I am -accused of having basely murdered my two friends, and I am innocent.... -Oh! indeed, I repeat it, I am innocent! But there is a Providence: that -which is immortal in me will go forth to find you, Auguste, Hippolyte. -Oh yes, my friends" (and here the condemned man stretched out both his -arms to heaven most impressively),--"oh yes, my friends, yes, I shall -meet you again, and to me it will be a happy fate to rejoin you. After -the accusation brought against me, nothing human can affect me. Now I -look no longer for human pity, I look only for Heaven's mercy; I shall -mount the scaffold courageously, cheered by the thought of seeing you -again! Oh! my friends, this thought will rejoice my soul even when I -feel.... Alas!" continued the accused, passing his hand across his -neck, "alas! it is easier to understand what I feel than to express -what I dare not utter...." Then, in a lower tone, "You have decided -on my death, messieurs; behold, I am ready to die." Then, turning -to his counsel, Maître Roussel, he said, "Look, look, Roussel, turn -round, come here and look at me.... You believed in my innocence, and -you defended me believing in that innocence; well, it is even so, I -am innocent; take my farewell greetings to my father, my brothers, my -mother, my daughter!" Then, without any pause, he went on, addressing -the amazed spectators: "And you, young people, you who have been -present at my trial; you, my contemporaries, will be present also at my -execution; you will see me there animated with the same courage as now, -and if the shedding of my blood be deemed necessary to society, well, I -shall not regret that it has to flow!" - -Why have I related the details of this terrible trial in such fulness? -Is it in order to awake gloomy memories of the past in the hearts of -the members of those two unhappy families who may still be alive? -No! It was because, by reason of the reports connecting poor Fleuriet -with Castaing, I was present at the final tragedy; I begged a day's -holiday from M. Oudard in order to see the end; I was present among the -number of those young people whom the condemned man, in a moment of -exaltation, of delirium, perhaps, invited to his execution; and when -I saw that man so exuberantly young, so full of life, so eager after -knowledge, condemned to death, bidding farewell to his father, his -mother, his brothers, his children, society, creation, light, in those -poignant tones and miserable accents, I said to myself in inexpressible -anguish of heart, "O my God! my God! suppose this man should be another -Lesurques, another Labarre, another Calas!... O my God! my God! suppose -this man be not guilty!" - -And, then and there, before the tribunal which had just condemned a man -to death, I vowed that, no matter to what position I might attain, I -would never look upon it as justifiable to punish a sentient, suffering -human being like myself by the deprivation of life. - -No, I was not present at the execution; for, I must admit, I could not -possibly have borne such a spectacle; and now twenty-eight years have -flown by between Castaing's execution and Lafourcade's, and they have -been full of such cases, in spite of the penalty of death, which is -meant to be a deterrent and does not deter! Alas! how many wretched -criminals have passed along the route that led from the Conciergerie to -the place de Grève, and now leads from la Roquette to the barrière de -Saint-Jacques, during those twenty-eight years! - -On 6 December, at half-past seven in the morning, Castaing was led from -Bicêtre to la Conciergerie. A moment later, the gaoler entered his cell -and told him of the rejection of his petition. Behind the gaoler came -the abbé Montes. - -Castaing then turned his attention to his prayers, praying long and -earnestly. He did not utter a single word during the whole of the -time he spent in the vestibule of the Conciergerie, while they were -preparing him for his execution. - -When he looked round at the vast crowd that awaited his appearance as -he mounted into the cart, his cheeks grew suddenly purple, and then -gradually subsided to a deathly paleness. He only lifted his head at -the foot of the scaffold; it had remained sunk on his breast during the -journey; then, glancing at the crowd again as he had done on coming -out of the Conciergerie, he knelt at the foot of the ladder and, after -he had kissed the crucifix and embraced the worthy ecclesiastic who -offered it him, he climbed the scaffold, held up by the executioner's -two assistants. He raised his eyes twice quite noticeably to Heaven -while they pinioned him on the fatal block; then, at fifteen minutes -past two, as the quarter chimed, his head fell. - -Castaing had experienced the sensation of death that he had not dared -more clearly to define to the audience when he drew his hand across his -neck--Castaing had passed before his Creator--if guilty, to receive -forgiveness, if innocent, to denounce the real criminal. - -He had asked to see his father, to receive his benediction _in -extremis_; the favour was refused him. He next asked for this -benediction to be sent him in writing. It was sent to him thus, but was -first passed through vinegar before being handed to him. They feared -the paternal benediction might hide some poison by the aid of which -Castaing might find means to cheat the scaffold of its due. - -All was ended by half-past two, and those who wished to have comedy -after tragedy still had time to go from the place de Grève to take -their stand in the queue outside the Théâtre-Français. On that day, 6 -December 1823, the _École des Vieillards_ was played. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Casimir Delavigne--An appreciation of the man and of the poet--The -origin of the hatred of the old school of literature for the new--Some -reflections upon _Marino Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard_--Why -Casimir Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic poet--Where he -found the ideas for his chief plays - - -The first representation of the _École des Vieillards_ played by Talma -and Mademoiselle Mars was a great occasion. It was the first time -indeed that these two great actors had appeared together in the same -play. - -Casimir Delavigne had laid down his own conditions. Expelled from the -Théâtre-Français under pretext that _his work was badly put together_, -he had profited by the proscription. His _Messéniennes,_ his _Vêpres -siciliennes_, his _Comédiens_ and the _Paria,_ and perhaps even more -than all these, the need felt by the Opposition party for a Liberal -poet to set against Lamartine and Hugo, the Royalist poets of the -period, had made the author of the _École des Vieillards_ so popular -that, with this popularity, all difficulties were cleared away, perhaps -even too smoothly; for, like Richelieu in his litter, Casimir Delavigne -returned to the Théâtre-Français not through the door, but by means of -a gap. - -I knew Casimir Delavigne very well as a man, I studied him very much as -a poet: I never could get up much admiration for Casimir Delavigne as -a poet, but I have always had the greatest respect for him as a man. -As an individual, in addition to his uncontested and incontestable -literary probity, Casimir Delavigne was a man of pleasant, polite, even -affable demeanour. The first sight of him gave one the disagreeable -impression that his head was much too big for his small body; but his -fine forehead, his intelligent eyes, his good-natured mouth, very soon -made one forget this first impression. Although a man of great talent, -he was of the number of those who display it only when pen in hand. His -conversation, pleasant and affectionate, was colourless and insipid; -as he lacked dignity of expression and strength of intonation, so he -lacked strength and dignity of actual words. He attracted no notice at -a salon: people needed to have Casimir Delavigne pointed out before -they paid any attention to him. There are men who bear the stamp of -their kingly dignity about with them: wherever these people go they -instantly command attention; at the end of an hour's intercourse -they reign. Casimir Delavigne was not one of them: he would have -declined the power of commanding attention, had it been offered him; -had sovereignty been thrust upon him, he would have abdicated. All -burdens, even the weight of a crown, were embarrassing in his eyes. He -had received an excellent education: he knew everything that could be -taught when he left college; but since he left college he had learnt -very little by himself, had thought but little, had reflected but -little. - -One of the chief features of Casimir Delavigne's character--and, in -our opinion, one of his most unlucky attributes--was his submission -to other people's ideas, a submission that could only arise from -want of confidence in his own ideas. Oddly enough, he had created -among his friends and in his family a kind of censorship, a sort of -committee of repression, commissioned to watch over his imagination -and to prevent it from wandering; this was all the more futile since -Casimir Delavigne's imagination, enclosed in decidedly narrow limits, -needed stimulating much more than restraining. The result was that -this Areopagitica, inferior as it was in feeling and, above all, in -style to Casimir Delavigne himself, played sad havoc with what little -picturesqueness of style and imagination in plot he possessed. This -depreciatory cenacle often reminded him that Icarus fell because -he flew too near the sun; and I am sure he did not even dream of -replying, that if the sun melted Icarus's wings, it must have been -because Icarus had false wings fastened on with wax, and that the -eagle, which disappears in the flood of fiery rays sent forth by the -god of day, never falls back on the earth as the victim of a similar -accident. - -The result of this abdication of his own will was that just when -Casimir Delavigne's talent was at its best and his reputation was -at its height, he dared not do anything by himself, or on his own -initiative. The ideas that arose in his brain were submitted to this -committee before they were worked into proper shape; the plot decided -upon, he would again put himself in the hands of this commission, -which commented upon it, discussed it, corrected it and returned it -to the poet signed _examined and found correct._ Then, when the plot -became a play and was read before (of course) the same assembly, one -would take a pencil, another a pair of scissors, a third a compass, a -fourth a rule, and set to work to cut all vitality out of the play; to -such purpose that, during the sitting, the comedy, drama or tragedy -was lopped, trimmed and cut about not according to the notions of the -author but as MM. So and So, So and So, So and So thought fit, all -conscientious gentlemen after their own fashion, all talented men in -their own line, wise professors, worthy savants, able philologists, but -indifferent poets who, instead of elevating their friend's efforts by -a powerful breath of inspiration, only thought instead of keeping him -down on the ground for fear he should soar above them to realms where -their short-sighted glance could not follow him. - -This habit of Casimir Delavigne, of submitting his will to that of -others, gave him, without his being aware of it himself, a false -modesty, an assumed humility, that embarrassed his enemies and disarmed -those who were jealous of him. How indeed could anyone begrudge a man -his success who seemed to be asking everybody's leave to succeed and -who appeared surprised when he did succeed; or be envious of a poor -poet who, if they would but believe it, had only succeeded through -the addition to his feeble intelligence of abilities superior to his -own; or be vexed with such a quaking victor, who implored people, in -the moment of his triumph, not to desert him, as beseechingly as a -vanquished man might pray them to remain true to him under defeat? -And people were faithful to Casimir Delavigne even to the verge of -fanaticism: they extended hands of flattering devotion in homage to his -renown, the diverging rays of which, like the flame of the Holy Spirit, -became divided into as many tongues of fire as the Casimirian cult -could muster apostles. - -We have mentioned the drawbacks, now let us point out the advantages, -of his popularity. His plays were praised abroad before they were -finished, spoken highly of before they were received, in the three -classes of society to which Casimir Delavigne belonged by birth, and -I will even go so far as to say above all by his talent. Thus his -clientèle comprised: through Fortune Delavigne, who was an advocate, -all the law students in Paris; through Gustave de Wailly, professor, -all the students of the Latin quarter; through Jules de Wailly, chief -clerk in the Home Office, all the Government officials. - -This sort of family clientèle was extremely useful for the purpose of -doing battle with theatrical managers and publishers. - -It knew Casimir and did not allow him to undertake any business -arrangements: he was so modest that he would have unconditionally given -his plays to the comedians, his manuscripts to the publishers without -any agreements. Casimir was aware of his failing in this direction: he -referred publishers and managers to his brother Germain, his brother -Germain referred them to his brother Fortune, and his brother Fortune -managed the affair on a business footing. - -And I would point out that all this was done simply, guilelessly, in -kindly fashion, out of the admiration and devotion everybody felt -towards Casimir; without intrigue, for this assistance never prejudiced -anyone who rendered it; and I might even say without there being any -coterie; for, in my opinion, where there is conviction coteries do not -exist. - -Now, every friend of Casimir Delavigne was absolutely and perfectly -convinced that Casimir Delavigne was the first lyric poet of his -time, the first dramatic poet of his century. People who never came -in touch with him, and those who were stopped by the vigilant cordon -which surrounded him, acted for and praised him, might well believe -that these opinions emanated from himself, as from the centre to the -circumference; but if they did get to close quarters with him, they -were soon persuaded of the simplicity, the sincerity and the kindliness -of that talented man. - -I believe Casimir Delavigne never hated but one of his confrères. But -him he hated well. That man was Victor Hugo. When the author of _Odes -et Ballades_, of _Marion Delorme_ and of _Nôtre-Dame de Paris_ was -taken with the strange fancy of becoming the colleague of M. Droz, of -M. Briffaut and of M. Viennet, I took upon myself to go personally on -his account to ask for Casimir Delavigne's vote. I thought that such an -intelligent person as the author of the _Messéniennes_ would regard it -as the duty of one in his position to help as much as was in his power -in providing a seat for his illustrious rival, a candidate who had done -the Academy the honour of applying for a seat therein. - -I was quite wrong: Casimir Delavigne obstinately declined to give his -vote to Victor Hugo, and that with such vehemence and tenacity as I -should have dreamt him incapable of feeling, especially towards me, -of whom he was extremely fond. Neither entreaty nor supplication nor -argument could, I will not say convince, but even persuade him to -agree. And yet Casimir Delavigne knew well enough that he was rejecting -one of the eminent men of his time. I never found out the reason for -this antipathy. It was certainly not on account of their different -schools: I was most decidedly not of the school of Casimir Delavigne, -and he offered me the vote he withheld from Victor Hugo. - -The poor Academicians were in a sorry fix in my case; for, if I had put -myself up, I believe they would have elected me! They nominated Dupaty. - -Hugo comforted himself by one of the wittiest sayings he ever made. -"I believed," he said, "that one could enter the Academy _par le pont -des Arts_; I was mistaken, for it appears it is by the Pont Neuf that -entrance is effected." - -And now that I have criticised the man, perhaps it may be thought that -it will be a much more difficult matter still for me his confrère, his -rival, at times his antagonist, to criticise his poetry. No! my readers -are labouring under a misapprehension: nothing is difficult to whoso -speaks the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Moreover, -I have never written anything about a man that I was not ready to tell -him to his face. - -In order to judge Casimir Delavigne fairly, we must glance over the -period at which he was born and in which he lived. We must speak of the -imperial era. What occasioned the burst of hatred that made itself felt -after the appearance of _Henri III_., of _Marion Delorme_ and of the -_Maréchale d'Ancre_, between the new and the old school of poetry and -their representatives? - -People have stated the fact without inquiring into its causes: I can -tell you them. - -Because, during all the years that Napoleon was levying his toll of -300,000 conscripts, he did not perceive that the poets he looked for, -and looked for so vainly, had been compelled to change their calling, -and that they were in camp, sword, musket or sabre in hand, instead of -pen in hand in their studies. And this state of things lasted from 1796 -to 1815--a period of nineteen years. - -For nineteen years the enemy's cannon swept down the generation of men -from fifteen to thirty-six years of age. So it came about that when the -poets of the end of the eighteenth century and those of the beginning -of the nineteenth confronted one another, they found themselves hemmed -in on each side by an immense ravine which had been hollowed out by the -grapeshot of five coalitions: at the bottom of this ravine a million of -men were stretched, and among this million of men, snatched away before -they had added to the population, were those twelve poets that Napoleon -had so insistently demanded of M. de Fontanes, without being able to -obtain them from him. - -Those who escaped were consumptive poets, considered too feeble to -undertake soldiers' duties, who died young, like Casimir Delavigne and -Soumet. These were bridges thrown across the ravine of which we have -just spoken, but quite unequal to the task allotted them. - -Napoleon, with his eighteen years of warfare and his ten years' reign, -the re-constructor of religion, the re-builder of society, he who -established legislation on a firm basis, was foiled in the matter of -poetry. Had it not been for the two men whom we have named--Soumet and -Casimir Delavigne--the thread of continuity would have been broken. - -So it came about that Casimir Delavigne, the connecting link between -the old and the new schools, showed always in his poetry a little of -that anæmic quality which was evident in his person; in any work by -Casimir (which never exceeded the limits of one, three or five acts -ordained by the old theatrical régime) there was always something -sickly and airless; his plays lacked breath, as did the man; his work -was as consumptive as the poet. - -No one ever made three acts out of his one; no one ever made five acts -out of his three; no one ever made ten acts out of his five. But it was -a simple task to reduce five of his acts to three; three of his acts to -one. - -When imagination failed him, and he appealed to Byron or Shakespeare, -he could never attain their sublime heights; he was obliged to stop -short a third of the way up, midway at the very utmost, like a child -who climbs a tree to gather apples and finds he cannot reach the -ripest, which always grow on the highest branches, and are the most -beautiful because they are nearest the sun, save at the risk of -breaking his neck--a risk he is wise enough not to venture to take. - -We will make our meaning clearer by a couple of instances: _Marino -Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard._ - -In Byron's _Marino Faliero_, the doge plots to revenge himself on the -youthful satirist, who has insulted him by writing on his chair "Marin -Falier, the husband of the fair wife; others kiss her, but he keeps -her." This was a calumny: the fair Angiolina is as pure as her name -implies, in spite of being but eighteen and her husband eighty. It is -therefore to defend a spotless wife, and not to avenge the husband's -outraged honour, that Byron's Marino Faliero conspires, and we hardly -need say that the play gains in distinction by the passage across it of -a sweet and lofty figure, inflamed with devotion, rather than suffused -with repentance. - -Now, in Casimir Delavigne's imitation, on the contrary, the wife is -guilty. Héléna (for the poet, in degrading her, has not ventured to -keep her heavenly name) deceives her husband, an old man! She deceives -him, or rather she has deceived him, before the rising of the curtain. -The first lines of the tragedy are concerned with a scarf that she is -embroidering for her lover--a serious blunder in our opinion; for there -could be only one means of making Héléna interesting, if she were to -be made guilty, and that would be to show the struggle in her between -passion and virtue, between love and duty; in short, to have done, only -more successfully, what we did in _Antony._ - -But we reiterate that it was far better to make the wife innocent, as -Byron does; far better to put a faithful wife alongside the old man -than an adulterous one; far better in the fifth act, where the wife -seeks out her husband, to let him find devotion and not repentance -when his prison doors are opened. When Christ was bowed down under His -bloody agony, God chose the purest of His angels, not a fallen one, to -carry Him the cup of bitterness! - -We will pass over the conspiracy which takes place in Venice at -midnight, in the middle of the square of Saint Mark, where fifty -conspirators cry in eager emulation, "Down with the Republic!" In -Venice and at midnight! in Venice, the city of the Council of Ten! in -Venice, the city that never really sleeps, where at least half the -populace is awake while the other half sleeps! - -Casimir Delavigne did not venture to borrow anything from Shakespeare's -_Richard III._ but the death of the two princes: instead of that -magnificent historical play by the Elizabethan poet, he substituted -an insignificant little drama, replete with infantine babblings and -maternal tears; of the great figure of Richard III., of the marvellous -scene between the murderer and the wife of the murdered man and of the -assassination of Buckingham, of the duel with Richmond and Richard's -remorse, nothing is left. - -The gigantic statue, the Colossus of Rhodes, between whose legs the -tallest galleys can pass, has become a bronze ornament suitable for the -top of a timepiece. - -Did Casimir Delavigne even take as much of the subject of the _children -of Edward_ as he might have taken? Has he not turned aside from his -model, Shakespeare, with regard to the dignified way in which the -characters of the heir to the throne and his gentle brother the Duke of -York are treated? We will adduce one example to demonstrate this. - -In Casimir Delavigne, when the young Richard takes refuge in -Westminster Abbey, the church possessing the right to offer sanctuary, -the author of the _Messéniennes_, in order to compel the young prince -to come out of the church, causes a letter to be written, apparently -from his brother, inviting him to come back to him at the palace. The -poor fugitive, although surprised at receiving it, puts reliance on -this letter, and comes out of his place of safety. When he reaches the -palace, Richard III. immediately arrests him. - -In Shakespeare, the young prince also seeks this refuge. What does -Richard III. do? He sends for the archbishop and says to him, "Has the -crown prince sought refuge in your church?" - -"Yes, monseigneur." - -"You must give him up to me." - -"Impossible, monseigneur." - -"Why so?" - -"Because the church is a place of sanctuary." - -"For guilty men, idiot!" replies Richard, "but not for innocent -ones...." - -How small, to my thinking, is Mézence, that scoffer at men and at -gods, by the side of Richard III., who kills his innocent enemies -just as another would kill his guilty enemies. It will be understood -that, since Casimir Delavigne was devoid both of picturesqueness and -dignity, he succeeded much better in comedy than in tragedy; and we -think his two best productions were the two comedies, _Les Comédiens_ -and the _École des Vieillards._ It should be clearly understood that -all we have to say is said from the point of view of a rigid standard -of criticism, and it does not therefore follow that Casimir Delavigne -was not gifted with very genuine qualities. These good qualities were: -a facile aptitude for versification which only occasionally rises to -poetic expression, it is true, but which on the other hand never quite -descends to flabbiness and slackness; and, indeed, from the beginning -to the end of his work, from the first line to the last, whatever -else his work may be, it is careful, presentable and particularly -honest; and please note that we have used the word "honest" as the most -suitable word we could choose; for Casimir Delavigne was never the kind -of man to try and rob his public by stinting the work he had in hand -in order to use similar material in his next piece. No; in the case of -Casimir Delavigne, _one got one's money's worth_, as the saying is: -he gave all he possessed, to the last farthing. The spectators at the -first production of each of his new plays had everything he had at that -time to give them. When midnight arrived, and, amidst the cheering of -the audience, his signature was honoured--that is to say, what he had -promised he had performed--he was a ruined man. But what mattered it to -be reduced to beggary! He had owed a tragedy, a drama, a comedy, he had -paid to the uttermost farthing; true, it might perhaps mean his being -compelled to make daily economies of mind, spirit and imagination, -for one year, two years, three years, before he could achieve another -work; but he would achieve it, cost what it might, at the expense of -sleepless nights, of his health, of his life, until the day came when -he died worn out at fifty-two years of age, before he had completed his -last tragedy. - -Well, there was no need for the poet of the _Messéniennes_, the -author of the _École des Vieillards_, of _Louis XI._ and of _Don -Juan_ to commiserate himself. He who does all he can does all that -can be expected of him. Nevertheless, we shall always maintain that -Casimir Delavigne would have done better still without his restraining -body-guard; and we need not seek through his long-winded works for -proof of what we assert; we will take, instead, one of the shorter -poems, which the poet wrote under stress of sadness--a similar effort -to M. Arnault's admirable _Feuille_--M. Arnault, who was not only far -less of a poet but still less of a versifier than Casimir Delavigne. - -Well, we will hunt up a little ballad which Delavigne relegated to -notes, as unworthy of any other place and which we, on the contrary, -consider a little masterpiece. - - "La brigantine - Qui va tourner, - Roule et s'incline - Pour m'entraîner ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Provence, adieu! - - Mon pauvre père - Verra son vent - Pâlir ma mère - Au bruit du vent ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Mon père, adieu! - - La vieille Hélène - Se confira - Dans sa neuvaine, - Et dormira ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Hélène, adieu! - - Ma sœur se lève, - Et dit déjà: - 'J'ai fait un rêve, - Il reviendra!' - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Ma sœur, adieu! - - De mon Isaure - Le mouchoir blanc - S'agite encore - En m'appelant ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Isaure, adieu! - - Brise ennemie, - Pourquoi souffler, - Quand mon amie - Veut me parler? - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Bonheur, adieu!" - -Scudo, the author of that delightful melody, _Fil de la Vierge_, -once asked Casimir Delavigne for some lines to put to music. Casimir -seized his pen and dashed off _Néra._ Perhaps you do not know _Néra_? -Quite so: it is not a poem, only a simple song: the _Brigantine_ was -relegated to the notes; _Néra_ was excluded from his works. - -A day will come--indeed, we believe that day has already come--when the -_Messéniennes_ and _Néra_ will be weighed in the same balance and we -shall see which will turn the scale. - -This is _Néra_:-- - - "Ah! ah!... de la montagne - Reviens, Néra, reviens! - Réponds-moi, ma compagne, - Ma vache, mon seul bien. - La voix d'un si bon maître, - Néra, - Peux-tu la méconnaître? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Reviens, reviens; c'est l'heure - Où le loup sort des bois. - Ma chienne, qui te pleure, - Répond seule à ma voix. - Hors l'ami qui t'appelle, - Néra, - Qui t'aimera comme elle? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Dis-moi si dans la crêche, - Où tu léchais ma main, - Tu manquas d'herbe fraîche, - Quand je manquais de pain? - Nous n'en avions qu'à peine, - Néra, - Et ta crêche était pleine! - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Hélas! c'est bien sans cause - Que tu m'as délaissé. - T'ai-je dit quelque chose, - Hors un mot, l'an passé? - Oui, quand mourut ma femme, - Néra, - J'avais la mort dans l'âme, - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - De ta mamelle avide, - Mon pauvre enfant crira; - S'il voit l'étable vide, - Qui le consolera? - Toi, sa mère nourrice, - Néra, - Veux-tu donc qu'il périsse? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Lorsque avec la pervenche - Pâques refleurira, - Des rameaux du dimanche - Qui te couronnera? - Toi, si bonne chrétienne, - Néra, - Deviendras-tu païenne? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Quand les miens, en famille, - Tiraient les Rois entre eux, - Je te disais: 'Ma fille, - Ma part est à nous deux!' - A la fête prochaine, - Néra, - Tu ne seras plus reine. - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Ingrate! quand la fièvre - Glaçait mes doigts roidis, - Otant mon poil de chèvre, - Sur vous je l'étendis ... - Faut-il que le froid vienne, - Néra, - Pour qu'il vous en souvienne - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Adieu! sous mon vieux hêtre - Je m'en reviens sans vous; - Allez chercher pour maître - Un plus riche que nous ... - Allez! mon cœur se brise, - Néra!... - Pourtant, Dieu te conduise - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Je n'ai pas le courage - De te vouloir du mal; - Sur nos monts crains l'orage - Crains l'ombre dans le val. - Pais longtemps l'herbe verte, - Néra! - Nous mourrons de ta perte, - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Un soir, à ma fenêtre, - Néra, pour t'abriter, - De ta come peut-être - Tu reviendras heurter; - Si la famille est morte, - Néra, - Qui t'ouvrira la porte? - Ah! ah! - Néra!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Talma in the _École des Vieillards_--One of his letters--Origin of his -name and of his family_--Tamerlan_ at the pension Verdier--Talma's -début--Dugazon's advice--More advice from Shakespeare--Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant--Talma's passion for his art - - -The _École des Vieillards_ was very successful. A fatal Dud, which had -recently taken place under pretty nearly similar conditions to those -that operated between Danville and the duke, gave the piece just that -appropriate touch which captivated the Parisian public. We ought also -to add that Talma had perhaps never looked finer; the play of emotions -in the part of the old and betrayed lover could not have been rendered -in more moving accents. It was a part that interested the audience from -an entirely different point of view than that of the part of Marino -Faliero, who shares with Danville the lot of a betrayed lover. - -Oh! what an inestimable gift a good voice is to the actor who knows -how to use it! How tender were Talma's tones in the first act, how -impatient in the second, uneasy in the third, threatening in the -fourth, dejected in the fifth! The part is gracious, noble, pleasing -and harmoniously consistent throughout. How the old man's heart goes -out to Hortense partly from paternal feeling, partly as a lover! And, -while complaining of the wife who allows herself to be snared, like a -foolish lark, by the mirror of youth and the babblings of coquetry, how -he despises the man who has in some inexplicable way managed to catch -her fancy! Alas! there is in every maiden's heart one vulnerable place, -open to unscrupulous attack. - -The wife's part is very much below that of the man. Does Hortense love -the duke or does she not? Is she a flirt or is she not? It is a serious -flaw that the situation is not more clearly defined, and the following -passage shows it: in the fourth act, while Hortense is conversing -with the duke in a salon at one o'clock in the morning, she hears her -husband's footsteps, and hides the duke. - -Now, I appeal to all wives: would any wife hide a man whom she did not -love when surprised by her husband, no matter at what hour of the day -or night it might be? - -Hortense must love the duke, since she hid him. If Hortense loves the -duke, she cannot escape from an accusation of ingratitude; for it is -impossible to comprehend how an honourable wife, who had a good and -thoughtful husband, young-hearted in spite of his white hairs, could -for one moment fall in love with such a colourless creature as the Duke -Delmas. - -With what moving accents does Talma utter the words - - "Je ne l'aurais pas cru! C'est bien mal! C'est affreux!" - -as he gets up and traverses the stage in despair. No human anguish was -ever more clearly revealed than in this sob. - -Vulgar amateurs and second-rate critics praised exceedingly the -character of one of Danville's college chums, in this comedy by Casimir -Delavigne, played with much humour by an actor called Vigny. It is the -part of an old bachelor, who, after remaining in single blessedness -for sixty years, decides to marry on the strength of the description -Danville draws of conjugal happiness, and comes to tell his friend of -his decision at the very moment when he is racked with jealous pangs. - -No, indeed, a hundred times no, it is not here where the real beauty -of the _École des Vieillards_ lies. No, it is not that scene wherein -Danville repeats incessantly: "_Mais moi, c'est autre chose!"_ that -should be applauded. No, the matter to be applauded is the presentation -of the deep and agonising torture of a broken heart; what should be -applauded is the situation that gives scope for Talma to display both -dignity and simplicity at the same time, and that shows how much -suffering that creature, born of woman, cradled in grief and brought up -to grief, whom we call _man_, is capable of enduring. - -Talma's friends blamed him for playing the part in a frock-coat; he -told them he had been sacrificed to Mademoiselle Mars. They asked him -why he had so easily allowed himself to be made the footstool of an -actress placed above him, the pedestal for one whose renown rivalled -his own: Talma let them say. - -He knew well enough that in spite of all Mademoiselle Mars' talent, -all her winsomeness, all her ease of manner on the stage, all the -pretty things she said in her charming voice, everything was eclipsed, -effaced, annihilated, by a single utterance, a sob, a sigh of his. It -must have been a proud moment for the poet when he saw his work thus -finely interpreted by Talma; but it must have been quite a different -matter to Talma, for he felt that the limits of art could be extended -farther, or rather that art has no boundaries. For Talma had been -educated in the spacious school of Shakespeare, which intermingles -laughter with tears, the trivial with the sublime, as they are -intermingled in the pitiful struggle which we call life. He knew what -the drama should aim at: he had played tragedy all his life and had -never ventured to attempt comedy. We will briefly relate how he came to -be the man we knew. - -Talma was born in Paris, in the rue des Ménétriers, on 15 January 1766. -When I became acquainted with him he would be about fifty-seven. He -received from his godfather and godmother the names François-Joseph -and from his father that of Talma. In a letter from Talma which I have -by me, it is stated that the name of Talma, which became celebrated by -the deeds of the great artiste, was several times made the subject of -investigation by etymologists. - -This autograph letter by Talma is the copy of one in which he replies -in 1822 to a savant of Gruningen, named Arétius Sibrandus Talma, who, -after giving details of his ancestry, asks the modern Roscius if he -cannot lay claim to the honour of relationship with him. This is -Talma's reply:-- - - "I do not know, monsieur, and it would be a difficult - matter for me to find out, whether you and I are of the - same family. When I was in Holland, more than fifteen - years ago, I learnt that there were many people bearing - the same name as myself in the land of Ruyter and of Jan - de Witt My family mainly inhabited a little strip of - country six leagues from Cambrai, in French Flanders. - This is not the first time, monsieur, that my name has - given rise to discussion with regard to my origin, on the - part of foreigners. About forty or fifty years ago, a son - of the Emperor of Morocco staying in Paris and hearing - mention of my father's name came and asked him if it were - not of Arabian derivation--a question that my father was - unable to answer. Later, an Arab merchant whom I met in - Paris in my youth put the same question to me: I could - not answer him more explicitly than could my father, the - son of His Majesty of Morocco. - - "M. Langlais, a distinguished savant, who had made a very - profound study of Oriental languages, told me, at that - time that the word Talma, in the Arabic tongue, meant - _intrepid_, and that it was a very customary name among - the descendants of Ishmael, to distinguish the different - branches of the same family. You may be sure, monsieur, - that such an interpretation ought to make me very proud, - and I have ever done my utmost not to fall short of it. - I have consequently given rein to my imagination and - conjecture that a Moorish family remained in Spain, - embraced Christianity and wandered from that kingdom to - the Netherlands, which were formerly under allegiance to - the Spaniards, and that by degrees members of this family - wandered into French Flanders, where they settled. But, - on the other hand, I have been informed that our name has - a Dutch ending and that it was once very common in one of - the provinces of Holland. This new version has completely - upset my castle in Spain, and conveyed me from the - African deserts to the marshes of the United Netherlands. - Now, monsieur, you ought to be able to decide better than - anyone, certainly better than I, since you speak Dutch, - whether we really came from the North or from the South, - whether our ancestors wore turbans or hats, whether they - offered their prayers to Mahomed or to the God of the - Christians. - - "I have omitted to give you another piece of information, - which is not without its relevancy--namely, that the - Count de Mouradgea d'Olisson, who lived in the East - for some years, and who has brought out a work on the - religious systems of Oriental peoples, quotes a passage - from one of their authors which tells us that the king, - or rather the pharaoh, who drove the Israelites out of - Egypt, was called Talma. I have to admit that that king - was a great scoundrel, if the account given of him by - Moses (surely a reliable authority) be correct; but we - must not look too closely into the matter if we wish to - claim so illustrious an origin. - - "You see, monsieur, there is not a single German baron - who boasts his sixteen quarterings, not even a king, - throughout the four quarters of the globe, were he - even of the house of Austria, that oldest of all royal - families, who can boast such a lofty descent as mine. - However it may be, monsieur, believe me, I hold it a - much greater honour to be related to so distinguished - a savant as yourself than to be the descendant of a - crowned head. Such men as you work only for the good of - men, whilst others--and by others I mean kings, pharaohs - and emperors--think only of driving them mad. I trust, - monsieur, that, since you seem to have made up your - mind on this matter, you would be so good as to inform - me whether the name we bear is Dutch or Arabian. In any - case, I congratulate myself, monsieur, upon bearing the - name that you have made celebrated.--Believe me, etc. etc. - - "TALMA" - -This letter serves to give us both positive information concerning -Talma's family and a good idea of his way of looking at things. - -Talma often told me that his remotest recollections carried him back to -the time when he lived in a house in the rue Mauconseil, the windows of -which looked towards the old Comédie-Italienne theatre. He had three -sisters and one brother; also a cousin whom his father, who was a -dentist by profession, had adopted. - -One day, Lord Harcourt came to Talma's father to have a troublesome -tooth extracted, and he was so pleased with the way the operation was -performed that he urged Talma's father to go and live in London, where -he promised to procure him an aristocratic clientèle. Talma's father -yielded to Lord Harcourt's pressure, crossed the Channel and set up -in Cavendish Square. Lord Harcourt kept his promises: he brought the -French dentist such good customers that he soon became the fashionable -dentist, and included the Prince of Wales,--afterwards the elegant -George IV.,--among his clients. - -The whole family followed its head; but Talma's father, considering a -French education better than any other, sent his son back to Paris in -the course of the year 1775. He was then nine years old and, thanks -to having spent three years in England at the age when languages are -quickly picked up, he could speak English when he reached Paris as -well as he could speak French. His father chose M. Verdier's school -for him. A year after he joined the school, great news began to leak -out. M. Verdier, the head of the school, had composed a tragedy -called _Tamerlan._ This tragedy was to be played on Prize Day. Talma -was hardly ten at that time, so it was probable that he would not be -allotted a leading part, even if he were allowed to take any part in it -at all. The assumption is incorrect. M. Verdier gave him the part of -a confidential friend. It was like all such parts,--a score of lines -strewn throughout the play and a monologue at the end. - -In this peroration the bosom-friend expatiates on the death of his -friend, who was condemned to death, like Titus, by an inexorable -father. The beginning of this recitation went like a charm; the bulk -of it was successfully delivered also; but, towards the end, the -child's emotion grew to such a pitch that he burst into tears, and -fainted away. This fainting fit marked his destiny, for the child was -an artiste! Ten years later, on 21 November 1787, Talma made his first -appearance at the Théâtre-Français, in the part of Séide. - -On the previous day, he paid a visit to Dugazon, and Dugazon gave him -a paper containing the following advice. I copy it from the original, -which is now in my possession. - - "Aim at greatness, from your first entry, or at any - rate at something above the common. You must try to - leave your mark and to make an appeal to the spirit of - curiosity. Perhaps it may be better to hit straight than - to strike hard; but amateurs are legion and connoisseurs - are scarce. However, if you can unite both truth and - strength, you will have the suffrages of all. Do not - be carried away by applause; nor allow yourself to be - discouraged by hissing. Only fools allow themselves to - be disconcerted by cat-calls; none but idiots are made - dizzy by applause. When applause is lavished without - discrimination, it injures talent at the very outset of - its career. Some artistes have failed, instead of having - passed through their careers with distinction, because of - faults which genuine criticism might have pointed out or - hissing punished. - - "Lekain, Peville, Fleury were all hissed and they are - immortal. A. and B. and C. have succumbed beneath the - hail of too much applause. What has become of them? - - "Fewer means and more study, less indulgence and more - discipline, are all pledges of success; if not immediate - and striking, at least permanent and substantial. Do - you want to captivate women and young people? Begin in - the _genre sensible._ 'Tout le monde aime,' as Voltaire - says, 'et personne ne conspire.' At the same time, what - may have been good advice in his day may not be worth - very much in ours. If you want chiefly to delight the - multitude, which feels much and reasons but little, adopt - either a magnificent or an awe-inspiring style: they will - instantly take effect. How is it possible to sustain the - dignified part of Mahomed, the condescension of Augustus, - the remorse of Orestes? The impression to be made by - such parts as Ladislas, Orosmane and Bajazet should be - carefully prepared and it will then be ineffaceable. - - "True talent, well supported, and a fortunate début are - a guarantee of immediate popularity; but the artiste - should strive to perpetuate them; he must compel the - public to go on appreciating. After having applauded - from conviction, people should be made to continue their - applause from habit. That collective body of people whom - we call the public has its caprices like any ordinary - individual; it must be coaxed; and (may I go so far as - to say that) if it be won over by good qualities, it is - not impossible to keep its favour by faults; you may - use defects, then, to that end! Nevertheless, you must - be careful that they are those with which your judges - will be in sympathy. Should the case be otherwise, you - may still have defects; but they will be poor relations - dogging the footsteps of your talent and welcomed only - by reason of its greater authority. Molé stammered and - slurred, Fleury staggered and I have been reproached with - over-acting; but Molé had indescribable charms, Fleury an - alluring delivery, and I make people laugh so heartily - that the critic who tries to be solemn at my expense is - never given a hearing. - - "There are débutants who shoot up like rockets, shine for - a few months and fall back into utter darkness. There are - several causes for such disasters: their talents were - either forced, or without range, or immature; as the - English say, a few exhibitions have used them up; one or - two efforts have exhausted them. Perhaps, too, deviating - from the path trodden by the masters, they have entered - the crooked labyrinths of innovation, wherein only genius - can lead temerity aright. Perhaps also, and this is more - hopeless still, they have been bad copies of excellent - originals. And the public, seeing that they have aped - defects rather than copied excellences, has taken them - for parodists and called their efforts caricatures. When - a comedian has reached this point, the best thing for - him to do is to escape out of it by the prompters side - door, and fly to Pan to amuse the Basques, or to Riom to - entertain the Auvergnats. But Paris lays claim to you, my - dear Talma, Paris will cleave to you, Paris will possess - you; and the land of Voltaire and of Molière, of which - you will become the worthy interpreter, will not be long - in giving you letters of naturalisation. - - "DUGAZON - - "20 _November_ 1787" - -It is interesting to read the advice that Shakespeare gave two -centuries before, through the mouth of Hamlet, to the players of his -time. It was as follows:-- - - "Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to - you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as - many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier - spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with - your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very - torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your - passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that - may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to - hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion - to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the - groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of - nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would - have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it - out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. - - "Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be - your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the - action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep - not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is - from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first - and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up - to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her - own image, and the very age and body of the time his - form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, - though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the - judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in - your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, - there be players that I have seen play, and heard others - praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that - neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of - Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, - that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made - men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so - abominably. - - "And let those that play your clowns speak no more than - is set down for them; for there be of them that will - themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren - spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, some - necessary question of the play be then to be considered: - that's villanous, and shows' a most pitiful ambition in - the fool that uses it." - -Let the successors of Lekain and of Garrick, of Molé and of Kemble, of -Talma and of Kean, compare this last advice with the first, and profit -by both! - -Talma succeeded, but there was nothing extraordinary about his success. -The débutant was marked out rather by amateurs than by the general -public. It was agreed that his acting was simple and natural. The -account books of the Comédie-Française show that the receipts at -Talma's first appearance amounted to three thousand four hundred and -three francs, eight sous. - -Now shall we hear the opinion of the critics on Talma's début? The -_Journal de Paris_ wrote thus: "The young man who has just made his -début in the character of Séide gives promise of most pleasing talents; -he possesses, besides, every natural advantage that it is possible to -desire, in the rôle of a _jeune premier_,--figure, grace, voice,--and -the public were justified in their applause." - -We will next see what Bachaumont had to say about him. "The débutant -possesses besides his natural gifts, a pleasing face, and a sonorous -and expressive voice, a pure and distinct pronunciation; he both feels -and can express the rhythm of his lines. His deportment is simple, his -movements are natural; moreover, his taste is always good and he has no -affectation; he does not imitate any other actor, but plays according -to his own ideas and abilities." - -Two months later, _Le Mercure_ said, apropos of the revival of Ducis' -_Hamlet_: "We mean soon to speak of a young actor, M. Talma, who has -caught the fancy of playgoers; but we will wait until he has played -more important parts. His taste lies in the direction of tragedy." - -It will readily be understood that the appearance of Mademoiselle -Rachel met with a very different reception from these mild -approbations. And the explanation is not far to seek. Mademoiselle -Rachel was a kind of fixed star, which had been discovered in the -high heavens, where she dwelt unmoved, shining brilliantly. Talma, -on the contrary, was a star destined to shine during a definite -period, to describe the gigantic arc that separates one horizon from -another horizon, to have his rising, his zenith, his setting--a -setting equivalent to that of the sun in mid-August, more fiery, more -magnificent, more splendid in his setting than during the noontide of -his brightness. And indeed what a triumphant progress his was! from -Séide to Charles IX., from Charles IX. to Falkland, from Falkland -to Pinto, from Pinto to Leicester, from Leicester to Danville, from -Danville to Charles VI.! - -But in spite of the brilliant career that was Talma's lot, he always -regretted that he did not see the full dawn of the modern drama. I -spoke to him of my own hopes several times. "Make haste," he would say -to me, "and try to succeed in my time." - -Well, I saw Talma play what very few people outside his own intimate -circle were privileged to see him play--the _Misanthrope_, which he -never dared to put upon the boards of the Théâtre-Français, though he -was anxious to do so; a part of _Hamlet_ in English, particularly the -monologue; also some farcical scenes got up at the Saint-Antoine for M. -Arnault's fête. - -Art was Talma's only care, his only thought, throughout his life. -Without possessing a brilliant mind, he possessed fine feeling, much -knowledge and profound discernment. When he was about to create a new -part, he spared no pains in investigating what history or archæology -might have to offer him in the way of assistance; every gift, good -or indifferent, that he possessed, qualities as well as defects, -was utilised by him. A fortnight before his death, when he rallied -a little, and the rally gave rise to the hope that he might again -reappear at the Théâtre-Français, Adolphe and I went to see him. - -Talma was having a bath; he was studying Lucien Arnault's _Tibère_, in -which he hoped to make his reappearance. Condemned by a disease of the -bowels to die literally of starvation, he was terribly thin; but he -seemed to find consolation even in his emaciated state and to derive -hope of a success from it. - -"Well, my boys," he said to us, as he pressed his hanging cheeks -between his hands, "won't these be just right for the part of old -Tiberius?" - -Oh! how great and glorious a thing art is! It shows more devotion than -a friend, is more faithful than a mistress, more consoling than a -confessor! - -END OF VOL. II - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's My Memoirs, Vol. II (of 6), by Alexandre Dumas - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50113 *** diff --git a/old/50113-h/50113-h.htm b/old/50113-h/50113-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 364e368..0000000 --- a/old/50113-h/50113-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,20286 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Memoirs, volume 2 by Alexandre Dumas. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - color: #CCCCCC; -} /* page numbers */ - -a:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - -v:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - -.content {position: absolute; - left: 85%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - - -.caption {font-weight: bold; - font-size: 0.8em; - text-align: center;} - -.caption2 {font-weight: bold; - font-size: 0.8em; - margin-top: 2em; - text-align: center;} - -capt {font-family: arial; - font-size: 0.8em; - text-align: center;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50113 ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h1>MY MEMOIRS</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2> - - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4> - -<h4>E. M. WALLER</h4> - -<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY</h4> - -<h4>ANDREW LANG</h4> - - -<h4>VOL. II</h4> - -<h4>1822 TO 1825</h4> - -<h5>WITH A FRONTISPIECE</h5> - - -<h5>NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5> - -<h5>1907</h5> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/img_front.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<blockquote> - -<h5>CONTENTS</h5> - - - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_I">BOOK I</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>An unpublished chapter from the <i>Diable boiteux</i>—History -of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza <span class="content"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians -had done me—The young girls of Villers-Cotterets—My -three friends—First love affairs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe de Leuven—His family—Unpublished details -concerning the death of Gustavus III.—The Count de -Ribbing—The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon <span class="content"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe's quatrain—The water-hen and King William—Lunch -in the wood—The irritant powder, the frogs and the -cock—The doctor's spectre—De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy -and I are exiled from the drawing-room—Unfortunate -result of a geographical error—M. Paroisse <span class="content"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>Amédée de la Ponce—He teaches me what work is—M. -Arnault and his two sons—A journey by diligence—A -gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him -with my fists—I learn the danger from which I escaped <span class="content"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>First dramatic impressions—The <i>Hamlet of Ducis</i>—<i>The -Bourbons en 1815</i>—Quotations from it <span class="content"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The events of 1814 again—Marmont, Duc de Raguse, -Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's—The -<i>Journal des Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i>—Lyrics -of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons—End -of the Maubreuil affair—Plot against the life of the -Emperor—The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money -and jewels <span class="content"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction -of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de -Maubreuil—Chamber of the Court of Appeal—The sitting of -17 April, 1817 <span class="content"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ia">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>The last shot of Waterloo—Temper of the provinces in -1817, 1818 and 1819—The <i>Messéniennes</i>—The <i>Vêpres -siciliennes—Louis IX.</i>—Appreciation of these two -tragedies—A phrase of Terence—My claim to a similar -sentiment—Three o'clock in the morning—The course of -love-making—<i>Valeat res ludrica</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIa">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Return of Adolphe de Leuven—He shows me a corner of the -artistic and literary world—The death of Holbein and the -death of Orcagna—Entrance into the green-rooms—Bürger's -<i>Lénore</i>—First thoughts of my vocation <span class="content"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIa">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>The Cerberus of the rue de Largny—I tame it—The -ambush—Madame Lebègue—A confession <span class="content"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVa">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>De Leuven makes me his collaborator—The <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i>—My first <i>couplet-Chauvin</i>—The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>—The <i>Abencérages</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Va">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the -Duc de Berry. <span class="content"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIa">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>Carbonarism <span class="content"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIa">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>My hopes—Disappointment—M. Deviolaine is appointed -forest-ranger to the Duc d'Orléans—His coldness -towards me—Half promises—First cloud on my -love-affairs—I go to spend three months with my -brother-in-law at Dreux—The news waiting for -me on my return—Muphti—Walls and hedges—The -summer-house—Tennis—Why I gave up playing it—The -wedding party in the wood <span class="content"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIa">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third -clerk at Crespy—M. Lefèvre—His character—My -journeys to Villers-Cotterets—The <i>Pélerinage -d'Ermenonville</i>—Athénaïs—New matter sent to Adolphe—An -uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris—How -this desire was accomplished—The journey—Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins—Adolphe—<i>Sylla</i>—Talma <span class="content"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXa">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>The theatre ticket—The <i>Café du Roi</i>—Auguste -Lafarge—Théaulon—Rochefort—Ferdinand Langlé—People -who dine and people who don't—Canaris—First sight of -Talma—Appreciation of Mars and Rachel—Why Talma has no -successor<i>—Sylla</i> and the Censorship—Talma's box—A -cab-drive after midnight—The return to Crespy—M. -Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels—I hand in my resignation as his -third clerk <span class="content"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_III">BOOK III</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>I return to my mother's—The excuse I give concerning my -return—The calfs lights—Pyramus and Cartouche—The -intelligence of the fox more developed than that of the -dog—Death of Cartouche—Pyramus's various gluttonous -habits <span class="content"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Hope in Laffitte—A false hope—New projects—M. -Lecomier—How and on what conditions I clothe myself -anew—Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du Helder—Bamps at -Villers-Cotterets—I visit our estate along with -him—Pyramus follows a butcher lad—An Englishman who -loved gluttonous dogs—I sell Pyramus—My first hundred -francs—The use to which they are put—Bamps departs for -Paris—Open credit <span class="content"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house—The -residu—The Piranèses—An architect at twelve hundred -francs salary—I discount my first bill—Gondon—How -I was nearly killed at his house—The fifty -francs—Cartier—The game of billiards—How six hundred -small glasses of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to -Paris <span class="content"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy—M. Danré -of Vouty advises my mother to let me go to Paris—My -good-byes—Laffitte and Perregaux—The three things -which Maître Mennesson asks me not to forget—The Abbé -Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him—I leave -Villers-Cotterets <span class="content"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>I find Adolphe again—The pastoral drama—First -steps—The Duc de Bellune—General Sébastiani—His -secretaries and his snuff-boxes—The fourth floor, small -door to the left—The general who painted battles <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p><i>Régulus</i>—Talma and the play—General Foy—The letter of -recommendation and the interview—The Duc de Bellune's -reply—I obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc -d'Orléans—Journey to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother -the good news—No. 9—I gain a prize in a lottery <span class="content"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>I find lodgings—Hiraux's son—Journals and journalists -in 1823—By being saved the expense of a dinner I am -enabled to go to the play at the Porte-Saint-Martin—My -entry into the pit—Sensation caused by my hair—I am -turned out—How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one—A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>My neighbour—His portrait—The <i>Pastissier françois</i>—A -course in bibliomania—Madame Méchin and the governor of -Soissons—Cannons and Elzevirs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>Prologue of the <i>Vampire</i>—The style offends my -neighbour's ear—First act—Idealogy—The rotifer—What -the animal is—Its conformation, its life, its death and -its resurrection <span class="content"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></p> - -<p>Second act of the <i>Vampire</i>—Analysis—My neighbour -again objects—He has seen a vampire—Where and -how—A statement which records the existence of -vampires—Nero—Why he established the race of hired -applauders—My neighbour leaves the orchestra <span class="content"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></p> - -<p>A parenthesis<i>—Hariadan Barberousse</i> at -Villers-Cotterets—I play the rôle of Don Ramire as an -amateur—My costume—The third act of the <i>Vampire</i>—My -friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment—He is expelled from the theatre—Madame -Allan-Dorval—Her family and her childhood—Philippe—His -death and his funeral <span class="content"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_IV">BOOK IV</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ic">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>My beginning at the office—Ernest Basset—Lassagne—M. -Oudard—I see M. Deviolaine—M. le Chevalier de -Broval—His portrait—Folded letters and oblong -letters—How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters—I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac -and whistler <span class="content"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIc">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Illustrious contemporaries—The sentence written on my -foundation stone—My reply—I settle down in the place -des Italiens—M. de Leuven's table—M. Louis-Bonaparte's -witty saying—Lassagne gives me my first lesson in -literature and history <span class="content"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIc">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase—M. -Dormeuil—<i>Kenilworth Castle</i>—M. Warez and -Soulié—Mademoiselle Lévesque—The Arnault family—The -<i>Feuille—Marius à Minturnes</i>—Danton's epigram—The -reversed passport—Three fables—<i>Germanicus</i> -—Inscriptions and epigrams—Ramponneau—The young -man and the tilbury<i>—Extra ecclesiam nulla est -salus</i>—Madame Arnault <span class="content"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVc">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses -of the various plays, sung as prologues and -epilogues—Transformation of the vaudeville—The Gymnase -and M. Scribe—The <i>Folie de Waterloo</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vc">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with -him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to -gain rank—Her history—The statement of the Duc -d'Orléans—Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of -Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of -birth <span class="content"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIc">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>The "year of trials"—The case of Potier and the -director of the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin—Trial -and condemnation of Magallon—The anonymous -journalist—Beaumarchais sent to Saint-Lazare—A few -words on censorships in general—Trial of Benjamin -Constant—Trial of M. de Jouy—A few words concerning -the author of <i>Sylla</i>—Three letters extracted from the -<i>Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i>—Louis XVIII. as author <span class="content"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIc">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The house in the rue Chaillot—Four poets and a -doctor—Corneille and the Censorship—Things M. Faucher -does not know—Things the President of the Republic ought -to know <span class="content"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_V">BOOK V</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Id">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>Chronology of the drama—Mademoiselle Georges -Weymer—Mademoiselle Raucourt—Legouvé and his -works—Marie-Joseph Chénier—His letter to the -company of the Comédie-Française—Young boys -<i>perfectionnés</i>—Ducis—His work <span class="content"><a href="#Page_398">398</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IId">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets—Luce de -Lancival—Baour-Lormian—<i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>—Lucien -Bonaparte, the author—Début of Mademoiselle Georges—The -Abbé Geoffroy's critique—Prince Zappia—Hermione at -Saint-Cloud <span class="content"><a href="#Page_407">407</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIId">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Imperial literature—The <i>Jeunesse de Henri IV</i>—Mercier -and Alexandre Duval—The <i>Templiers</i> and their -author—César Delrieu—Perpignan—Mademoiselle Georges' -rupture with the Théâtre-Français—Her flight to -Russia—The galaxy of kings—The tragédienne acts as -ambassador <span class="content"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVd">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>The Comédie-Française at Dresden—Georges returns -to the Théâtre-Français—The <i>Deux Gendres—Mahomet -II.</i>—<i>Tippo-Saëb</i>—1814—Fontainebleau—The allied -armies enter Paris—Lilies—Return from the isle of -Elba—Violets—Asparagus stalks—Georges returns to Paris <span class="content"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vd">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of -a great actor—Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal upon Talma declining it—Lafond—His school—His -sayings—Mademoiselle Duchesnois—Her failings and her -abilities-<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> succeeds <span class="content"><a href="#Page_438">438</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VId">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>General Riégo—His attempted insurrection—His escape -and flight—He is betrayed by the brothers Lara—His -trial—His execution <span class="content"><a href="#Page_445">445</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIId">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The inn of the <i>Tête-Noire</i>—Auguste -Ballet—Castaing—His trial—His attitude towards the -audience and his words to the jury—His execution <span class="content"><a href="#Page_452">452</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIId">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne—An appreciation of the man and of the -poet—The origin of the hatred of the old school of -literature for the new—Some reflections upon <i>Marino -Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard</i>—Why Casimir -Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic -poet—Where he found the ideas for his chief plays <span class="content"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXd">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>Talma in the <i>École des Vieillards</i>—One of his -letters—Origin of his name and of his family—<i>Tamerlan</i> -at the pension Verdier—Talma's début—Dugazon's -advice—More advice from Shakespeare—Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant—Talma's passion for -his art <span class="content"><a href="#Page_480">480</a></span></p></blockquote> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3><a name="THE_MEMOIRS_OF_ALEXANDRE_DUMAS" id="THE_MEMOIRS_OF_ALEXANDRE_DUMAS">THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS</a></h3> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I">BOOK I</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>An unpublished chapter from the <i>Diable boiteux</i>—History -of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>About a fortnight after that wonderful night, during which I had -experienced such new and unknown emotions, I was busy in Maître -Mennesson's office,—as Niguet was absent seeing after a marriage -settlement at Pisseleu, and Ronsin had gone to collect debts at -Haramont,—sadly engrossing a copy of a deed of sale, when M. Lebègue, -a colleague of my patron, entered the office and, after gazing at -me with an amused expression on his face, went into the next room, -which was the private office, and took a seat by the side of Maître -Mennesson. The cause of my sadness shall be discovered presently.</p> - -<p>Maître Mennesson's door, which separated the two offices, I was -generally left open, so that he could answer our questions, save when -a client closed it to discuss private matters with him; and when this -door was left open, we could hear in our office everything that was -said in M. Mennesson's room, as he could hear in his office all that -went on in ours.</p> - -<p>This M. Lebègue, some months before, had married one of M. Deviolaine's -daughters by his first marriage: her name was Éléonore. The eldest -daughter, Léontine, had been married to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> a tax collector named Cornu -some time before her sister's wedding. The singularity of the name -had not prevented the marriage from coming off. The sharp-tongued -young girl feared to be jeered at in her turn, and the wittier she -became, the more she dreaded even the appearance of being ridiculous. -But Cornu was such a good-natured, honest-hearted fellow, everybody -was so used to the name, which had been borne by several families -in Villers-Cotterets, he was so used to it himself, he responded so -naïvely and triumphantly to the remarks of his <i>fiancée,</i> that the -matter was settled.</p> - -<p>When she was married to him she made up her mind to raise the -unfortunate name which fate had given her above even the suspicion of -any banter naturally connected with it: she was the most chaste of -wives, the tenderest of mothers I have ever known, and her husband, a -happy man himself, made her happy too.</p> - -<p>But it was not so with her sister, Madame Lebègue, who was three -or four years younger, prettier, and far more of a flirt than she -was. Her flirtations were innocent enough, I have no doubt, but they -were as a rule looked upon maliciously by the gossips of the little -town—a matter to which Madame Lebègue in her innocence paid little -heed; concerning which, in her indifference to such calumnies, she -simply teased her husband. He was a stout, rotund fellow, pockmarked, -rather ugly, with a somewhat common-looking face, but a good fellow at -heart—although I have been told since that he ruined himself, not from -having lent at too low interest, but from an entirely opposite reason. -I am wholly ignorant as to the truth of this accusation: I take it to -be a calumny similar to the more pleasing and certainly more human -accusation levelled against the wife.</p> - -<p>It was this man who had just come in, who sat down by M. Mennesson -and who was at that moment holding a whispered conversation with him, -interspersed with guffaws of laughter. Thanks to the extremely delicate -hearing with which I was gifted by nature, and which I had cultivated -during hunting, I thought I could distinguish my own name; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> I -supposed I had not heard correctly, not flattering myself that two -such grave personages could be doing me the honour of talking about -me. Unluckily for my pride,—and I have indicated to what a pitch this -feeling was developed in me, a height that would have been absurd if -it had not been painful,—unluckily for my pride, then, I was not kept -long in doubt that the discussion was about me.</p> - -<p>I have said that M. Mennesson was very fond of a joke and very witty; -wherever he could find a joke he would fasten upon it, no matter -whether it happened to concern a woman's virtue or a man's reputation. -When the frenzy of joking seized him he gave himself up to it -unreservedly, heart and soul. Finding nothing, probably, on this day, -better to chew, he set upon me; the pasture was poor, but it was far -better to crack my sorry bones than to chew at nothing or gulp only -the air. After several of those whispered remarks, then, and bursts -of stifled laughter, which had disturbed my equanimity, M. Mennesson -raised his voice.</p> - -<p>"My dear friend," he said, "it is a chapter out of the <i>Diable boiteux</i> -re-discovered and still unpublished, which I mean to have printed the -next time I go to Paris, to complete Lesage's work."</p> - -<p>"Ah! tell it me," Lebègue replied; "I will tell it to my wife, who will -pass it on to her sisters, who will tell it to everybody; then our -publication will be disposed of in advance."</p> - -<p>M. Mennesson began:—</p> - -<p>"There was once upon a time at Salamanca a scholar who was descended -from a race of Arabs and who was called Samud.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> He was still so young -that if anyone had pulled his nose, milk would most certainly have come -out: this did not prevent him from being absurd enough to fancy himself -a man; perhaps also—for, to be fair, we must say all there is to -say—this ridiculous fancy would not have entered his head had not that -happened which we are about to relate."</p> - -<p>It may be imagined that I was listening attentively. I had recognised -from the very first words that I was undoubtedly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> person in -question, and I wondered uneasily where the story was going to lead -after this beginning—a beginning which, so far as I was concerned, I -found more impertinent than graphic.</p> - -<p>M. Mennesson went on, and I listened with my ears open, my pen idle in -my hand.</p> - -<p>"On the day of the feast of Whitsuntide in the year ... I cannot -say the exact date of the year, but, any way, it was on the day of -the feast of Whitsuntide, which is also the town's feast-time, two -beautiful senoras arrived from Madrid and put up at the house of a -worthy canon who was the uncle of one of these ladies. It chanced that -this canon was the same with whom Samud had learnt the bit of Latin he -knew, and as the two lovely Madrid ladies wanted a cavalier who would -not put their virtue to the blush, the canon cast his eyes on his -pupil, and requested him to place both his arms at the disposal of the -new arrivals, to show them the park of Salamanca, which is very wide, -very beautiful, and belongs to the Duke of Rodelnas.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I will not -dwell on the adventures of the first day, beyond just briefly touching -upon two events: the first was the meeting between our scholar and -an elegant senor from Madrid, who was noticed at once by the Sefiora -Lorenza, with whom our scholar was walking arm in arm, dressed, as -people of the provinces often are, about a decade behind the fashions -of the capital. This young gallant was called Audim. The second was a -most serious accident, which happened to the scholar's breeches, just -when, in order to give the fair Lorenza a proof of his agility, he had -leaped across a ditch fourteen feet wide."</p> - -<p>It can be imagined what I suffered as I listened to this secondhand -recital of my lovelorn tribulations, which, according to his method of -procedure, would not stop short at the two misadventures of the first -day. M. Mennesson continued:—</p> - -<p>"The beautiful Lorenza was specially impressed by the young gallant's -get-up. In complete contrast to the scholar, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> muffled up in a -Gothic costume borrowed from the wardrobe of his ancestors, Señor Audim -was dressed in the latest fashion, in tight-fitting breeches, ending -in charming little heart-shaped shoes, and a dark-coloured doublet -turned out by one of the best tailors in Madrid. The scholar had not -been unconscious of the particular notice his companion had paid to the -handsome Audim's attire, and as it began to dawn on him what influence -a coat of a certain cut or trousers of a special shade of colour might -have upon a woman, he decided during the night following the fête -to please Lorenza no matter at what price, and to have a suit made -exactly like the one worn by the young man who seemed destined by fate -to become his rival. The most vital part of the costume, and moreover -the most expensive, was in the matter of the boots. So he turned his -attention to them first of all. On the opposite side of the square -where Samud's mother lived, a square called the place de la Fontaine, -was the best boot-maker in the town: he had always shod the scholar, -but hitherto he had only made shoes for him, the lad's tender years not -having put the idea into anyone's head, not even into his own, that -he could wear any other covering for his feet than shoes or sandals -without risking a too close resemblance to Perrault's venerable Puss in -Boots. Great therefore was M. Landereau's<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> surprise when his customer -came and boldly asked the price of a pair of boots. He stared at Samud.</p> - -<p>'A pair of boots?' he asked. 'For whom?'</p> - -<p>'Why, for myself,' the scholar proudly replied.</p> - -<p>'Has your mother given you leave to order boots?' 'Yes.'</p> - -<p>"The bootmaker shook his head dubiously: he knew Samud's mother was not -well off and that it would be foolish of her to allow such extravagance -in her son.</p> - -<p>'Boots are dear,' he said.</p> - -<p>'That does not matter. How much are they?'</p> - -<p>'They would cost you exactly four dollars.'</p> - -<p>'Good.... Take my measure.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I have told you I can do nothing without leave from your mother.'</p> - -<p>'I will see you have it.'</p> - -<p>"Returning home, the scholar ventured to ask for a pair of boots. -The request struck Samud's mother as so extraordinary that she made -him repeat his inquiry twice. It was all the more strange as it was -the first time the scholar had troubled about his dress. When he was -ten they had the greatest difficulty in the world to get him to give -up a long pinafore of figured cotton, which he considered far more -comfortable than all the breeches and all the doublets on earth; -then, from the age of ten to the age of fifteen, he had worn with -indifference any garments his mother had thought good to put him in, -always preferring dirty and old ones to clean and new, because in them -he was allowed to go out in all weathers and to roll about in all kinds -of places. So the demand for a pair of boots seemed to his poor mother -altogether most unprecedented, and she was alarmed for her son's reason.</p> - -<p>'A pair of boots!' she repeated. 'What will you wear them with?'</p> - -<p>'A pair of tight-fitting breeches, mother.'</p> - -<p>'A pair of tight-fitting breeches! But you must know your legs are as -spindle-shaped as a cock's.'</p> - -<p>"'Excuse me, mother,' the schoolboy replied, with some show of logic; -'if I have good enough calves to wear short breeches, they are good -enough to wear tight-fitting breeches.'</p> - -<p>"The mother admired her son's wit, and, half conquered by the repartee, -she said,'We might perhaps manage to find the tight-fitting trousers in -the clothes-press; but the boots ... where will you find the boots?'</p> - -<p>'Why, at Landereau's!'</p> - -<p>'But boots would be expensive, my child,' said the poor lady, -sighing,'and you know we are not rich.'</p> - -<p>'Bah! mamma, Landereau will allow you credit.'</p> - -<p>'It is all very fine taking credit, my boy; you know one has to pay -some day, and that the longer one puts off paying the more it costs.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<p>'Oh, mother, please do let me!'</p> - -<p>'How much will the boots cost?'</p> - -<p>'Four dollars, mother.'</p> - -<p>'That is six months' school-money at the rate good Canon Gregorio -charges me.'</p> - -<p>'You can pay for it in four months' time, mother,' the schoolboy -pleaded.</p> - -<p>'Still ... tell me what advantage you think this pair of boots and the -tight-fitting trousers will bring you?'</p> - -<p>'I shall be able to please Doña Lorenza, the canon's niece.' 'How is -that?'</p> - -<p>'She raves over boots and tight-fitting trousers ... it seems they are -the very latest thing in Madrid.'</p> - -<p>'But what does it matter to you what the niece of Don Gregorio raves or -does not rave over, I want to know?'</p> - -<p>'It matters a great deal to me, mother.'</p> - -<p>'Why?'</p> - -<p>"The schoolboy looked supremely foolish.</p> - -<p>'Because I am paying her attentions,' he said."</p> - -<p>This dialogue was word for word what had passed between my mother and -myself after I returned from Landereau's shop, so I grew hot with anger.</p> - -<p>"At the words <i>Because I am paying her attentions</i>," continued the -narrator, "Samud's mother was overcome with intense astonishment: her -son, whom she still pictured as running about the streets in his long -print pinafore, or renewing his baptismal vows taper in hand; her son -paying attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza!—why, it was one of -those absurd things she had never even imagined. And her son, seeing -she was unconvinced, drew his hand out of his breast pocket and showed -her a bracelet of hair with a mosaic clasp. But he took care to keep it -to himself that he had taken this bracelet from Doña Lorenza; she had -not given it him, and she was very much distressed at not knowing what -had become of it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<p>Although this account was not very creditable to my honesty, it was -dreadfully accurate. I had had that bracelet in my possession for three -days; during those three days I had, if not exactly shown it, at least -let it be seen by several people, and, among others, by my mother and -my cousins the Deviolaines, before whom I posed as a gallant youth; but -at length I had been moved by Laure's distress, as she had thought it -lost. I gave it back to her, humbly confessing my fault; she forgave -me, in consideration, no doubt, of her delight in recovering her -trinket, but she would not have let me off so easily had she known my -indiscretions.</p> - -<p>So the perspiration which had beaded my brow at the beginning of the -story, ran down over my face in big drops; yet wishing to learn how -far M. Mennesson had been coached in the matter of my sentimental -escapades, I had the courage to stay where I was—or rather, I had not -the strength to fly. M. Mennesson went on:—</p> - -<p>"At this juncture Samud's mother raised her hands and eyes to heaven, -and as the poor woman never could refuse her son, she said to him, with -a sigh—</p> - -<p>'Very well, be it so; if a pair of boots will make you happy, go and -order the boots.'</p> - -<p>"The schoolboy leapt at one bound from his house to the bootmaker's; -he arranged the price at three and a half dollars, to be paid for in -four months' time. Next they paid a visit to the clothes-press: they -extracted a pair of bright blue trousers striped with gold; they sold -the gold lace to a goldsmith for a dollar and a half, which dollar and -a half were given to the scholar for pocket-money, his mother guessing -that his budding love affairs would naturally bring extra expenses -in their train. They decided that the suit he had worn at his first -communion should be altered to a more up-to-date cut, on fashionable -lines.</p> - -<p>"While all these preparations for courtship were going on, the -schoolboy continued, in the phrase he had used to his mother, to pay -attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza; but although he was brave -in words and very clever in theory behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> her back, he was extremely -timid in practice and very awkward when actually before her face. While -apparently filled with impatience to be near her, he dreaded nothing -so much as being left alone with her; at such times he would lose his -wits completely, become dumb instead of talkative, and be still when -he should have been active: the most favourable opportunities were -given him, and he let them escape. In vain did the impatient lady from -Madrid give him to understand that he was wasting time, and that time -wasted is never regained; he agreed with her from the very depths of -his soul; he was furious with himself every night when he returned -home, and in going over the opportunities of the day he vowed not to -let these opportunities slip by on the morrow if they occurred again. -Then he would read a chapter of <i>Faublas</i> to warm his blood: he would -sleep on it, and dream dreams in which he would be astonishingly bold. -When day broke, he would vow to himself to carry out his dreams of -the previous night. Then, while he was waiting for the boots and the -tight-fitting suit, which were being fashioned with a truly provincial -slowness, he returned to his short breeches, his bombazin vest, his -bottle-blue coat, and resumed his fruitless walk in the forest. He -looked with a melancholy eye on the mossy carpet under their feet, not -even venturing to suggest to his companion that they should sit down -upon it; he gazed sadly on the beautiful green heights above them, -under which she delighted to hide herself with him. He would get as far -as trembling and sighing, even to pressing her hand, but these were the -extreme limits of his boldness. Once only did he kiss the hand of Doña -Lorenza,—on the night before he was to introduce himself to her in his -suit of conquest,—but it cost him such a tremendous effort to perform -this bold act that he felt quite ill after its accomplishment.</p> - -<p>"It was on this day that the lovely Doña Lorenza arrived at the -conclusion that she must give up all hope of seeing the boy develop -into a man, and without saying a word to her clumsy admirer, she took -a decisive step. They parted as usual after having spent the evening -playing at those innocent games<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> which Madame de Longueville detested -so greatly. The next day, as we have said, was to be the vital one. -The tailor and the bootmaker kept their word. The young people usually -met between noon and one o'clock, and then went for a walk: Senora -Vittoria with a young bachelor, from whom I have gathered most of my -information; and the schoolboy with Senora Lorenza. Unluckily, the -tight-fitting trousers were so tight that they had to have a piece put -in at the calf of the leg: this addition took time, and Samud was not -quite ready before one o'clock. He knew he was late; he flew hurriedly -along to Canon Gregorio's house, where the daily rendezvous took place. -His new toilette produced an excellent effect as he passed through the -streets: people ran to their doors; they leant out of their windows, -and he bowed to them, saying to himself—</p> - -<p>'Yes, it is all right, it is I! What is there wonderful in this, pray? -Did you think no one else could have boots, tight-fitting trousers and -a fashionably collared coat like M. Audim? You are much deceived if you -thought anything of the kind!'</p> - -<p>"And he went on his way, holding his head higher and higher, persuaded -he was nearing a sensational triumph. But, as we have said, the unlucky -alteration at the calves had made him nearly an hour late, and when the -scholar reached the canon's house both the senoras had gone out! This -was but a slight misfortune: the schoolboy had been brought up in the -forest of Salamanca, as Osmin in the seraglio of Bajazet, and he knew -its every turn and twist. He was therefore just going to rush out in -pursuit of the lady of his thoughts, when the canon's sister handed him -a letter which Doña Lorenza had left for him when she went out. Samud -never doubted that this letter would enjoin upon him to hurry on with -all diligence. And it was the first he had received: he felt the honour -most keenly; he kissed the letter tenderly, broke the seal, and with -panting breath and bounding heart he read the following:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>'<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR BOY</span>,—I have been blaming myself during the past -fortnight for imposing upon your good-nature by letting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -you fulfil the obligation you had most injudiciously -promised my uncle in undertaking to be my cavalier. -In spite of your efforts to hide the boredom that an -occupation beyond your years caused you, I have seen -that I have much interfered with your usual habits, and -I blame myself for it. Go back to your young playmates, -who are waiting for you to play at prisoners' base and -quoits. Let your mind be quite at ease on my account; -for I have accepted M. Audim's services for the short -time longer I remain with my uncle. Please accept my best -thanks, my dear child, for your kindness, and believe me, -yours very gratefully, <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LORENZA</span>.'</p></blockquote> - -<p>"If a thunderbolt had fallen at our schoolboy's feet he could not have -been more crushed than he was on receiving this letter. On the first -reading he realised nothing beyond the shock; he re-read it two or -three times, and felt the smart. Then it dawned on him that, since he -had taken no pains to prove to the lovely Lorenza that he was not a -child, it now remained to him to prove that he was a man, by provoking -Audim to fight a Dud with him; and forthwith, upon my word, our -outraged schoolboy sent this letter to his rival:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"'<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIR</span>,—I need not tell you upon what provocation I wish -to meet you in any of the forest avenues, accompanied by -two seconds: you know as well as I do. As you may pretend -that you have not insulted me and that it is I who have -provoked you, I leave the choice of weapons to you.—I -have the honour to remain,' etc.</p> - -<p>"'<i><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">P.S.</span></i>—-As you will probably not return home till -late to-night, I will not demand my answer this evening, -but I wish to receive it as early as possible to-morrow -morning.'</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Next morning, on waking, he received a birch rod with Don Audim's -card. That was the weapon selected by his rival."</p> - -<p>The reader can judge the effect the conclusion of this story had upon -me. Alas! it was an exact account of all that had happened to me. Thus -had terminated my first love affair, and so had ended my first duel! I -uttered a shriek of rage, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> dashing out of the office, I ran home to -my mother, who cried out aloud when she saw the state I was in.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later I was lying in a well-warmed bed and Doctor Lécosse -had been sent for: he pronounced that I was in for brain fever, but -as it was taken in time it would not have any serious consequences. I -purposely prolonged my convalescence, be it known, so as not to go out -until the two Parisians had left Villers-Cotterets. I have never seen -either of them since.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> hardly need point out that "Samud" is the anagram of -"Dumas."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Rodelnas" is the anagram of "d'Orléans," as "Samud" is -the anagram of "Dumas," and as "Audim," to be used shortly, is that of -"Miaud."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The narrator did not trouble to give an anagram for the -name this time.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians -had done me—The young girls of Villers-Cotterets—My -three friends—First love affairs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Still, like François I. after the battle of Pavia, I had not lost -everything by my defeat. First there remained to me my boots and my -tight-fitting trousers, those two dearly coveted articles, which -became the envy and admiration of those young companions upon whom -the lovely Laure had so cruelly thrown me. Besides, in the fortnight -spent in the company of those two smart girls, I had learnt the first -lesson that only the society of women can give. This lesson had taught -me to realise the need for that care of my personal appearance which -had hitherto never presented itself to my mind as a thing to be daily -attended to. Beneath the ridiculous if vanity in changing my mode of -dress, underneath the unlucky attempt that I, a poor country lad, had -made to attain to the elegant style of a Parisian, there appeared the -first dawnings of true elegance—that is to say, of neatness.</p> - -<p>I had rather good hands, my nails were well shaped, my teeth were large -but white, and my feet were singularly small considering my size. I had -been ignorant of all these possessions until they had been pointed out -to me by the two Parisian girls, who gave me advice as to how I could -enhance the value of my natural gifts. And I continued to follow their -advice for my own personal satisfaction, after at first following it to -please them, to such purpose that by the time they left I had really -stepped across the boundary which separated childhood from youth. The -crossing had certainly been a rough one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> and I had accomplished it -with tears in my eyes, coquetry holding one of my hands and chagrin -the other. Then—as jaded travellers, when they enter a fresh country, -suck bitter fruits, which, however much they set the teeth on edge, -leave behind them an irresistible desire to suck other fruits,—when -my lips had touched the apple of Eve that men call love, I yearned to -make another attempt, even though it should be more painful than the -first, and so far as its young girls were concerned, few towns could -boast themselves as well favoured as Villers-Cotterets. Never was -there such a large park as ours, not even at Versailles; no lawns were -greener, not even those at Brighton; nor were any studded with more -exquisite flowers than the park of Villers-Cotterets, with its lawns -and flower-beds. Three very distinct classes disputed among themselves -for the crown of beauty—the aristocracy, the middle classes, and a -third class for which I cannot find a name, a pleasant intermediary -between the middle class and the people, which belongs to neither, and -to which class the dressmakers, seamstresses, and women-shopkeepers of -a town belong.</p> - -<p>The first class was represented by the Collard family, to whom I have -already alluded in connection with my childhood. Of the three madcap -young girls who roamed the forest of Villers-Cotterets as free as the -butterflies and swallows, two had become wives: one, Caroline, had -married the Baron Capelle; the other, Hermine, had married the Baron -de Martens; Louise, the third, who was but fifteen, was the most -captivating little maiden imaginable. Their mother—whose birth and -history as the daughter of Madame de Genlis and the Duc d'Orléans I -have related—and her three children were the aristocratic centre round -which the young men and maidens of the neighbouring castles revolved; -and among the former of these were some of the best blood in the -country—the Montbretons, the Courvals, and the Mornays. None of these -families lived in Villers-Cotterets itself: they lived in the castles -around. Only on great occasions did the hives swarm and then we saw -these golden-winged bees flying about the streets of the town and down -the avenues of the park.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>The second class was represented by the Deviolaine family. Two out -of the five daughters of M. Deviolaine were married, as I have -said—namely, Léontine and Éléonore; three remained, Cécile, Augustine -and Louise. Cécile was twenty years of age, Augustine sixteen; Louise -was still a mere child. Cécile had preserved her whimsical and -capricious spirits, the same mocking and animated features; her actions -were more masculine than feminine; her complexion was tanned by the -sun, as she never took the trouble to protect herself from its rays. -Augustine, on the contrary, had a skin as white as milk, large tranquil -blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, forming an admirable framework round -her face, sloping shoulders charmingly moulded, and a figure that was -not too slender; unlike her sister Cécile, she was gracefully feminine -in all her ways. Raphael would have been puzzled to choose between her -and Louise Collard for a model for his Madonna, and like the Greek -sculptor, he would have selected beautiful points from them both to -reach that perfect standard to which Art everywhere attains when it -surpasses Nature.</p> - -<p>The other young girls of the middle class grouped themselves round the -Deviolaine family. The two Troisvallet girls, Henriette and Clementine: -Clementine, dark with beautiful black hair, strangely attractive eyes, -a Roman complexion, of the type of Velletri or Subiaco, and a head like -one of Augustine Carrachi's. Henriette was tall, fair, rosy, slender, -gracious, and as pliant in her gentle youthfulness as a rose, as a -blade of corn, as a willow tree: she had that type of face which is -half sad, half merry; the transition between angel and woman, showing -all the common needs of earth, yet full of heavenly aspirations too. -Then the two charming girls Sophie and Pélagie Perrot; Louise Moreau, -a sweet young girl, who has since become the admirable mother of a -family; Éléonore Picot, of whom I have spoken—an excellent woman, -saddened by the death of her brother Stanislas, and the shameful charge -that had weighed for a short time upon her brother Auguste. Then there -were others, too, whose names I have forgotten, but whose fresh faces -still appear in my mind's eye like the phantoms of a dream or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> like the -apparitions which glide out of German streams or are reflected in the -lochs of Scotland as they pursue their nocturnal rounds.</p> - -<p>Lastly, after the middle classes, came, as I have said, the group of -young girls which I cannot class in the social hierarchy, but which -held the same place in that small world of ours shut in by the green -girdle of its beautiful forest, that lilies of the valley, Easter -daisies, cornflowers, hyacinths and pompon roses hold among flowers. -Oh! but it was a pretty sight to see them on Sunday, in their summer -dresses, with pink and blue sashes, their tiny bonnets trimmed by their -own hands and put on in a hundred varieties of coquettish ways—for -in those days not one of them dare wear a hat; it was a delight to -see them free of all constraint, ignorant of any etiquette, playing, -racing, lacing and interlacing their charming round bare arms in long -chains. What exquisite creatures they were! What delightful young -things! It is of little interest to my readers, I am well aware, to -know their names; but I knew them, I loved them, I spent my earliest -years among them, those gentle opening days in the morning of life; I -wish to tell their names, I wish to paint their portraits, I wish to -describe their different charms, and then I hope they will pardon my -indiscretions for my very indiscretions' sake.</p> - -<p>I must mention first and foremost two charmingly romantic and -coquettish damsels—Joséphine and Manette Thierry: Joséphine dark, -rosy, with an ample figure and regular features, a perfect creature, -whose beautiful teeth completed a ravishing whole. Manette, a dessert -apple, a girl who was always singing to make herself heard, always -laughing to show off her teeth, ever running to let her feet, her -ankles, even the calves of her legs, be seen; Virgil's Galatea, whose -very name she was ignorant of, flying to be pursued, hiding so as to be -seen before she hid.</p> - -<p>What has become of them? I have seen them since, looking very -miserable: one was at Versailles, the other in Paris—the fallen, faded -fruits of that rosary on which I spelled out the first phrases of -love. They were the daughters of an old tailor, and lived close to the -church, which was only separated from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> them by the town hall. Louise -Brézette lived nearly opposite them; I have already mentioned her. -She was the niece of my dancing-master; a sturdy flower of fifteen, -whom I had in my mind while I wrote my fictitious history of that -<i>Tulipe noire</i>, the masterpiece of horticulture vainly sought after, -vainly pursued, vainly expected by Dutch amateur gardeners. The hair -of beautiful Madame Ronconi, which inspired one of Théophile Gautier's -most wonderful articles, and which made coal look grey and the wings -of a crow pale, when placed side by side with it, was not more black, -more blue, more shiny than Louise Brézette's hair when it reflected -the sun's rays from its dark and sombre depths as from the heart of -polished metal. Oh! what a lovely blooming brunette she was, with her -flesh as firm and bright as a nectarine's; her pearly teeth lighting -up her face from under the faint ebony down on her coral lips! One -could feel life and love bubbling up beneath, needing only the first -passion to make everything burst forth into flame! This luxuriant young -girl was religious, and, as such an organisation as hers must love -something, she loved God.</p> - -<p>If you took a few steps towards the square, a little farther up the -rue de Soissons, bearing to the left, there was a door and a window, -comprising the whole frontage of a tiny house. In the window hung hats, -collars, bonnets, lace, gloves, mittens, ribbons—the whole arsenal, -in short, of womanly vanity; behind the door floated certain curtains, -intended to prevent inquisitive glances from looking into the shop, but -which, whether by some strange mischance, or from the obstinacy of the -rod upon which they slid, or from the caprices of the wind, always left -on one side or the other some impertinent aperture through which the -passer-by could see into the shop and at the same time allowed those -inside the shop to see out into the street. Above this door and this -window the following inscription was painted in large letters:—</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Mesdemoiselles Rigolot, Milliners</i></p> - -<p>Truly those who stopped in front of the opening which I have indicated, -and who managed to cast a glance inside the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> shop, did not lose their -time nor regret their pains. What we mean by this has no sort of -connection with the two proprietors of the establishment, who were -both old maids, having long since passed their fortieth year, and, I -presume, having lost all pretension to inspire any other sentiment than -respect.</p> - -<p>No, what we have in view concerns two of the most adorable faces you -can imagine, placed side by side as though to set one another off: one -was a blonde, and the other a brunette. The brunette was Albine Hardi; -the blonde was Adèle Dalvin. The brown head,—do you know the lovely -Marie Duplessis, that charming courtesan full of queenly grace, upon -whom my son wrote his romance <i>la Dame aux camélias</i>?—well, she was -Albine. If you do not know her, I will describe Albine to you. She was -a young girl of seventeen, with a dead brown complexion, large brown -velvety eyes, and eyebrows so black that they seemed as though they -had been drawn with a pencil, the curve was so firm and so regular. -She was a duchess, she was a queen; better still than either, if you -will, she was after the fashion of a nymph of Diana's train: slight, -slender, straight and finely built, a huntress whom it would have -been a splendid sight to see with a plumed helmet on her head, an -Amazon flying before the wind, leading a troop of clamorous pikemen, -guiding a baying hound. Upon the stage her appearance would have -been magnificent, almost supernatural. In ordinary life, people were -tempted to think her too beautiful, and for some time nobody dared to -make love to her, it seemed so likely that their love would be wasted -and that she would not make any response to it. The other, Adèle, was -fair and pink-complexioned. I have never seen prettier golden hair, -sweeter eyes, a more winning smile; she was more inclined to be gay -than melancholy, short rather than tall, plump rather than thin: she -was something like one of Murillo's cherubs who kiss the feet of his -Virgins—half veiled in clouds; she was neither a Watteau shepherdess, -nor one of Greuze's peasant girls, but something between the two. One -felt it would be a sweet and easy thing to love her, although it might -not be so easy to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> loved by her. Her father and her mother were -worthy old farmer folk, thoroughly honest but vulgar, and it was all -the more surprising that so fresh and sweet-scented a flower should -have sprung from such a stock. But this is always the case when folks -are young: it is youth that lends distinction, as it is spring which -lends freshness to the rose.</p> - -<p>Round these young people whom I have just described, smiled and pouted -a bevy of young girls, the smallest being mere infants, whom I have -since seen succeed the youthful generation in which I lived. I have -sought in vain to find in these later children the virtues I found in -those who preceded them.</p> - -<p>Until the arrival of the two strangers in Villers-Cotterets I had not -even noticed the springtide crown of stars and flowers to which all -ranks of society contribute. When the two strangers had left, the -bandage that had sealed my eyes fell off, and I could say not merely "I -see" but "I live." I found myself placed by my years exactly between -the children who still played at prisoners' base and at quoits—as -the abba's niece had aptly put it—and youths beginning to turn into -men. Instead of returning to the former, as my beautiful Parisian had -advised me, I attached myself to the latter, and drew myself up to my -full height to prove my sixteen years. And when anyone asked my age, I -told them I was seventeen.</p> - -<p>The three youths with whom I was most intimate were, first, Fourcade, -director of the school of self-improvement, sent from Paris to -Villers-Cotterets; he was my <i>vis-à-vis</i> in my début as a dancing man. -He was a thoroughly well-bred, well-educated young fellow, son of a man -very honourably known in foreign affairs; his father had lived in the -East for many years and had been Consul at Salonica. His affections -were fixed upon Joséphine Thierry, and he spent with her all the time -he could spare from his teaching. My second companion was Saunier; -he had been a fellow-pupil with me under the Abbé Grégoire; he was -second clerk of M. Perrot the lawyer; his father and grandfather were -blacksmiths, and in the idle period of my early youth I spent a large -portion of my time in their forge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> notching their files and making -fireworks out of iron filings. Saunier divided his leisure-time between -two passions—one, which I verily believe came before the other, was -for the clarionette; the other was for Manette Thierry. The third of -my intimate friends was called Chollet; he served as a link, in the -matter of age, between Fourcade and Saunier. He lived with one of my -cousins, called Roussy, the father of the child of whom I had been -godfather, when nine months old, along with Augustine Deviolaine. He -was studying the cultivation of forest-land. I know nothing about his -relations; they were probably wealthy, for whenever I called on him -there were five-franc pieces scattered about on the mantelpiece and -two or three gold pieces always shone out ostentatiously from the -midst of them, dazzling my eyes and impressing me profoundly with his -riches. But my admiration was entirely devoid of envy—I have never -envied either a man's money or his possessions. I know not whether this -arose from pride or from simpleness of mind. I might have taken for my -motto <i>Video nec invideo.</i> Chollet had had no education at all, but -he was not wanting in a certain natural quick-wittedness, and he was -a fine-looking young fellow, his magnificent eyes and splendid teeth -redeeming an otherwise common-looking face, pitted with smallpox. He -did his best to make Louise Brézette change her love for the Creator -into love for the creature.</p> - -<p>These were my three most intimate friends. The upshot was, that when -it became necessary for me in my turn to make a choice, although I -had been brought up half with M. Deviolaine's family and half with M. -Collard's, it was neither in aristocratic society nor in middle-class -circles, which would have made fun of me, that I sought my initiation -in the delightful mystery of life we call falling in love, but in -that society to which my three friends almost exclusively addressed -themselves. And I had no difficulty in understanding their preference. -I do not hesitate to state fully and freely that they were very wise in -their choice. There was but one step to take to follow in their path. I -needed only someone upon whom to fasten my affections: the wish to love -was not wanting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Every one of the young girls I have mentioned had -some love affair on hand of a more or less serious character. They all -enjoyed most delightful liberty, the result no doubt of the confidence -their parents placed in their good sense; but for some reason or other -we had quite an English custom in Villers-Cotterets—a free and easy -association between young people of both sexes, which I have never seen -in any other French town; a liberty all the more surprising, since -all the parents of these maidens were perfectly respectable people -and had a profound conviction in the depths of their hearts that all -the barques launched upon the flood of the Tender Passion were decked -with white sails and crowned with orange blossoms. And what was more -singular still, it was true in the case of the majority of the ten or -twelve couples of lovers which formed our circle.</p> - -<p>I waited patiently for one of these knots to be untied or severed. -While I waited, I went to every party and took part in all the -walks and all the dances; it was an excellent apprenticeship, which -familiarised me beforehand with that monster whom Psyche touched -without seeing and whom I, on the contrary, had seen but not touched. -Chance favoured me, after six weeks or two months of playing second -fiddle. One of these engagements was hardly made before it was broken: -a farmer's son, named Richou, wished to marry his neighbour, Adèle -Dalvin. The parents of the young man, who were better off than those -of the young girl, opposed these budding loves, and the fair one was -released.</p> - -<p>I had learnt much during those six weeks by watching others; besides, -this time, I was not entangled with a sarcastic and exacting Parisian -girl, who knew the world so much better than I did. No, my love affair -was with a young girl more shy than myself, who mistook my pretended -courage for genuine, and who, like the frog in the fable that jumped -in the pond when a frightened hare passed by it, was good enough to -fear me and to prove to me that it was possible to come across someone -even more timid than myself. It can be seen how such a change in the -position of things gave me assurance. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> rôles were now completely -reversed. This time I was the attacking party and someone else was on -the defensive, and this someone was making such an obstinate resistance -that I soon realised my attack was useless and that I should only -succeed in breaking down the serious resistance offered me after, -maybe, a long and patient wooing: the citadel was not to be stormed. -Then began for me those first days, the reflection of which has lasted -throughout the whole of my life: that delicious struggle of love, which -asks unceasingly and is not discouraged by an eternity of refusal; the -obtaining of favour after favour, each of which, when gained, fills the -soul with ecstasy; the early fleeting dawn of life which hovers above -the earth, shaking down handfuls of flowers upon the heads of mortals, -and then, under the influence of the rising sun, adds consciousness to -its joy and is soon enveloped in the ardent heat of passion.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it was a happy time for me. In the morning, when I awoke, my -mother's smile greeted me and her lingering kisses hung on my lips; -from nine to four o'clock came my work—work, it is true, which would -have been tiresome if I had been obliged to understand what I wrote, -but which was easy and welcome, for while my hands and eyes were -copying, my mind was free to commune with my own happy thoughts; then, -from four till eight o'clock, I was with my mother; and after eight, -joy, love, life, hope, happiness!</p> - -<p>At eight in summer evenings, at six in winter, our young friends, also -free when I was, came to join us at some convenient meeting-place; -held out their faces or their cheeks to be kissed, pressed our hands, -without taking pains, out of mistaken coquetry or hypocritical -make-belief, to conceal their delight at meeting us once more; then, -if it were summertime, and fine weather, the park invited us with its -mossy sward, its dusky avenues, the breeze trembling among the leaves, -and on moonlight nights there were wide spaces of alternate light -and darkness; at these times a solitary passer-by could have seen -five or six couples walking, at duly specified distances, to ensure -isolation without loneliness, heads inclined towards one another, hands -clasped in hands, talking in low<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> tones, modulating their words to -sweet intonations, or preserving a dangerous silence; for during such -silences the eyes often spoke what the lips did not dare to utter. If -it were winter or bad weather, we all met at Louise Brézette's: her -mother and her aunt nearly always withdrew to the back room, giving up -to us the two front ones, which we seized upon for ourselves; then, -lit by a single lamp in the third room, near which Louise's mother -would sew while her aunt read the <i>Imitation of Christ</i> or <i>The Perfect -Christian</i> we chatted, squeezed against one another, generally two on -one chair, repeating the same story we had said the night before, but -finding what we had to say ever new.</p> - -<p>At ten o'clock our <i>soirées</i> broke up. Each boy took his particular -girl home. When they reached the house door, she granted her cavalier -another half-hour, sometimes an hour, as sweet to her as to him, as -they sat together on the bench outside the door, or stood in the garden -path which led to the maternal parlour, from the interior of which from -time to time a grumbling voice might be heard calling—a voice that -was answered ten times before being obeyed, "I am coming, mamma." On -Sundays we met at three o'clock, after vespers; and we walked, danced, -waltzed, not going home until midnight.</p> - -<p>Then there were fêtes in the neighbouring villages, less grand, -less aristocratic, less fashionable, certainly, than those of -Villers-Cotterets, to which we went in happy bands, and from which we -returned in silent separate pairs.</p> - -<p>It was at one of these fêtes that I met a young man a year younger than -myself. I must ask permission to speak of him fully, for he had an -immense influence over my life.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Adolphe de Leuven—His family—Unpublished details -concerning the death of Gustavus III.—The Count de -Ribbing—The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I first met Leuven at a fête in the beautiful village of Corey, a -league's distance from Villers-Cotterets—a village buried in the -centre of great woods, like a nest among high branches. I had left my -companions for an instant in the course of the dance, and I had gone to -some distance to pay a visit to an old friend of my father, a farmer, -whose farm was nearly a quarter of a league from the village. I took a -pretty path at the foot of a hill to get there, hedged on both sides -by hawthorn in full blossom, and studded with daisies, their golden -centres fringed by pink-tipped petals.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, at a bend in the path, I saw three people coming towards me, -in a ray of sunlight which bathed them in light; two were well known to -me, but the third was a complete stranger. The two I knew were Caroline -Collard, who, as previously related, had become Baroness Capelle. The -other was her daughter, Marie Capelle, then only three years old, who -to her misfortune was to become Madame Lafarge. The third person, the -stranger, looked at first sight like a German student; he was a youth -of between sixteen and seventeen, and was dressed in a grey jacket, an -oilskin cap, a waistcoat of chamois leather and bright blue trousers, -almost as tight-fitting as mine, but with this difference, that while -my topboots covered up my breeches, his, on the contrary, were covered -up by his trousers. This young man was tall, dark and gaunt, his black -hair cut as short as bristles; he had good eyes and a strikingly -defined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> nose; his teeth were as white as pearls, and he had a -carelessly aristocratic bearing; he was the Viscount Adolphe Ribbing de -Leuven, future author of <i>Vert-Vert</i> and of <i>Postilion de Long-jumeau</i> -son of Count Adolphe-Louis Ribbing de Leuven, one of the three Swedish -noblemen who were inculpated in the murder of Gustavus III., King of -Sweden.</p> - -<p>These Counts Ribbing de Leuven were of an old and noble family, used -to carrying on royal intrigues and to treat on equal terms with the -powerful ones of earth. It was a Ribbing who rose in 1520 against the -tyrant Christiern who had caused his two children to be murdered. -There was a sad and melancholy legend in the family, connected with -the beheading of these two children, the one aged twelve and the other -only three. The executioner had cut off the head of the eldest and had -seized hold of the second to execute him too, when the poor mite said -in childish accents, "Oh, please do not soil my collar as you have -soiled my brother Axel's, for mamma would scold me." The executioner -had two children of his own just the same ages as these. Moved by the -words, he flung down his sword and ran off, overwhelmed with remorse. -Christiern sent soldiers after him and he was killed.</p> - -<p>Adolphe's father, with whom I have since become very friendly and -who loves me like a father, was then a man of fifty; extremely -distinguished in appearance, with a charming nature, although -perhaps a little too sarcastic, and of indomitable courage. He had -been educated at the Military School in Berlin, and had come to -France when quite young as a captain in one of Louis XVI.'s foreign -mercenary regiments—those regiments which did him far more harm than -any good their loyal services rendered him. He had been presented -to Marie-Antoinette by the Count de Fersen and, under the patronage -of that illustrious favourite, the queen gave him a most favourable -reception. He remembered poor. Marie-Antoinette with most respectful -veneration, and thirty years after her death I often heard him speak of -her with a voice full of tears. He was recalled to Sweden towards the -close of the year 1791. He was betrothed to one of his cousins, whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -he worshipped, and, intending to marry her on his return, he learnt on -his arrival at Stockholm that, by the order of King Gustave III., her -hand had been disposed of and she was the wife of the Count d'Essen. -In his first transport of despair, Count Ribbing provoked a quarrel -with her husband. A duel ensued, and the Count d'Essen fell with a -sword-wound through his chest which kept him chained for six months to -his bed.</p> - -<p>Sweden was greatly disturbed at this period: the king insisted upon -enforcing his Diet to accept the deed of union and of security, and at -Geft the <i>coup d'état</i> took place which invested the king with sole -power in the making of peace and war. A tremendous strife had been -waged for a long period between the regal power and the nobility. -Though the king was married in 1766 to Sophie-Madeleine of Denmark, -he had no heir to his crown even in 1776. And the Swedish nobility -attributed the queen's sterility to the same cause as that of Louise de -Vaudemont, Henri III.'s wife. As in the case of the last of the house -of Valois, Gustavus had his favourites, and their familiarity with him -led to their making the most extraordinary suggestions to their prince. -After a time, the courtiers made up their minds to remonstrate with the -king about the queen's barrenness and to tell him he ought to try to -remedy this deficiency by every means in his power. Gustavus promised -to see what could be done in the matter. Then, so folks said, a curious -thing happened. The evening of the day on which he had pledged his word -to the Swedish lords, he took his equerry Monck to the queen's chamber -and, in the presence of the confused and blushing queen, he explained -to the equerry the service he required of him; then he withdrew and -shut the door of the royal chamber upon the pair. Some time later the -queen's pregnancy was proclaimed, and she gave birth to a prince, who -after his father's death reigned under the title of Gustavus IV., until -the Swedish Parliament proclaimed his deposition in 1809. I knew his -son very well in Italy, where he travelled under the name of the Count -de Wasa.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1770, Gustavus III., then twenty-four years of age, came to France -as the Count de Haga. He had an interview with a kind of sorceress -who predicted future events in her hypnotic trances; she had scarcely -touched his hand before she told him to beware of the year 1792, as -he would incur danger of death from firearms during the course of it. -Gustavus was a brave man; he had often exposed himself to danger. He -several times repeated the prediction laughingly, but it never troubled -him.</p> - -<p>Inconsequence of the Diet of 1792, by which the nobles had lost the -rest of their privileges, there arose a conspiracy. The principal -ringleaders were Ankarström, Count de Ribbing, Count de Horn, Baron -d'Erenswaerd and Colonel Lilienhorn. Ankarström and Ribbing had private -reasons for hatred against the king, besides the general grievances -which embittered the aristocracy against the sovereign. Through the -king's intervention Ankarström had lost a lawsuit which had deprived -him of half his fortune. Count de Ribbing, as we have seen, owed a -grudge against the king for a far more grievous loss than that of a -lawsuit, namely, the loss of his lady-love. In the case of the other -nobles the projected murder of Gustavus was simply an incident in the -life of a clan. They decided to perpetrate the murder at a masked ball, -which was to take place in the Opera House, on the night of 15 and 16 -March 1792. On the night before, the king received an anonymous letter, -warning him of the plot and telling him that he was to be assassinated -on the following night.</p> - -<p>"Ah yes," said Gustavus, "the very same thing was predicted twenty-two -years ago to the Count de Haga; but he put no more faith in the -prophecy than the King of Sweden does to-day;" and, shrugging his -shoulders, he crumpled the note between his hands and threw it into the -fireplace. Nevertheless, people averred that Gustavus went disguised -on the night of the 14-15 to consult the famous sibyl Arfredson, -who confirmed the French somnambulist's prediction and the warning -contained in the anonymous letter, telling him he would be murdered -before three days had gone by. Whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> from actual courage or from -incredulity, Gustavus would not change any of his previously arranged -plans nor take any precaution: at eleven o'clock that night he went to -the masked ball. Lots had been drawn the night before to settle which -of the conspirators should kill the king, and Gustavus was so greatly -detested by his nobles that each one was eager to have the dangerous -honour of firing the fatal shot. The lot was drawn by Ankarström.</p> - -<p>It is said that one of the conspirators offered to give him all the -wealth he then possessed, as well as all that which he was to inherit -at a future date, if he would change places with him; but Ankarström -refused. When the time came, Ankarström suddenly bethought him that he -might mistake one of the nobles for the king, as several of them were -dressed in similar costumes. But the Count de Horn reassured him. "Fire -boldly," said he, "at the one to whom I shall say, '<i>Good-day, handsome -masquerader</i>.' He will be the king."</p> - -<p>At two in the morning Gustavus was strolling about, leaning on the arm -of the Count d'Essen, whom he had married to de Ribbing's <i>fiancée</i>, -when the Count de Horn approached him and said, "<i>Good-day, handsome -masquerader</i>."</p> - -<p>The next moment a dull report was heard, and Gustavus tottered, crying -out—</p> - -<p>"I am killed!"</p> - -<p>Except those who were round about the king no one had perceived what -had happened. The pistol was concealed in a muff; the report had -been drowned amidst the buzz of conversation and the strains of the -orchestra, and the smoke remained buried in the muff. But at the king's -exclamation, and on seeing him fall back fainting in the arms of -d'Essen, everyone ran up; in the commotion that followed it was quite -easy for Ankarström to put himself at a distance from the king and even -to leave the hall; but in his flight he dropped one of his pistols. The -pistol was picked up, hot and still smoking. Next day every gun-seller -in Stockholm was questioned, and one of them recognised the pistol as -one he had sold to Ankarström. An hour later, Ankarström was arrested -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> his own house, and a special commission was appointed to try him. -He confessed to, but gloried in, his crime. As to his accomplices, he -declined under any conditions whatever to reveal their names. The trial -dragged on slowly; it was hoped against hope that Ankarström would give -away the conspirators; finally, on 29 April 1792, forty-four days after -the murder, he was condemned. The sentence was that he was to be beaten -with rods for three days, then beheaded. In spite of the length and -the ignominy of the punishment, Ankarström remained firm to the very -end. While being taken in the cart to his execution, he looked with -perfect equanimity upon the thousands of spectators who thronged round -the scaffold. When he mounted the scaffold he asked for a few minutes -in which to make his peace with God. It was granted him. He knelt down, -prayed and then gave himself up to the executioners. He was not quite -thirty-three years of age.</p> - -<p>Ribbing, who had been arrested at the same time as Ankarström, was but -twenty-one: it was intended to condemn him to death like Ankarström, -and the Duke of Sudermania, regent over the kingdom during the minority -of Gustavus IV., was urging forward the trial, when a mystic, a -disciple of Swedenborg, sought him out and told him that the <i>master</i> -had appeared to him, and had declared that not only was Ribbing -innocent, but that every hair which fell from his head would cost a -day of the life of the Duke of Sudermania. The duke, a Swedenborgian -himself, was terrified at this warning, and Ribbing, instead of sharing -Ankarström's fate, was condemned to perpetual exile. And as less -could not be done for the Count de Horn and for Lilienhorn than was -done in the case of Ribbing, they both obtained the same favour. The -confiscation of their property followed upon the sentence of exile. -Fortunately, in the case of the Count de Ribbing, the confiscation of -property could not be put into execution until after the death of his -mother: she enjoyed the property in her own right, during her lifetime, -and she was still quite young.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>The count left for France, where the Revolution was then at its height, -and he arrived in time to witness the events of 2 and 3 September -and 21 January. His adoration for the queen made him loud in his -denunciation of the events of those dreadful days. He was arrested and, -although already a regicide, was on the point of being delivered up to -the revolutionary tribunal as too sympathetic with royal misfortunes, -when Chaumette set him free, gave him a passport and helped him to -escape from Paris. The count then went to Switzerland; he was so -young and so good-looking that he went by the name of "the beautiful -regicide." He was introduced to Madame de Staël, who took him much into -her confidence. The letters (some two or three hundred) which the Count -de Ribbing received from Madame de Staël during the lifetime of the -illustrious authoress of <i>Corinne</i>, proved that this friendship was not -of a temporary nature. Madame de Staël was surrounded by a circle of -friends, several of whom already knew the Count de Ribbing. This little -court was half political and half literary; its chief purpose at that -time was to rescue, hide and protect emigrants against the persecutions -of the magistrates in the Swiss cantons whose hands were continually -being forced by the demands of the Revolutionary Government of Paris.</p> - -<p>After 9 thermidor, the Count de Ribbing could return to France, where -he bought three or four châteaux and two or three abbeys at a very low -price. Among these châteaux were Villers-Hellon, Brunoy and Quincy. The -count had acquired all these properties simply on the recommendations -either of friends or of his solicitor. Villers-Hellon was, among -others, quite unknown to him. One day he made up his mind to pay a -visit to the lovely estate people had praised so much. Unluckily, the -time was ill-chosen for seeing all its charms: the communal authorities -of Villers-Hellon had handed over the château to an association of -shoemakers who made shoes for the army, consequently the worthy -disciples of St. Crépin had taken possession of the domain, had set -up their workrooms in the salons and in the bedrooms and, the better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> -to communicate with one another, they had made openings through the -ceilings. When they had any oral communication to make, they made it -by means of these peep-holes without having to leave their seats; if -they had to come up or downstairs to see one another, they put ladders -through these holes and so saved the turns and twists of the proper -staircase. One can imagine how greatly such tenants would detract from -the appearance of the château the count had just bought. The sights, -and above all the smells, about the place so disgusted him that he -fled precipitately back to Paris. Some days later he recounted his -misadventure in his own witty way to M. Collard, then connected with -the commissariat department of the army. M. Collard was more accustomed -to the value of material goods than the noble exile, and he then and -there offered to take over his purchase. M. de Ribbing consented, and -Villers-Hellon became from that moment the property of M. Collard. -Happily, the Count de Ribbing had still two or three other châteaux -where he could reside instead of in the one he had just sold. He -chose Brunoy, which later he gave up to his friend Talma, as he had -Villers-Hellon to his friend Collard, and then he established himself -in the château of Quincy.</p> - -<p>During the whole of Napoleon's reign the Count de Ribbing lived very -quietly, spending his winters in Paris and his summers in the country, -devoting himself to agriculture and to fishing in his ponds, in -which, once, he caught such an enormous pike that when it was put in -the scales with Adolphe at the other end, the pike was actually the -heavier. Napoleon offered M. de Ribbing military positions more than -once—offers which he I declined, on account of the Conqueror's love of -invasion, fearing he might one day be compelled to carry arms against -Sweden.</p> - -<p>On the second return of the Bourbons to power, their revenge for past -political events pursued M. de Ribbing to his private retreat. He -was obliged to exile himself again, crossed the frontier, and under -an assumed name went to live in Brussels with his wife and son. But -the incognito of the Count de Ribbing was soon to betray him under -circumstances that will give some idea of his character. In Brussels, -the count found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> himself at the same table with some foreign officers -who, inflated with pride at the victory of Waterloo, abused France -and Frenchmen right and left. One colonel, who was covered with -decorations, especially distinguished himself by his exaggerated -attacks. The conversation was carried on in German, but as the Count -de Ribbing had been brought up in Berlin, German was almost like -his mother tongue; he did not therefore lose a single word of the -conversation, although he pretended he was not taking any notice. -Suddenly he rose, and, advancing with his usual coolness to the -colonel, he slapped him right and left across the face, accompanying -the blows with a statement of his name and titles, and then he quietly -returned to his seat. Cauchois-Lemaire, then only a young man, was at -the same table, so was the poet Arnault, who was already an old man; -both, at great risk to themselves, offered their services to the Count -de Ribbing as seconds. Happily these services were not required: the -colonel would not fight.</p> - -<p>The roll of <i>the Thirty Eight</i> enriched Brussels at the expense -of France,—Arnault, Excelmans, Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angély, -Cambacérès, Harel, Cauchois-Lemaire were all exiled. M. de Ribbing -attached himself to them, and, with them, founded <i>le Nain Jaune</i>—a -journal that soon earned itself a European reputation.</p> - -<p>Following upon an article published by the count in this journal, the -Prussian Government demanded that the author of it should be handed -over to them. This meant nothing less than imprisonment for life in a -castle—Prussia is still, as one knows, the land of castles, and it -has long been the land of imprisonments. However, King William left -the Count de Ribbing the choice of being delivered over to Prussia or -to France—somewhat after the fashion of the cook who gives a fowl its -choice between being boiled or roasted. M. de Ribbing chose France. He -was taken prisoner, flung into a post-chaise with his son, and driven -to the borders of Condé. There he looked about him, to discover from -which of his old friends he could ask hospitality. The nearest happened -to be M. Collard, so he took his way towards Villers-Hellon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<p>It need hardly be said that he was received with open arms. He had been -living but three days in that lovely place—changed so greatly since -the days of the bootmakers that it was almost beyond recognition—when -I met his son, Adolphe de Leuven, with Madame Capelle on his arm, and -holding little Marie by the hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Adolphe's quatrain—The water-hen and King William—Lunch -in the wood—The irritant powder, the frogs and the -cock—The doctor's spectre—De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy -and I are exiled from the drawing-room—Unfortunate -result of a geographical error—M. Paroisse</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had not come across any members of the Collard family for a long -time. Madame Capelle I adored, as she took pity on my youthfulness -when people made fun of my peculiarities—peculiarities which I will -not hide from myself I possessed to a certain extent. She introduced -me to de Leuven as a young friend of hers and asked me to lunch with -them next day in the forest to improve our acquaintance; it was also -arranged that, following upon the lunch, I should spend two or three -days at the château of Villers-Hellon. Of course I accepted the -invitation. The fête of Corey was on the way, with its delightful -entertainments of dancing and merriment. I can think of nothing more -delightful than returning home, at ten or eleven o'clock at night, -under the dense moving vault of the tall trees: in the solemn stillness -of the night it seemed like some ancient Elysium, with mute shades -walking under in the darkness; for the shades that pace our terrestrial -Elysiums speak so low, so very low, that we swear they are dumb. I had -been obliged to return to Villers-Cotterets to take back Adèle, and to -make her understand, without hurting her feelings, how important it was -that I should maintain friendly intercourse with the Collard family. -She was such an excellent, good-hearted, straightforward girl, that she -soon understood, and although feeling a little jealous at lending me -to that group of aristocratic and beautiful young girls, who were fine -enough to inspire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> jealousy in the heart of a princess, she gave me up -for three days.</p> - -<p>I set off at nine next morning to reach the arranged meeting-place by -ten o'clock. Everybody had spent the night at Corey, at M. Leroy's -house, and I also should have done the same had I not been urgently -recalled to Villers-Cotterets by the necessity above stated. But what -was a distance like that? I had strong legs and boots which could defy -those of Tom Thumb's giant himself. In less than three-quarters of an -hour, I caught sight of the first houses in the village, and the pond -as it lay quiet and shining like a mirror at the foot of the valley. -Adolphe de Leuven was walking on its banks. I did not expect that -anyone would be up at the farm so early, and I joined Adolphe. He had -a pencil and tablets in his hand, and he who was usually so phlegmatic -was gesticulating in such a fashion that I should have trembled for his -reason, had I not imagined he was practising a fencing exercise. When -he saw me he stopped and blushed slightly.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing there?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Why, I am composing poetry," he said, with some confusion. I looked -him in the face as though I could hardly believe my ears.</p> - -<p>"Poetry!... do you really write poetry?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes, sometimes," he answered, laughing.</p> - -<p>"To whom are you writing verses?"</p> - -<p>"To Louise."</p> - -<p>"What! Louise Collard?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, I never!"</p> - -<p>The notion of composing poetry to Louise Collard, charming though she -was, had never come into my head. Louise seemed to me still the same -pretty child in short frocks with lace-trimmed drawers—nothing more.</p> - -<p>"Ah! so you are making verses to Louise, are you: what for?" I went on.</p> - -<p>"You know she is going to be married."</p> - -<p>"Louise? No, I did not know that. To whom?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To a Russian. Therefore the marriage must be prevented." "Prevented?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; such a delightful girl must not be allowed to leave France."</p> - -<p>"True, true; I shall be very sorry if she leaves France. I am very fond -of her; aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"I? I have only known her three days."</p> - -<p>"It would be a good thing to hinder her from leaving France; but how -shall we do it?"</p> - -<p>"I have written my verses; you write some too."</p> - -<p>"I!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you. You have been brought up with her, and it will please her."</p> - -<p>"But I do not know how to write poetry. I have never done anything but -crambo with the Abbé Grégoire and he always told me I did badly."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nonsense! when you are in love it comes of itself."</p> - -<p>"But I am in love and it hasn't come; so let me see your verses."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is just a quatrain."</p> - -<p>"Well, let me see it."</p> - -<p>Adolphe drew his tablets forth and read me these four lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Pourquoi dans <i>la froide Ibérie</i>,<br /> -Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits?<br /> -Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie,<br /> -Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I stood astounded. This was real poetry—poetry after the style of -Demoustier. So a poet stood before me: I felt as though I ought to bow -down before him.</p> - -<p>"How do you like my quatrain?" asked de Leuven.</p> - -<p>"Heavens! it is beautiful."</p> - -<p>"Good!"</p> - -<p>"And you are going to give it to Louise?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no; I dare not do that. I shall write it in her album without -saying anything to her, and when she turns over the leaves she will -come across my lines."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Bravo!"</p> - -<p>"Now what shall you do?"</p> - -<p>"What about?"</p> - -<p>"About this marriage."</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, as I am quite unable to make a quatrain as good as yours, -I shall say to her, 'Are you really going to marry a Russian, my poor -Louise? I tell you, you are making a great mistake.'"</p> - -<p>"I do not fancy that will have so much effect as my quatrain," said -Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Neither do I; but what else can I do? One can only use one's own -weapons. Now, if the Russian would meet me in a pistol Dud, I am quite -sure he would never marry Louise!"</p> - -<p>"You are a sportsman, then?"</p> - -<p>"Rather. How could you imagine one would not be, surrounded by such a -forest? Oh, stop! there is a water-hen!"</p> - -<p>I pointed it out to him with my finger, flushing it with my stick as it -swam among the reeds of the pond.</p> - -<p>"Shoo!"</p> - -<p>"Is that a water-hen?"</p> - -<p>"Of course it is. Where do you come from not to know a water-hen?"</p> - -<p>"I come from Brussels."</p> - -<p>"I thought you were a Parisian."</p> - -<p>"I was indeed born in Paris; but in 1815 we left Paris, and we lived in -Brussels until three years ago, when my father and I were compelled to -leave."</p> - -<p>"Who compelled you to go?"</p> - -<p>"Why, William!"</p> - -<p>"Who is William?"</p> - -<p>"William? He is King of the Netherlands. Didn't you know that the King -of the Netherlands was called William?"</p> - -<p>"Not I."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, it oughtn't to seem so odd to you now that I do not know a -water-hen."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>Indeed, as it appeared, we were both ignorant on some points; and my -ignorance was more culpable than de Leuven's.</p> - -<p>He grew another cubit taller in my estimation. Not only was he a poet, -but he was of sufficient importance in the world for this King William -to be uneasy about him and his father, to the extent of banishing them -both from his realms.</p> - -<p>"And now you are living at Villers-Hellon?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes. M. Collard is an old friend of my father."</p> - -<p>"How long shall you live here?"</p> - -<p>"As long as the Bourbons will allow us to remain in France."</p> - -<p>"Ah! then you have fallen out with the Bourbons too?"</p> - -<p>"We have quarrelled with most kings," said Adolphe, with a laugh.</p> - -<p>This phrase, uttered with magnificent indifference, quite finished -me off. Luckily, at that moment, our fair companions appeared on the -threshold of the farm, a bevy of pink and white damsels. Two or three -<i>chars-à-bancs</i> were in readiness to take them to the appointed place. -The gentlemen were to go on foot. The rendezvous was barely a quarter -of a league's distance from the village. A long table of thirty covers -was laid under a leafy canopy, ten paces off a limpid, clear purling -spring called the <i>Fontaine-aux-Princes.</i> All these young folks, -maidens, mothers, children, seemed like so many woodland flowers -opening to the sweet-breathed breeze: some pale, that sought for shade -and solitude; others of brilliant hues, seeking light and stir and the -sunshine of admiration.</p> - -<p>Oh! those glorious woods, those shady depths, the haunts of my -cherished moods of solitude, I have revisited you since; but no shade -glides now beneath your green vaults and in your dark alleys.... What -have you done with all that delightful world which vanished with my -youth? Why have not other generations come in their turn, pale or rosy, -lively or careless, noisy or silent like ours? Has that ephemeral -efflorescence disappeared for ever? Is it really wanting, or is it that -my eyes have lost the power of seeing?</p> - -<p>We returned that night to Villers-Hellon. Everything was so beautifully -arranged in that luxurious little château that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> each of us had a -separate room and bed, and sometimes there were as many as thirty or -forty of us there.</p> - -<p>I have related what nocturnal persecutions poor Hiraux was made a -victim of when he came to see us at les Fossés. It was now our turn to -undergo the like. Our rooms were prepared beforehand for the pantomime -that followed. The family doctor, Manceau, was the stage manager. He -had replaced an old doctor from Soissons named M. Paroisse. I will -explain presently why this change took place. The assistant stage -managers were Louise, Cécile and Augustine. The appointed victims were -Hippolyte Leroy, de Leuven and myself. Hippolyte Leroy was at this -period a young man of between twenty-five and twenty-six. He was a -cousin of M. Leroy de Corey. He had been one of the body-guard, and was -now Secretary to the Inspection at Villers-Cotterets. Later, he became -my cousin, by his marriage with Augustine Deviolaine. Our three rooms -communicated with one another. We retired to our rooms about half-past -twelve. De Leuven was the first to get into bed. He had scarcely lain -down before he began to complain of a most intolerable tickling: his -bed was sprinkled with the stuff charlatans sell which they call -scratching powder. Those unacquainted with this powder should recall -the famous scene in <i>Robert Macaire</i>, where the two heroes of the book -find a trunk, and in that trunk a quantity of tiny packets, containing -some unknown substance, whose property was revealed when they touched -it. In about five minutes' time Adolphe de Leuven began to scratch -himself like both Robert Macaire and Bertrand put together. We offered -de Leuven our sincere sympathy. We advised him to rub it off as best he -could, to wrap himself in his bed-curtain and to sleep on a couch. Then -we went to our own beds, quite convinced that we should find them like -Adolphe's. But we searched them in vain: they seemed perfectly free -from any preparation of the like nature. We lay down. In five minutes' -time Hippolyte Leroy uttered a sharp cry. In stretching himself, he -felt a piece of string at the foot of the bed; he pulled this thread, -and in doing so, he untied a bag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> full of frogs. The frogs, gaining -their liberty, hastened to disport themselves about the bed, and it was -the contact of his human flesh with their animal hide which produced -Hippolyte's yell above mentioned. He flung off the bed-clothes and -leapt out of bed. The frogs leaped out after him. He had been given -good measure; there were quite two dozen of them.</p> - -<p>I was beginning to think I was the only one spared, when I thought I -heard a great stirring inside a cupboard against which the head of my -bed had been put. I looked at the lock. It was keyless. However, I -felt no doubt that some sort of animal was shut up in that cupboard. -Only, what sort of an animal was it? I was not kept long in suspense: -as one o'clock struck a cock crowed at the head of my bed, and renewed -his crowing every hour till day came. I did not deny Christ, like St. -Peter, but I confess I took His name in vain. We fell asleep by seven -o'clock,—de Leuven in spite of his itching powder, Hippolyte Leroy in -spite of his frogs, and I in spite of my cock,—when Manceau entered -our rooms and woke us by telling us that as he had heard in roundabout -ways we had spent a bad night, he had come to offer us his professional -services: Manceau denounced his own handiwork!</p> - -<p>We had slept so badly, through that horrible night, that, with terrible -imprecations, we had consigned our persecutor, whoever he might be, -to the infernal regions. Manceau, as I have said, denounced himself: -expiation must follow the crime; our sworn oath must be fulfilled. At -a sign, de Leuven shut the door: I fell upon Manceau, Hippolyte gagged -him; we stripped him naked, we wrapped him in a sheet off Adolphe's -bed, we tied him up like a sausage, we took him down a disused -staircase and we deposited him in the most unfrequented part of the -park, in the very middle of the little river, at a place where he could -stand, but where, entangled as he was, he ran great risk of losing his -foothold at the first step he took. We then quietly returned to our -beds, and resumed our interrupted sleep.</p> - -<p>We went down to the morning meal at ten o'clock. Our arrival was -eagerly expected. Everybody burst out laughing when we came within -view. The young ladies each played a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> part: some pretended to scratch, -others imitated in a low voice the croaking of frogs, and others -simulated the crowing of a cock. We were quite imperturbable: we merely -asked carelessly where Manceau was. Nobody had seen him. We sat down -to table. The fowl was tough, Cécile remarked; one would have said it -was an old cock which had crowed all the night. Augustine asked where -the frogs were that she had seen, she said, in the kitchen the night -before. Had they been moved?... Were the frogs lost?... The frogs -must be found again. Louise asked Adolphe if he was not attacked by a -contagious affection; for since he had offered her his arm to lead her -into the dining-room, her skin had felt fearfully irritable.</p> - -<p>"If Manceau were here," I said to Louise, "you could ask him for a -prescription to allay it."</p> - -<p>"But, joking apart, where is Manceau?" asked Madame Collard.</p> - -<p>Silence again, as at the first inquiry. Matters were becoming serious, -and folks began to be uneasy about the dear doctor: it was not his -custom to absent himself at meal-times. They sent to ask the porter if -Manceau had gone out to attend some sick person in the village. The -porter had not seen Manceau.</p> - -<p>"I believe he is drowned!" I said.... "Poor fellow!"</p> - -<p>"Why should he be?" asked Madame Collard.</p> - -<p>"Because yesterday evening he proposed a bathing party to us; but we -slept so well we missed meeting him in his room as arranged. As we did -not turn up, he must have gone alone to bathe."</p> - -<p>"Oh, good gracious!" exclaimed Madame Collard, "the poor doctor! he -cannot swim."</p> - -<p>A chorus of lamentations went up from the ladies at these words, by the -side of which the wailing of the Israelites in exile was a trifle. It -was settled that Manceau should be searched for immediately after the -meal was over.</p> - -<p>"Good!" said de Leuven in a whisper to me,—"I will take the -opportunity while everybody is out to write my verses in Louise's -album."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And I," I replied, "I will stand sentinel at the door to prevent your -being disturbed."</p> - -<p>Everything happened as had been arranged. The whole beehive of the -castle swarmed into the garden. The older men—M. de Leuven the -father, M. Collard, M. Méchin—stayed in the drawing-room to read the -newspapers. Hippolyte played billiards with Maurice. De Leuven and I -went upstairs to Louise's room, which was next to M. Collard's, and -whilst I watched on the landing, he wrote his four lines in the album.</p> - -<p>He had scarcely finished the last, when we heard loud shouts, and upon -going to look out of the window, we saw Louise and Augustine running -towards the castle. Cécile, who was braver, had remained stoutly where -she was, and had looked towards the river with more curiosity than -alarm.</p> - -<p>"Bravo!" said I to Adolphe, "Manceau has made his appearance."</p> - -<p>We quickly went down.</p> - -<p>"A ghost! a ghost!" cried Louise and Augustine; "there is a ghost in -the river!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! my God," said de Leuven—"can it be that the spirit of poor -Manceau is already borne down below?"</p> - -<p>It was not his spirit, but his body. By dint of struggling with his -cords, Manceau had freed one arm, then both; his two arms freed, he -had taken the handkerchief off his mouth: when ungagged, he had called -out for help; unfortunately, the gardener was at the opposite end of -the garden. He had tried hard to untie the cords which bound his legs, -as he had done those binding his hands; but, to do so, he would have -to put his head under the water; and, as Madame Capelle had said, -the unlucky doctor did not know how to swim, and was restrained from -any such attempt by the fear of being suffocated. At last his cries -attracted the attention of the young girls; but at sight of the figure -wrapped in a sheet and making despairing gesticulations, fear had taken -possession of them, and not having the least notion that Manceau would -be discovered in the middle of the river, shrouded in such a garment, -they had shrieked at the apparition and had flown away. They sent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -the unhappy Manceau the gardener for whom he had called so loudly. He -clamoured vehemently for his clothes. He had been in the river from -seven in the morning until noon, and although it was towards the end of -July, the bath was infinitely too protracted, and had made him somewhat -chilly. He was put to bed with a hot bottle. From that moment Manceau -was the object of general pity, and we of universal execration. For, -God be merciful to him a sinner, Manceau had been cowardly enough to -denounce us. It was in vain for de Leuven to show his hands as red as -crabs and to offer to show the rest of his body, which was as red as -his hands; in vain did Hippolyte collect the frogs scattered about his -room and bring them into the drawing-room; in vain did I fetch the -cock, with which I had held discourse all the night, from the barnyard: -nothing moved our judges; we were banished from society, for deliberate -attempted homicide in the matter of Doctor Manceau. So we promised -ourselves to drown him out and out the first chance we got.</p> - -<p>Banished from the society of the ladies, I took refuge in the -billiard-room, where Maurice gave me my first lesson in billiards. -We shall see that this lesson stood me in good stead, and that, four -years later, at a solemn occasion in my life, I practised the art of -cannoning, wherein I had made some progress. Our punishment lasted -throughout that evening, which the young ladies spent in Louise's room, -as it was raining. De Leuven made several attempts to get into that -chamber, but was repulsed each time. A great change had come over him -since four o'clock in the afternoon, after a conversation he had had -with his father, in which the elder man had seemed to me to sneer at -him strangely.</p> - -<p>Adolphe grew very restless, almost gloomy, and although he was -determinedly kept out of Louise's room—where she was holding a -gathering of her girl-friends, as I have mentioned—he went back -persistently again and again. "Ah! I see," I said to myself, after a -moment's reflection, "he wants to obtain news of his quatrain and to -know how it has succeeded." And, satisfied with my reasoning, I did -not look any farther for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> cause of de Leuven's insistence. But I -regretted I had not the means with which partial nature had endowed -Adolphe, to cause my shortcomings to be forgiven. I was pursued by this -regret when in Hippolyte's room, where we withdrew, questioning each -other what had become of de Leuven, who had not been seen for an hour, -when suddenly we heard a great noise in the midst of which we could -make out the words, "<i>Stop thief!</i>" echoing through the castle. As we -were still dressed, we dashed out of our room and quickly descended -the staircase. At the foot of the staircase was M. Collard in his -nightshirt, holding Adolphe by his coat collar. It was an extraordinary -sight. M. Collard looked furious and Adolphe exceedingly penitent. In -the meantime, M. de Leuven, who had not yet gone to bed, arrived on the -scene, as imperturbable as ever, his hands in his trousers pockets, -chewing a toothpick, after his usual fashion. This toothpick was an -indispensable item in M. de Leuven's life.</p> - -<p>"Well, well! What is the matter now, Collard? What have you against my -boy?"</p> - -<p>"What have I? what have I?" shrieked M. Collard, growing more and more -exasperated. "I have something that cannot be overlooked."</p> - -<p>"Ah! what has he done, then?"</p> - -<p>"What has he done?... I'll tell you what he has done!—--"</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, father," said Adolphe, trying to get in a word or two of -justification,—"forgive me, father, but M. Collard is mistaken.... He -believes——"</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel!" yelled M. Collard, kicking him.</p> - -<p>Then, turning to the Count de Ribbing, he said—</p> - -<p>"Listen, my dear de Leuven, and I will tell you where I have found this -son of yours."</p> - -<p>"But I must protest, dear M. Collard, it was solely and simply to——"</p> - -<p>"Be quiet!" interrupted M. Collard. "Come with us: you shall clear -yourself if you can."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Adolphe, "that will not be difficult."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<p>"We shall see!"</p> - -<p>Pushing the youth before him, he signed to the count to go inside his -room, and, following himself, shut the door and double-locked it.</p> - -<p>We withdrew in silence, Hippolyte, myself and the other spectators -of that curious scene. Adolphe returned at the end of a quarter of -an hour. He looked so crestfallen that we dared not question him -for details. We went to bed in ignorance of the cause of all the -disturbance.</p> - -<p>But after Hippolyte had fallen asleep de Leuven came to me and told me -the whole story. This was what had happened.</p> - -<p>As I have said above, Adolphe had written the wonderful quatrain in -Louise's album that morning. When it was finished he left the young -lady's room as fast as possible. Towards four o'clock, Adolphe, who had -not been able to contain the news, drew his father aside and repeated -his quatrain to him.</p> - -<p>M. de Ribbing listened gravely until the last syllable of the fourth -line, and then he said—</p> - -<p>"Say it over again, please."</p> - -<p>Adolphe repeated it obediently:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Pourquoi dans la froide Ibérie,<br /> -Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits?<br /> -Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie,<br /> -Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>"There is but one slip," then said M. de Ribbing.</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing much ... you have mistaken the South for the North—Spain -for Russia."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Adolphe, aghast, "upon my word, so I have! ... I have put -Ibérie for <i>Sibérie</i>."</p> - -<p>"I understand," said the count, "it makes a better rhyme, but is less -accurate." And, shrugging his shoulders, he went off humming a little -air and chewing his toothpick.</p> - -<p>Adolphe stood dumbfounded. He had signed his unlucky quatrain with -his full name. If the album were opened and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the quatrain were read -he would be disgraced! This sword of Damocles, hung over the unlucky -poet's head, had distracted him all the evening. It was to get hold of -Louise's album that he had made the obstinate efforts to enter her room -I have detailed. But, as we have seen, his attempts had been fruitless.</p> - -<p>When night came, Adolphe took a desperate resolve: he would go into -Louise's room when she was asleep, seize her album and destroy the -tell-tale page.</p> - -<p>This resolution he put into execution about eleven o'clock. The door -opened without creaking too much, and Adolphe, who squeezed himself -through as softly as possible on tiptoe, with but the one end, one -hope and one desire of reaching the album, had thus invaded his young -friend's maiden chamber. All went well as far as the album. It was -on the table and Adolphe took it, put it in his vest, determined to -regain possession by hook or by crook of the four lines which had made -their author so unhappy, when suddenly he ran against a little table, -which fell and in falling awakened Louise. Louise, startled, cried out, -"Thief, thief!" At the cry of "Thief, thief!" M. Collard, whose room -adjoined his daughter's, rushed out of bed in his nightshirt, flung -himself on de Leuven on the landing, collared him, and, as we have -seen, suspecting poor innocent Adolphe of quite another crime, dragged -him into his chamber. His father followed them and closed the door -behind him. There, everything was explained, thanks to the album, which -Adolphe had been careful not to let go. M. Collard was convinced <i>de -visu</i> of the geographical error Adolphe had committed; he thoroughly -understood the importance of that error, and, reassured in the matter -of motive, he was soon satisfied about the deed. So neither Louise's -reputation nor Adolphe's suffered any blemish from this occurrence.</p> - -<p>As they continued to punish Hippolyte and me next day, for Manceau's -little adventure, we left Villers-Hellon without saying a word to -anyone, and took the road to Villers-Cotterets. Strange to say, I have -never re-entered Villers-Hellon since. The young girls' ostracism -lasted thirty years. Only once have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> I since seen Hermine, and that -was at the rehearsal of <i>Caligula</i>, when she was Madame la Baronne de -Martens. Only once have I since seen Louise, and that was at a dinner -given at the Bank, when she was Madame Garat. Only once have I since -seen Marie Capelle, a month before she became Madame Lafarge. I never -saw either Madame Collard or Madame Capelle again. Both are now dead. -But when I close my eyes, in spite of those thirty years of absence, I -can still see them all, the dead and the living.</p> - -<p>I promised to tell the story of the old doctor who was Manceau's -predecessor, and it would be unfair to my readers to break my word. M. -Paroisse lived at Soissons. A thinly scattered practice allowed him to -dine once a week at Villers-Hellon, where he was always made heartily -welcome. This lasted for ten years. One day M. Collard received a -large manuscript signed by the worthy doctor. It was the bill for his -visits. He had charged twenty francs for each visit, and the sum total -was something alarming. M. Collard paid him, but told M. Paroisse from -henceforth not to come to Villers-Hellon unless he were specially sent -for. It was in consequence of this incident that Manceau was installed -in the castle as the regular medical attendant to the family. I forget -what became of Manceau ... I fancy the poor devil is dead. Happily, -this was not in consequence of the enforced bath we gave him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Amédée de la Ponce—He teaches me what work is—M. -Arnault and his two sons—A journey by diligence—A -gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him -with my fists—I learn the danger from which I escaped</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>After the unjust sentence that was passed upon us in Villers-Hellon, I -returned to Villers-Cotterets, and, disgusted with my sojourn in the -aristocratic regions whence I had just been cast forth, I returned -with delight to the world I preferred to theirs, wherein I could find -complete satisfaction for all my heart-longings and all my proud -cravings. Adèle at first received me back very coldly, and I had to -endure a fit of the sulks for some hours. At the end of that time, -little by little her pretty face cleared, and she ended by smiling upon -me with the freshness and sweetness of an opening flower. One might -have said of this lovely child that her smile itself was like a rose. -While these youthful love affairs were in progress—all of them, alas! -of the ephemeral character of love at sixteen—there were friendships -taking root in my heart that were to last the whole of my life.</p> - -<p>I have already spoken of Adolphe de Leuven, who suddenly took a -prominent place in my life, apart from my childish friendships. Here -let me also be allowed to say a word about another friend, who was -to finish in certain other directions the work of opening out future -vistas before me that had been begun by the son of Count de Ribbing. -One day we saw a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven go along -the streets of Villers-Cotterets, wearing the uniform of an officer -of Hussars with an unusually stately grace. No one could possibly -have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> been handsomer or more distinguished in appearance than this -young man. His face perhaps might have been criticised as a trifle -too feminine-looking, if it had not been for a fine sword-cut which, -without spoiling in any way the regularity of his features, began -at the left side of his forehead and ended at the right corner of -his upper lip, adding a touch of manliness and courage to his gentle -features. His name was Amédée de la Ponce. I do not know what chance -or whim or necessity led him to Villers-Cotterets. Had he come as an -idle tourist, to spend his income of five or six thousand livres in our -town? I do not know.... It is probable. He liked the country, he stayed -among us and, at the end of a year of residence, he became the husband -of a charmingly pretty young girl, Louise Moreau, a friend of my -sister. They had a beautiful fair-haired child, whom I should much like -to see to-day: we nicknamed it <i>Mouton</i>, on account of its gentleness, -the whiteness of its skin and its flaxen hair.</p> - -<p>I lost sight of you such a long while ago, my dear de la Ponce! -Whatever part of the world you may be in, if you read these pages, you -will find therein a testimony of my ever living, sincere and lasting -friendship for you. For, my friend, you did a great deal for me. You -said to me: "Believe me, my dear boy, there are other things in life -besides pleasure and love, hunting and dancing, and the silly ambitions -of youth! There is work. Learn to work ... that is the true way to be -happy." And you were right, dear friend. Apart from the death of my -father, the death of my mother and the death of the Duc d'Orléans, -how is it I have never experienced a sorrow that I have not crushed -beneath my feet or a disappointment that I have not overcome? It is -because you introduced me to the only friend who can give comfort by -day and by night, who is ever near, who hastens to console at the first -sigh, who lends healing balm at the first tear: you made me acquainted -with <i>work.</i> O dear and most excellent Work,—thou who bearest in thy -strong arms that heavy burden of humanity which we call sorrow! Thou -divinity, with hand ever stretched open and with face ever smiling!... -Oh! dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> and most excellent Work, thou hast never cast the shadow of -deception on me ... my blessings upon thee, O Work!</p> - -<p>De la Ponce spoke Italian and German as fluently as his own language; -he offered to teach them to me in my leisure moments—and God knows I -had plenty of spare moments at that time.</p> - -<p>We started with Italian. It was the easiest language—the honey of -which Horace speaks, the gilding that clothes the outside of the cup -of bitter drink given to a sick child. One of the books out of which -I learnt Italian was Ugo Foscolo's fine novel, which I have since -translated under the title of the <i>Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis.</i> -That book gave me an idea of, an insight into and a feeling for -romantic literature of which previously I had been totally ignorant. -In two months' time I could talk Italian fairly correctly, and I -began to translate poetry. I much preferred this to my sales and my -marriage contracts and the drawing up of bonds and transfers at Maître -Mennesson's. Furthermore, a change took place in the office greatly to -the advantage of my literary education, but not to my legal education. -Niguet, that precious head clerk who had told tales to M. Mennesson -of my love-disappointments, had bought in a neighbouring village a -lawyer's practice, which I believe Lafarge had been obliged to sell -as he had not been able to find the wherewithal to take it up; and -Paillet, a friend of mine, who was six or eight years my senior, had -succeeded Niguet as head clerk over me. Paillet was well-to-do; he had -a delightful property two leagues from Villers-Cotterets; his tastes -were luxurious; consequently, he let me off more readily than Niguet -(who was an old Basochian<a name="FNanchor_1_4" id="FNanchor_1_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_4" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> without any fun in him and entirely -wrapped up in his business) to pursue the simple luxuries I could -indulge in, namely, shooting, flirting and dancing.</p> - -<p>So it came about that instead of encouraging me in treading the narrow -and difficult path of a provincial solicitor, Paillet allowed me to -cast my eyes abroad, instinctively understanding, doubtless, that -the work they had put me to was not what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> was cut out for. It can -easily be seen that Paillet exercised material influence over my future -destiny, apart from the moral influence exercised by de la Ponce and -de Leuven. I was then perfectly happy in the love of my mother, and in -a younger and sweeter love growing up side by side with hers without -injuring it, and in the friendship of de la Ponce and of de Paillet, -when de Leuven came to complete my happiness: I lacked nothing save -that golden mean of which Horace speaks; had I had that too, I should -have had scarcely aught to wish for.</p> - -<p>Suddenly we heard that M. Deviolaine was going to retire with -his family to his estate of Saint-Remy, and let his house at -Villers-Cotterets to the Count de Ribbing. So the house wherein I had -been brought up, the house peopled for me with a host of memories, -was to pass from the hands of a relative into the hands of a friend -The beautiful garden had taken M. de Leuven's special fancy; he hoped -to give vent in it to his hobby for gardening interrupted by the -successive sales of Brunoy and Quincy. Furthermore, the count had not -met with any more persecution, and whether it was because Louis XVIII. -did not know of his being in France, or whether the king closed his -eyes to the fact, he was left in undisturbed peacefulness.</p> - -<p>De Leuven and his father settled, then, in Villers-Cotterets, where -Madame de Leuven joined them in a fortnight's time. As for de la -Ponce, he rented a house at the end of the rue de Largny, the first -house on the left as you come from Paris: it had a large garden and -a fine courtyard. My time was soon divided into three portions—one -was devoted to my friendships, another to love-makings, and the third -to my legal work. The reader may suggest that my mother was perhaps a -little neglected in all this. Is a mother ever forgotten? Is she not -always there, whether present or absent? Did I not go in and out of -my home ten or twenty times a day? Did I not kiss my mother each time -I went in? Every day de Leuven, de la Ponce and I managed to meet. -Generally it was at de la Ponce's house: we transformed the courtyard -which I have mentioned into a shooting range, and every day we used -up twenty or thirty balls. De Leuven had excellent German pistols -(<i>Kukenreiter</i>).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> These pistols were marvellously true, and we soon -were able to shoot with such precision, all three of us, that when -anyone doubted our powers, we would take it in turn to hold the piece -of cardboard which served as a target, whilst the others fired. And -we never any of us received a single graze! I remember one day after -heavy rain we found I do not know how many frogs in that gloomy, damp -courtyard. Here was novel game for us to pot at, and we exterminated -every frog with our pistols. Every little while de Leuven read us a -fable or an elegy of his own composition; but he was cured of making -geographical errors by the nocturnal misadventure at Villers-Hellon -and no longer mistook the South for the North, or Spain for Siberia. -One morning great news spread through the town. Three strangers had -just come to stay with M. de Leuven: M. Arnault and his two sons, -Telleville and Louis Arnault. M. Arnault, the author of <i>Germanicus</i> -and of <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>, was at that time a splendid-looking old -man of sixty, still full of life in spite of his curling white locks, -which were as fine as silk. He had a most superabundant flow of spirits -and excelled at repartee; he could strike as rapidly at his object -as the most accomplished fencing-master could parry a blow or deal a -right-handed stroke. The only fault one could find with this wit was -its keen, biting edge; but, like bites made by healthy teeth, the -poet's bites never left poison behind them. M. Arnault had made the -acquaintance of the Count de Ribbing at that famous <i>table d'hôte</i> -where the latter had struck the foreign colonel in the face. Since -that day, M. de Leuven, Frenchman at heart, and M. Arnault, Frenchman -in mind, had struck up a friendship which though broken by death was -continued between their children. Telleville Arnault was a handsome -young officer of a charming disposition and of tested valour. He had -fought a Dud over <i>Germanicus</i> with Martainville which had made a great -sensation in the literary world. Louis was still a young lad of about -my own age.</p> - -<p>I prudently kept from visiting Adolphe all the time M. Arnault and his -sons were staying with his father; but M. Deviolaine having invited -them to a rabbit shooting in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> Tillet woods, I was present, and the -acquaintance which began by chance during the walks in the park was -sealed gun in hand. Telleville had a little gun made by Prélat, with -which he did wonders. This gun had a barrel not fourteen inches long, -which filled me with wonder, for I still believed in length of barrel -and hunted with siege-guns.</p> - -<p>When M. Arnault left Villers-Cotterets, he took de Leuven with -him. It was heart-breaking to me to see Adolphe depart. I had two -memories of visits to Paris, one in 1806, the other in 1814. These two -recollections sufficed to make me passionately envious of the lot of -every favoured being who was going to Paris. I remained behind with de -la Ponce, and I redoubled my devotion to the study of Italian. I was -soon sufficiently far advanced in the language of Dante and of Ariosto -to be able to pass on to that of Schiller and of Goethe; but this was -quite a different matter. After three or four months' work, de la -Ponce put one of Auguste Lafontaine's novels in my way: the task was -too difficult, I soon had enough of it. German was dropped, and I have -never had the courage to take it up again. My first serious dramatic -impression dates from this period. Some nabob who had done business -through M. Mennesson, out of unheard-of generosity, left a hundred and -fifty francs to be divided among the lads in the office. M. Mennesson -distributed it in the following way: thirty-seven francs fifty cents -each to Ronsin and myself, seventy-five francs to Paillet. It was the -first time I had found myself possessed of so much money. I wondered -what I should do with it.</p> - -<p>One of the four great fêtes of the year was approaching, when we should -have Sunday and Monday as holidays. Paillet proposed we should both -club our thirty-seven francs fifty cents to his seventy-five francs, -and that we should go and sink this fabulous sum of fifty crowns in -the delights that Soissons, the seat of the <i>sous-prefecture</i>, could -offer us. The suggestion was hailed with joy. Paillet was deputed -cashier, and we boldly took seats on the diligence for Paris, which -passes through Villers-Cotterets at half-past three in the morning, -and arrives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> at Soissons at six o'clock. Paillet and Ronsin each took -a place in the coupé, where one was already taken, and I went inside, -where there were four other passengers, three of whom got out at la -Vertefeuille, a post three leagues away from Villers-Cotterets, the -fourth continuing his journey to Soissons. From la Vertefeuille to -Soissons, therefore, I was left alone with this person, who was a man -of forty years or thereabouts, very thin of body, pale of face, with -auburn hair and well groomed. He had laid great stress on my sitting -near him, and, in order to leave me as much room as possible, squeezed -himself as closely into a corner of the coach as he could. I was much -touched by this attention, and felt sensibly drawn to the gentleman, -who had condescended to treat me with so much consideration.</p> - -<p>I slept well and anywhere in those days. So, as soon as we got out of -the town I fell asleep, only to wake when the horses were changed, -and I should most certainly not have waked up then if the three -passengers who left us had not trodden on my toes as they got out, with -the habitual heavy-footed tread travellers indulge in at the expense -of those who remain behind. When the passenger saw I was awake, he -began to talk to me, and asked me, in a kindly, interested way, my -age, my name and my occupation. I made haste to supply him with full -particulars, and he seemed much interested therein. I told him the -object of our journey to Soissons; and, as I coughed while I related -my tale, he good-naturedly offered me two different sorts of cough -lozenges. I accepted both, and in order to get the full benefit of -them I put them both in my mouth together; then, although I found the -gentleman's conversation agreeable and his manners fascinating, there -was something even more seductive and pleasing than that conversation -and those manners, namely sleep, so I wished him a good-night, and, -with plenty of room to dispose myself in, I settled down in the corner -parallel with his, with my back upon one seat and my feet on the -other. I do not know how long I had slept when I felt myself awakened -in the oddest fashion in the world. My sleeping fellow-traveller had -apparently passed from mere interest to a more lively expression of -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> sentiments, and was embracing me. I imagined he had a nightmare, -and I tried to awake him; but as I saw that the more soundly he slept, -the worse his gesticulations became, I began to strike him hard, and -as my blows had no effect, I cried aloud with all my might. Unluckily, -they were descending the hill of Vaubuin and they could not stop -the coach; the struggle therefore lasted ten minutes or more, and -without in the least knowing what danger I was combating, I was just -about to succeed in getting the better of my enemy, by turning him -over under my knee, when the door opened and the conductor came to -my rescue. Paillet and Ronsin were sleeping as I should have slept -if my travelling-companion had not waked me up by his overpowering -friendliness. I told the conductor what had happened and blamed him -for having put me along with a somnambulist or a madman, begging him -to put me in any other corner of the coach convenient to him, when, -to my intense astonishment, whilst the traveller was readjusting his -toilet, which had been considerably damaged by my struggle with him, -without uttering any sort of complaint against me, the conductor began -apostrophising him in the severest terms, made him get down out of the -coach, and told him that, as there only remained three-quarters of a -league from where we were to the <i>hôtel des Trois-Pucelles</i>, where -the coach stopped, he must have the goodness to do it on foot, unless -he would consent to mount up on the roof, where he could not disturb -anybody else. The gentleman of the auburn locks hoisted himself on -the roof, without opening his lips, and the diligence started off -again. Although I was now alone once more and consequently more at -my ease inside the coach, I was too much excited by the struggle I -had just gone through, to think of going to sleep again. I could hear -the conductor, in the cabriolet, relate my story to my two fellow -travelling-companions, and apparently he presented it to them under -a gayer light than that in which I had looked at it myself, for they -roared with laughter. I did not know what there could be to laugh at in -an interchange of fisticuffs with a somnambulist or a maniac. A quarter -of an hour after the gentleman had been installed on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> the imperial, and -I reinstated in the carriage, I heard by the heavy sound of the coach -wheels that we were crossing under the drawbridge. We had reached our -destination.</p> - -<p>Five minutes after we had left the coach, Paillet and Ronsin told me -why they had laughed, and it sounded so ridiculous that I rushed off -in search of my gentleman of the cough lozenges almost before they -had finished; but I searched the imperial in vain in every corner and -cranny:—he had disappeared.</p> - -<p>This nocturnal struggle upset me so greatly that I felt dazed the whole -of the day.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_4" id="Footnote_1_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_4"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Translator's note.—Member of the Society of Law Clerks.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>First dramatic impressions—The <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis<i>—The -Bourbons en 1815</i>—Quotations from it</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Among the pleasures we had promised ourselves in the second capital -of the department of Aisne we had put the theatre in the first rank. -A company of pupils from the Conservatoire, who were touring in the -provinces, were that night to give a special performance of Ducis's -<i>Hamlet.</i> I had absolutely no idea who <i>Hamlet</i> was; I will go farther -and admit that I was completely ignorant who was Ducis. No one could -have been more ignorant than I was. My poor mother had tried to induce -me to read Corneille's and Racine's tragedies; but, I confess it to my -shame, the reading of them had bored me inexpressibly. I had no notion -at that time what was meant by style or form or structure; I was a -child of nature in the fullest acceptance of the term: what amused me I -thought good, what wearied me—bad. So I read the word <i>tragedy</i> on the -placard with some misgivings.</p> - -<p>But, after all, as this tragedy was the best that Soissons had to offer -us to pass away the evening, we put ourselves in the queue waiting -outside; in good time, and in spite of the great crowd, we succeeded in -getting into the pit.</p> - -<p>Something like thirty-two years have rolled by since that night, but -such an impression did it make upon my mind that I can still remember -every little detail connected with it. The young fellow who took the -part of Hamlet was a tall, pale, sallow youth called Cudot; he had fine -eyes, and a strong voice, and he imitated Talma so closely, that when I -saw Talma act the same part, I almost thought he imitated Cudot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> - -<p>As I have said, the subject of literature was completely unknown to -me. I did not even know that there had ever existed an author named -Shakespeare, and when, on my return, I was instructed by Paillet that -<i>Hamlet</i> was only an imitation, I pronounced, before my sister, who -knew English, the name of the author of <i>Romeo</i> and of <i>Macbeth</i> as -I had seen it written, and it cost me one of those prolonged jokings -my sister never' spared me when occasion offered. Of course on this -occasion I delighted her. Now, as the <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis could not lose -in my estimation by comparison, since I had never heard Shakespeare's -spoken of, the play seemed to me, with Hamlet's grotesque entrance, -the ghost, visible only to himself, his struggle against his mother, -his urn, his monologue, the gloomy questionings concerning the fear of -death, to be a masterpiece, and produced an immense effect upon me. -So, when I returned to Villers-Cotterets, the first thing I did was to -collect together the few francs left over from the trip to Soissons and -to write to Fourcade (who had given up his place to Camusat, of whom I -spoke in connection with old Hiraux, and who had returned to Paris) to -send me the tragedy of <i>Hamlet.</i></p> - -<p>For some reason or other Fourcade delayed sending it to me for five -or six days: so great was my impatience that I wrote him a second -letter, filled with the keenest reproaches at his negligence and want -of friendliness. Fourcade, who would never have believed anyone could -accuse a man of being a poor friend because he did not hurry over -sending <i>Hamlet</i>, sent me a charming letter the gist of which I did -not appreciate until I had studied more deeply the question of what -was good and what was bad, and was able to place Ducis's work in its -due rank. In the meantime I became demented. I asked everybody, "Do -you know <i>Hamlet</i>? do you know Ducis?" The tragedy arrived from Paris. -At the end of three days I knew the part of Hamlet by heart and, worse -still, I have such an excellent memory that I have never been able to -forget it. So it came to pass that <i>Hamlet</i> was the first dramatic work -which produced an impression upon me—a profound impression, composed -of inexplicable sensations, aimless longings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> mysterious rays of light -which only made my darkness more visible. Later, in Paris, I again -saw poor Cudot, who had played Hamlet. Alas! the grand talent that -had carried me away had not obtained him the smallest foothold, and -I believe he has long since given up hope—that daughter of pride so -hard to kill in the artist's soul—the hope of making a position on the -stage.</p> - -<p>Now—as if the spirit of poetry, when wakened in me, had sworn never to -go to sleep again and used every means to that end, by even succeeding -in making Maître Mennesson himself his accomplice—scarcely had I -returned from Soissons, when, instead of giving me a deed of sale to -copy out or a bond to engross, or sending me out on business, Maître -Mennesson gave me a piece of poetry of which he wanted three copies -made. This piece of poetry was entitled <i>Les Bourbons en 1815.</i></p> - -<p>M. Mennesson, as I have said, was a Republican; I found him a -Republican in 1830, and when I saw him again in 1848 he was still a -Republican. And to do him justice, he had the courage of his opinions -through all times and under all regimes; so freely did he express -his opinions that his friends were frightened by them and made their -observations thereon with bated breath. He only shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"What the devil will they do to me?" he would exclaim. "My office is -paid for, my clientèle flourishing; I defy them to find a flaw in any -of my contracts; and that being the case, one can afford to mock at -kings and parsons."</p> - -<p>Maître Mennesson was right, too; for, in spite of all these -demonstrations, all these accusations of imprudence made by timid -souls, his practice was the best in Villers-Cotterets and improved -daily. At this very moment he was in the seventh heaven of delight. -He had got hold of a piece of poetry, in manuscript, against the -Bourbons—I do not know how. He had read it to everybody in the town, -and then after reading it to everybody, when I came back from Soissons, -he, as I have said, ordered me to make two or three copies of it, for -those of his friends who, like himself, were anxious to possess this -poetical pamphlet. I have never seen it in print, I have never read it -since the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> I copied it out three times, but such is my memory that -I can repeat it from beginning to end. But lest I alarm my readers, I -will content myself with quoting a few lines of it.</p> - -<p>This was how it began:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Où suis-je? qu'ai je vu? Les voilà donc ces princes<br /> -Qu'un sénat insensé rendit à nos provinces;<br /> -Qui devaient, abjurant les prejugés des rois,<br /> -Citoyens couronnés, régner au nom des lois;<br /> -Qui venaient, disaient-ils, désarmant la victoire,<br /> -Consoler les Français de vingt-cinq ans de gloire!<br /> -Ils entrent! avec eux, la vengeance de l'orgueil.<br /> -Ont du Louvre indigné franchi l'antique seuil!<br /> -Ce n'est plus le sénat, c'est Dieu, c'est leur naissance,<br /> -C'est le glaive étranger qui leur soumet la France;<br /> -Ils nous osent d'un roi reprocher l'<i>échafaud</i>:<br /> -Ah! si ce roi, sortant de la nuit du <i>tombeau</i>,<br /> -Armé d'un fer vengeur venait punir le crime,<br /> -Nous les verrions pâlir aux yeux de leur victime!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then the author exclaims—in those days authors all -exclaimed—abandoning general considerations for the detailed drawing -of individuals, and passing the royal family in review:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"C'est d'Artois, des galants imbécile doyen,<br /> -Incapable de mal, incapable de bien;<br /> -Au pied des saints autels abjurant ses faiblesses,<br /> -Et par des favoris remplaçant ses maîtresses;<br /> -D'Artois, dont rien n'a pu réveiller la vertu,<br /> -Qui fuit a Quiberon sans avoir combattu,<br /> -Et qui, s'il était roi, monterait à la France<br /> -Des enfants de Clovis la stupide indolence!<br /> -C'est Berry, que l'armée appelait à grands cris,<br /> -Et qui lui prodigua l'insulte et le mépris;<br /> -Qui, des ces jeunes ans, puisa dans les tavernes<br /> -Ces mœurs, ce ton grossier, qu'ignorent nos casernes.<br /> -C'est son frère, avec art sous un masque imposteur,<br /> -Cachant de ses projets l'ambitieuse horreur!<br /> -Qui, nourri par son oncle aux discordes civiles,<br /> -En rallume les feux en parcourant nos villes;<br /> -Ce Thersite royal, qui ne sut, à propos,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>Ni combattre ni fuir, et se croit un héros!<br /> -C'est, plus perfide encor, son épouse hautaine,<br /> -Cette femme qui vit de vengeance et de haine,<br /> -Qui pleure, non des siens le funeste trépas,<br /> -Mais le sang qu'à grands flots elle ne verse pas!<br /> -Ce sont ces courtisans, ces nobles et ces prêtres,<br /> -Qui, tour à tour flatteurs et tyrans de leur maîtres,<br /> -Voudraient nous ramener au temps où nos aieux<br /> -Ne voyaient, ne pensaient, n'agissaient que par eux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then the author ends off his discourse with a peroration worthy of the -subject and exclaims once more in his liberal enthusiasm:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ne balonçons done plus, levons-nous! et semblables<br /> -Au fleuve impétueux qui rejette les sables,<br /> -La fange et le limon qui fatiguaient sous cours,<br /> -De notre sol sacré rejetons pour toujours<br /> -Ces tyrans sans vertu, ces courtisans perfides,<br /> -Ces chevaliers sans gloire et ces prêtres avides,<br /> -Qui, jusqu'à nos exploits ne pouvant se hausser,<br /> -Jusques à leur néant voudraient nous abaisser!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Twelve years later the Bourbons were hounded out of France. It is -not only revolutionary bullets which overturn thrones; it is not -only the guillotine that kills kings: bullets and the guillotine are -but passive instruments in the hands of principles. It is the deadly -hatred, it is the undercurrent of rebellion, which, so long as it is -but the expression of the desires of the few, miscarries and spends -its fury; but which, the moment it becomes the expression of general -requirements, swallows up thrones and nations, kings and royal families.</p> - -<p>It is easy to understand how the <i>Messéniennes</i> of Casimir Delavigne, -which appeared in print the same time as these manuscript pamphlets, -seemed pale and colourless. Casimir Delavigne was one of those men who -celebrate in song revolutions that were accomplished facts, but who do -not help revolutions in the making. The Maubreuil trial was the outcome -of the piece of poetry from which I have just quoted these brief -extracts—a most mysterious and ill-omened business, in which names, -if not the most illustrious in Europe, yet at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> least the best known -at that time, were mixed up with acts of thievery and premeditated -assassination.</p> - -<p>Probably I am the only person in France who now thinks of the -"affaire Maubreuil." Perhaps also I am the only person who has kept a -shorthand account of the sittings of that terrible trial, during which -the horrors of the dungeon and secret torture were employed in the -endeavour to drive a man mad whom they dare not kill outright, to whom -they could not succeed in giving the lie. I made a copy at the time -from a manuscript in a strange and unknown hand, which gave an account -of the sittings. Later, I read the account the illustrious Princess of -Wurtemberg took down in her own writing, first for her husband, Marshal -Jérôme Bonaparte, and then intended to be included in her Memoirs, -which are in the hands of her family, and are still unpublished.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The events of 1814 again—Marmont, Duc de Raguse, -Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's—The -<i>Journal des Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i>—Lyrics -of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons—End -of the Maubreuil affair—Plot against the life of the -Emperor—The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money -and jewels</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Let us now try to clear away the litter left by the events of the -year 1814. When the Almighty prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, -He said to Ezekiel, "I will make thee eat thy bread prepared with -cow-dung" (Ezek. iv. 15). Oh! my God, my God! Thou hast served us more -hardly than Thou didst the prophet, and hast made us eat far worse than -that at times!</p> - -<p>Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, the empress at Blois; a Provisional -Government, occult and unknown, carried on its operations on the ground -floor of a house in the rue Saint-Florentin. Is it necessary that I -should add that the house in the rue Saint-Florentin belonged to M. de -Talleyrand? On 16 March Napoleon had written from Rheims:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR BROTHER</span>,—In accordance with the verbal -instructions I gave you, and the wishes expressed in all -my letters, you must on no account allow the Empress and -the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy. You -will not have any news from me for several days. If the -enemy advances upon Paris in such force that you decide -any resistance to be useless, send away my son and the -regent, the grand dignitaries, ministers, officers of the -Senate, presidents of the State Council, chief officers -of the Crown, Baron de la Bouillerie and the treasure, -towards the Loire. Do not desert my son, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> remember -that I would rather know that he was in the Seine than -that he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of -France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner of the Greeks, has -always seemed to me the unhappiest in history.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">NAPOLEON</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter was addressed to Joseph. The treasure referred to by -Napoleon was, be it understood, his own private possessions. On 28 -March the departure of the empress was discussed. MM. de Talleyrand, -Boulay (de la Meurthe), the Duc de Cadore and M. de Fermon were of -opinion that the empress should remain. Joseph, with the emperor's -letter in his hand, insisted upon her departure. It was decided -that she should leave on the following day, at nine o'clock in the -morning. Afterwards M. de Talleyrand was blamed for having urged that -Marie-Louise should stay in Paris. A pale and cold smile flitted over -the vast chasm which served the diplomatist for a mouth.</p> - -<p>"I knew that the empress would defy me," he said, "and that, if I -advised her going, she would stay. I urged that she should stay to -further her departure."</p> - -<p>O monseigneur, Bishop of Autun! you put into the mouth of Harel, in -<i>le Nain Jaune</i>, the famous epigram, "Speech was given to man to -conceal his thoughts." And, monseigneur, you were eminently capable of -exemplifying the truth of the saying yourself.</p> - -<p>On the morning of 29 March, through the uncurtained windows of the -Tuileries, the empress's women could have been seen in the dubious -light of the growing dawn, by the still more dubious light of lamps -and dying candles, running about, pale with fatigue and fear, after a -whole night spent in preparing for the journey. The departure, as we -have said, was fixed for nine o'clock. At ten o'clock the empress had -not yet left her apartments. She was hoping to the last that a counter -order would arrive either from the emperor or from Joseph. At half-past -ten the King of Rome clung to the curtains of the palais des Tuileries -in tears; for he too, poor child, did not want to go.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>Alas! at a distance of seventeen years between, three children, all -suffering through the mistakes of their fathers, clung in vain to -those same curtains: for sixty years the Tuileries was little more -than a royal hostelry wherein the fleeting dynasties put up in turn. -By a quarter to eleven, the empress, clad like an amazon in brown, -stepped into a carriage with the King of Rome, surrounded by a strong -detachment of the Imperial Guard. On the same day and at the same hour, -the emperor set off from Troyes for Paris with his flying squadrons. -It is well known that the emperor was arrested at Fromenteau, but what -follows is not known, or but imperfectly known.</p> - -<p>When time and occasion serve—<i>apropos</i> of the July Revolution, -probably—we shall revert to one of the men whom fate, for some unknown -reason, branded with a fatal seal. We refer to Marmont. We will show -what he was, rather than what he did: he was superb, during that -retreat, in which he left neither gun nor prisoner in the hands of -the enemy; superb when—like a lion at bay against the walls of the -customhouse at Paris, surrounded by Russians and Prussians, in the -main street of <i>Belleville</i>, his right arm still in a sling, after the -battle of Arapiles, holding his sword in his left hand, mutilated at -Leipzig, his clothes riddled with bullets, wedged in between the dead -and the wounded who fell all round him, with only forty grenadiers -behind him—he forced his way to the barrier where he abandoned, -pierced with wounds, the fifth horse that had been killed under him -since the beginning of the campaign! Alas! why did he not cross Paris -from the barrier of Belleville to the barrier of Fontainebleau? Why -did he stop at his house in the rue Paradis-Poissonnière? Why did he -not go to Napoleon, with his coat in shreds and his face blackened -with powder? How determinedly fate seemed to oppose him! How different -would have been the verdict of the future! But we, who are now a part -of that future, and well-nigh disinterested spectators of all those -great events, we who by nature are without private hatreds, and by -position have nothing to do with political animosities, it is for us to -enlighten posterity, for we are poised between the worlds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> aristocratic -and democratic, the one in its decadence and the other in its -adolescence: it is ours to seek for truth wherever it may be buried, -and to exalt it wherever it may be found.</p> - -<p>And now, having defined our position, let us return to Napoleon and -Marie-Louise. Let us pass over several days and say naught of great -betrayals and shameful dishonour; even so we are not, unhappily, at -the end of these things. From 29 March to 7 April the following events -happened:—</p> - -<p>On 30 March, Paris capitulated. On the 31st, the Allied armies entered -the capital. On I April, the Senate appointed a Provisional Government. -On the 2nd, the Senate declared Napoleon to have forfeited the throne. -On the 3rd, the Legislative Body confirmed the forfeiture. On the -4th, Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son. On the 5th, Marmont -treated with the enemy. On the 6th, the Senate drew up a scheme for -a constitution. On the 7 th, the troops of the Duc de Raguse rose in -insurrection and refused to obey his orders. Also, Napoleon made his -plans for withdrawing across the Loire.</p> - -<p>It will be seen that the Government of the rue Saint-Florentin had been -quick about its work. The empress remained at Blois, where she learnt -in rapid succession the declaration of dethronement by the Senate, the -emperor's first abdication and the defection of the Duc de Raguse. On -the 7th, she learned in the morning of the recall of the Bourbons.</p> - -<p>Until that moment, as a cloud hid the future from sight, the -self-seekers watching and waiting had not yet ventured to show their -hands in her presence. But at the news of the return of the Bourbons -everyone sought to make his peace with the new power. The same thing -that happened to Napoleon happened to Marie-Louise. It was a race as to -who could most openly and with the greatest speed desert her; it was a -race of ingratitude, it was a steeplechase of treason.</p> - -<p>She had left Paris a week before, the daughter of an emperor, the wife -of an emperor, the mother of a king! Orléans had saluted her, as she -passed through, with the pealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> of its bells and the firing of its -artillery. She had a court around her, a treasure in her arms; two -peoples, those of France and Italy, some forty millions of souls, were -her subjects. In a week she lost rank, power, inheritance, kingdom; -in an hour she found herself left alone with a poor deserted child, -and treasure that was speedily taken away from her. God forbid that I -should pity the lot of this woman! But those who betrayed her, those -who deserted her, those who immediately robbed her could not plead the -excuse of an unknown future still hid from them.</p> - -<p>On the 7th, as we have said, the whole court fled. On the morning of -the 8th, the two kings, Jérôme and Joseph, also left. On the evening of -the 8th, General Schouwaloff arrived with orders from the sovereigns -to take her from Blois to Orléans and from Orléans to Rambouillet. -Finally, on the morning of the 9th, this announcement appeared in the -<i>Moniteur</i>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The Provisional Government having been informed that by -order of the sovereign whose dethronement was solemnly -pronounced on 3 April, considerable funds were taken away -from Paris, during the days which preceded the occupation -of that city by the allied troops:</p> - -<p>It is decreed—</p> - -<p>"That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, -in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be -deposited immediately in the nearest bank."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This order was elastic: it did not make any distinction between the -public treasure of the nation and the emperor's private property. -Moreover, they confided the execution of this order to a man whose -hatred for the fallen house would naturally incline him to the most -violent measures. They chose M. Dudon. I am happily too young to be -able to say who this M. Dudon was; I have therefore asked the Duc -de Rovigo, whose accuracy is well known. Here is his reply to my -questions:—</p> - -<p>"M. Dudon was imprisoned at Vincennes, for having deserted his post, -for having left the army of Spain and, full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> cowardly fears himself, -for having communicated them to whomsoever he met."</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, M. Dudon hesitated; he looked about for an intermediary; -he did not dare to put his hand directly upon this wealth, which was so -much needed to pay for past treacheries and defections to come.</p> - -<p>Again, what has M. le Duc de Rovigo to say? Let him be unto us the -bronze mouthpiece of truth: I write under his dictation.</p> - -<p>"An officer of the special police corps, M. Janin de Chambéry, who is -now a general officer, was made use of. He had been charged to escort -the money. This young man, seeing the way to make his fortune, gave -himself up to M. Dudon. He collected his regiment, carried off, with -a very high hand, the coffers which contained the Emperor Napoleon's -treasure (for they had not yet been unloaded) and set off for Paris, -which he reached without striking a blow."</p> - -<p>But even all this did not satisfy them: they had robbed the empress, -they would now kill the emperor. "Only the dead do not return," said -the man who was felicitously styled the "Anacreon of the guillotine."</p> - -<p>So many sayings have been attributed to M. de Talleyrand that we -may well borrow one from Barère for a change. Moreover, it must be -acknowledged that the question what to do with Napoleon, on 31 March, -was a very awkward one. We must not be too angry with the people who -wished to rid themselves of him. Who were these people? Maubreuil -himself shall name them. A conference was being held in the house in -the rue Saint-Florentin.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the president to someone who had not yet opened his -lips,—"yes, you are right; we must rid ourselves of this man."</p> - -<p>"We must!" cried the other members in concert.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, that is decided: we will get rid of him."</p> - -<p>"Only one other thing is lacking," said one of the members of the -conventicle.</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The principal thing: the man who will deal the blow."</p> - -<p>"I know the man," said a voice.</p> - -<p>"A trustworthy man?"</p> - -<p>"A ruined man, an ambitious man—one who has fallen from a high -position and would do anything for money and a position."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p>"Maubreuil."</p> - -<p>This took place on the evening of 31 March. That same day, Marie-Armand -de Guerry, Count de Maubreuil, Marquis d'Orvault, had fastened the -cross of the Legion of Honour, which he had won bravely in Spain, to -his horse's tail, and showed himself thus in the boulevards and on the -place Louis XV. He even did better than this in the place Vendôme. He -tied a rope round the neck of the emperor's statue, and, with a dozen -other worthy men of his kidney, pulled with might and main; then, -seeing that his forces were not strong enough, he attached the rope to -his horse. Even that was not enough. They then asked for a relay of -horses from the Grand-duke Constantin, who refused, saying, "<i>It is no -business of mine."</i></p> - -<p>Now, who went to seek this relay? Who made himself Maubreuil's -emissary? A very great lord, upon my word, a most excellent name, -renowned in history! True, this most puissant seigneur, the bearer of -this honourable name, had to forget a slight obstacle—namely, that he -owed everything to the emperor. You ask his name. Ah! indeed, search -for it as I have done. Maubreuil had indeed fallen from a high rank, as -his patron Roux-Laborie had said. There! I see I have named his patron, -though I did not mean to name anyone. Never mind! let us continue.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil, who was of an excellent family, had fallen indeed. His -father, who had married, for his second wife, a sister of M. de la -Roche-jaquelein, was killed in the Vendéean Wars, together with thirty -other members of his family. M. Roux-Laborie, then Secretary to the -Provisional Government, answered for Maubreuil. He did more: he said -to M. de Talleyrand, "Come, come! here I am tearing off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> another mask -without thinking what I am doing; upon my word, so much the worse! -Since that pale face is unmasked, let it remain!" He did much more: -he said to M. de Talleyrand, "I will bring him to you." But M. de -Talleyrand, who was always cautious, exclaimed, "What are you thinking -of, my dear sir? Bring M. de Maubreuil to me! Why so? He must be -conducted to Anglès, he must go to Anglès! You know quite well it is -Anglès who is attending to all this." "Very well, be it so; I will -take him there," replied the Secretary to the Provisional Government. -"When?" "This very evening." "My dear fellow, you are beyond price." -"Take back that word, monseigneur." And Roux-Laborie bowed, went out -and ran to Maubreuil's house. Maubreuil was not at home.</p> - -<p>When Maubreuil was not at home, everyone knew where he was. He was -gaming. What game was it? There are so many gambling hells in Paris!</p> - -<p>Roux-Laborie ran about all night without finding him, returned to -Maubreuil's house and, as Maubreuil had still not returned, he left -word with his servant that he would expect Maubreuil at his house the -next day, 1 April. He waited for him the whole day. Evening came and -still no Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>It is distracting to a man of honour to fail in his word. What would M. -de Talleyrand think of a man who had promised so much and performed so -little? Twice during the day he wrote to Maubreuil: his second note was -as pressing as time was. This is what he said—</p> - -<p>"Why have you not come? I have expected you all day. You are driving me -to desperation!"</p> - -<p>Maubreuil returned to change his dress at six o'clock that evening. He -found the note: he ran off to Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"You can make your fortune."</p> - -<p>"I am your man, then!"</p> - -<p>"Come with me."</p> - -<p>They entered a carriage and went to M. Anglès'. M. Anglès was at the -house in the rue Saint-Florentin. They rushed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> the house in the rue -Saint-Florentin; M. Anglès had just gone out. They asked to see the -prince.</p> - -<p>"Impossible! the prince is very busy: he is in the act of betraying. -True, he is betraying in good company,—he is betraying along with the -Senate." The Senate was next day going to declare that the emperor had -forfeited his throne.</p> - -<p>Be it remembered that it was this same Senate—<i>Sénat -conservateur</i>—which, on the return from the disastrous Russian -campaign, fifteen months earlier, had said to the emperor—</p> - -<p>"Sire, the Senate is established for the purpose of preserving the -fourth dynasty; France and posterity will find it faithful to this -<i>sacred duty</i>, and every one of its members will be ever ready to -perish in defence of this <i>palladium</i> of the national prosperity."</p> - -<p>We must admit that it was drawn up in very bad French. It is also true -that it was drawn up by very poor specimens of Frenchmen.</p> - -<p>The next day, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie returned. The prince was -no more visible than on the previous evening; the prince was at the -Luxembourg. But it did not matter: they could be introduced into his -cabinet presently, which was occupied at the moment. Besides, perhaps -he might return. "We will wait," said Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<p>And they waited a short while in the green salon,—that green salon -which became so famous, you will remember, in history,—they waited, -reading the papers. The newspapers were very amusing. The <i>Journal des -Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i> above all vied with each other in -being facetious and witty.</p> - -<p>"To-day," said the old <i>Journal de l'Empire</i>, which since the previous -evening had donned a new cassock and now called itself the <i>Journal des -Débats</i>,—"to-day <i>His Majesty</i> passed in front of the colonne Vendôme -..."</p> - -<p>Forgive me if I pause a moment: I am anxious that there should not be -any confusion. <i>His Majesty</i>! You would imagine that this meant the -Emperor Napoleon, to whom a week before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the <i>Journal de l'Empire</i> had -published these beautiful lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -I<br /> -<br /> -"'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière!<br /> -Disait <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">AJAX</span>, et combats contre nous!'<br /> -Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux,<br /> -De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière:<br /> -Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats;<br /> -Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!<br /> -Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.'<br /> -<br /> -II<br /> -<br /> -Il a parlé, le monarque, le père;<br /> -Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix?<br /> -Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois,<br /> -Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière.<br /> -Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats,<br /> -Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!<br /> -Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de Victoire.<br /> -<br /> -III<br /> -<br /> -Napoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle,<br /> -Tu veux borner la course de ton char;<br /> -Tu nous montras <i>Alexandre</i> et <i>César;</i><br /> -Oui, nous verrons <i>Trajan</i> et <i>Marc-Aurèle</i>!<br /> -Nous sommes tous <i>tes enfants, tes soldats</i>,<br /> -Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats,<br /> -Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire."<br /> -</p> - -<p>For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days -before his abdication and a <i>monarch</i> and a <i>father</i> whom one has just -addresssed as <i>Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan</i> and <i>Marcus Aurelius.</i> -Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; -as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or -rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return -from the isle of Elba. After having been a <i>monarch,</i> a <i>father, -Ajax, Alexander,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> Cæsar, Trajan</i> and <i>Marcus Aurelius</i>, he has become -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TEUTATÈS</span>. Ah! what a villainous fall was there!</p> - -<p>Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in -getting over this word <i>Majesty</i> than Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon.</p> - -<p>"To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, -and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded -him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So -philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius."</p> - -<p>Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is -it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus -Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are -like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will -relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked -so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his -tricoloured skin for a white skin and the <i>Journal de l'Empire</i> became -the <i>Journal des Débats</i>. It has to be admitted, however, that during -the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin -which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up.</p> - -<p>Now let us pass on to the <i>Journal de Paris</i>. "It is a good thing to -know," quoth the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, "that Bonaparte's name is not -<i>Napoleon</i>, but <i>Nicolas</i>."</p> - -<p>Really, Mr. Editor, what an excessively sublime apotheosis you make of -yesterday's poor emperor! Instead of showing base ingratitude, like -your contemporary, you flatter outrageously. Bonaparte did no more -than presume to call himself <i>Napoléon</i>,—that is, the <i>lion of the -desert</i>,—and here you make him Nicolas, which means <i>Conqueror of the -peoples</i>. Ah! my dear Mr. Editor, if your <i>Journal de Paris</i> had been -a literary paper, like the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, you would have known -Greek like your <i>confrère</i>—that is to say, like an inhabitant, and -you would not have made such blunders. But you did not know Greek. Let -us see if you are better acquainted with French. We will complete the -quotation.</p> - -<p>"It is a good thing to know that Bonaparte's name is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> <i>Napoléon</i>, -but <i>Nicolas</i>; not Bonaparte, but Buonaparte; he cut out the U in order -to connect himself with a distinguished family of that name."</p> - -<p>"You know that the Balzacs of Entraigues make out that you do not -belong to their family," said someone once to M. Honoré de Balzac, the -author of <i>Père Goriot</i> and of <i>les Parents pauvres.</i></p> - -<p>"If I do not belong to their family," retorted M. Honoré de Balzac, "so -much the worse for them!"</p> - -<p>We will return to the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, and let it have its say:—</p> - -<p>"Many people have amused themselves by making different anagrams from -the name of <i>Buonaparte</i> by taking away the U. The following seems to -us to depict that personage the best: <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">NABOT PARÉ</span>."<a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>What a misfortune, Mr. Editor, that in order to arrive at such a -delightful conclusion you have been obliged to sacrifice your U, like -the tyrant himself!</p> - -<p>Now, as a sequel to the verses in the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, we must -quote some lines from the <i>Journal de Paris</i>; they only amount to a -single strophe, but it alone, in the eyes of all lovers of poetry, is -fully equal to three. Besides, these lines are of great importance: M. -de Maubreuil actually waxes prophetic in the last line.</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TESTAMENT DE BONAPARTE</span><br /> -<br /> -"Je lègue aux enfers mon génie,<br /> -Mes exploits aux aventuriers,<br /> -A mes partisans l'infamie,<br /> -Le grand-livre à mes créanciers,<br /> -Aux Français l'horreur de mes crimes,<br /> -Mon exemple à tous les tyrans,<br /> -La France à ses rois légitimes,<br /> -<i>Et l'hôpital à mes parents</i>."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Finally, to conclude our series of quotations, we promised to return -once more to the <i>Journal des Débats.</i> There shall be no cause for -complaint: we will return to it twice. We will place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> a double-columned -account, with its <i>Doit</i> and its <i>Avoir</i>, before our readers' eyes. -There was only an interval of fourteen days between the two articles, -as can be seen from the dates.</p> - - -<pre> -"JOURNAL DES DÉBATS "JOURNAL DE L'EMPIRE -PARIS, 7 <i>mars</i> 1815 PARIS, 21 <i>mars</i> 1815 -(PEAU BLANCHE) (PEAU TRICOLORE) - -DOIT AVOIR - -Buonaparte s'est evade de l'île La famille des Bourbons est partie -d'Elbe, où l'imprudente magnanimité cette nuit; on ignore encore en -des souverains alliés lui avait route qu'elle a prise. Paris offre -donne une souveraineté, pour prix l'aspect <i>de la sécurité et de la joie</i>; -de la désolation qu'il avait portée les boulevards sont couverts d'une -dans leurs États. foule immense, impatiente de voir - l'armée et LE HÉROS <i>qui lui est -Cet homme, qui, en abdiquant le rendu.</i> Le petit nombre de troupes -pouvoir, n'a jamais abdiqué son qu'on avait eu l'espoir <i>insensé</i> de -ambition et ses fureurs, cet homme, lui opposer s'est rallié <i>aux aigles</i>, et -<i>tout couvert du sang des générations,</i> toute la milice française, devenue -vient, au bout d'un an, essayer de nationale, marche sous les drapeaux -disputer, au nom de l'usurpation, la <i>de la gloire et de la patrie.</i> SA -légitime autorité du roi de France; MAJESTÉ L'EMPEREUR a traversé -à la tête de quelques centaines deux cents lieues de pays avec la -d'ltaliens et de Polonais, <i>il ose rapidité de l'éclair, au milieu d'une -mettre le pied sur une terre qui le population <i>saisie d'admiration</i> et de -repoussa pour jamais.</i> respect, pleine du bonheur présent - et de la certitude du bonheur à -Quelques pratiques ténébreuses, venir. -quelques manœuvres dans l'ltalie, -excitée par son aveugle beau-frère, <i>Ici, des propriétaires se félicitant -ont enflé l'orgueil du LACHE GUERRIER de la garantie réelle que leur assure -de Fontainebleau. Il s'expose ce retour miraculeux;</i> là, des -à mourir de la mort des héros: Dieu hommes bénissant l'evènement inespéré -permettra qu'il meure de la mort qui fixe irrévocablement la -des traîtres. La terre de France liberté des cultes; plus loin, de -l'a rejeté. Il y revient, la terre de braves militaires pleurant de joie de -France le dévorera. revoir leur ancien général; des - plébéiens, convaincus que l'honneur -Ah! toutes les classes le repoussent, et les vertus seront redevenus le -tous les Français le repoussent premier titre de la noblesse, et -avec horreur, et se réfugient dans le qu'on acquerra, dans toutes les -sein d'un roi qui nous a apporté la carrières, la splendeur et la gloire -miséricorde, l'amour et l'oubli du pour les services rendus à la patrie. -passé. - Tel est le tableau qu'offrait cette -Cet <i>insensé</i> ne pouvait donc marche ou plutôt cette course triomphale, -trouver en France de partisans que dans laquelle L'EMPEREUR -parmi les artisans éternels de troubles n'a trouvé d'autre ennemi que le -et de révolutions. <i>misérables libelles</i> qu'on s'est vainement - plu à répandre sur son passage, -Mais nous ne voulons ni de troubles contraste bien étrange avec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -ni de révolutions. Ils désigneront les sentiments d'enthousiasme qui -vainement des victimes pour leur éclataient à son approche. Ces sentiments, -TEUTATÈS; un seul cri sera le cri justifiés par la lassitude des -de toute la France: onze mois qui viennent de s'écouler, - ne le sont pas moins par les garanties -MORT AU TYRAN! VIVE LE ROI! que donnent à tous les rangs les - proclamations de SA MAJESTÉ, et -Cet homme, qui débarqua à Fréjus qui sont lues avec une extrême -contre tout espoir, nous semblait avidité. Elles respirent la modération -alors appelé de Dieu pour rétablir qui accompagne aujourd'hui la -en France la monarchie légitime; force, et qui est toujours inséparable -cet homme, entrant par sa <i>noire de la véritable grandeur. -destinée</i>, et comme pour mettre le -dernier sceau à la Restauration, <i>P.S</i>.—Huit heures du soir -revient aujourd'hui pour peser -comme un rebelle sur cette même L'empereur est arrive ce soir au -terre où il fut reçu, il y a quinze palais des Tuileries, <i>au milieu des -ans, par un peuple abusé, et détrompé plus vives acclamations.</i> Au moment -depuis par douze ans de où nous écrivons, les rues, les -tyrannie." places, les boulevards, les quais, - sont couverts d'une foule immense, - et les cris de VIVE L'EMPEREUR! - retentissent de toutes parts, depuis - Fontainebleau jusqu'à Paris. Toute - la population des campagnes, ivre - de joie, s'est portée sur la route de - Sa Majesté, que cet empressement - a forcée d'aller au pas." -</pre> - - -<p>M. de Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie had no need to feel bored with such -entertainment as the above before their eyes! Therefore, although they -were in the green salon nearly an hour, they thought they had hardly -been in it ten minutes when the door of the cabinet of the Prince de -Talleyrand opened. They entered.</p> - -<p>Now do not fancy we are writing a romance: it is history, the record, -not of fair and pleasant events, but of sad and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> ugly ones. If you -doubt it, consult the report drawn up by MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, deputies of the <i>procureur impérial</i>, in the month of June -1815, about this affair, and laid before one of the Chambers of the -Court of First Instance of the Seine. If Napoleon had returned but -to restore unto us this official paper, it would have been almost -sufficient to justify his return.</p> - -<p>M. de Maubreuil was taken inside M. de Talleyrand's study. Roux-Laborie -made him sit down in the prince's own armchair, and said to him—</p> - -<p>"You are anxious to recover your position, to retrieve your broken -fortunes; it depends upon yourself whether you obtain far more than -even that which you desire."</p> - -<p>"What must I do?" asked Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>"You have courage, resolution: rid us of the emperor. If he were dead, -France, the army, everything would be ours, and you would receive an -income of 200,000 livres; you would be made a duke, lieutenant-general -and governor of a province."<a name="FNanchor_2_6" id="FNanchor_2_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_6" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>"I do not quite see how I could accomplish it."</p> - -<p>"Nothing easier."</p> - -<p>"Tell me how."</p> - -<p>"Listen."</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>"It is not unlikely that there may be a great battle fought near here -in a couple of days. Take a hundred determined men, whom you can clothe -in the uniform of the Guards, mingle with the troops at Fontainebleau, -and it will be quite easy, either before or during or after the battle, -to render us the service I am commissioned to ask of you."</p> - -<p>Maubreuil shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Do you refuse?" asked Roux-Laborie quickly.</p> - -<p>"Not so. I am only thinking that a hundred men would be difficult -to find: luckily one would not need a hundred; a dozen would be -sufficient. I shall perhaps be able to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> them in the army, but I -must have power to advance them two or three ranks, and to give them -pecuniary recompense, in proportion to the service they will have to -undertake."</p> - -<p>"You shall have whatever you want. What do ten or a dozen colonels, -more or less, matter to us?"</p> - -<p>"That's all right."</p> - -<p>"You therefore accept?"</p> - -<p>"Probably ... but I ask until to-morrow to think it over."</p> - -<p>And Maubreuil went out, followed by Roux-Laborie, who was very uneasy -because of the delay requested. However, Maubreuil reassured him, -promising to give him a definite answer next day. We can understand -Maubreuil's hesitation: he had been introduced into the prince's study, -he had sat in the prince's chair, but, after all, he had not seen the -prince. Now, when one stakes one's head at another's bidding, one -prefers to see the person who holds the cards.</p> - -<p>Next day they returned to the house. Maubreuil accepted. Roux-Laborie -breathed again.</p> - -<p>"But," added Maubreuil, "on one condition."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"I do not look upon your word alone as sufficient authority. I want -solid security for your promises. I wish to see M. de Talleyrand -himself and to receive my commission from him."</p> - -<p>"But, my dear Maubreuil, can't you see how difficult that would be?..."</p> - -<p>"I can quite see that; but it must be thus or not at all."</p> - -<p>"Then you wish to see M. de Talleyrand?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to see M. de Talleyrand and to receive my orders <i>direct</i> from -him."</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh!" said the lawyer, striking his friend on the chest, "one might -think you were afraid!"</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid, but I wish to see M. de Talleyrand."</p> - -<p>"Very well, so be it," said Roux-Laborie: "you shall see him, and since -you demand his guarantee, you shall be satisfied. Wait a few minutes in -this salon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>And he went in to M. de Talleyrand. A moment later, he came out.</p> - -<p>"M. de Talleyrand is going out; M. de Talleyrand will make you a sign -with his hand; M. de Talleyrand will smile upon you. Will that satisfy -you?"</p> - -<p>"Hum!" returned Maubreuil; "never mind! we will see."</p> - -<p>M. de Talleyrand passed out, made the prearranged gesture, and smiled -graciously upon Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>It is Maubreuil, be it understood, who relates all this.</p> - -<p>The gesture seduced Maubreuil, the smile carried him away; but -Maubreuil wanted something else—he wanted 200,000 francs. They -hesitated, they chaffered, they had not the money—there were so many -betrayals to pay for! But, thanks to the decree of the 9th, they made -a haul of 13 millions—the private moneys of Napoleon. They did it -conscientiously, not leaving anything to Marie-Louise, either money or -jewellery: she was reduced to the point of being obliged to borrow a -little china and silver from the bishop, with whom she stayed. So they -had 13 millions—without reckoning the 10 millions in bullion deposited -in the cellars of the Tuileries, on which they had already laid violent -hands. This made 23 millions they had already borrowed of Napoleon. -What the deuce did it matter? They were quite justified in taking two -hundred thousand francs from this sum in order to assassinate him! So -they took two hundred thousand francs, and they gave them to Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil rushed off to a gambling-house and lost a hundred thousand -francs that night. Was he going to assassinate Napoleon for a hundred -thousand francs? Not he, indeed!... It was not enough. He had recourse -to M. A——. M. A—— was a man of imagination. An idea came into his -head.</p> - -<p>"The Queen of Westphalia is following in Napoleon's wake ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"We may suppose that the Queen of Westphalia carries the crown jewels -with her?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, seize what she has and you will have a good catch."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but I want authority to do that."</p> - -<p>"Authority? What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"A written order."</p> - -<p>"Signed by whom?"</p> - -<p>"Signed by you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if that is all, here goes!"</p> - -<p>And M. A—— took a pen and signed the following order.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, you say, who is M. A——?"</p> - -<p>Good gracious! you have but to read, the signature is at the foot of -the order:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICE OF THE POLICE</span></p> - -<p>"It is ordered that all officials under orders of the -police générale of France, prefects, superintendents and -officers, of whatsoever grade, <i>shall obey the commands</i> -that M. de Maubreuil shall give them; <i>they shall carry -out his orders and fulfil his wishes without a moments -delay</i>, M. de Maubreuil <i>being charged with a secret -mission of the highest importance.</i></p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">"ANGLÈS"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This was not enough. Maubreuil wanted another order, a similar one, -signed by the Minister of War: he had settled with the civil power, it -remained to put himself right with the military. He went to look up -the Minister of War. He obtained a similar order to the one we have -just given. The Minister of War was General Dupont. There are some very -ill-fated signatures! On 22 July 1808 this signature was at the foot of -the capitulation treaty of Baylen. On 16 April 1814 it was at the foot -of Maubreuil's commission! The one handed over to the enemy, without -striking a blow, the liberty of fourteen thousand men; the other gave -up the life and the gold of a queen to a thief and an assassin!</p> - -<p>In the face of such <i>errors</i> one is proud to be able to boast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> that one -has never put one's name save in the forefront of a play, be it good or -bad, save at the end of a book, be it bad or good!</p> - -<p>Besides these two orders, Maubreuil possessed himself of three others -in the same terms: one from Bourrienne, Provisional Director of the -Posting Arrangements ... de Bourrienne, do you understand?—But this -was not the Bourrienne who was the emperor's secretary?... Excuse -me, even the same ... where would have been the infamy of the thing, -had it not been so? He placed the posts at the disposition of M. de -Maubreuil: one from General Sacken, Governor of Paris; one from General -Brokenhausen. Thanks to these two last orders, Maubreuil, who had the -police already at his disposal through Anglès' order, the army through -Dupont's, the posts through Bourrienne's, got possession also of the -allied troops under command of the Russian and Prussian generals.</p> - -<p>True, on 3 April, the day following that on which the <i>Journal des -Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i> issued those clever articles with -which the reader is already acquainted, two charming verses, which we -propose to bring before your notice, were sung at the Opera, by Laïs, -to the tune of <i>Vive Henri IV.,</i> national air though it was:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -Vive Alexandre!<br /> -Vive ce roi des rois!<br /> -Sans rien prétendre,<br /> -Sans nous dicter des lois,<br /> -Ce prince auguste<br /> -A le triple renom,<br /> -De héros, de juste,<br /> -De nous rendre un Bourbon.<br /> -<br /> -Vive Guillaume!<br /> -Et ses guerriers vaillants!<br /> -De ce royaume,<br /> -Il sauva les enfants;<br /> -Par sa victoire,<br /> -Il nous donne la paix,<br /> -Et compte sa gloire<br /> -Par ses nombreux bienfaits.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> - -<p>Really, it gives one a certain amount of pleasure to see that these -lines are almost as poor as the prose of the <i>Journal des Débats</i> and -of the <i>Journal de Paris</i>!</p> - -<p>So Maubreuil had his five orders all correct, in his pocket. Armed with -these, he could act, not against Napoleon direct,—that was too risky -a business,—but against the Queen of Westphalia. And, on the whole, -was it not a good stroke of business to have made them pay the price of -assassinating Napoleon, and then not to assassinate him?</p> - -<p>This is what Maubreuil proposed to do. First of all, he allied himself -with a person called d'Asies, who, in virtue of his plenary powers, he -appointed <i>Commissioner Royal.</i> Next, he put himself on the watch at -the corner of the rue du Mont-Blanc and the rue Saint-Lazare. The Queen -of Westphalia was lodging at Cardinal Fesch's house. Her departure -was fixed for the 18th. The orders were signed on the 16th and 17th. -Maubreuil was well informed of the Princess Catherine de Wurtemberg's -movements. On the 18th, at three o'clock in the morning, the ex-Queen -of Westphalia entered her coach and started off <i>en route</i> for Orléans. -Princess Catherine was cousin of the Emperor of Russia, and travelled -with a passport signed by him and by the Emperor of Austria. Two great -names, were they not? Alexander and Francis! Maubreuil had gone on in -advance. He learnt from the post-master at Pithiviers (now you see -how useful was M. de Bourrienne's authorisation) that the princess -would take the road which ran by the Bourgogne. Then he hid himself at -Fossard, the posting-house a half-league from Montereau. There was not -the slightest danger that Maubreuil would make any mistake, he knew the -princess too well for that—he had been her equerry. On the 21 st, at -seven o'clock in the morning, the princess's carriage came into sight -on the road. Maubreuil rushed out, at the head of a dozen cavaliers, -stopped the carriage, obliged the ex-queen to enter a kind of stable, -into which all her luggage was removed, piecemeal. There were eleven -boxes, and cases: Maubreuil demanded the keys of them. The princess -had no means of resistance: she gave him them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> without appearing to -recognise him in any way, without deigning to address a word to him. -Maubreuil saw this, but took no notice: he sat down quietly to his -breakfast, with d'Asies, in a room on the ground floor of the inn, -waiting for a detachment of troops which, taking advantage of his -powers, he had requisitioned from Fontainebleau.</p> - -<p>Let us, however, be just to Maubreuil. As the weather was bad, as it -rained, as it was very cold, he invited his past sovereign to come -into the inn; but as she would have been compelled to share the same -room with him, she preferred to remain in the courtyard. A woman who -had compassion on her fellow-woman brought her a chair, and she sat -down. Maubreuil finished his breakfast, and a lieutenant arrived from -Montereau, with a dozen men, Mamelukes and infantry. Some sort of -explanation had to be given to this officer and to these soldiers; -callous though Maubreuil was, it was not to be supposed that he would -say, "You see me for what I am—a robber."</p> - -<p>No, it was Princess Catherine who was a thief. Princess Catherine -had been stopped by Maubreuil because she was carrying off the crown -jewels. Four sentries were posted to prevent any travellers coming -near—unless such travellers came in a carriage; in which case, willy -nilly, the carriage must be requisitioned. Some merchants came from -Sens leading a stage-waggon. The stage-waggon and the two horses -harnessed thereto were confiscated by Maubreuil. They loaded this -stage-waggon with the princess's trunks. Only then did she deign to -address a word to Maubreuil, who had been apologising to her for <i>his -mission.</i></p> - -<p>"For shame, monsieur!" she said; "when a man has shared bread with -another, he should not undertake such a mission to their detriment.... -You are doing an abominable act!"</p> - -<p>"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I am but the commander of the armed -force. Speak to the commissioner: I will do whatever he orders."</p> - -<p>The commissioner, as we know, was d'Asies. It was a case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> of Robert -Macaire and Bertrand. But the poor princess did not know this, and took -d'Asies for a real commissioner.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," she said, "you are robbing me of all I possess. The king -has never given any such orders.... I swear to you, on my honour and -by my faith as a queen, I have nothing that belongs to the Crown of -France."</p> - -<p>D'Asies drew himself up.</p> - -<p>"Do you take us for thieves, madame?" he said. "Let me tell you that we -are acting as ordered. All those boxes must be taken."</p> - -<p>As he said that, d'Asies caught sight of a small square box tied round -with tape. He put his hand under it. The little case was very heavy.</p> - -<p>"So ho!" he said.</p> - -<p>"That little chest, monsieur," said the princess, "contains my gold."</p> - -<p>D'Asies and Maubreuil exchanged glances which said as well as words -could say, "Your gold, princess; that is exactly what we are looking -for."</p> - -<p>They withdrew and made a pretence of deliberating. Then, after this -cogitation, they came up, and gave orders to the commander of the -Mamelukes to take this box away with the others. The princess still -disbelieved her eyes and ears.</p> - -<p>"But," she cried, "you cannot possibly be taking my private jewels and -money! You will leave me and my suite stranded on the highway!"</p> - -<p>Then her courage failed this noble creature, the daughter of a king, -the wife of a king, the cousin of an emperor. Tears came into her eyes: -she asked to be allowed to speak to Maubreuil. Maubreuil came to her.</p> - -<p>"What is to become of me, monsieur?" she said. "At least give me back -this money: I need it to continue my journey."</p> - -<p>"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I do but carry out the orders of the -Government: I must give up your luggage in Paris intact. I can only -give you the hundred napoleons in my own purse."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<p>Acting upon the Count de Furstenstein's advice, the princess accepted -this offer, thinking it a last token of devotion from a man who had -been in her service. Besides, she thought he would give her leave -to return to Paris, where she would regain possession of her money. -But this was not to be: they made her re-enter her carriage, and the -princess continued her journey to Villeneuve-la-Guyare, under the -escort of two soldiers, while her boxes, her gold, her jewels, piled on -the post-waggon, were sent back to Paris. Had the princess resisted, -the two infantry men were ordered to use violence in compelling her to -continue her journey. She then asked at least to be allowed to send one -of her own servants along with her boxes, as escort. But as the demand -was considered outrageous, it was refused.</p> - -<p>So the princess's carriage went forward to Villeneuve-la-Guyare. -Maubreuil's and d'Asies' consciences were quite easy:—had not the -princess a hundred napoleons wherewith to provide her needs? At the -next post-house Maubreuil's purse was opened to pay. They found it -contained only forty-four napoleons. They left the purse and the -forty-four napoleons there and then in the hands of the justice of the -peace at Pont-sur-Yonne. When Maubreuil left Fossard, he forbade the -post-master to supply horses to anyone before three o'clock.</p> - -<p>So far so good. Now they could give their attention to the second part -of their mission—the least important to Maubreuil—that of killing the -emperor.</p> - -<p>It was the 21st of April. On the 19th, the emperor, deserted by -everyone, was alone save for a single valet. It was an opportune -moment: unluckily, they let it slip. They were lying in wait for the -princess in the rue Saint-Lazare; they could not be everywhere at the -same time. On the 20th, the day after, the emperor bade farewell to his -Guards. It was not in the midst of that pack of brigands that he could -be attacked. On the 21 st, as we have seen, they were busily engaged. -And it was just at that moment that the emperor left for Fontainebleau, -with the commissioners of the four Powers.</p> - -<p>Bah! even if they had not killed the emperor, what mattered it? Since -they had robbed the Queen of Westphalia, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> taken her gold and her -jewels, it was just as good. The emperor was not killed.</p> - -<p>They returned to Paris, where they spent the night in gambling, losing -part of the princess's eighty-four thousand francs. The little chest -had contained eighty-four thousand francs in gold. Next day, Maubreuil -presented himself at M. Anglès'. He was in despair—first at having -lost part of his gold, then for having missed Napoleon. M. Anglès was -not in despair: he was furious—furious because the Emperor Alexander -knew everything, and the Emperor Alexander was furious. The Emperor -Alexander swore that he would avenge his cousin.</p> - -<p>The <i>Journal de Paris</i> did not know that <i>Nicolas</i> means <i>Conqueror of -peoples</i>; but M. Anglès, Minister of the Police, knew well enough that -Alexander spells he <i>who grinds men down.</i> M. Anglès had no wish to be -ground down. He therefore advised Maubreuil to fly.</p> - -<p>"Fly!" said Maubreuil. "What of the police?"</p> - -<p>"Bah! Am I not responsible for them?"</p> - -<p>This assurance did not in the least set Maubreuil's mind at ease. -He rushed off to the house of M. de Talleyrand: M. de Talleyrand -slammed the door in his face. Is it likely that M. de Talleyrand would -recognise a highway robber? Nonsense!</p> - -<p>Maubreuil fled. He had not got three leagues before he was apprehended -(<i>empoigné</i>, as they called it under the Restoration), and thrown -into a dungeon, from which he was released on the emperor's return -and to which he returned on the accession of Louis XVIII. After two -fresh releases and two fresh arrests, Maubreuil, who never believed -they would dare to try him, appeared at length before the Royal Court -of Douai, the Chamber of the Court of Appeal. The affair created a -tremendous scandal, as can very well be imagined. M. de Talleyrand -denied, M. Anglès denied, Roux-Laborie denied; everybody denied, -except Maubreuil. Maubreuil not only confessed the whole thing, but, -from being the accused, he turned accuser. Of course the papers were -expressly forbidden to report the proceedings. But Maître Mennesson -had a friend who was present at the trial. This friend, no doubt a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -shorthand writer, took down, transcribed, verified and forwarded him -his report. I made two or three copies of this account and distributed -them by order of our zealous, faithful and loyal Republican notary. And -I kept a copy of the proceedings myself. I do not know that this report -has appeared in any history. It is a curiosity, and I give it here.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A dressed-up dwarf.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_6" id="Footnote_2_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_6"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> When one writes of such matters as these, two authorities -are better than one. Besides the report of MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, see Vaulabelle's <i>Histoire des deux Restaurations</i>, vol. ii. -p. 15.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction -of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de -Maubreuil—Chamber of the Court of Appeal—The sitting of -17 April, 1817</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Enter the Sieur de Maubreuil. Placed at the prisoner's bar, he looked -fixedly at M. de Vatimesnil, the king's counsel, and spoke to him as -follows:—</p> - -<p>"<i>M. le procureur du roi</i>," he said, "you have called me an -appropriator of treasure, it is false. I have never been an -appropriator of treasure. The journalists have made use of your last -speech to spread an odious interpretation on my trial; but I am above -their reproaches."</p> - -<p>They endeavoured to silence the Sieur de Maubreuil, but he went on with -renewed pertinacity:—</p> - -<p>"I appeal to all Frenchmen here present, I place my honour in your safe -keeping. To-morrow I may be poisoned or assassinated."</p> - -<p>The warders laid hands on M. de Maubreuil; but he shook himself free of -them, and went on:—</p> - -<p>"Yes, I quite expect it. They may shoot me in my cell; the police may -carry me off and make away with me, as happened to my cousin, M. de -Brosse, who, in the month of February, presented a petition to the -Chamber in my favour; but I place my honour in the custody of the -Frenchmen who are here present. Hear what I have to say to you."</p> - -<p>Here the prisoner raised his voice.</p> - -<p>"I accepted the commission to murder the emperor, but I accepted it -only in order to save him and his family. Yes, my countrymen, I am not -a miserable thief, as they are trying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> to make out. Frenchmen! I call -you all to my aid. No, I am not a thief! No, lam not an assassin! On -the contrary, I accepted a commission to save Napoleon and his family. -It is true that, during the first outburst of my royalist enthusiasm, -I did, along with several other people, attach a rope to the neck of -Napoleon's statue, on the 31st of March, to pull it down from its -pedestal in the place Vendôme; but I here acknowledge publicly that I -served a thankless cause. Though I did insult Napoleon's statue, I have -done good to him in the flesh. No, I am not an assassin! Frenchmen, my -honour is in your hands. You will not be deaf to my entreaties."</p> - -<p>Again they tried to stop M. de Maubreuil's mouth, but the harder they -tried to silence him the louder he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I accepted," he continued, "a commission to save Napoleon, his son -and his family; I admit that, bribed, deluded and entangled by the -Provisional Government to do it, I was foolish enough to tie the cross -of the Legion of Honour to my horse's tail; I bitterly repent of doing -so. I have donned that cross of heroes again now: see, here it is on my -breast; I won it in Spain in fair fight."</p> - -<p>Here the Sieur de Maubreuil succumbed to the efforts they made to drown -his voice. The whole time he had been speaking, the president and the -judges had been fruitlessly endeavouring to enforce silence. In vain -did the president shout, "Warders, take him away, take him away! Do -your duty, warders!" Maubreuil writhed, clutching hold of the bar, and, -nearly strangled by the warders, he still went on:—</p> - -<p>"<i>M. le président</i>, my respect for you is unbounded, but your acts and -words are useless: they wished to assassinate the emperor, and I only -accepted the commission which has brought me here in order to save him."</p> - -<p>There was a tremendous noise, an uproar and shouts among the audience. -Many Vendéens were present, relatives and friends of the prisoner, who -was related to the family of la Roche-jaquelein. Before the prisoner -was brought in, these had tried to influence public opinion in his -favour, by talking of the mystery which enshrouded his mission, and -by pointing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> out his unblemished devotion to the royal cause. Picture -to yourself, then, their dismay when they saw the line of defence -he adopted; their confusion when they heard their client speak so -diametrically opposite to their expectations; their astonishment -when they heard the name of Napoleon pronounced with respect by the -prisoner, at a time when the conqueror of the Pyramids and of Marengo -was only spoken of as Buonaparte; at the title of Emperor given to a -man whom King Louis XVIII., dating the beginning of his reign from -1795, declared never to have reigned!</p> - -<p>Me. Couture, M. de Maubreuil's counsel, was then allowed to speak. -We will not report his speech, which was very long. He pleaded more -on a legal technicality than on the matter of the charge. He spoke -in the first instance of the injustice of Maubreuil being the only -one arraigned, while d'Asies, Cotteville, and others who had acted -in concert with him, were in full enjoyment of their liberty. He -added that the trunks having been deposited without verification at -M. de Vanteaux's, it could not be established who had abstracted the -eighty-four thousand francs in gold. He referred to the marvellous -manner in which some of the jewels that had been thrown by an unknown -hand into the Seine had been recovered by a man named Huet, an -ex-employé of the police, who, when fishing, had drawn up two diamond -combs caught in his hooked line. Me. Couture went on to assert that -the prisoner, to whom a mission of the gravest importance had been -entrusted, ought not to be tried by an ordinary Court, and to prove his -point, Me. Couture read the five different orders which had authorised -M. de Maubreuil to call into requisition all the officials of the -kingdom. The tenor of these orders was as follows:—</p> - -<p>The first, signed by General Dupont, War Minister, authorised M. de -Maubreuil to make use of the army, which was to obey all his demands, -and commanded the authorities to furnish him with all the troops -he might require, as he was charged with a mission of the highest -importance. The second, signed by Anglès, Minister of Police, ordered -all the police force<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> throughout the kingdom of France to lend -assistance to M. de Maubreuil to the same end. The third, signed by -Bourrienne, Director-General of the Posts, ordered all post-masters -to supply him with whatever horses he should require, and to consider -themselves personally responsible for the least delay they might -occasion him. The fourth, signed by General Sacken, Governor of Paris, -enjoined the Allied troops to assist M. de Maubreuil. Finally, the -fifth, which was in Russian, was addressed to those officers who did -not understand French and who could not therefore have obeyed the -preceding orders. From these documents Me. Couture argued that the -king's council alone must have had cognisance of M. de Maubreuil's -mission, and alone ought to decide the case.</p> - -<p>After having replied to Me. Couture's pleading, the king's procurator -set forth his reasons for regarding the <i>tribunal correctionnel</i> as -incompetent in the present case, since the charges brought against the -Sieur de Maubreuil constituted a crime, and were not those of a simple -misdemeanour; that it was a question of a robbery under arms committed -on the highway, and not merely a case of breach of confidence. For it -was vain, he said, to try to allege the unlimited power with which the -prisoner was vested; no power could authorise a citizen to run counter -to existing laws; for if such a contention could be maintained it could -be pursued to its logical conclusion and, in that case, it might be -excusable to commit a murder or burn down a village. "As a matter of -fact," continued M. de Vatimesnil, "we are advised that Maubreuil, -acting as a Government agent, was endowed on that very count with a far -graver responsibility, and the law ought to be set in force against him -with the greater severity. No mission could excuse a man for having -ill-treated a person travelling on the highways with a passport, and -his crime assumed still graver proportions when that person happened to -be an august princess, sprung from an illustrious house, allied to all -the crowned heads of Europe, and travelling under the protection of a -passport from her illustrious cousin, the Emperor of Russia, a princess -who was entitled to double respect, both from her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> rank and because of -the reverses of fortune she had recently experienced." "And," exclaimed -the king's counsel, "with what indignation ought we to be seized, -when we hear the accused uttering such libellous fables to avoid the -course of justice! Who are those Frenchmen he addresses, whom he -invokes to his aid? What faith could be put in such an unlikely story, -as that he had received a mission against a person travelling under -the safeguard of the most solemn treaties, signed by all the allied -sovereigns? and if he did accept such a mission, was it not doubly mean -to have accepted money for carrying it out, and then to have deceived -those whom he pretended had given it him? Should he not be regarded -henceforth as one of those hateful creatures known of all men, who, -under pressure of an accusation, hatches conspiracies, and denounces -unknown fellow-citizens, to the sole end of arresting or diverting -justice?"</p> - -<p>The Sieur de Maubreuil had listened to all this tirade with fiery -impatience, and his solicitor had only been able to pacify him -by allowing him the pen and paper which he demanded. When M. de -Vatimesnil's speech was over, Maubreuil passed what he had just written -to the president, then rose and said:—"<i>M. le président</i>, as a man -who expects to be assassinated at any moment, I place this political -deposition in your hands. Frenchmen, it is my honour I am bequeathing -to all you who are here present. As a man on the brink of appearing -before God, I swear that it was M. de Talleyrand who, by means of M. -Laborie, sent me; that the prince forced me to sit down in his own -arm-chair; that he offered me two hundred thousand livres income and -the title of duke, if I accomplished my mission satisfactorily;<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -furthermore, the Emperor Alexander offered me his own horses; but, I -repeat, if I accepted the mission I am blamed for, it was to save the -emperor and his family."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here they again compelled Maubreuil to stop speaking, and the warders, -taking hold of him by his shoulders, forced him down into his seat.</p> - -<p>Then his lawyer, Me. Couture, rose, addressed the king's counsel once -more, and begged for pity's sake that no notice should be taken of his -client's mad words.</p> - -<p>"Alas!" he cried, "the man whom you see before you, monsieur, is no -longer M. de Maubreuil, but only the remains, the shade of M. de -Maubreuil. A detention of <i>three years,</i> three hundred and ninety days -of which has been spent in solitary confinement without communication -with a soul, <i>without even seeing his own counsel</i>, has deranged his -reason. He is now nothing but the ruins of a man. For the love of -humanity, do not take account of a speech which can only tell against -him!" The judges, greatly embarrassed by what they had just heard, -although their business was but to decide on the simple question of the -competence or incompetence of their tribunal, deferred sentence until -the following Tuesday, 22 April.</p> - -<p>Probably the delay was arranged, so those in court thought, in order to -receive instructions from the château, and to act in accordance with -those instructions.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE SITTING OF 22 APRIL</p> - -<p>Maubreuil was led in. He had scarcely entered the prisoner's dock -before he violently pushed away the guard and cried out, "You have no -right to maltreat me like this, warders; you have made me suffer quite -enough the three years I have been in prison. It is a dastardly wicked -thing! We are here before justice and not before the police! Let me -rather be shot immediately than delivered over longer to the tortures -of which I have been the victim for three years! No, never was greater -cruelty exercised in the Prussian fortresses, in the dungeons of the -Inquisition under the foundations of Venice! I am cut off from the -world; my complaints are hushed up; my lawyer is forbidden to print and -distribute my defence. I here express before all, my gratitude for his -zeal and his devotion;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> but I am in despair that he has not based his -defence on the information I have given him: he has not dared to do so."</p> - -<p>Here silence was again imposed on the prisoner. The president then read -the sentence, pronouncing that the <i>tribunal de police correctionnelle</i> -declared its incompetence, and sent the prisoner to the assizes, on the -ground that if the facts which had been laid bare were proved, they -constituted a crime, and not a simple misdemeanour.</p> - -<p>When the prisoner heard the sentence of incompetence to deal with the -case pronounced he sighed deeply, and his face, changed by a long -captivity, expressed dejection and despair. But he rallied his strength -and cried—</p> - -<p>"The blood of twenty-nine of my relations was shed for the Bourbons in -Vendée and at Quiberon! I too am to be sacrificed to them in my turn! -They wish to destroy me, my groans are to be stifled. I am to be made -out a madman! It is a diabolical plot! No, I am not mad; no, I was -not mad when my services were required by them! Frenchmen, I repeat -to you what I told you at the last sitting: they asked me to take -the life of Napoleon! Write to Vienna, to Munich, to St. Petersburg. -Yes, yes,"—pushing away the warders, who sought to impose silence -upon him,—"yes, they demanded of me the blood of Napoleon.... <i>M. le -président</i>, they have handled me with violence! <i>M. le président</i>, they -will maltreat me! <i>M. le président</i>, they will put my feet in irons! -But, come what may, to the last moment I will proclaim it: they asked -me to take Napoleon's life! the Bourbons are assassins!..."</p> - -<p>These last words were pronounced by the accused as he struggled with -the police, while they led him away by force.</p> - -<p>Here the shorthand report concludes: I have not altered a word of the -statement, a certified copy of which is under my eyes.</p> - -<p>On the 18th of the following December, Maubreuil was arraigned to -appear before the Court of Assizes at Douai, and succeeded in escaping -before the trial. On 6 May 1818, judgment was issued, condemning him -to five years' imprisonment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> by default and to pay five hundred francs -fine, for being a dishonest trustee.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil, having taken refuge in England, returned on purpose to deal -M. de Talleyrand the terrible blow which struck him down, on the steps -of the church of Saint-Denis, during the funeral procession of Louis -XVIII.</p> - -<p>"Oh! what a cuff!" exclaimed the prince, as he picked himself up.</p> - -<p>How can people deny M. de Talleyrand's presence of mind after that! M. -Dupin could not have done better.</p> - -<p>This obscure, strange, mysterious Maubreuil affair did the Bourbons -of the Restoration the greatest possible harm. To the Count d'Artois -and M. de Talleyrand it was what the affair of the necklace was to -Marie-Antoinette and the Cardinal de Rohan—that is to say, one of -those hidden springs from which revolutions derive power for the -future; one of those weapons the more dangerous and terrible and deadly -for being dipped so long in the poison of calumny.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> We see by this that, according to Maubreuil, it was M. de -Talleyrand himself with whom he had had to deal. We have not wished to -endorse the accusation blindly and, in our account, we have accepted -the intermediate agency of Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II">BOOK II</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ia" id="CHAPTER_Ia">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The last shot of Waterloo—Temper of the provinces in -1817, 1818 and 1819—The <i>Messéniennes</i>—The <i>Vêpres -siciliennes,—Louis IX.</i>—Appreciation of these two -tragedies—A phrase of Terence—My claim to a similar -sentiment—Three o'clock in the morning—The course of -love-making—<i>Valeat res ludrica</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I am not sure who said—perhaps I said it myself—that the Revolution -of 1830 was the last shot of Waterloo. It is very true. Setting aside -those whose family interest, position or fortune attached them to the -Bourbon dynasty, it is impossible to conceive any idea of the ever -growing feeling of opposition which spread throughout the provinces; it -got to such a pitch that, without knowing why, in spite of every reason -that my mother and I had to curse Napoleon, we hated the Bourbons far -more, though they had never done anything to us, or had even done us -good rather than harm.</p> - -<p>Everything tended to the unpopularity of the reigning house: the -invasion of French territory by the enemy; the disgraceful treaties -of 1815; the three years' occupation which had followed the second -restoration of the Bourbons; the reactionary movements in the South; -the assassination of Ramel at Toulouse, and the Brune assassination at -Avignon; Murat, who was always popular, in spite of his stupidity and -his treachery, shot at Pizzo: the proscriptions of 1816; defections, -disgraceful deeds, shameful bargains, came to light daily; the verses -of Émile Debraux, the songs of Béranger, the <i>Messéniennes</i> of Casimir -Delavigne and the <i>tabatières à la charte</i>, the Voltaire-Touquets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> and -Rousseaus of all kinds, unpublished rhymes of the type I have quoted; -anecdotes, true or false, attributed to the Duc de Berry, in which the -ancient glories of the Empire were always sacrificed to some youthful -aristocratic ambition; all, down to the king with his black gaiters, -his blue coat with gilt buttons, his general's epaulettes and the -little tail of his wig,—all tended, I say, to depreciate the ruling -power—or rather, worse still, to make it absurd.</p> - -<p><i>Vêpres siciliennes</i> was played at the Odéon on 23 November 1819 -with overwhelming success. It would be difficult to explain why, -to anyone who has read the piece dispassionately. Why did a crowd -wait outside the doors of the Odéon from three o'clock? Why was that -splendid building crowded to suffocation, instead of there being, as -usual, plenty of room for everyone? Just to hear four lines thought to -contain an allusion to the political encroachments in which the king's -favourite minister was said to indulge. These are the four lines. They -seemed innocent enough on the face of them:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"De quel droit un ministre, avec impunity,<br /> -Ose-t-il attenter à notre liberté?<br /> -Se reposant sur vous des droits du diadème,<br /> -Le roi vous a-t-il fait plus roi qu'il n'est lui-même?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>All the same, these four lines roused thunders of applause and rounds -of cheering. And then one heard on every side the concert of admiration -which all the Liberal papers sounded in praise of the patriotic young -poet. The whole party petted him, praised him, exalted him.</p> - -<p>Some time after the <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i> had been played at the Odéon, -the Théâtre-Français, on 5 November 1819, put <i>Louis IX.</i> on the stage. -This was the Royalist reply which the leading theatre gave to the -Nationalist tragedy at the Odéon.</p> - -<p>At that period Ancelot and Casimir Delavigne were about equally -celebrated and, in the eyes of impartial critics, <i>Louis IX.</i> was as -good as <i>Vêpres siciliennes.</i> But all the popularity, all the applause, -all the triumph went to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Liberal poet. It was as though the nation -were breathing again, after its suspension of animation from '93 -onward, as though it were urging the public spirit to take the path of -liberty.</p> - -<p>I recollect that because of the noise these two controversial plays -made throughout the whole of the literary world, I, who was just -beginning to feel the first breath of poetry stir within me, was -anxious to read them. I wrote to de Leuven, who sent me both the -Liberal and the Royalist work. The Liberal work was the most praised, -and, with that in my hand, I ran to announce to our young friends, -Adèle, Albine and Louise, the good fortune which had befallen us -from Paris. It was decided that the same evening we should read the -masterpiece aloud, and, as I was the owner of the work, I was naturally -promoted to the office of reader.</p> - -<p>Alas! we were but simple children, without knowledge of either side of -the case, artless young folk, who wanted to amuse ourselves by clapping -our hands and to be stirred to the heart by admiration. We were greatly -surprised at the end of the first act, more surprised still by the end -of the second, that so much fuss and noise should have been aroused -by, and so much praise bestowed upon, a work, estimable, no doubt, -in its way, but one which did not cause a single thrill of sentiment -or passion, or rouse an echoing memory. We did not yet understand -that a political passion is the most prejudiced of all passions, and -that it vibrates to the innermost feeling of a disturbed country. Our -reading was interrupted at the second act, and the tragedy of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> was never finished, at any rate as a joint reading. Our -audience had naïvely confessed that Montfort, Lorédan and Procida bored -them to death, and that they much preferred Tom Thumb, Puss in Boots -and other fairy tales of like nature. But this attempt did not satisfy -me. When I went home to my mother, I read not only the whole of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> but also <i>Louis IX.</i></p> - -<p>Well, it is with feelings of great satisfaction that I date from -that time the impartial appreciation for contemporary works<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> which -I possess—an appreciation borrowed far more from my feelings than -from my judgment; an appreciation which neither political opinion nor -literary hatred has ever been able to influence: my critical faculty, -when considering the work of my <i>confrères,</i> asks not whether it be the -work of a friend or of an enemy, whether of one intimately known to -me or of a stranger. However, I need hardly say that neither <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> nor <i>Louis IX.</i> belong to that order of literature which I -was to be called upon later to feel and to understand, whose beauties -I endeavoured to reproduce. I remained perfectly unmoved by these two -tragedies, although I slightly preferred <i>Louis IX.</i> I have never read -them again since, and probably I shall never re-read them; but I feel -convinced that if I were to re-read them, my opinion upon them would -be just the same to-day that' it was then. What a difference there was -between the tame and monotonous feeling I then experienced and the -glowing emotion <i>Hamlet</i> roused in me, though it was the curtailed, -bloodless, nerveless <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis! I had an innate instinct for -truth and hatred of conventional standards; Terence's line has always -seemed to me one of the finest lines ever written: "I am a man, and -nothing that is human is alien unto me." And I was fast laying claim to -my share in that line. I was growing more manly every day; my mother -was the only person who continued to look upon me as though I were -still a child. She was therefore greatly astonished when one evening -I did not return at my usual time of coming home—and when at last I -did come in, towards three in the morning, my heart leaping joyfully, -I slipped into my room, which for the last three months I had obtained -leave to have to myself, apart from my mother, foreseeing what was -going to take place. I found my mother in tears, seated by my window, -where she had been watching for my return, ready to give me the lecture -such a late, or rather, early, return deserved!</p> - -<p>After more than a year of attentions, signs, loving-making, little -favours granted, refused, snatched by force, the inexorable door which -shut me out at eleven o'clock would be softly reopened at half-past -eleven, and behind that door I found two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> trembling lips, two caressing -arms, a heart beating against my heart, burning sighs and lingering -tears. Adèle too had managed to get a room to herself, apart from her -mother, just as I had. This room was better than an ordinary room: it -was a tiny summer-house which projected into a long garden enclosed -only by hedges. A passage between the room occupied by her brother and -the room occupied by her mother led to the garden, and consequently -to the summer-house, which was only separated from the passage by a -staircase leading to the first storey. It was the door of this passage, -opening on one side into the street, and on the other, as I have said, -into the garden, which was reopened to me at half-past eleven at night -and was not closed behind me until three in the morning, on that night -when my mother stood anxiously waiting, all in tears, at the window of -my room, just ready to go and seek for me in the six hundred houses -of the town. But what plagued my mother still more was—as I quickly -discovered—that though she had not the least doubt as to the reason -for my misconduct, she could not guess who was the young lady at the -bottom of it. She had not seen me come back the way she had expected. -The reason for that was simple enough. The little girl who had given -her heart to me, after more than a year's struggle, was so pure, so -innocent, so modest, that although my love and pride were ready to -reveal everything, my conscience told me that honour and every fine -feeling I had demanded that the secret be kept with the utmost care. -Therefore, so that no one should see me at such an hour, either in the -neighbourhood of her house, or in the street leading to it, when at -three in the morning I came out of the blest passage that had served -me in good stead, I made my exit by a little by-street, and gained -the fields. From the fields I entered the park, leaping a ditch like -the one over which I had given proofs of my agility to Mademoiselle -Laurence, under such different circumstances, at Whitsuntide. Finally, -from the park I reached what was called with us the "<i>manège</i>," and I -re-entered the town by the rue du Château. It so happened, therefore, -that my mother, who was watching in an entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> opposite direction, -did not see me return, and, not guessing the ruse I had made use of -to foil the cruel and ready slander little towns are so prone to set -going, should matters so turn out, she puzzled her wits in despair to -know where I had come from. My mother's ignorance and the suspicions -that grew up in her mind later in connection with another girl had a -sufficiently serious influence upon my future life for me to dwell on -the subject for a moment: these details are not so trivial as they -may appear at first sight. Is it not the case that some minds regard -everything as trivial, whilst others (and I am much inclined to think -that these latter, without wishing to speak evil of the former class of -people, are the true thinkers and the true philosophers), who try to -follow the thread Providence holds in His hands, with which He guides -men from birth to death, from the unknown to the unknown, look upon -every detail as of importance, because the slightest has its part in -the great mass of details which we call life? Well, I was well scolded -by my mother, who did not scold me long,</p> - -<p>I however, for I kissed her the whole time she scolded me; besides, -her uneasiness was somewhat allayed, and with the eye of a mother -and perhaps even more with the insight of a woman, which sees to the -very heart of things, she saw I was profoundly happy. Joy is as much -a mystery as sorrow; excessive joy approaches so nearly the border of -pain, that, like suffering, it too has its measure of tears. My mother -left me to go to bed, not because she was tired out, poor mother! but -because she felt I wanted to be alone with myself, with my recent -memories, which I clasped as closely to my throbbing heart as one holds -to one's breast a young nestling which is trying to fly away.</p> - -<p>Oh! but Maître Mennesson's office was deserted that day! How beautiful -the park looked to me! The tall trees with their whispering leaves, -the birds singing above my head, and the frightened roebuck on the -skyline—all seemed to make a frame which could scarce contain my -smiling thoughts, my thoughts which danced like a joyous nymph! -Love—first love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> —the welling-up of the sap, opens out life to us! -It flows through the most secret recesses of our being; it gives life -to the most remote of our senses; it is a vast realm wherein every man -imprisoned in this world imprisons in turn the whole world in himself.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIa" id="CHAPTER_IIa">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Return of Adolphe de Leuven—He shows me a corner of the -artistic and literary world—The death of Holbein and the -death of Orcagna—Entrance into the green-rooms—Bürger's -<i>Lénore</i>—First thoughts of my vocation</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the meantime, de Leuven returned to Villers-Cotterets, after five -or six months' absence. His return was to open out new fields for my -ambitions—ambitions, however, which I believed were capable of being -fulfilled. If you throw a stone into a lake, however large the lake may -be, the first circle it will make round it, after its fall, will go on -growing and multiplying itself, even as do our days and our desires, -until the last one touches the bank—that is to say, eternity.</p> - -<p>Adolphe returned and brought Lafarge back with him. Poor Lafarge! Do -you remember the brilliant head clerk, who returned to his native -place in an elegant carriage, drawn by a mettlesome steed? Well, he -had bought a practice, but there the progress of his rising fortune -had stopped. By some inconceivable fatality, although he was young, -good-looking, clever, perhaps even because he possessed all these -gifts, which are perfectly useless to a lawyer, he had not found a wife -to pay for the practice, so he had been obliged to sell it again, and, -disgusted with the law, he had taken to literature. De Leuven, who had -taken notice of him in Villers-Cotterets, found him out in Paris and -returned with him. Some of his ancient splendour still stuck to the -poor fellow, but you might seek in vain for any real stability at the -base of his fresh plans for the future; those fleeting clouds hardly -got beyond the stage of hopes. During his stay in Paris a great change -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> come over Adolphe's character—a change which was to react on me.</p> - -<p>At M. Arnault's house, in which he had been a guest, Adolphe had -had a closer view of the literary world than he had previously -caught glimpses of in the house of Talma. He had there made the -acquaintance of Scribe, who was already at the zenith of his fame. He -met Mademoiselle Duchesnois there, who at that time was Telleville's -mistress, and who recited <i>Marie Stuart.</i> There he became acquainted -with M. de Jouy, who had finished his <i>Sylla;</i> Lucien Arnault, who had -begun his <i>Régulus</i>; Pichat, who, while composing his <i>Brennus</i> and -thinking out his <i>Léonidas</i> and <i>William Tell</i>, was facing a future in -which, his first wreath on his head and his first palm in his hand, -Death lurked, waiting for him. He had then dropped from these lofty -heights in the regions of art to inferior places, where he became -acquainted with Soulié, who was publishing poems in the <i>Mercure</i>; with -Rousseau, that Pylades of Romieu whom Orestes had left one day at the -turning of the road which led to his sub-prefecture; with Ferdinand -Langlé, the fickle lover of poor little Fleuriet, upon whom, it is -said, a notorious poisoner tried the deadly powder with which he was -later to kill his friend; with Théaulon, that delightful person and -indefatigable worker, who worked only in the hope that some day he -would be able to be idle, but who never had time to be idle, who was -cradled for a brief time in the arms of Love, but who was never really -to rest until he lay on the bosom of Death. This poor Epicurean, who by -dint of imagination saw his life in rosy garb, although for him it was -clothed in black, wrote these four lines on the door of his study: they -express at once his easy carelessness and his gentle philosophy—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -Loin du sot, du fat et du traître,<br /> -Ici ma constance attendra:<br /> -Et l'amour qui viendra peut-être,<br /> -Et la mort qui du moins viendra!<br /> -</p> - -<p>Death came, poor Théaulon! Came all too soon, for thee as for Pichat, -for Soulié, for Balzac; for there are two Deaths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> charged by Providence -with the task of hurling men into eternity: the one inexorable, icy, -impassive, obeying the sad laws of destruction; the Death of Holbein, -the Death in the cemetery of Bâle, the Death which is ever intermingled -with life, hiding its skeleton face under the most capricious of masks, -veiling its bony body beneath the king's mantle, in the gilded dress -of the courtesan, under the filthy rags of the beggar, walking side -by side with us; an invisible but ever present spectre; a lugubrious -guest, a sepulchral comrade, the supreme friend who receives us in -its arms when we fall over the edge of life, and who gently lays us -to rest for ever under the cold damp stones of the tomb;—the other, -sister of the above, daughter too of Erebus and of Night, unexpected, -spiteful, lies in ambush at a turning-point of happiness or prosperity, -ready like a vulture or a panther to pounce or spring out upon its -prey; this is the Death of Orcagna, the Death of the Campo-Santo in -Pisa; Death in life, envious, with cadaverous hue, hair flying wildly -in the wind, eyes flashing like those of a lynx, the Death which took -Petrarch in the midst of his triumph, Raphael in the midst of his love -affairs; before whom all joy and glory and riches pale; that power -which, passing rapidly, heedlessly and inexorably over the unfortunate -victims who appeal to it, strikes down in the midst of their flowers, -their wine and their perfumes, the handsome youth crowned with myrtle, -the lovely maiden rose-crowned, the laurel-wreathed poet, and drags -them brutally to the grave, their eyes open, their hearts yet beating, -their arms stretched out towards the light, the day and the sunshine! -Orcagna! Orcagna, great sculptor, great painter and, above all, great -poet! how many times have I trembled as I touched the hand of a beloved -child, or kissed the face of a mistress who had made me happy! for I -had an inward vision of that Death of the Campo-Santo at Pisa, passing -in the distance, dark, threatening like a sailing cloud; then, the next -day, I heard the words, "He is dead!" or "She is dead!" and it was -almost always a young genius whose light had gone out, a young soul -that had gone to its Maker.</p> - -<p>This then, was the world de Leuven had seen during his stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> in Paris, -and he brought a reflection of its unknown brilliance to me, the poor -provincial lad, buried in the depths of a little town. De Leuven had -done more than look into it: he had entered the tabernacle, he had -touched the ark! He had been permitted the honour of having some of his -work read before M. Poirson, the high priest of the Gymnase, and before -his sacristan, M. Dormeuil. Of course the work was declined after it -had been read; but—like the pebble which lies near the rose and shares -the scent of the queen of flowers—there remained to de Leuven, from -his declined work, an entry into the green-rooms. Oh! that entree to -the green-rooms, what a weariness it is to those who have attained it, -whilst by those who have not attained it, it is regarded as the most -coveted thing on earth! Adolphe, however, had been in it for such a -short time that <i>ennui</i> had not yet had time to spring up, and so the -dazzling glow of the honour still remained with him. It was the spirit -of this enchantment which he transferred to me. At that time, Perlet -was at his best, Fleuriet in the heyday of her beauty, Léontine Fay at -the height of her popularity. The latter, poor child, at the age of -eight or nine, had been forced to learn a craft in which a grown-up -woman might have succumbed; but what did that matter? They had consoled -themselves in advance for everything, even for her death; for they had -already made so much money out of her, that, in the event of her death, -they could afford to go to her burial in fine style.</p> - -<p>Adolphe's return, then, was a great event to me; like Don Cléophas, -I hung on the cloak of my fine <i>diable boiteux</i>, and he, telling me -what he had seen in the theatres, made me see also. What long walks we -took together! How many times did I stop him, as he passed from one -artiste to another, saying, after he had exhausted all the celebrities -of the Gymnase, "And Talma? And Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois?" And he good-naturedly held forth upon the genius and -talent and good-fellowship of those eminent artistes, playing upon the -unknown notes of the keyboard of my imagination, causing ambitious and -sonorous chords to vibrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> within me that had hitherto lain dormant, -the possession of which astonished me greatly when I began to realise -their existence. Then poor Adolphe little by little conceived a -singular idea, which was to make me share, on my own behalf, the hopes -he had indulged in for himself; to rouse in me the ambition to become, -if not a Scribe, an Alexandre Duval, an Ancelot, a Jouy, an Arnault or -a Casimir Delavigne, at least a Fulgence, a Mazère or a Vulpian. And -it must be admitted the notion was ambitious indeed; for, I repeat, I -had never received any proper education, I knew nothing, and it was not -until very much later, in 1833 or 1834, on the publication of the first -edition of my <i>Impressions de Voyage</i>, that people began to perceive I -had genius. In 1820 I must confess I had not a shadow of it.</p> - -<p>A week before Adolphe's return had brought to me the first vivifying -gleam of light from the outside world 3 the hemmed-in and restricted -life of a provincial town had seemed to me the limit of my ambition, a -salary of say fifteen or eighteen hundred francs 3 for I never dreamt -of becoming a solicitor: first because I had no vocation for it; for -although I had spent three years in copying deeds of sale, bonds and -marriage contracts, at Maître Mennesson's, I was no more learned in -the law than I was in music, after three years of solfeggio with old -Hiraux. It was evident, therefore, that the law was no more my vocation -than music, and that I should never expound the Code any better than I -played on the violin. This distressed my mother dreadfully, and all her -kind friends said to her—</p> - -<p>"My dear, just listen to what I say: your son is a born idler, who will -never do anything."</p> - -<p>And my mother would heave a sigh, and say, as she kissed me, "Is it -true, my dear boy, what they tell me?"</p> - -<p>And I would answer naïvely, "I don't know, mother!"</p> - -<p>What else could I reply? I could see nothing beyond the last houses in -my natal town, and even though I might find something that responded -to my heart inside the city boundary, I searched in vain therein for -anything that could satisfy my mind and imagination.</p> - -<p>De Leuven made a gap in the wall which closed me in, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> through that -gap I began to perceive something to aim at as yet undefined on the -infinite horizon beyond.</p> - -<p>De la Ponce also influenced me at this period. As before related, -I had translated with him the beautiful Italian romance—or rather -diatribe—of <i>Ugo Foscolo</i>, that imitation of Goethe's <i>Werther</i> -which the author of the poem called <i>Sépulcres</i> contrived, by dint -of patriotic feeling and talent, to develop into a national epic. -Moreover, de la Ponce, who wished to make me regret that I had -abandoned the study of the German language, translated for my benefit -Bürger's beautiful ballad <i>Lénore.</i> The reading of this work, which -belonged to a type of literature of which I was completely ignorant, -produced a deep impression on my mind; it was like one of those -landscapes one sees in dreams, in which one dares not enter, so -different is it from everyday surroundings. The terrible refrain which -the sinister horseman repeats over and over again to the trembling -betrothed whom he carries off on his spectre-steed,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Hourra!—fantôme, les morts vont vite!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>bears so little resemblance to the conceits of Demoustier, to Parny's -amorous rhymes or to the elegies of the Chevalier Bertin, that the -reading of the tragic German ballad made a complete revolution in my -soul. That very night, I tried to put it into verse; but, as may well -be understood, the task was beyond my powers. I broke the wings of my -poor fledgeling Muse, and I began my literary career as I had begun my -first love-making, by a defeat none the less terrible because it was a -secret one, but quite as incontestable in my own estimation.</p> - -<p>What mattered it? These were indubitably my first steps towards the -future God had destined, untried totterings like the steps of a child -just learning to walk, who stumbles and falls as soon as he tears -himself away from his nurse's leading-strings, but who picks himself up -again and, aching after every fall, continues to advance, urged forward -by hope, which whispers in his ear, "Walk, child, walk! it is by means -of suffering that you become a man, by perseverance that you become -great!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIa" id="CHAPTER_IIIa">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The Cerberus of the rue de Largny—I tame it—The -ambush—Madame Lebègue—A confession</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Six months passed by between my first love-makings and my first -attempts at work. Besides our meetings at Louise Brézette's every -night, Adèle and I used to see each other two or three times a week, in -the summer-house, which, to our great delight, her mother had allowed -her to have as her new chamber. It was necessary for Adèle to open the -door of the passage-way for me, and for me to pass in front of her -mother's bedroom door: these two courses were fraught with so many -dangers that I had for a long time been contemplating some other means -of access to my lady-love. After much pondering, I settled upon a way. -I carefully examined the topography of the surrounding district and -discovered, three doors off Adèle's house, a door, which led through a -kind of passage into a small garden. One wall and two hedges separated -this garden from Adèle's. I carefully studied the position all round, -from Adèle's garden, to which I had free entree during the daytime, -and I saw that all difficulties would be overcome if I could open the -street door, cross the passage, enter the garden, scale the wall and -stride over the two hedges. Then I had only to knock on the outside -shutter, Adèle would open to me, and the thing would be done. But, as I -had noticed, the door had to be opened and the passage crossed.</p> - -<p>The door was locked, and the passage was guarded at night by a dog -who was less a match from his size and from the fight he might make, -than from the noise he could set up. It took me a week to make my -investigations. One night I ascertained,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Muphti (that was the dog's -name) barking loudly all the time, that the lock only turned once, and -that I could open the door with my knife-blade; the remaining seven -nights I cultivated Muphti's acquaintance, seducing him little by -little, by poking bits of bread and chicken bones under the door. The -last two or three nights, Muphti, grown used to the windfalls I brought -him, impatient for my arrival, expecting me long before I appeared, -heard me come when I was twenty paces off, and, at my approach, -scratched with both paws at the door and whined gently at the obstacle -that separated us. On the eighth day, or rather the eighth night, -feeling sure that Muphti was now no longer an enemy but an ally, I -opened the door, and, according to my expectations, Muphti leapt upon -me in the greatest friendliness, delighted to find himself in direct -communication with a man who brought him such dainty scraps: I had only -one fault to find with his greeting, namely, that it was expressed in -rather too noisy a fashion. However, as all enthusiasm calms down in -time, Muphti's enthusiasm died down, and, passing into expressions of a -gentler affection, allowed me to venture farther. I chose, for my first -attempt at housebreaking, a dark, moonless autumn night: I stepped -very lightly, with my ears on the alert; I advanced without making a -single grain of sand crunch beneath my feet. I thought I heard a door -open behind me; I hastened my steps; I reached a large patch of beans -growing up on sticks, into which I flung myself as did Gulliver in his -wheat-field, with Muphti hidden between my legs, his neck held between -both my hands, ready to be able to intercept the slightest sound he -might wish to make—and there I waited. It was indeed one of the -inhabitants to whom the passage belonged: he had heard the noise. In -order to find out what caused it, he took a turn in the garden, passed -within a couple of steps of me, without seeing me, coughed as though -he were beginning with a cold, and went indoors again. I let Muphti -go; I made for the palings; I leapt to the other side of the wall; I -straddled over the two hedges, and I ran to the shutters. But I did not -need to knock. Before I reached them, I heard someone breathing, I saw -a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> shadow, I felt two trembling arms stretch out to enfold me and drag -me inside the summer-house, and the door shut behind us.</p> - -<p>Oh! had I only been a poet in those days, what ravishing lines I could -have made in honour of those first flowers which flourished in the -garden of our love! But, alas! I was not a poet then, and I had to be -satisfied with repeating to Adèle Parny's and Bertin's elegies, which I -believe only bored her. I have already remarked, <i>apropos</i> of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> what good taste this little girl possessed.</p> - -<p>I left her, as usual, towards two or three in the morning. As usual, -also, I returned by the park, and reached home by a roundabout way. I -have explained the way I took, and how I had to leap a wide ditch so as -to reach the park from the open country. In order to avoid making the -same jump three or four times a week, which was a very perilous feat -on dark nights, I made a very big heap of stones in one corner of the -ditch, so that I had only to make for this particular corner and then -make my jump in two leaps.</p> - -<p>On this particular night, as I leapt into the ditch, I noticed a -shadow four paces off me, that looked slightly less caressing than -that which had awaited me in the garden, and drawn me inside the -summer-house. This shadow held an actual, stout stick—not the shade -of one—in all its knotty reality. Directly I attained to manhood's -estate, and whenever danger faced me, whether by night or by day, I may -proudly record that I always marched straight on towards that danger. -I walked right up to the man with the stick. The stick rose, and I -clutched it in my hand. Then followed, in that dark ditch, one of the -severest tussles I have ever had in my life. I was indeed the person -he was lying in wait for, the person he wished to meet. The man who -was waiting for me had blackened his face; consequently I could not -recognise him; but without recognising him I guessed who he was. He was -a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five; I was scarcely eighteen, -but I was well broken in to all physical exercises, especially to -wrestling. I succeeded in taking hold of him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> round the body and -twisting him under me. His head struck on a stone with a heavy sound. -No word passed on either side; but he must have been hurt. I felt him -fumbling in his pocket, and I knew he was hunting for his knife. I -seized his hand above the wrist, and managed to twist him so that his -fingers opened, and the knife dropped. Then, by a quick move, I got -hold of the knife. For one second a terrible temptation assailed me, to -do what was indeed my right, namely, to open the knife and to plunge it -into my antagonist's breast. That moment a man's life hung by a thread: -had my anger broken that thread, the man would have been killed! I had -sufficient control over myself to get up. I still held the knife in -one hand, I took the stick by the other, and, fortified by these two -weapons, I allowed my adversary to rise too. He took a step backwards, -and stooped to pick up the stone against which he had hurt his head; -but just as he was lifting himself up, I hit him with the end of the -stick on the chest and he fell back ten paces. This time he seemed to -lose consciousness completely, for he did not get up again. I climbed -the embankment from the ditch and got away from the place as fast as I -could: this unexpected attack had revealed such a spirit of hatred that -I feared treachery might follow. No one else put in an appearance, and -I reached home very much upset, I must confess, by this incident. I -had certainly escaped from one of the most serious dangers I had ever -incurred in my life.</p> - -<p>This event brought very serious consequences to a person who had had -nothing to do with the affair, and led me to commit the only evil -action I have to reproach myself with during the course of my life. -The blame attaching to this evil deed is all the greater as it was -committed against a woman. I can only say that it was committed without -any premeditation. I reached home, as I have said, very glad to have -escaped with nothing worse than a few bruises, and very proud at the -end of the fray to have overthrown my enemy.</p> - -<p>Next morning I went to de la Ponce. As such an attack might be renewed -under more disadvantageous circumstances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> than those from which I had -just escaped, I wanted to borrow from him the pocket-pistols I had seen -in his rooms. It was difficult to borrow them from him without telling -him why I wanted them. I told him. But as it would have revealed, or -almost revealed, the house I came away from, if I had told him the -true locality of the struggle, I indicated another place altogether. -I selected, hap-hazard, a spot near the <i>manège</i>, in a little narrow -street, where three houses had their entrances. The first of these -three houses was inhabited by Hippolyte Leroy, the ex-body-guardsman of -whom I have already spoken in connection with our misadventures at M. -Collard's, and who was soon to become my cousin by marrying Augustine; -the second by the de Leuven family; and the third by the lawyer to whom -Maître Mennesson had related the misadventures of my early love-making -and who, as I have already mentioned, had married Éléonore, the second -daughter of M. Deviolaine by his first marriage. I have related also, -when speaking of M. Lebègue, how the charming nature and sociable -spirit of his wife had roused suspicion and dislike in a little town, -where superiority of any kind is a reason for jealousy. Now I had told -others besides de la Ponce of the nocturnal attack of which I had very -nearly been a victim; and to others also, as well as to de la Ponce, in -order to divert suspicions, I had mentioned the same locality by the -<i>manège</i> of which I have just spoken. Where could I have been coming -from, at two in the morning, when I was attacked near the <i>manage!</i> -It could not have been from Hippolyte Leroy's; it could not have been -from Adolphe de Leuven's. It must then have been from M. Lebègue's—or -rather, from Madame Lebègue's. This wicked suggestion, entirely -incorrect as it was, could only be supported by some semblance of a -foundation.</p> - -<p>I was a very easy prey to being teased, perhaps because I laid myself -open to it by my defenceless condition, and neither Madame Lebègue nor -her sisters spared me. Madame Lebègue was pretty, witty and a flirt: -she waved the most charming and gracious gestures imaginable to her -friends at a distance;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> whilst at closer quarters she allowed them -to look at, admire and even kiss her hand, with that aristocratic -indifference assumed by women who are the possessors of pretty hands. -It was her only sin, poor woman. The crime was great, but the hand was -pretty. I was exceedingly fond of Madame Lebègue; I liked her, I can -confess to-day, with a feeling that might even have got beyond the -bounds of friendly affection, if she had consented to more; but she had -never given me the least encouragement, and whenever I was near her, -her superior wit, her woman-of-the-world manners, her fine-lady airs, -would send me into the deepest depths of that shyness of which I had -given such glaring proofs during my earliest love-makings.</p> - -<p>One day, without knowing whence this rumour had sprung, without -suspecting the cause that had given rise to it, I heard it whispered -that I was Madame Lebègue's lover. I ought at once to have quenched -this rumour with indignant denials; I ought to have treated the -calumny with the justice it deserved. I was wicked enough to refute it -half-heartedly, and in such a fashion that my vain denial bore every -appearance of a confession. And of course the ill-natured rumour served -my own purposes to perfection. Poor silly fool that I was! I had a -momentary delight, an hour's pride, in this rumour, which ought to -have made me blush with shame, for I had allowed an untrue statement -to be believed. I soon suffered for my mean action. First of all, the -rumour set me at variance with the person herself whom it concerned: -Madame Lebègue thought me more guilty than I was; she accused me of -having started the scandal. She was mistaken there: I had allowed it -to live, allowed it to grow, that was all. True, that was bad enough. -She forbade me her house, the house my mother and I both loved, and -it became hostile to us both ever after. Madame Lebègue never forgave -me. On two or three occasions during my life I have felt the prick of -the needle of the vengeance she vowed against me. I never attempted -to return the injuries received; I felt, in my heart of hearts, I had -deserved them. Whenever since I have met Madame Lebègue, I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> turned -away my head and lowered my eyes before her glance. The guilty one -tacitly confessed his crime. To-day he openly avows it. But now the -confession has been made, I can boldly face the rest of the world of -men or women and say, "You may look me in the face and try to make me -blush, if you can!"</p> - -<p>The day after my struggle I had the curiosity to visit the scene of -battle. I had not been mistaken: the stone on which my enemy's head had -crashed was stained with blood at its sharpest end, and the colour of -a few hairs, stuck to the bloody stone, confirmed my suspicions—which -now became a definite certainty when furnished with this last proof. -That night I saw Adèle: she was still ignorant of what had happened to -me. I told her everything; I told her whom I suspected: she refused to -believe it.</p> - -<p>Just at that moment, a surgeon, named Raynal, went past; I had seen -him that morning come from the direction which led to the house of my -wounded enemy. I went up to him.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" I asked him. "Why have you been sent for this -morning?"</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, boy?" he replied in his Provençal accent.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Why, he cannot have seen plainly last night, and, hurrying home, he -gave himself a knock in the chest against a carriage pole. It was such -a violent blow that he fell on his back and split his head open in -falling."</p> - -<p>"When shall you pay him a second visit?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, at the same time as to-day."</p> - -<p>"Very well, doctor; tell him from me that, last night, passing by the -same place where he fell, after him, I found his knife, and I send it -back to him. Tell him, doctor, that it is a good weapon, but that, -nevertheless, a man who has no other arms but this with him is unwise -to attack a man who possesses two such pistols as these...."</p> - -<p>I fancy the doctor understood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh yes; very good," he said. "I'll tell him, never fear."</p> - -<p>I presume that the man who owned the knife also understood, for I never -heard the matter spoken of again, although, fifteen days later, I -danced <i>vis-à-vis</i> with him at the park ball.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVa" id="CHAPTER_IVa">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>De Leuven makes me his collaborator—The <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i>—My first <i>couplet-Chauvin</i>—The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>—The <i>Abencérages</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had naïvely told de Leuven of my failure to translate Bürger's -beautiful ballad; but as he had made up his mind to make me a dramatic -author, he consoled me by telling me it was his father's opinion that -some German works were absolutely untranslatable, and that the ballad -of <i>Lénore</i> was first among these. Seeing that de Leuven did not lose -hope, I gradually regained mine. I may even venture to say that, a few -days after this, I achieved a success.</p> - -<p>Lafarge had laughed hugely at de Leuven's idea of making me his -collaborator. For, indeed, what notice would the Parisian stage take -of an uneducated child; a poor provincial lad, buried away in a -small town in the Ile-de-France; ignorant both of French and foreign -literatures; hardly acquainted with the names of the great; feeling -only a tepid sympathy with their most highly praised masterpieces, his -lack of artistic education having veiled their style from him; setting -to work without knowing the theory of constructing a plot, an action, -a catastrophe, a <i>dénoûment</i>; having never read to the end of <i>Gil -Blas</i>, or <i>Don Quixote</i>, or <i>le Diable boiteux</i>—books which are held -by all teachers to be worthy of universal admiration, and in which, I -confess to my shame, the man who has succeeded to the child does not -even to-day feel a very lively interest; reading, instead, all that -is bad in Voltaire, who was then regarded as the very antithesis of -politics and religion; having never opened a volume of Walter Scott -or of Cooper, those two great romance-writers, one of whom understood -men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> thoroughly, the other of whom divined God's workings marvellously; -whilst, on the contrary, he had devoured all the naughty books of -Pigault-Lebrun, raving over them, <i>le Citateur</i> in particular; ignorant -of the name of Goethe, or Schiller, or Uhland, or André Chénier; -having heard Shakespeare mentioned, but only as a barbarian from whose -dunghill Ducis had collected those pearls called <i>Othello</i>, <i>Hamlet</i> -and <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, but knowing by heart his Bertin, his Parny, his -Legouvé, his Demoustier.</p> - -<p>Lafarge was unquestionably in the right, and Adolphe must have had -plenty of time to waste to undertake such a task, the hopelessness -of which alone could take away from its ridiculousness. But Adolphe, -with that Anglo-German stolidness of his, manfully persevered in the -work undertaken, and we sketched out a scheme of a comedy in one act, -entitled the <i>Major de Strasbourg</i>: it was neither good nor bad. -Why the Major of Strasbourg, any more than the Major of Rochelle or -of Perpignan? I am sure I cannot tell. And I have also completely -forgotten the plot or development of that embryonic dramatic work.</p> - -<p>But there was one incident I have not forgotten, for it procured me -the first gratification my <i>amour-propre</i> received. It was the epoch -of patriotic pieces; a great internal reaction had set in against our -reverses of 1814 and our defeat of 1815. The national couplet and -Chauvinism were all the rage: provided you made <i>Français</i> rhyme with -<i>succès</i> at the end of a couplet, and <i>lauriers</i> with <i>guerriers,</i> -you were sure of applause. So, of course, de Leuven and I were quite -content not to strike out any fresh line, but to follow and worship -in the footsteps of MM. Francis and Dumersan. Therefore our <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i> was of the family of those worthy retreating officers whose -patriotism continued to fight the enemy in couplets consecrated to the -supreme glory of France, and to the avenging of Leipzig and Waterloo on -the battlefields of the Gymnase and the Varies. Now, our major, having -become a common labourer, was discovered by a father and son, who -arrived on the scene, I know not why, at the moment when, instead of -digging his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> furrows, he was deserting his plough, in order to devote -himself to the reading of a book which gradually absorbed him to such -an extent that he did not see the entrance of this father and son—a -most fortunate circumstance, since the brave officer's preoccupation -procured the public the following couplet:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span> (apercevant le major)<br /> -<br /> -N'approchez pas, demeurez où vous etes:<br /> -Il lit ...<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COMTE</span><br /> -<br /> -Sans doute un récit de combats,<br /> -Ce livre?<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span> (regardant par-dessus l'épaule du major, et revenant à son père)<br /> -<br /> -C'est <i>Victoires et Conquêtes.</i><br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COMTE</span><br /> -<br /> -Tu vois, enfant, je ne me trompais pas:<br /> -Son cœur revole aux champs de l'Allemagne!<br /> -Il croit encor voir les Français vainqueurs....<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span><br /> -<br /> -Mon père, il lit la dernière campagne,<br /> -Car de ses yeux je vois couler des pleurs.<br /> -</p> - -<p>When my part of the work was done, I handed it over to de Leuven, who, -I ought to mention, was very indulgent to me; but this time, when he -came to the couplet I am about to quote, his indulgence ascended into -enthusiasm: he sang the couplet out loud—</p> - -<p> -"Dis-moi, soldat, dis-moi, t'en souviens-tu?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>He sang it over twice, four times, ten times, interrupting himself to -say—</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! that couplet will be done to death if the Censorship lets it -pass."</p> - -<p>For, from that time, the honourable institution called the Censorship -was in full vigour, and it has gone on increasing and prospering ever -since.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - -<p>I confess I was very proud of myself; I did not think such a -masterpiece was in me. Adolphe ran off to sing the couplet to his -father, who, as he chewed his toothpick, asked—</p> - -<p>"Did you make it?"</p> - -<p>"No, father; Dumas did."</p> - -<p>"Hum! So you are writing a comic opera with Dumas?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Why not make room in it for your <i>froide Ibérie</i>? It would be just the -place for it."</p> - -<p>Adolphe turned on his heels and went off to sing my couplet to Lafarge.</p> - -<p>Lafarge listened to it, winking his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! ah!" he cried, "did Dumas compose that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he made it."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure he did not crib it from somewhere?"</p> - -<p>Then, with touching confidence, Adolphe replied—</p> - -<p>"I am quite certain of it: I know every patriotic couplet that has been -sung in every theatre in Paris, and I tell you this one has never yet -been sung."</p> - -<p>"Then it is a fluke, and he will soon be undeceived."</p> - -<p>De la Ponce read the couplet too; it tickled his soldierly taste, -remainding him of 1814, and he took an early opportunity to compliment -me on it.</p> - -<p>Alas! poor couplet, but indifferently good though thou wert, accept -nevertheless thy due meed of praise, at any rate from me. Whether gold -or copper, thou wert, at all events, the first piece of literary coin -I threw into the dramatic world! Thou wert the lucky coin one puts -in a bag to breed more treasure therein! To-day the sack is full to -overflowing: I wonder if the treasure that came and covered thee up was -much better than thyself? The future alone will decide—that future -which to poets assumes the superb form of a goddess and the proud name -of Posterity!</p> - -<p>The reader knows what an amount of vanity I possessed. My pride did not -need to be encouraged to come out of the vase in which it was enclosed -and swell like the giant in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> <i>Arabian Nights:</i> I began to believe -I had written a masterpiece. From that day I thought of nothing else -but dramatic literature, and, as Adolphe was some day to return to -Paris, we set ourselves to work, so that he could carry away with him -a regular cargo of works of the style of the <i>Major de Strasbourg.</i> We -never doubted that such distinguished works would meet with the success -they deserved, from the enlightened public of Paris, and open out to -me in the capital of European genius a path strewn with crowns and -pieces of gold. What would the well-disposed people say then, who had -declared to my mother that I was an idle lad and that I should never do -anything? Go spin, you future Schiller! Spin, you future Walter Scott! -spin!... From this time a great force awoke in my heart, which held its -place against all comers: determination—a great virtue, which although -certainly not genius, is a good substitute for it—and perseverance.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, Adolphe was not a very sure guide; he, like myself, was -groping blindly. Our choice of subjects revealed that truth. Our second -opera was borrowed from the venerable M. Bouilly's <i>Contes à ma fille.</i> -It was entitled le <i>Dîner d'amis.</i> Our first drama was borrowed from -Florian's <i>Gonzalve de Cordoue</i>: it was entitled <i>les Abencérages.</i></p> - -<p>O dear Abencérages! O treacherous Zégris! with what crimes of like -nature you have to reproach yourselves! O Gonzalve de Cordoue! what -young poets you have led astray into the path upon which we entered so -full of hope, from which we returned shattered and broken.</p> - -<p>Poor lisa Mercœur! I saw her die hugging to her heart that Oriental -chimera; only she stuck fast to it, like a drowning man to a floating -plank; while we, feeling how little it was to be relied on, had the -courage to abandon it and to let it float where it would on that dark -ocean where she encountered it and stuck to it.</p> - -<p>But then we did not know what might be the future of these children, -wandering on the highways, whom we sought to seduce from their lawful -parents, and whom we saw die of inanition, one after the other, in our -arms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>These labours took up a whole year, from 1820 to 1821. During that year -two great events came about, which passed unnoticed by us, so bent on -our work were we, and so preoccupied by it: the assassination of the -Duc de Berry, 13 February 1820; the death of Napoleon, 5 May 1821.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Va" id="CHAPTER_Va">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the -Duc de Berry</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The assassination of the Duc de Berry hastened the down-fall of M. -Decazes. A singular anecdote was circulated at the time. I took it down -in writing at the house of my lawyer, who was a collector of historical -documents. As well as I can remember, it was as follows. Three days -before the Duc de Berry's assassination, King Louis XVIII. received a -letter couched in these words:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIRE</span>,—Will your Majesty condescend to receive a person -at eight o'clock to-morrow night, who has important -revelations to make specially affecting your Majesty's -family?</p> - -<p>"If your Majesty deigns to receive this person, let a -messenger be sent at once to find a chip of Oriental -alabaster, which rests on the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, -at Ste. Geneviève.</p> - -<p>"In addition to this, your Majesty must obtain, by -means of some other agent, a loose sheet of paper, out -of a volume of the works of St. Augustine [here the -exact designation was given], the use of which will be -indicated later by the writer of this letter.</p> - -<p>"Under penalty of not obtaining any result from the -promised revelations, you must not begin by sending to -the Library, nor by sending at the same time to the -Library and to Ste. Geneviève. The safety of the person -who desires to offer good advice to His Majesty depends -upon the execution of the two prescribed acts in their -given order."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The letter was unsigned. The mysterious bearing of this letter -attracted the attention of Louis XVIII., and he sent for M. Decazes -at seven o'clock on the following morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Please be careful to note -that I am not relating a historical fact, but an anecdote from memory, -which I copied something like thirty years ago. Only later and in quite -different circumstances of my life, it recurred to my mind as does -effaced writing under the application of a chemical preparation.</p> - -<p>So, as indicated above, Louis XVIII. sent next morning for M. Decazes.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," he said, as soon as he saw him, "you must go to the church -of Ste. Geneviève; you must descend to the crypt, where you will find -the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, and you must bring away the thing, no -matter what it is, that you will find on the tomb."</p> - -<p>M. Decazes went, and when he reached Ste. Geneviève, he went down to -the crypt. There, to his great surprise, he found nothing on the tomb -of Cardinal Caprara but a fragment of Oriental alabaster. However, his -orders were precise: we might rather say they were positive. After a -moment's hesitation, he picked up the bit of alabaster and took it back -to the Tuileries. He expected the king to jeer at the servile obedience -that brought him only an object so worthless, but quite the reverse was -the case, for at the sight of the bit of alabaster the king trembled. -Then, taking it in his hand and examining it minutely, he placed it on -his desk.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Louis XVIII., "send a trusted messenger to the Royal -Library; he must ask for the works of St. Augustine, the 1669 edition, -and in volume 7, between pages 404 and 405, he will find a sheet of -paper."</p> - -<p>"But, sire," asked M. Decazes, "why should not I myself go rather than -entrust this commission to another?"</p> - -<p>"Out of the question, <i>mon enfant</i>!" "<i>Mon enfant</i>" was the pet name by -which the king called his favourite minister.</p> - -<p>A trusted messenger was sent to the Royal Library: he opened St. -Augustine at the given pages and found the paper described. It was -a simple matter to take it away. The paper was a very thin, blank -folio sheet oddly snipped here and there. While Louis XVIII. was -searching for the mysterious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> revelations hidden in the jagged paper -the secretary brought him a missive containing a leaf of the same -size as that from the St. Augustine, but inscribed with apparently -unintelligible letters. At the corner of the envelope in which -this leaf came were written the two words: "Most urgent." The king -understood that there was a connection between the two events and a -likeness between the two leaves. He placed the cut sheet of paper over -the written sheet and saw that the letters shown up through the holes -in the upper leaf made sense. He dismissed the secretary and intimated -to M. Decazes to leave him alone, and when both had gone, he made out -the following lines:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"King, thou art betrayed! Betrayed by thy minister and by -the <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">P.P.</span> of thy S——.</p> - -<p>"King, I alone can save thee. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MARIANI</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The reader will understand that I do not hold myself responsible for -this note any more than for the rest of the anecdote. The king did not -mention this note to anyone; but, that evening, the Minister of the -Police,<a name="FNanchor_1_8" id="FNanchor_1_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_8" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> who was dismissed next day, issued orders to find a man -named Mariani.</p> - -<p>The following day, which was Sunday the 13th of February, the king on -opening his prayer-book at mass found this note inside:—</p> - -<p>"They have found out what I wrote; they are hunting for me. Do your -utmost to see me, if you would avoid great misfortunes for your house. -I shall know if you will receive me, by means of three wafers which you -should stick inside the panes of your bedroom windows."</p> - -<p>Although the king was greatly interested by this last letter of -advice, he did not think it sufficiently urgent to attend to it as -directed. He waited and hesitated, and then left matters till the -morrow. That evening there was a special performance at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> the Opera, -when <i>Le Rossignol</i>, <i>les Noces de Gamache</i>, and <i>le Carnaval de -Venise</i> were played. The Duc and Duchesse de Berry were present. About -eleven o'clock, at the close of the second act of the ballet, the -duchess, feeling tired, told her husband that she wished to leave. -The prince would not allow her to go alone, but himself conducted her -out of the Opera House. When he reached their carriage, which stood -in the rue Rameau, just as he was helping the princess up the step, -and saying to her, "Wait for me, I will rejoin you in a moment," a man -darted forward rapidly, passed like a flash of lightning between the -sentinel on guard at the door of exit and M. de Clermont-Lodève, the -gentleman-in-waiting, seized the prince by the left shoulder, leant -heavily against his breast and plunged a thin, sharp small-sword, -with a boxwood hilt, in his right breast. The man left the weapon -in the wound, knocked three or four curious bystanders spinning and -disappeared immediately round the corner of the rue de Richelieu and -under the Colbert Arcade. For the moment nobody noticed that the prince -was wounded; he himself had hardly felt any pain beyond the blow of a -fist.</p> - -<p>"Take care where you are going, you clumsy fellow!" M. de Choiseul, the -prince's aide-de-camp, had exclaimed, pushing the assassin to one side, -thinking he was simply an unduly inquisitive bystander. Suddenly the -prince lost his breath, grew pale and tottered, crying out, as he put -his hand to his breast—</p> - -<p>"I have been assassinated!"</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" exclaimed those about him.</p> - -<p>"See," replied the prince, "here is the dagger." And giving effect -to his words, he drew out and held up the bloodstained sword from -his breast. The carriage door had not yet been shut. The duchess -sprang out, trying to catch her husband in her arms; but the prince -was already past standing, even with this support. He fell gently -back into the arms of those surrounding him, and was carried into the -drawing-room belonging to the king's box. There he received immediate -attention.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>By the mere appearance of the wound, the shape of the dagger and -the length of its blade, the doctors recognised the serious nature -of the case, and declared that the prince must not be taken to the -Tuileries. They therefore carried him to the suite of rooms occupied -by M. de Grandsire, the Secretary to the Opera Company, who lived at -the theatre. By a singular coincidence, the bed on which the dying -prince was laid was the same on which he had slept the first night of -his joyful re-entry into France. M. de Grandsire was at that time at -Cherbourg and he had lent this very bed to put in the Duc de Berry's -room. Here the prince learnt the arrest of his murderer. He asked his -name. They told him it was Louis-Pierre Louvel. He seemed to search -his memory and then, as if speaking to himself, he said, "I cannot -recollect ever having injured this man."</p> - -<p>No, prince, no, you did nothing to him; but you bear on your forehead -the fatal seal which carries the Bourbons to the grave or into exile. -No, prince, you have not injured the man, but you are heir to the -throne and that is sufficient in this country for the hand of God to -be laid heavily upon you. Look back, prince, on what has happened to -those who, for the last sixty years, have handled the fatal crown to -which they aspired. Louis XVI. died on the scaffold. Napoleon died at -St. Helena. The Duc de Reichstadt died at Schoenbrünn. Charles X. died -at Frohsdorf. Louis-Philippe died at Claremont. And who knows, prince, -where your son, the Count de Chambord, will die? Where your cousin the -Count de Paris? I ask the question of you who are about to know the -secret of that eternal life which hides away from us all the mysteries -of life and of death. And we would further point out to you, prince, -that not one of your race will die in the Tuileries, or will rest as -kings in the tombs of their fathers.</p> - -<p>But it was a good and noble heart that was about to cease to beat -amidst all the distracting events of that period. And when Louis -XVIII., who had been informed of the assassination, came at six in the -morning, to receive his nephew's last wishes, the first words of the -wounded prince were—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Sire, pardon the man!"</p> - -<p>Louis XVIII. neither promised nor refused to pardon.</p> - -<p>"My dear nephew, you will survive this cruel act, I trust," he replied, -"and we will then discuss the matter again. It is of grave import, -moreover," he added, "and it must be looked into most carefully at some -future time."</p> - -<p>These words had scarcely been uttered by the king when the prince began -to fight for his breath; he stretched out his arms and asked to be -turned on his left side.</p> - -<p>"I am dying!" he said, as they hastened to carry out his last wish.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, they had hardly moved him when, at the stroke of half-past -six, he died.</p> - -<p>The grief of the duchess was inexpressible. She seized scissors from -the mantelpiece, let down her beautiful fair hair, cut it off to the -roots and threw the locks on the dead body of her husband.</p> - -<p>The sorrow of King Louis was twofold: not knowing that the Duchesse de -Berry was pregnant, he deplored even more than the death of a murdered -nephew the extinction of a race.</p> - -<p>When he withdrew to the Tuileries, he remembered the events of the -two preceding days—the letter received on the very morning of the -assassination, the warning of some great calamity threatening the royal -family. Then, although there was nothing more to be expected from the -mysterious stranger, the legend that we have given goes on to say that -Louis XVIII. dragged his aching limbs to the window and stuck the three -wafers on its panes as a signal of welcome to the unknown writer of the -letters. Two hours later, the king received a letter wrapped in three -coverings:—</p> - -<p>"It is too late! Let a confidential person come and meet me on the pont -des Arts, where I will be at eleven o'clock to-night.</p> - -<p>"I rely on the honour of the king."</p> - -<p>At a quarter-past eleven the mysterious stranger was introduced into -the Tuileries and conducted to the king's private chamber. He remained -with Louis till one o'clock in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> the morning. No one ever knew what -passed in that interview. The next day, M. Clausel de Coussergues -proposed, in the Upper House, to impeach M. Decazes as an accomplice in -the assassination of the Duc de Berry.</p> - -<p>Thus, at the same time that the Napoleonic and Liberal party were -disseminating the skits against the Bourbons which we have quoted, and -distributing copies of the proceedings of the Maubreuil trial, the -Extreme Right was attacking by similar means the Duc d'Orléans and M. -Decazes; each in turn undermining and destroying one another, to the -advantage of a fourth party, which was soon to make its appearance -under the cloak of Carbonarism—we mean that Republican element which -Napoleon, when he was dying in the island of St. Helena, prophesied -would dominate the future.</p> - -<p>But before tackling this question, one word more about Louvel. God -forbid that we should glorify the assassin, no matter to what party he -belonged! We would only indicate, from the historical point of view, -the difference that may exist between one murderer and another. We have -related how Louvel disappeared, first round the corner of the rue de -Richelieu and then under the Colbert Arcade. He was just on the point -of escaping when a carriage barred his course and compelled him to -slacken his pace. During this moment of hesitation, the sentinel, who -had thrown down his gun to pursue him and who had lost sight of him, -had a glimpse of him again and redoubled his speed, caught up with him -and seized him round the waist, a waiter from a neighbouring café; at -the same time seizing hold of him by his collar. When he was captured, -the assassin did not attempt any fresh effort. One would have thought -that from motives of self-preservation he would have struggled to -escape, but his one attempt at flight seemed to satisfy him, and had -they let go their hold, he would not have taken his chance to regain -liberty. Louvel was taken to the guard-house below the vestibule of the -Opera.</p> - -<p>"Wretch!" exclaimed M. de Clermont-Lodève, "what can have induced you -to commit such a crime?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The desire to deliver France from one of its cruellest enemies."</p> - -<p>"Who paid you to carry out the deed?"</p> - -<p>"Paid me!" cried Louvel, tossing his head,—"paid me!" Then with a -scornful smile he added, "Do you think one would do such a thing for -money?"</p> - -<p>Louvel's trial was carried to the Upper Chamber. On 5 June he appeared -before the High Court. On the following day he was condemned to death. -Four months had been spent in trying to find his accomplices, but not -one had been discovered. He was taken back to the Conciergerie, an hour -after his sentence had been pronounced, and one of his warders came to -him.</p> - -<p>"You would like," said the man to the prisoner, who throughout -his trial had preserved the utmost calm and even the greatest -decorum,—"you would like to send for a priest?" "What for?" asked -Louvel.</p> - -<p>"Why, to ease your conscience."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my conscience is at ease: it tells me I did my duty."</p> - -<p>"Your conscience deceives you. Listen to what I say and make your peace -with God: that is my advice."</p> - -<p>"And if I confess, do you suppose that will send me to Paradise?"</p> - -<p>"May be: the mercy of God is infinite."</p> - -<p>"Do you think the Prince de Condé, who has just died, will be in -Paradise?"</p> - -<p>"He should be, he was an upright prince."</p> - -<p>"In that case, I would like to join him there; it would amuse me vastly -to plague the old <i>émigré.</i>"</p> - -<p>The conversation was here interrupted by M. de Sémonville, who came to -try and extract information from the prisoner. Finding he could not get -anything from him, he said to Louvel—</p> - -<p>"Is there anything you want?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur le comte," replied the condemned man, "I have had to sleep -between such coarse sheets in prison, I would like some finer ones for -my last night."</p> - -<p>The request was granted. Louvel had his fine sheets and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> slept soundly -between them from nine at night till six o'clock the next morning. On -6 June, at six in the evening, he was taken from the Conciergerie: it -was the time of the famous troubles of which we shall speak presently. -The streets were blocked, and there were spectators even on the roofs. -He wore a round red cap and grey trousers, and a blue coat was fastened -round his shoulders. The papers next day announced that his features -were changed and his gait enfeebled.</p> - -<p>Nothing of the kind: Louvel belonged to the family of assassins to -which Ravaillac and Alibaud were akin—that is to say, he was a man of -stout courage. He mounted the scaffold without bombast and also without -any trace of weakness, and he died as men do who have sacrificed their -lives to an idea.</p> - -<p>His cell was the last in the Conciergerie, to the right, at the bottom -of the corridor; it was the same in which Alibaud, Fieschi and Meunier -had been kept.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> M. Decazes, Ministre de l'Intérieur, had charge of the -police.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIa" id="CHAPTER_VIa">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - - - -<p class="center">Carbonarism</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I will now (1821) give some details of the Carbonari movement—a -subject on which Dermoncourt and I had held long conversations. -Dermoncourt was an old aide-decamp of my father, whose name I have -often mentioned in the earlier chapters of these Memoirs—he was one of -the principal leaders in the conspiracy of Béfort.</p> - -<p>You will recollect the troubles of June; the death of young Lallemand, -who was killed whilst trying to escape and was accused after his -death of having disarmed a soldier of the Royal Guard. It was thought -that the dead could be accused with impunity. But his father defended -him. The Censorship—sometimes a most infamous thing—prevented the -poor father's letter from appearing in the papers. M. Lafitte had to -take his letter to the Chambers and to read it there before he could -make its contents known to the public. I give it in the form in which -Lallemand sent it to the newspapers, when they refused to publish it:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIR</span>,—Yesterday my son was beaten to death by a soldier -of the Royal Guard; to-day he is defamed by the <i>Drapeau -blanc</i>, the <i>Quotidienne</i> and the <i>Journal des Débats.</i> -I owe it to his memory to deny the fact cited by those -papers. The statement is false! My son did not attempt -to disarm one of the Royal Guard; he was walking past -unarmed when he received from behind the blow that killed -him. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LALLEMAND</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>The military conspiracy of 19 August was the outcome of the troubles -of June. The chief members of the lodge <i>Des<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> Amis de la Verité</i> were -involved in that conspiracy. They afterwards separated. Two of the -affiliated members, MM. Joubert and Dugier, set out for Italy. They -reached Naples in the midst of the Revolution of 1821—a Revolution -during which patriots were shamefully betrayed by their leader, -François. The two named above threw themselves into the Revolution and -were affiliated to the Italian Carbonari, while Dugier returned to -Paris, a member of a higher grade in the Society. This institution, as -yet unknown in France, had greatly appealed to Dugier, and he hoped -to be able to establish it in France. He set forth the principles and -aims of the Society to the executive council of the lodge <i>des Amis -de la Vérité</i> on whom they produced a profound impression. Dugier had -brought back with him the rules of the Italian Society and he was -authorised to translate them. This task he accomplished; but the type -of religious mysticism which formed the basis of these rules was not -in the least congenial to French minds. They adopted the institution, -minus the details which, at that epoch, would have made it unpopular; -and M. Buchez—the same who on 15 May had tried to make Boissy-Anglas -forgotten—and MM. Bazard and Flottard were deputed to establish the -French Carbonari upon a basis better suited to French conditions of -mind and thought. On 1 May 1821, three young men, then unknown, none -of them thirty years old, met for the first time in the depths of -one of the poorest quarters of the capital, in a room which was very -far removed from representing, even to its owner, the golden mean -spoken of by Horace. They sat at a round table, and with grave and -even gloomy faces—for they were not ignorant of the terrible work to -which they were going to devote their lives—they defined the first -tenets of that Society of Carbonari which changed the France of 1821 -and 1822 into one vast volcanic disturbance whose flames' burst out -at the most opposite and unexpected quarters, at Effort, la Rochelle, -Nantes and Grenoble. What was still more remarkable, the work which -these three revolutionary chemists were preparing had only one object -in view, namely, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> draw up a code for future conspirators, leaving -everyone perfectly free to agitate against anything he individually -chose, provided he conformed to the main rules of the association. -The following is a résumé of these rules: "Since might is not right, -and the Bourbons have been brought back by foreigners, the Carbonari -band together to secure for the French nation free exercise of their -rights—namely, the right to choose what form of government may be most -suited to the country's needs."</p> - -<p>It will be seen that nothing was clearly defined; but in reality a -Republican form of government was being shadowed forth. This, however, -was not to be proclaimed until thirty-seven years later, and only then -to be struck dead from its birth, by the very hand to which it owed its -being. It need hardly be said that the hand was the hand of Napoleon: -it is a family tradition of the Napoleons to strangle liberty as soon -as it has produced a first consul or a president; even as in the case -of those beautiful aloes which only flower once in fifty years and -perish when they have brought forth their brilliant but ill-fated -blossoms, which are but barren and deadly flowers.</p> - -<p>The division of the Carbonari into higher, central and private lodges -is well known. None of these lodges was allowed to contain more than -twenty members—thus avoiding the penal law directed against societies -which comprised over twenty members. The Higher Lodge was composed -of the seven founders of the Carbonari. These seven founders were -Bazard, Dugier, Flottard, Buchez, Carriol, Joubert and Limperani. Each -Carbonaro was expected to keep a pistol and fifty cartridges in his -house, and he had to hold himself in readiness to obey orders sent him -by his commanders from the Higher Lodge, whether by day or night.</p> - -<p>While the Society of Carbonari was being organised with its upper -lodge of seven members above named, something of the same kind of -thing was being established in the Chamber—only less active, vital -and determined in character. It was called the <i>Comité directeur</i>, and -its title sufficiently indicates its purpose. This <i>Comité directeur</i> -was composed of General la<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Fayette, his son Georges de la Fayette, -of Manuel, Dupont (de l'Eure), de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson, -Jacques Koechlin, General Thiars and of MM. Mérilhou and Chevalier. -For military questions the committee added Generals Corbineau and -Tarayre. The <i>Comité directeur</i> and the <i>Higher Lodge</i> were in close -communication with one another. At first their meetings were only -intended for general discussions; for the young Carbonari treated the -old Liberals with contempt, and the latter reciprocated the feeling. -The Carbonari charged the Liberals with feebleness and vacillation; -the Liberals, in their turn, accused the Carbonari of impertinence and -frivolity. They might as well have accused one another of youth and -age. Furthermore, the Carbonari had organised the whole plot of Béfort -without saying a single word to the <i>Comité directeur.</i></p> - -<p>However, Bazard was in league with la Fayette, and well aware of the -general's burning desire after popularity. Now, popular feeling in -1821 was on the side of the party in opposition. The farther they -advanced, the more popular they became. Bazard wrote to the general -asking him to authorise the use of his name as of one in co-operation -with them, and the request was granted. La Fayette possessed this -admirable characteristic: he yielded at the first pressure, without -having taken the initiative personally, and he went farther and -more to the point than most people. The secrets of the Upper Lodge -were revealed to him and he was asked to join it. He accepted the -invitation, was received into their number and became one of the most -active conspirators of Béfort. In this he risked his head, just as much -as did the humblest of the confederates. The boldest members of the -Chamber followed him and enlisted with him in the same cause. These -were Voyer-d'Argenson, Dupont (de l'Eure), Manuel, Jacques Koechlin and -de Corcelles senior. They did not have long to wait for a recognition -of their self-sacrificing devotion. When the Revolution was set afoot -they adopted the groundwork of the constitution of the year III. Five -directors were appointed, and these five were la Fayette, Jacques -Koechlin, de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson and Dupont (de l'Eure).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Carbonarism had its military side; indeed it was more military than -civil in character. They relied strongly and with good reason upon the -army in all their movements. The army was abandoned by the king, abused -by the princes, sacrificed to privileged parties and three parts given -over to the Opposition. Lodges were established in most regiments, -and everything was so well arranged that even the very movements of -the regiments served as a means of propaganda. In leaving the town -where the president of the military lodge had been quartered for three -months, six months or a year, as the case might be, he received half -a piece of money, the other half being sent on in advance to the town -where his regiment was going—either to a member of the Higher or -Central Lodge. The two halves of the coin were fitted together, and the -conspirators were thus put into communication. By this means soldiers -became commercial travellers, as it were, charged with the spread of -revolution throughout France. Thus we shall find that all insurrections -which broke out were as much military as civil.</p> - -<p>Towards the middle of 1821 all plans were laid for a rising in Bordeaux -as well as at Béfort, at Neuf-Brisach as well as at Rochelle, at Nantes -and Grenoble, at Colmar and at Toulouse. France was covered with an -immense network of affiliated societies, so that the revolutionary -influence had expanded, unnoticed but active, into the very heart of -social life, from east to west, from north to south. From Paris—that -is, from the Higher Lodge—all orders were issued for the animation -and support of the propaganda; as the pulsations of the heart send -the life-giving blood to all parts of the human body. Everything -was in readiness. Information had been received that, thanks to the -influence of four young men who had been previously compromised in the -rebellion of 19 August, the 29th infantry, a regiment consisting of -three battalions, severally stationed at Béfort, Neuf-Brisach and at -Huningue, had been won over to the Carbonari. These four young men were -a guardsman called Lacombe, Lieutenant Desbordes and Second-Lieutenants -Bruc and Pegulu, to whom were joined a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> lawyer named Petit Jean and a -half-pay officer called Roussillon. Furthermore, there was Dermoncourt, -who had been placed on half-pay and who lived in the market town of -Widensollen, a mile away from Neuf-Brisach; he was engaged in the -coming insurrection to lead the light cavalry which was stationed in -barracks at Colmar. So much for the military operations.</p> - -<p>The civil side of the conspiracy was also in motion and conducted by -MM. Voyer-d'Argenson and Jacques Koechlin, who possessed factories, -near Mulhouse and Béfort, and who exercised great influence over their -workpeople, almost all of whom were discontented with the Government -that had given back to the nobles their ancient privileges, and to -the priests their old influence. These malcontents were eager to take -part in any rising into which a leader might be ready to urge them. -So, towards the close of 1821, the Higher Lodge in Paris received the -following news:—</p> - -<p>At Huningue, Neuf-Brisach and at Béfort the 29th infantry was -stationed, commanded by Lieutenants Carrel, de Gromely and Levasseur; -at Colmar was the light cavalry headed by Dermoncourt; at Strasbourg -they had a stand-by in the two regiments of artillery and in the -battalion of <i>pontoniers</i> at Metz in a regiment of engineers, and -better still the military school: finally, at Spinal they had a -regiment of cuirassiers, MM. Koechlin and Voyer-d'Argenson could be -relied upon not only for a rising at Mulhouse, but also all along the -course of the Rhine where private lodges were stationed; making a total -of more than 10,000 associates amongst the retired officers, citizens, -customs officers and foresters: all were men of determined character -and ready to sacrifice their lives.</p> - -<p>About this time, my poor mother, on reckoning up her income, found we -were so poor that she bethought her of our friend Dermoncourt, in hopes -that he might perhaps have still some relations with the Government. -So she decided to write and beg him to make inquiries with respect to -that unpaid pension of 28,500 francs owing to my father for the years -VII and VIII of the Republic. The letter reached Dermoncourt about 20 -or 22 December—eight days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> before the outbreak of insurrection. He -replied by return of post, and on 28 December we received the following -letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY GOOD MADAME DUMAS</span>,—What the devil possesses you -to imagine that I could have maintained relations with -that rabble of scoundrels who manage our affairs at -the present moment? Nay, thank heaven, I have retired, -I have nothing at all to do either by means of pen or -sword with what is going on. Therefore, my dear lady, do -not count on a poor devil like me for anything beyond -my own miserable pittance of 1000 francs per annum; but -look to God, who, if He does watch what goes on here -below, should be very angry at the way things are done. -There are two alternatives: either there is no good God, -or things would not go on as they are; but I know you -believe in the good God—so put your trust in Him. One of -these days things will be altered. Ask your son, who must -be a tall lad by now, and he will tell you that there is -a saying by a Latin author called Horace to the effect -that after rain comes fine weather. Keep your umbrella -open, then, a little longer and, if fine weather comes, -put it down and count on me.</p> - -<p>"Be hopeful; without hope, which lingers at the bottom of -every man's heart, there would be nothing left to decent -folk but to blow out their brains.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 60%;">"BARON DERMONCOURT"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter said very little and yet it said a good deal: my mother -gathered that something lay behind it and that Dermoncourt was in the -secret.</p> - -<p>On the day following the receipt of our letter this is what was -happening at Béfort: carrying out the plan of the conspirators, the -signal was sent to Neuf-Brisach and Béfort at the same moment; and at -the identical hour and day, or rather the same night, these two places -took up arms and raised the tricolour standard. The insurrection took -place on the night of 29-30 December. A Provisional Government was -proclaimed at Béfort and then at Colmar. This Government, as we have -already mentioned, consisted of Jacques Koechlin, General la Fayette -and Voyer-d'Argenson. Twenty-five or thirty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> Carbonari had received -orders to set out to Béfort. They started without a moment's delay, and -arrived on the 28th in the daytime. On the 28th, just as Joubert, who -had preceded them to Béfort, was preparing to leave the town in order -to lead them in, he met M. Jacques Koechlin. M. Koechlin was looking -for him to tell him a singular piece of news. M. Voyer-d'Argenson, -who with himself and General la Fayette formed the revolutionary -triumvirate, had indeed come, but had shut himself up in his factories -in the valleys behind Massevaux, stating that he did not wish to -receive anyone there, but that the instructions brought were to be kept -for him.</p> - -<p>"All very well, but what are we to do?" asked Joubert.</p> - -<p>"Listen," said M. Koechlin: "I will go myself to Massevaux; I will look -after d'Argenson and draw him out, willy nilly, whilst you must try by -what means you can to hurry up the arrival of la Fayette."</p> - -<p>Whereupon the two conspirators left, the one, M. Koechlin, post haste, -as he said, to Massevaux, a little village off the main road, perhaps -seven miles from Béfort and equidistant from Colmar; the other, -Joubert, posted off to Lure, a small town on the road to Paris, twenty -leagues from Béfort. There a carriage stopped, and he recognised two -friendly faces inside, those of two brothers, great painters and true -patriots, Henri and Ary Scheffer; with them was M. de Corcelles junior. -Joubert very soon made them acquainted with what was happening. Ary -Scheffer, the intimate friend of General la Fayette, retraced his steps -to go and look for him at his castle of La Grange. The others returned -with Joubert to Béfort to announce that the movement was delayed. Thus -the 29th and 30th passed in useless waiting. On the night between those -two days General Dermoncourt, becoming impatient, sent to Mulhouse an -under-foreman called Rusconi, belonging to M. Koechlin. This man had -been once an officer in the Italian army and had followed Napoleon to -Elba. He was sent to inquire whether anything had been learnt by M. -Koechlin. Rusconi set off at ten o'clock a.m., covered nine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> stiff -leagues of country in driving rain, and reached M. Koechlin's house at -ten o'clock that night: he found him entertaining ten of his friends, -and he took him aside to inquire whether he had news of the conspiracy. -M. d'Argenson would not budge; there was no news yet from la Fayette; -it was supposed he was being detained by Manuel. In the meantime -General Dermoncourt was to be patient, and he should be informed when -it was time to act.</p> - -<p>"But," demanded the messenger, "for whom is he to act?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! there lies the difficulty," replied M. Koechlin: "the generals -want Napoleon II.; the others, with Manuel at their head, want -Louis—Philippe; General la Fayette wants a Republic ... but let us -first overthrow the Bourbons and then all will come clear."</p> - -<p>Rusconi left, hired a carriage, journeyed all that night, reached -Colmar at ten o'clock next day, and from Colmar he went on foot to -Widensollen, where he found the general ready for action. Nothing had -been done during his absence. This is what had happened. Ary Scheffer -had found la Fayette at La Grange. The general, who belonged to the -Chamber and whose absence would have been remarked if he stayed away -longer, did not wish to reach Béfort until the decisive moment. He -promised to set out that night on one condition—that M. Ary Scheffer -should make all speed to Paris to persuade Manuel and Dupont (de -l'Eure), the last two members of the Provisional Government, to come -and take part in the rebellion; he must also bring back Colonel -Fabvier, a man of judgment and courage, to take command of the -insurgent battalions. Ary Scheffer started for Paris, met Manuel, -Dupont and Fabvier, and got Manuel and Dupont to promise to set out -that same night. He took Colonel Fabvier in his carriage and again set -out after la Fayette, followed by Manuel and Dupont.</p> - -<p>Whilst this string of carriages was bearing the revolution at full -speed along the road from Paris, whilst M. Jacques Koechlin, preceded -by Joubert and Carrel, was nearing Béfort, and whilst Colonel Pailhès, -unaware of the arrival of Fabvier,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> was preparing to take command of -the troops, and Dermoncourt, with horse ready saddled, awaited the -signal, Second-Lieutenant Manoury, one of the chief associates, was -changing guard with one of his comrades and installing himself at -the main gate of the town, at the same time that the other initiated -members were warning their friends that the moment had come and that -in all probability the rising would take place during the night of 1 -January 1822. Now the evening of 1 January had come. Only a few hours -more and all would burst forth. In the meanwhile night approached. At -eight o'clock the roll was called. After roll-call the non-commissioned -adjutant, Tellier, went the round of all the sergeant-majors, ordering -them to their rooms, where each company put flints to the muskets, -packed knapsacks and prepared to march. The sergeant-majors returned -to supper with Manoury. Twenty paces from the place where Manoury and -his sergeant-majors supped, Colonel Pailhès went to the <i>Hôtel de la -Poste</i> to dine with a score of the insurgents, and as the host of a -posting-inn is generally one of the principal ringleaders, no one was -anxious, and the dining-room was decorated with tricoloured flags and -cockades and eagles. And, indeed, what had they to fear? No officer -occupied the barracks, and at midnight the insurrection broke out.</p> - -<p>Alas! none knew what an accumulation of unlooked-for misfortunes was to -escape out of the Pandora's box which men call fate!...</p> - -<p>A sergeant whose six months' furlough had expired that evening and -who in consequence of his long absence knew nothing of what was going -forward, reached Béfort on the evening of 1 January just in time -to answer to the roll-call and to assist in the preparations. When -these preparations were accomplished, he wished to show proof of his -promptness and zeal to his captain by going to tell him the regiment -was ready.</p> - -<p>"Ready for what?" asked the captain.</p> - -<p>"To march."</p> - -<p>"To march where?"</p> - -<p>"To the place which has been appointed."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<p>The captain gazed at the sergeant.</p> - -<p>"What is it you say?" he asked again.</p> - -<p>"I say that the knapsacks are packed, captain, and the flints are in -the muskets."</p> - -<p>"You are either drunk or mad," cried the captain; "take yourself off to -bed."</p> - -<p>The sergeant was just about to withdraw, in fact, when another officer -stopped him and questioned him more minutely, gathering by the accuracy -of his replies that it was really the truth.</p> - -<p>"How could such an order be given unless the two captains had known of -it?"</p> - -<p>"Who gave the order?... Doubtless it must have been the -lieutenant-colonel?"</p> - -<p>"No doubt," the sergeant replied mechanically.</p> - -<p>Both the captains rose and went to find the lieutenant-colonel. He was -equally astonished and as much in the dark as they were.</p> - -<p>The order must have come from M. Toustain, deputy-governor and -commander-at-arms of the fortress of Béfort. They all three went to M. -Toustain. He had not heard anything of the rumour they brought him; but -suddenly an idea struck him. It was a plot. The two captains at once -rushed back to the barracks to order the knapsacks to be unstrapped, -the flints to be taken out of the muskets and the soldiers to be -confined to the barracks.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the deputy-governor visited the posts. The two officers -rushed to the barracks and M. Toustain began his inspection. One of the -first posts he came to was that guarded by Manoury. As he came nearer -he saw by the light of his lantern a group of four people. This group -struck him as looking suspicious and he accosted them. They were four -young men dressed like citizens. The king's lieutenant interrogated -them.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, gentlemen?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"We are citizens of this neighbourhood, commandant."</p> - -<p>"What are your names?"</p> - -<p>Whether from carelessness or from surprise, or whether they did not -want to lie, these four youths gave their names—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Desbordes, Bruc, Pegulu and Lacombe."</p> - -<p>The reader will recollect that they had all four been in the -insurrection of 19 August, and their names had been blazoned in the -papers, so they were perfectly familiar to the deputy-governor; he -called to the head of the guard, Manoury, and ordered him to arrest -the four young men, to put them under a guard, and then to give him -five men to go out and clear the entrance to the suburbs. Scarcely -had the deputy-governor gone a hundred steps, when he perceived what -looked to be twenty-five or thirty persons taking flight: some of them -were in uniform; amongst them he recognised an officer of the 29th. M. -Toustain sprang on him and stretched out his hand to seize him by the -collar; but the officer freed himself, and presenting a pistol at close -quarters, fired full at M. Toustain's chest, the bullet hitting the -cross of St. Louis, which it broke and flattened. The shock was quite -enough, however, to knock down the commandant. But he soon got to his -feet, and as he saw that his five men were no match against thirty, he -returned to the town and stopped at the guard-house to take up Bruc, -Lacombe, Desbordes and Pegulu. All four had disappeared: Manoury, one -of the officers, had set them free and had disappeared with them. The -deputy-governor marched straight to the barracks and put himself at -the head of the battalion. This he led to the market-place, sending -his company of grenadiers to guard the gate of France and to arrest -whoever should attempt to go out. But he was already too late—for all -the insurgents were outside the town. After leaving his two chiefs, -the non-commissioned officer who had let out everything met Adjutant -Tellier, he who had given the order to pack up knapsacks and put flints -to the guns. He told him what had happened and the measures that had -been taken. Tellier realised that all was lost: he ran to the <i>Hôtel de -la Poste</i>, and opening the door, shouted out in the midst of the supper -party the terrible words—</p> - -<p>"All is discovered!"</p> - -<p>Two officers, Peugnet and Bonnillon, still misbelieved and offered to -go to the barracks; indeed, they went. Ten minutes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> later they ran -back: the news was but too true, and there was only just time for -flight. And they fled.</p> - -<p>That was how the deputy-governor encountered Peugnet and his friends -outside the gate of France, for it was Peugnet whom he tried to arrest -and who fired the pistol-shot which flattened the cross of St. Louis.</p> - -<p>Pailhès and his supper companions had scarcely left the hotel when -Carrel and Joubert arrived upon the scene. They had come to announce, -in their turn, the discovery of the conspiracy. They only found in -the dining-room Guinard and Henri Scheffer, who were just leaving it -themselves. But not being natives of that country, they did not know -where to fly! Guinard, Henri Scheffer and Joubert mounted a carriage -and took the road to Mulhouse. M. de Corcelles junior and Bazard set -out to meet la Fayette in order to turn him back. When near Mulhouse, -Carrel quitted his three companions, took to horse and returned to -Neuf-Brisach, where his battalion was stationed. At the gate of Colmar -he met Rusconi on the road, the same fellow who, the evening before, -had been at Mulhouse.</p> - -<p>General Dermoncourt still waited, placing Rusconi as sentinel to bring -news to him. Rusconi knew Carrel and learnt from him that all had been -discovered and that the conspirators were fleeing.</p> - -<p>"But where will you go?" asked Rusconi.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, I shall go to Neuf-Brisach to resume my duties."</p> - -<p>"That does not seem to me a prudent course."</p> - -<p>"I shall keep a look-out and at the first alarm I shall decamp.... Have -you any money?"</p> - -<p>"I have a hundred louis belonging to the conspiracy, take fifty of -them."</p> - -<p>"Give them to me, and then take my horse and go and warn the general."</p> - -<p>The exchange was made, and Carrel continued his journey on foot, while -Rusconi reached the general's country house at a gallop. The general -was just rising. Rusconi acquainted him with the failure of the -enterprise at Béfort, but Dermoncourt refused up to the last to believe -it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Ah, well," he said, "the failure of Béfort must mean success at -Neuf-Brisach."</p> - -<p>"But, general," said Rusconi, "perhaps the news has already got abroad -and measures have been taken to frustrate everything?"</p> - -<p>"Then go to Colmar to make inquiries, and I will go to Neuf-Brisach: -return here in two hours' time."</p> - -<p>Each went his way. When Rusconi reached Colmar he entered the <i>Café -Blondeau</i> for news. All was known.</p> - -<p>Whilst making his inquiries, a magistrate who was a friend of General -Dermoncourt found means to warn him that two orders of arrest had been -issued, one against himself and the other against the general. Rusconi -did not wait to learn more, but set off immediately for Widensollen. He -arrived at midnight, and found the general was sleeping peacefully: he -had been to Neuf-Brisach and had satisfied himself that all attempts -at rising were now impossible after what had occurred at Béfort. -At Rusconi's fresh news and at his wife's urgent entreaty, General -Dermoncourt decided to leave Widensollen for Heiteren. There he sought -refuge with a cousin, an old army-teacher. Two hours after their -departure the soldiers and a magistrate appeared at Widensollen.</p> - -<p>Baroness Dermoncourt sent the general word of this by their gardener, -urging him to fly without a moment's loss of time. They discussed the -possibility of crossing the Rhine, and decided that on the following -day they would pretend to go on a hunting excursion among the islands -which lay opposite Geiswasser. Geiswasser is a small hamlet situated on -this side of the Rhine, inhabited by fishers and customs officers.</p> - -<p>The pretext was all the more plausible as the islands were teeming -with game and General Dermoncourt had, together with M. Koechlin of -Mulhouse, rented several of them for shooting. At dawn they set out -with dogs and guns. They had hired the boatmen overnight and found them -ready. About nine o'clock, in a mist which prevented seeing ten paces -ahead, they embarked and told the boatmen to make for mid-stream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> They -landed at one of the islands. Rusconi and Dermoncourt alone remained in -the boat, whilst those who had nothing to be afraid of pretended to go -and shoot.</p> - -<p>"Now, my men, I have business on the other side the Rhine," the general -said to the boatmen. "You must have the goodness to take me across."</p> - -<p>The boatmen looked at each other and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Willingly, general," they replied. A quarter of an hour later Rusconi -and Dermoncourt were in Breisgau.</p> - -<p>When he had put foot on the Grand Duke of Baden's territory, he drew a -handful of sovereigns from his pocket and gave them to the boatmen.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, general," they replied; "but there was really no need for -that. We are true Frenchmen and we would not like to see a brave man -like yourself shot."</p> - -<p>These boatmen knew about Béfort and were perfectly aware that they were -conducting fugitives and not a hunting party.</p> - -<p>The general retreated to Freiburg and from there he went to Bâle. On 5 -and 6 January we read the full details of the conspiracy in the papers.</p> - -<p>The name of Dermoncourt took such a prominent part in the proceedings -that we were quite sure if he were arrested his arrears of half-pay -would never be settled.</p> - -<p>These particulars explained his letter, and we were able to understand -what sort of fine weather to expect after the rain. Instead of the -barometer rising to "Set fair," it had dropped to "Stormy."</p> - -<p>My poor mother was obliged to keep her umbrella open, as Dermoncourt -had advised. Only the umbrella was such a dilapidated one that it no -longer served to ward off showers.</p> - -<p>In other words—to abandon our metaphor—we had come to the end of our -resources.</p> - -<p>But hope was still left me.</p> - -<p>You ask from what quarter?</p> - -<p>I will tell you.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIa">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My hopes—Disappointment—M. Deviolaine is appointed forest-ranger to -the Duc d'Orléans—His coldness towards me—Half promises—First cloud -on my love-affairs—I go to spend three months with my brother-in-law -at Dreux—The news waiting for me on my return—Muphti—Walls and -hedges—The summer-house—Tennis—Why I gave up playing it—The wedding -party in the wood</p> -</blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I hoped that de Leuven would be able to get our comedies and melodramas -put upon the stage.</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven, his father, finding that no stir was made about his -presence in France, made up his mind to risk returning to Paris. -Adolphe naturally followed his father. His departure, which under any -other circumstances would have filled me with despair, now overwhelmed -me with delight, our ideas being what they were. De Leuven took away -our <i>chefs-d'œuvre</i>: we never doubted that the directors of the -various theatres for which they were destined would receive them with -enthusiasm!</p> - -<p>Thanks to our two vaudevilles and our drama, we would turn aside a -tributary of that Pactolus which, since 1822, had watered M. Scribe's -dominions. I would set sail on that tributary, with my mother, and -rejoin de Leuven in Paris. There a career would open before me, strewn -with roses and bank-notes. It can be imagined how anxiously I waited -Adolphe's first letters. These first letters were slow in coming. -I began to feel uneasy. At last one morning the postman (or rather -post-woman, an old dame, whom we called "Mother Colombe") turned her -steps in the direction of our house. She held a letter in her hand; -this letter was in Adolphe's handwriting and bore the Paris postmark.</p> - -<p>The directors—for reasons Adolphe could not fathom—did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> not put -themselves out to make that fuss over our <i>chefs-d'œuvre</i> he thought -he had the right to expect of them. However, Adolphe did not despair -of getting them a hearing. If he could not succeed in this, he would -have to submit the manuscripts to the critics, which would be most -humiliating! In spite of the gleams of hope which still shone through -the epistle, the general tone of the letter was doleful. In conclusion, -Adolphe promised to keep me well posted concerning his doings.</p> - -<p>I awaited a second letter. The second letter was more than a month -in coming. And then, alas! practically all hope had fled. The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>, borrowed from M. Bouilly, had not sufficient plot; the <i>Major -de Strasbourg</i> was too much like the <i>Soldat Laboureur</i>, which had just -been played at the Variétés with such great success.</p> - -<p>And as for the <i>Abencérages</i>, every boulevard theatre had received a -play on that subject for the last ten, fifteen, or twenty years.</p> - -<p>Even supposing, therefore, that ours were received, it did not carry us -far.</p> - -<p>Still, we had not yet lost all hope in the matter of the <i>Dîner d'amis</i> -and the <i>Major de Strasbourg.</i></p> - -<p>After vain attempts to gain access at the Gymnase and the Varietés, we -tried the Porte-Saint-Martin, the Ambigue-Comique and the Gaieté.</p> - -<p>As for the unlucky <i>Abencérages</i>, its fate was sealed.</p> - -<p>I shed as bitter a tear over it as Boabdil shed over Grenada, and I -awaited Adolphe's third letter with very gloomy forebodings.</p> - -<p>Our cup of humiliation was full to the brim: we were refused -everywhere. But Adolphe had several plays on the way with Théaulon, -with Soulié and with Rousseau. He was going to try to get them played, -and when played, he would use the influence gained by his success to -demand the acceptance of one of our efforts. This was but poor comfort -and uncertain expectancy. I was greatly cast down.</p> - -<p>In the meantime an event had taken place which would have filled -me with high spirits under any other circumstances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> M. Deviolaine -was appointed keeper of the forests of the Duc d'Orléans; he left -Villers-Cotterets and went to Paris to take over the management of the -forestry department. Two ways of helping me lay open to him: he could -take me into his office, or he could give me open air work. Unluckily, -since my affair with Madame Lebègue, the family had given me the cold -shoulder. This did not discourage my mother, who saw an opening for me -in one or other of these two careers, from approaching M. Deviolaine.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that M. Deviolaine, although he was not an old -soldier, could never disguise the truth. He replied to my mother—</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly, if your rascal of an Alexandre were not an idle lad, I -could find a berth for him; but I confess I have no confidence in him. -Besides, after the goings on there have been, not necessarily his, but -in which at all events he has not denied a share, everybody here would -make a dead set against me."</p> - -<p>Still my mother urged her case. She saw her last hope fading.</p> - -<p>"Very well, then," said M. Deviolaine; "give me some time to think over -things, and later we will see what can be done."</p> - -<p>I awaited my mother's return with the same impatience with which I had -awaited Adolphe's letters. The result was not more satisfactory.</p> - -<p>Two days before, we had received a letter from my brother-in-law, who -was a receiver at Dreux: he invited me to spend a month or two with -him. We had become so poor, alas! that the economy my absence would -produce would go a long way towards compensating my mother for her loss -at my departure. It was, moreover, my first absence: my mother and I -had never been parted except during that wonderful visit to Béthisy, -when the Abbé Fortier had given me my first lessons in hunting. There -was also another person in the town from whom it was a cruel wrench to -tear myself. It can be guessed to whom I refer.</p> - -<p>Although our <i>liaison</i> had lasted more than three years, counting -more than a year of preliminary attentions, I still loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> Adèle very -dearly, and the azure of our sky had hardly had so much as a light -cloud upon it during that period—an almost unique experience in the -annals of a courtship. Yet the poor girl had been feeling sad for some -time. While I was but nineteen, she was already twenty years old; and -our love-making, though delightful child's play, not only promised -nothing for her future, but rather compromised it. As no one thought -ill of our relations with each other, Adèle had received two or three -offers of marriage, all of which she declined, either because they did -not quite meet her views or because she would not sacrifice our love to -them. Was she not in danger of suffering from the same disappointment -which a certain hero of our acquaintance, almost a fellow-countryman, -experienced? After having despised perch, carp and eel, would she not -be compelled to sup with frogs? The prospect was not alluring, hence -her melancholy. Poor Adèle! I perceived that my departure was as -necessary for her welfare as for my own. We wept abundantly, she more -than I, and it was quite natural she should shed the most tears, seeing -she was to be consoled the soonest.</p> - -<p>My going away was settled. We had now reached the month of July 1822. -Only another week—eight days and eight nights!—a last week of -happiness, remained to me; for some presentiment warned me that this -week would be the last. The moment of parting came. We vowed fervently -never to forget one another for one single hour; we promised to write -to each other at least twice a week. Alas! we were not rich enough -to afford the luxury of a letter a day. At last we said our final -farewell. It was a cruel farewell—a separation of hearts even more -than a corporeal separation.</p> - -<p>I cannot explain how I got from Villers-Cotterets to Dreux—although -I can recollect the most trivial details of my youth, almost of my -babyhood. It is evident I must have gone through Paris, since that -is the direct route; but how could I forget having passed through -Paris? I cannot tell whether I stopped there or not. I have not the -faintest recollection whether I saw Adolphe or not. I know I left -Villers-Cotterets, and I found myself at Dreux! If anything could have -distracted my attention,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> it would have been that stay with my sister -and my brother-in-law. Victor, as I have already mentioned, was a -delightful fellow, full of wit, of repartee, of resource. But, alas! -there were too empty places in my heart which were difficult to fill.</p> - -<p>I stayed two months at Dreux. I was there at the beginning of the -shooting season. They told me a story of a three-legged hare, a sort -of enchanted creature seen by all sportsmen, known by all sportsmen, -shot at by all sportsmen; but after each shot the queer beast shook -its ears and only ran the faster. This hare was all the better known, -I might say all the more popular, because it was nearly the only one -in the countryside. We had not gone a quarter of a league from the -house, on the 1st of September, before a hare rose up near me. I gave -chase, I fired and it rolled over. My dog brought it to me: it was the -three-pawed hare! The sportsmen of Dreux united in giving me a grand -dinner. The death of this strange hare, and certain shots that brought -down two partridges at the same time, gave me a reputation in the -department of Eure-et-Loir which has lasted until to-day. But none of -these honours showered upon me, however exalted they were, could make -me stay beyond the 15th of September.</p> - -<p>Adèle's letters had become less and less frequent. Finally they ceased -altogether.</p> - -<p>I left on the 15th of September. I do not remember any more than about -my going, whether I went back through Paris or not. I found myself back -at Villers-Cotterets, and the news that met me on my arrival was—</p> - -<p>"Do you know that Adèle Dalvin is going to be married?"</p> - -<p>"No, I had not heard it, but it is quite likely," I replied.</p> - -<p>Oh! what were the elegies of Parny on Éléonore's faithlessness, or -Bertin's lamentations on the infidelity of Eucharis; oh, my God, how -bloodless they seemed, when I tried to re-read them, with my own heart -wounded!</p> - -<p>Alas! poor Adèle! she was not making a love match: she was going to -marry a man double her own age; he had lived for years in Spain, and he -had brought home a small fortune. Adèle was making a prudent marriage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>I determined to see her the very night I returned. You remember how I -paid my visits to Adèle. I entered the usual way, by slipping back the -bolt of the lock, I opened the door, I met Muphti again, and he gave me -such a greeting that he almost betrayed me by his demonstrations; then, -with my heart thumping as it had never yet beaten, I scaled the wall -and leapt over the two hedges. I felt quite ill when I was once more in -the garden; I leant against a tree to get my breath. Then I went to the -pavilion; but the nearer I drew, and the better I could see things in -the darkness, the more I felt my heart tighten. The shutters were quite -wide open, instead of being closed; the window, instead of being shut, -was half open. I leant on the window-sill: everything was dark inside. -I pushed the two flaps, I knelt on the sill. The room was empty: I felt -the bedside with my hands; the bed was unoccupied. It was evident that -Adèle had guessed I would come, that she had deserted the room, leaving -it easy for me to gain an entrance therein, in order to show me her -intentions. Ah yes! I guessed ... I understood everything. What good -could it do to meet, since all was over between us? I sat down on the -bed and I gave thanks to God for the gift of tears, since He had willed -us to endure sorrow.</p> - -<p>The marriage was fixed for fifteen days hence. During those fifteen -days I kept almost entirely to the house. I went to the park on Sunday, -but only to play tennis. I was very fond of that game, as of all games -of skill; I was rather good at it; for I had very strong muscles and I -could hold out through the longest game and sometimes even longer; this -strength of mine was a terror to other players. On this particular day, -when I wanted to overcome my mental feelings by great physical fatigue, -I gave myself up to the game with a kind of frenzy. One ball, which I -sent as high as a man, hit one of the players and knocked him down; -he was the son of a <i>brigadier de gendarmerie</i>, called Savard. We ran -up to him, and found that the ball had luckily hit him on the top of -his shoulder, a little above the biceps, just where the shirt-sleeve -gatherings come. Had it gone six inches higher I should have killed him -on the spot, for it would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> reached his temple. I threw down my -racquet and I gave up the game: I have never played it since. I went -home, and I tried to find distraction in working. But I could not set -myself to my task: one works with heart and mind combined. Adolphe had -possession of my thoughts; Adèle was in the act of breaking my heart.</p> - -<p>The wedding-day drew near; I could not stay in Villers-Cotterets on -that day. I arranged a bird-snaring party with an old comrade of mine, -a playmate of my younger days, who had been somewhat neglected since de -la Ponce and Adolphe had not only taken hold of my affections but were -influencing my life. He was a harness-maker called Arpin.</p> - -<p>In the evening we went to prepare our tree: it was in a lovely copse, -a quarter of a league or so from the pretty village of Haramont, which -I have since attempted to make famous in <i>Ange Pitou</i> and <i>Conscience -l'innocent.</i> At the foot of this tree, all whose branches we cut off, -to make way for our lime twigs, we built a hut of branches and covered -it with fern fronds, Next day, we were at our post before daybreak; -when the sun rose and shone on our stiff tree, we found the sport -had begun. It was a strange thing that, although when younger I had -taken such pleasure in this sport that I often lay sleepless the night -before, this present snaring had no power to distract my heart from the -anguish weighing upon it.</p> - -<p>O Sorrow, thou sublime mystery by which a man's spirit is raised and -his soul expanded! Sorrow, without which there would be no poetry, for -poetry is nearly always made up of joy and hope in equal parts, with an -equivalent amount of sorrow!</p> - -<p>Sorrow, which leaves its trace for life; a furrow moistened by tears, -whence Prayer springs, the mother of those three heavenly, noble -daughters, whose names are Faith, Hope and Charity! The benediction of -a poet is ever thine, O Sorrow!</p> - -<p>We had taken bread and wine with us; we had breakfasted and had dinner; -the catch was plentiful, and would have been entirely satisfactory -at any other time. We had reached the day's end, the hour when the -blackbird whistles or the robin sings, when the first shadows creep -silently to the heart of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> wood;—suddenly I was startled from my -reverie (if one can so call a formless chaos of thoughts through which -no light had shone) by the sharp sound of a violin and by happy shouts -of laughter. Violin and laughter came nearer, and I soon began to see -through the trees that a player and a wedding party were coming from -Haramont and going towards Villers-Cotterets; they were taking a narrow -side-path, and would pass within twenty paces of me—young girls in -white dresses, youths in blue or black clothes, with large bouquets and -streaming ribbons.</p> - -<p>I put my head out of our hut and uttered a cry. This wedding party -was Adèle's! The young girl with the white veil and the bouquet of -orange blossom who walked in front, and gave her arm to her husband, -was Adèle! Her aunt lived at Haramont. After mass they had been to the -wedding breakfast with the aunt; they had gone by the high road in the -morning; they were returning at night by the shorter way. This short -cut, as I have said, ran within twenty paces of our hut. What I had -fled from had come to find me! Adèle did not see me; she did not know -that she was passing near me: she was leaning against the shoulder of -the man to whom she now belonged in the eyes of man and of God, while -he had his arm round her waist and held her closely to him.</p> - -<p>I gazed for a long time on that file of white dresses which, in the -growing darkness, looked like a procession of ghosts. I heaved a sigh -when it had disappeared. My first dream had just vanished, my first -illusion been shattered!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIIa">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third clerk at Crespy—M. -Lefèvre—His character—My journeys to Villers-Cotterets—The -<i>Pélerinage à Ermenonville</i>—Athénaïs—New matter sent to -Adolphe—An uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris—How -this desire was accomplished—The journey—Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins—Adolphe-<i>Sylla</i>—Talma</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>During my absence a place had been offered me as second or third clerk, -I do not know exactly which, with M. Lefèvre, a lawyer at Crespy. It -was a very desirable place, because the clerks were lodged and boarded. -My keep had become such a burden on my poor mother, that she consented -for the second time to part with me in order to save my food. She made -up my little bit of packing—not much bigger than a Savoyard's on -leaving his mountains—and off I set. It was three and a half leagues -from Villers-Cotterets to Crespy: I did the journey on foot one fine -evening, and I duly arrived at M. Lefèvre's.</p> - -<p>M. Lefèvre was, at that period, a fairly good-looking man of -thirty-four or thirty-five, with dark brown hair, a very pale -complexion, and a well-worn appearance physically. You could recognise -he was a man who had lived a long while in Paris, who had taken many -permissible pleasures, and still more forbidden ones. Although M. -Lefèvre was confined to a little provincial town, he might be styled -a lawyer of the old school: he had ceremonious ways with his clients, -ceremonious manners with us, lofty domineering airs with the world at -large. M. Lefèvre seemed to say to all those who had business with him, -"Pray appreciate the honour I am bestowing upon you and your town, in -condescending to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> a lawyer in the capital of a canton when I might -have been in practice in Paris."</p> - -<p>There was one thing that specially called forth from me feelings of -admiration for M. Lefèvre, and it was this: he went to the capital, as -they call it in Crespy, some eight or ten times a year, and he never -lowered himself to take the diligence: when he wanted a conveyance he -would call the gardener. "Pierre," he would say, "I am going to-morrow, -or this evening, to Paris; see that the post-horses are ready in the -chaise at such and such an hour."</p> - -<p>Pierre would go: at the appointed hour the horses would arrive, rousing -the whole district with their bells; the postillion, who still wore -a powdered wig and a blue jacket with red lapels and silver buttons, -would fling himself clumsily, heavily-booted, into the saddle, M. -Lefèvre would stretch himself nonchalantly in the carriage, wrapped in -a big cloak, take a pinch of snuff from a gold box, and say with an air -of careless indifference, "Go on!" and at the word the whip cracked, -the bells jingled and the carriage disappeared round the corner of the -street for three or four days. M. Lefèvre never told us the day or hour -of his return: he would return unawares, for he delighted in taking his -world by surprise.</p> - -<p>But M. Lefèvre was not a bad sort of man. Although cold and exacting, -he was just; he rarely refused holidays when they were asked for, but, -as we shall see, he never pardoned holidays taken without leave.</p> - -<p>My brother-in-law's mother lived at Crespy, so I had a ready entree -into the society of that little town. Alas! alas! what a different -world it was from our three-tiered society of Villers-Cotterets of -which I have spoken, and above all from our own charming little circle -of friends! All the good family of Millet, with whom we had taken -shelter during the first invasion, had disappeared: the mother, the two -brothers, the two sisters, had all left Crespy and lived in Paris. I -have since come across the mother and the eldest sister: they were both -in want. I was dreadfully bored in the heart of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> ancient capital -of Valois! so sick of it that I very often returned home to sleep at -my mother's at Villers-Cotterets, when Saturday evening came, taking -my gun for a shoot on the way; then I would shoulder my gun at six -on Monday morning, and, shooting all the time, I returned to Maître -Lefèvre's before the office opened.</p> - -<p>Thus things went on for three months. I had a pretty room looking into -a garden full of flowers; the evening sun shone into the room; I had -paper, ink and pens in abundance on my table; the food was good, I -looked well enough, and yet I felt I could not possibly continue to -live thus.</p> - -<p>During one of my Sunday excursions I turned in the direction of -Ermenonville. Ermenonville is about six leagues from Crespy, but what -were six leagues to such legs as mine! I visited the historic places -of M. de Girardin, the desert, the poplar island, the tomb of the -Unknown. The poetic side to this pilgrimage revived my poor drooping -Muse a little, like a wan, sickly butterfly coming out of its chrysalis -in January instead of May. I set to work. I wrote partly in prose, -partly in verse, and under the inspiration of a charming young society -damsel named Athénaïs—who knew nothing about it-a bad imitation of -the <i>Lettres d'Émilie</i> by Demoustier, and of the <i>Voyages du chevalier -Berlin</i>. I sent the work to Adolphe when it was finished. Since I -could not achieve success by the stage, I might perhaps attain it by -publishing. I gave it the essentially novel title of <i>Pélerinage à -Ermenonville.</i> Adolphe, naturally enough, could not do anything with -it; he lost it, never found it again, and so much the better. I cannot -recollect a single word of it.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Adolphe was not succeeding any better than I was. -All his hopes fell to the ground, one after another, and he wrote me -that we should never do anything unless we were together. But, to be -together, it would be necessary to leave Crespy for Paris, and how was -this to be done, in the state of my purse, which even on those happy -days when my mother sent me some money never contained more than eight -or ten francs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<p>So it was a material impossibility. But infinite are the mysteries of -Providence. One Saturday in the month of November, M. Lefèvre announced -to us in his usual fashion—by ordering Pierre to have the horses ready -by seven next morning—that he was going to pay one of his monthly -visits to Paris. Almost simultaneously with his giving this order, at -the conclusion of dinner (another of his habits), the cook came and -told me a friend wanted to see me. I went out. It was Paillet, my old -head clerk; like myself, he had left Maître Mennesson. He was living -temporarily on his farm at Vez, where he lodged in the top of a tower, -compared with which the tower of Madame Marlborough, however vaunted -it may be, is a mere trifle. The tower of Vez was really wonderful, -the only remains left standing of a stout castle of the twelfth -century—the ancient nest of vultures now peopled by rooks. Paillet had -come over on horseback, to learn the price of corn, I believe. He was -from time to time head clerk in the provinces or second clerk in Paris; -but his real business, his actual life, was that of a property-owner. -We took a turn round the ramparts. I was in full tide of pouring out -my grievances to this good friend, who loved me so devotedly, and who -sympathised with me to the utmost, when, all of a sudden, I struck my -forehead and burst out with—</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear fellow, I have an idea ...!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Let us go and spend three days in Paris."</p> - -<p>"And what about the office?"</p> - -<p>"M. Lefèvre goes to Paris himself to-morrow; he usually stays away two -or three days; we shall have returned in two or three days' time."</p> - -<p>Paillet felt in his pockets and drew out twenty-eight francs.</p> - -<p>"There, that is all I possess," he said. "And you?"</p> - -<p>"I? I have seven francs."</p> - -<p>"Twenty-eight and seven make thirty-five! How the deuce do you think we -can go to Paris on that? We need thirty francs, to begin with, simply -for a carriage to get there and back."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Wait a bit: I know a way...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"You have your horse?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"We will put our things into a portmanteau, we will go in our -hunting-clothes, with our guns, and we will shoot along the route; we -can live on the game, and so it will cost us nothing."</p> - -<p>"How do you make that out?"</p> - -<p>"It is simple enough: from here to Dammartin, surely we can kill a -hare, two partridges and a quail?"</p> - -<p>"I hope we can kill more than that."</p> - -<p>"So do I, hard enough, but I am putting it at the lowest. When we reach -Dammartin we can roast the hinder portion of our hare, we can jug the -front half, and we can drink and eat."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Then?... We will pay for our wine, our bread and our seasoning with -the two partridges, and we will give the quail to the waiter as a -tip.... There will only remain your horse to trouble about! Come, come, -for three francs a day we shall see wonders."</p> - -<p>"But what the dickens will people take us for?"</p> - -<p>"What does that matter?—for scholars on a holiday."</p> - -<p>"But we only have one gun."</p> - -<p>"That will be all we shall need: one of us will shoot, the other will -follow on horseback; in this way, as it is only sixteen leagues from -here to Paris, it will only mean eight for each of us."</p> - -<p>"And the keepers?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is our worst difficulty. Whichever of us is on horseback must -keep watch; he will warn the one who is poaching. The cavalier must -dismount from his horse, the sportsman will get up, spur with both -heels and clear out of the place at a gallop. The keeper will then come -up to the cavalier, and finding him walking along with his hands in his -pockets, will say, 'What are you doing here, sir?' 'I?...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> You can see -quite well for yourself.' 'Never mind, tell me.' 'I am walking.' 'Just -a minute ago, you were on horseback.' 'Yes.' 'And now you are on foot?' -'Yes.... Is it against the law for a man first to ride and then to -walk?' 'No, but you were not alone.' 'Quite possible.' 'Your companion -was shooting.' 'Do you think so?' 'Good heavens! why, there he is on -horseback carrying his gun.' 'My dear sir, if he is there with his gun -on horseback, run after him and try to stop him.' 'But I can't run -after him and stop him, because he is on horseback and I am on foot.' -'In that case you will be wise, my friend, to go to the nearest village -and drink a bottle of wine to our health.' And at this, one of us will -hold out a twenty-sous piece to the honest fellow, which we will reckon -in among our profit and loss; the gamekeeper will bow to us, go and -drink our health, and we shall pursue our journey."</p> - -<p>"Well, I never! that is not badly conceived," cried Paillet. "... They -tell me you are writing things."</p> - -<p>I heaved a sigh. "It is exactly for the purpose of going to ask de -Leuven for news of the plays I have written that I want to go to -Paris.... And then, once in Paris——"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" interrupted Paillet, "once in Paris, I know a little hotel, rue -des Vieux-Augustins, where I usually put up, and where I am known; once -in Paris, I shall not be anxious."</p> - -<p>"Then it is settled?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes!... it will be a joke."</p> - -<p>"We will start for Paris?"</p> - -<p>"We will."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, better still, let us start to-night, instead of -to-morrow! We can sleep at Ermenonville, and to-morrow evening, leaving -Ermenonville early, we shall be in Paris."</p> - -<p>"Let us leave to-night."</p> - -<p>We went our way, Paillet to his inn, to have his horse saddled; I to -Maître Lefèvre's, to get my gun and to put on my shooting-clothes. A -shirt, a coat, a pair of trousers and a pair of boots were sent off by -the third clerk to Paillet, who stuffed them into a portmanteau; these -things accomplished,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> I shouldered my gun and awaited Paillet outside -the town. Paillet soon appeared. It was too late for shooting: our only -thoughts were to gain the country. I jumped up behind. Two hours later, -we were at Ermenonville.</p> - -<p>It was the second or third time I had visited the <i>Hôtel de la Croix</i>: -so far as I can remember, I was not a profitable customer; but my -antecedents were by no means bad, rather the reverse. We were well -received. An omelette, a bottle of wine and as much bread as we wanted, -constituted our supper. Next day, our account, including the horse's -stabling, came to six francs—leaving twenty-nine. Paillet and I looked -at one another, as much as to say, "Dear me! how money does fly!" -And after two or three sage noddings of the head, we continued our -journey, going across country to Dammartin, where we meant to lunch. -Lunch did not trouble us: it lay in the barrel of our gun, and we set -forth to find it. The country round Ermenonville is full of game and -well guarded; so we had hardly gone a quarter of a league before I had -killed two hares and three partridges with six shots of my gun. I ought -to confess with due humility that these two hares and three partridges -belonged to M. de Girardin-Brégy.</p> - -<p>Now, when my dog was retrieving the third partridge, Paillet gave -the prearranged signal. The figure of a gamekeeper appeared on the -skyline, boldly defined against the white fleecy sky, like one of those -shepherds or country rustics in huge leggings that Decamps or Jadin put -in their landscapes, as a contrast to a lonely and twisted elm-tree.</p> - -<p>The manœuvre had already been discussed. In an instant I was on -horseback, spurring the horse with both heels, and carrying off with -me the incriminating plunder. The dialogue between Paillet and the -gamekeeper was lengthy and animated; but it ended as I had predicted. -Paillet majestically drew a twenty-sous piece from the common purse, -and our total expenditure had reached the sum of seven francs. That was -our loss; but on the profit side of our account we had two hares and -three partridges. Paillet joined me again; I remained on horseback and -he took his turn at hunting. So we alternated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> By ten o'clock in the -morning we were at Dammartin, with three hares and eight partridges. -Of the two gamekeepers we ran across since our last, one had loftily -refused the twenty sous, the other had basely accepted. Our funds were -now reduced to twenty-seven francs. But we were more than half-way -there; and we had three hares and eight partridges to the good! As I -had foreseen, we paid our way, and generously, with a hare and three -partridges. We could have paid our way in larks.</p> - -<p>By eleven o'clock, we were off again, and we made straight tracks for -Paris, which we reached at half-past ten that night, I on foot and -Paillet on horseback, with four hares, a dozen partridges and two -quails. We had a marketable value of thirty francs of game with us.</p> - -<p>When we reached the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i>, Paillet made himself -known and imposed his conditions. He told our host we had made a big -bet with some Englishmen. We had wagered that we could go to Paris -and back without spending a halfpenny, so we wished to gain the bet -by selling our game to him. He engaged to board and put us up, horse -and dog included, for two days and two nights, in exchange for our -twelve partridges, four hares and two quails. Besides this, when we -left he put us up a pasty and bottle of wine. On these conditions, our -host declared he would make a good thing out of us, and offered us a -certificate to certify that, at least while with him, we had not spent -a son. We thanked him and told him our Englishmen would take our word -for it.</p> - -<p>Paillet and I took our bearings and went to get a bath. With all -economy possible, we had had to deduct the sum of three francs fifty -from our remaining balance; we were thus left with twenty-three francs -fifty. We had spent rather less than a third of our wealth; but we had -arrived, and bed and board were assured us for <i>forty-eight hours</i>.</p> - -<p>In spite of the fatigue of the journey, I slept but ill: I was in -Paris! I envied my dog, who, laid down at the foot of my bed, free from -imagination, tired out in body, and indifferent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> to his resting-place, -was taking a nap. Next day I woke up at seven o'clock. In a twinkling I -was dressed.</p> - -<p>De Leuven lived in the rue Pigale, No. 14. It was nearly a league from -the rue des Vieux-Augustins, but, good gracious! what did that matter? -I had covered ten or a dozen leagues the day before, without reckoning -the ins and outs, and I could surely manage one to-day. I set out. -Paillet had business of his own to attend to; I had mine. We should -probably meet at dinner-time, or perhaps not until night. I left the -rue des' Vieux-Augustins by the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs and walked -straight ahead. I saw a passage where a crowd of people were going in -and coming out. I went down seven or eight steps until I thought I -was lost. I wanted to ascend again, but I felt ashamed. I continued -on my way and alighted on the rue Valois. I had made acquaintance, -first go off, with the ugliest passage in Paris, the passage of the -rue Neuve-des-Bons-Enfants. I went down another passage which opened -out before me, and I found myself in the Palais-Royal. I went all -round it: half the shops weren't opened. I stopped in front of the -Théâtre-Français and I saw on the poster—</p> - -<p class="center"> -"To-morrow, Monday, <i>Sylla</i>, a Tragedy in verse, in five<br /> -acts, by M. de Jouy."<br /> -</p> - -<p>I vowed fervently that somehow or other I would get access to the -common purse and I would see <i>Sylla.</i> All the more because I read in -large letters on the same poster—</p> - -<p class="center"> -"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">M. TALMA</span> will take the part of Sylla"<br /> -</p> - -<p>However, since it would be much better to go with the help' of Adolphe, -I immediately inquired my way to the rue Pigale, and started off for -it. After many turnings and twistings, I reached my destination at -about nine in the morning. Adolphe was not yet up; but his father was -walking in the garden. I went up to him. He stopped, let me approach, -held out his hand to me, and said—</p> - -<p>"So you have come to Paris, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Monsieur de Leuven."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>"For some stay?"</p> - -<p>"For two days."</p> - -<p>"What have you come for?"</p> - -<p>"I have come to see two people—Adolphe and Talma."</p> - -<p>"Ah! is that so? You have become a millionaire, then, or you would not -commit such extravagances."</p> - -<p>I told M. de Leuven how Paillet and I had accomplished the journey. He -looked at me for a minute, then he said—</p> - -<p>"You will get on, you have will-power. Go and wake Adolphe; he will -take you to see Talma, who will give you tickets; then come back and -lunch together here."</p> - -<p>That was the very thing I wanted. I took stock of the interior -topography of the house, and rushed off. I only opened two wrong doors -before I found Adolphe's: one was Gabriel Arnault's door; the other, -Louis Arnault's. I lost my way on the first landing: Louis put me -right. I reached Adolphe's room at last. Adolphe slept like the Seven -Sleepers. But had I had to deal with Epimenides I would have wakened -him. Adolphe rubbed his eyes, and could not recognise me.</p> - -<p>"Come, come," I said, "it is really I; wake up and get dressed. I want -to go to Talma."</p> - -<p>"To Talma! What for? You don't mean to say you have a tragedy to read -to him?"</p> - -<p>"No, but I want to ask him for some tickets."</p> - -<p>"What is he playing in now?"</p> - -<p>I fell from my state of exaltation. Adolphe, living in Paris, did -not know what Talma was acting! What was the idiot thinking of? No -wonder he had not yet got my <i>Pélerinage d'Ermenonville</i> placed, or -any of our plays acted. Adolphe got out of bed and dressed himself. At -eleven o'clock we were ringing the bell of a house in the rue de la -Tour-des-Dames. Mademoiselle Mars, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Talma -all lived side by side. Talma was dressing, but Adolphe was an habitué -of the house: they let him in. I followed Adolphe, as Hernani followed -Charles-Quint; I, naturally, behind Adolphe.</p> - -<p>Talma was extremely short-sighted: I do not know whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> he saw me -or not. He was washing his chest: his head was almost shaved—this -astonished me greatly, for I had heard it said, many times, that in -<i>Hamlet</i>, when the father's ghost appears, Talma's hairs could be -seen standing on end. I must confess that Talma's appearance, under -the above conditions, was far from being artistic. But when he turned -round, with his neck bare, the lower part of his body wrapped in a -large sort of white linen wrapper, and he took one of the corners of -this mantle and drew it over his shoulder, half veiling his breast, -there was something so regal in the action that it made me tremble.</p> - -<p>De Leuven laid bare our request. Talma took up a kind of antique -stiletto, at the end of which was a pen, and signed an order for two -seats for us. It was a member's order. Besides the actors' order which -were received on days when they were acting, members had the right to -give two free tickets every day.</p> - -<p>Then Adolphe explained who I was. In those days I was just the son -of General Alexandre Dumas: but that was something. Besides, Talma -remembered having met my father at Saint-Georges's. He held out his -hand to me, and I longed to kiss it. Full of theatrical ambitions as I -was, Talma was like a god to me—an unknown god, it is true, as unknown -as Jupiter was to Semele; but a god who appeared to me in the morning, -and who would reveal himself to me at night. Our hands clasped. Oh, -Talma! if only you had been twenty years younger or I twenty years -older! But at that time the whole honour was mine.</p> - -<p>Talma! I knew the past: you could not guess the future. If anyone had -told you, Talma, that the hand you had just held was to write sixty to -eighty dramas, in each of which you—who were looking out for rôles -all your life—would have found one which you would have acted to -perfection, you would not have allowed the poor youth to go away thus, -blushing at having seen you, proud at having shaken hands with you! But -how could you see anything in me, Talma, since I had not discovered it -myself?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXa" id="CHAPTER_IXa">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The theatre ticket—The <i>Café du Roi</i>—Auguste -Lafarge—Théaulon—Rochefort—Ferdinand Langlé—People who dine -and people who don't—Canaris—First sight of Talma—Appreciation -of Mars and Rachel—Why Talma has no successor—<i>Sylla</i> and the -Censorship—Talma's box—A cab-drive after midnight—The return to -Crespy—M. Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels—I hand in my resignation as his third clerk</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I went back to de Leuven's house hugging the order in my pocket. With -the possibility of procuring another by the means of it, I would not -have parted with it for five hundred francs! I was filled with pride -at the thought of going to the Théâtre-Français, with an order signed -"<i>Talma</i>." We lunched.</p> - -<p>De Leuven raised great difficulties about going to the play: he had an -engagement with Scribe, a meeting with Théaulon, an appointment with I -don't know how many other celebrities besides, that night. His father -shrugged his shoulders, and de Leuven raised no more objections. It -was arranged that we were to go to the Français together; but, as I -wanted to see the Musée, the Jardin des Plantes and the Luxembourg, -he arranged to meet me at the <i>Café du Roi</i> at seven o'clock. The -<i>Café du Roi</i> formed the corner of the rue de Richelieu and the rue -Saint-Honoré. We shall have more to say about it later.</p> - -<p>After luncheon, I set out by myself and went to the Musée. At six -o'clock, I had tramped the tourists' round—that is to say, having -entered the Tuileries by the gate of the rue de la Paix, I had passed -under the Arch, visited the Musée, gone along the Quays, examined -Nôtre-Dame inside and out, made Martin climb up his tree and, under -cover of being a stranger—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>a title which only a blind man or an -evilly disposed person could dispute—I had forced my way through the -gates of the Luxembourg.</p> - -<p>I returned at six o'clock to the hotel, where I found Paillet. Upon -my word, we dined well! Our host was a conscientious man, and he gave -us soup, a <i>filet</i> with olives, roast beef and potatoes <i>à la maître -d'hôtel</i>, the worth of two hares and four partridges, which we absorbed -under other guises. I urged Paillet in vain to come to the Français -with us: Paillet was formerly a second clerk in Paris; he had friends, -or perhaps it would be more truthful to say girl-friends, of other -days, to see again; he refused the offer, pressing though it was, and -I set off for the <i>Café du Roi</i>, not comprehending how there could -be anything more vitally important than to see Talma, or, if one had -already seen him, than to see him again. I reached our rendezvous some -minutes before Adolphe. Paillet had foreseen that I should probably -have some indispensable expenses: he had generously drawn three francs -from the common purse and given them to me. After this, a total of -twenty francs fifty centimes remained to us.</p> - -<p>I went into the <i>Café du Roi</i> and sat down at a table; I calculated -what would cost me the least; I concluded that a small glass of brandy -would give me the right to wait, and at least to look as though I -was a habitué of the establishment; so I ordered one. Now, I had -never managed to swallow one drop of that abominable liquor; however, -although obliged to order it, I was not obliged to drink it. I had -scarcely taken my seat when I saw one of the regular customers (I -judged he was a regular attender, because I saw that he had nothing at -all on the table before him) get up and come towards me. I uttered a -cry of surprise and joy: it was Lafarge. Lafarge had gone a step lower -towards poverty: he wore a coat shiny at the elbows, trousers shiny at -the knees.</p> - -<p>"Why, surely I am not mistaken, it is really you?" he said.</p> - -<p>"It is really I. Sit down here."</p> - -<p>"With pleasure. Ask for another glass."</p> - -<p>"For you?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Take mine, my dear fellow. I never touch brandy."</p> - -<p>"Then why did you ask for it?"</p> - -<p>"Because I did not like to wait till Adolphe came in without asking for -something."</p> - -<p>"Is Adolphe coming here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. We are going to see <i>Sylla</i> together."</p> - -<p>"What! you are going to see that filth?"</p> - -<p>"Filth, <i>Sylla</i>? Why, it is an enormous success!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the success of a wig."</p> - -<p>"The success of a wig?" I echoed, not understanding. "Certainly! Take -away from Sylla his Napoleonic locks, and the piece would never be -played through."</p> - -<p>"But surely M. de Jouy is a great poet?"</p> - -<p>"In the provinces he may be thought great, my dear boy; but here we are -in Paris, and we see things differently."</p> - -<p>"If he is not a great poet, he is at least a man of infinite resource." -"Well, perhaps he might have been thought clever under the Empire; but -you see, my boy, the wit of 1809 is not the wit of 1822."</p> - -<p>"Still, I thought that <i>l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> was written -under the Restoration."</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly; but do you think <i>l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> was -by M. de Jouy?"</p> - -<p>"Most certainly, since it appears under his name."</p> - -<p>"Oh, what sweet simplicity!"</p> - -<p>"Then who wrote it?"</p> - -<p>"Why, Merle."</p> - -<p>"Who is Merle?"</p> - -<p>"Hush! he is that gentleman you see over there in a big coat and a -wide-brimmed hat. He has ten times more wit than M. de Jouy."</p> - -<p>"But if he has ten times M. de Jouy's wit, how is it he has not a -quarter of his reputation?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, because, you see, my boy, reputations, as you will find later, are -not made either by wit or talents, but by coteries....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> Just ask for -the sugar; brandy makes me ill if I drink it neat. Waiter! some sugar."</p> - -<p>"But if brandy upsets you, why drink it?"</p> - -<p>"What else can one do?" said Lafarge; "if one passes one's life in -cafés, one must drink something."</p> - -<p>"So you spend all your time in cafés?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly all: I can work best so."</p> - -<p>"In the midst of all the noise and talking?"</p> - -<p>"I am used to that: Théaulon works thus, Francis works thus, Rochefort -works thus, we all work thus. Don't we, Théaulon?"</p> - -<p>A man of thirty to thirty-five, who had been writing rapidly, on quarto -paper, something that looked like dialogue, at this interpellation -lifted up his pale face—red about the cheek bones—and looked at us -kindly.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said; "what is it? Ah! it is you, Lafarge? Good-evening." And -he resumed his work.</p> - -<p>"Is that Théaulon?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes; there's a man of ready wit for you! only he squanders and abuses -his ready wit. Do you know what he is doing now?" "No."</p> - -<p>"He is writing a comedy, in five acts, in verse."</p> - -<p>"What! he can write poetry here, in a café?"</p> - -<p>"In the first place, dear boy, this is not a café: it is a kind -of literary club; everybody you see here is either an author or a -journalist."</p> - -<p>"Well," I said to Lafarge, "I have never seen a café where they -consumed so little and wrote so much."</p> - -<p>"The deuce, you are framing already. You almost made a witticism just -then, do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, in return for the witticism I have almost perpetrated, -tell me who some of these gentlemen are."</p> - -<p>"My dear fellow, it would be useless: you need to be a Parisian to be -acquainted with reputations which are wholly Parisian."</p> - -<p>"But I assure you, my dear Auguste, I am not so provincial in such -matters as you think I am."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have you heard of Rochefort?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Has he not composed some very pretty songs and two or three -successful vaudevilles?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly so. Very well! he is that tall thin man, who is playing -dominoes."</p> - -<p>"Both players are of equal thinness."</p> - -<p>"Ah! quite true!... He is the one whose face always plays and never -wins." A way Rochefort had, gave rise to this joke on the part of his -friend Lafarge. I say gave rise to, and not <i>excused.</i></p> - -<p>"And who is his partner?"</p> - -<p>"That is Ferdinand Langlé."</p> - -<p>"Ah! little Fleuriet's lover?"</p> - -<p>"Little Fleuriet's lover!... Hang it, you talk like a Parisian.... Who -has primed you so well?"</p> - -<p>"Hang it all! Adolphe ... he does not appear to hurry himself."</p> - -<p>"You are in a hurry, then?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I am, and naturally enough: I have never seen Talma."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well, dear boy, hurry up and see him."</p> - -<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> - -<p>"Because he is <i>wearing out</i> horribly."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by <i>wearing out</i>?"</p> - -<p>"I mean he is getting old and growing rusty."</p> - -<p>"I see! But the papers say he has never been fresher in talent or more -beautiful in facial expression."</p> - -<p>"Do you believe what the papers say?"</p> - -<p>"Oh!"</p> - -<p>"You may be a journalist yourself one day, my boy."</p> - -<p>"Well, if I am?"</p> - -<p>"Why, then, when you are, you will see how things come about."</p> - -<p>"And ...?"</p> - -<p>"And you will not believe what the papers say—that is all!" At this -moment the door opened, and Adolphe poked his head in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Be quick," he said; "if we do not hurry, we shall find the curtain -raised."</p> - -<p>"Oh! it is you at last!"</p> - -<p>I darted towards Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"You have forgotten to pay," said Lafarge.</p> - -<p>"Oh! so I have.... Waiter, how much?"</p> - -<p>"One small glass, four sous; six sous of sugar, ten."</p> - -<p>I drew ten sous from my pocket and flung them on the table, and then, -the lighter by fifty centimes, I rushed out of the café.</p> - -<p>"You were with Lafarge?" said Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Yes.... What is wrong with him?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by what is wrong with him?"</p> - -<p>"He told me that M. de Jouy was an idiot, and Talma a Cassandra."</p> - -<p>"Poor Lafarge!" said Adolphe; "perhaps he had not dined."</p> - -<p>"Not dined! Is he reduced so low as that?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty nearly."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I said, "that explains many things!... MM. de Jouy and Talma dine -every day, and poor Lafarge cannot forgive them for it."</p> - -<p>Alas! I have since seen critics, besides Lafarge, who could not forgive -those who dined.</p> - -<p>I had dined so well that I had quite as much of the spirit of -indulgence in my stomach as curiosity in my mind.</p> - -<p>We went into the theatre. The hall was crowded, although it was about -the eighth performance of the play. We had terrible difficulty in -obtaining seats: our places were unreserved. Adolphe generously gave -forty sous to the woman who showed people to their seats, and she -wriggled a way in so well for us that she found us a corner in the -centre of the orchestra, into which we slipped like a couple of wedges, -which we must have resembled in shape and appearance. We were only -just in time, as Adolphe had said. Scarcely were we seated before the -curtain went up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is odd, is it not, that I should be talking of <i>Sylla</i> to the public -of 1851? "What was <i>Sylla</i>?" a whole generation will exclaim. O Hugo! -how true are your lines upon Canaris! They come back to me now, and, in -spite of my will, flow from my pen:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Canaris! Canaris! nous t'avons oublie!<br /> -Lorsque sur un héros le temps c'est replie,<br /> -Quand ce sublime acteur a fait pleurer ou lire,<br /> -Et qu'il a dit le mot que Dieu lui donne à dire;<br /> -Quand, venus au hasard des revolutions,<br /> -Les grands hommes out fait leurs grandes actions,<br /> -Qu'ils ont jeté leur lustre étincelant ou sombre,<br /> -Et qu'ils sont, pas à pas, redescendus dans l'ombre;<br /> -Leur nom s'éteint aussi! Tout est vain, tout est vain!<br /> -Et jusqu'à ce qu'un jour le poëte divin,<br /> -Qui peut créer un monde avec une parole,<br /> -Les prenne et leur rallume au front une auréole,<br /> -Nul ne se souvient d'eux, et la foule aux cent voix,<br /> -Qui, rien qu'en les voyant, hurlait d'aise autrefois,<br /> -Hélas! si par hasard devant elle on les nomme,<br /> -Interroge et s'étonne, et dit:'Quel est cet homme?'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>No! it is true M. de Jouy was not a hero, although he had fought -bravely in India, nor a great man, although he had composed <i>l'Ermite -de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> and <i>Sylla</i>; but M. de Jouy was a man of parts, -or rather he possessed talent.</p> - -<p>This was my conviction then. Thirty years have rolled by since the -evening on which I first saw Talma appear on the stage. I have just -re-read <i>Sylla</i> and it is my opinion to-day. No doubt M. de Jouy -had cleverly turned to account both the historical and the physical -likeness. The abdication of <i>Sylla</i> called to mind the emperor's -abdication; Talma's head the cast of Napoleon's. No doubt this was the -reason why the work met with such an enthusiastic reception, and ran -for a hundred times. But there was something else besides the actor's -looks and the allusions in the tragedy; there were fine lines, good -situations, a <i>dénoûment</i> daring in its simplicity. I am well aware -that very often the fine lines of one period<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> are not the fine lines of -another,—at least so people hold,—but the four lines which the poet -puts into the mouth of Roscius are fine lines for all time: Roscius, -the Talma of those last days of Rome, who had witnessed the fall of -the Roman Republic, as Talma had witnessed the fall of the French -Republic:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ah! puisse la nature épargner aux Romains<br /> -Ces sublimes esprits au-dessus des humains!<br /> -Trop de maux, trop de pleurs attestent le passage<br /> -De ces astres brûlants nés du sein de l'orage!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then, again, very fine are the lines that the proscriber, who arrests -with his powerful hand the proscription, which was going to include -Cæsar, addresses to Ophelia when Ophelia says to him:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Oserais-je, à mon tour, demander à Sylla<br /> -Quel pouvoir inconnu, quelle ombre protectrice,<br /> -Peut dérober César à sa lente justice?<br /> -<br /> -<i>Sylla.</i> J'ai pesé comme vous ses vices, ses vertus,<br /> -Et mon œil dans César voit plus d'un Marius!<br /> -Je sais de quel espoir son jeune orgueil s'énivre;<br /> -Mais Pompée est vivant, César aussi doit vivre.<br /> -Parmi tous ces Romains à mon pouvoir soumis,<br /> -Je n'ai plus de rivaux, j'ai besoin d'ennemis,<br /> -D'ennemis fibres, fiers, dont la seule presence<br /> -Atteste mon génie ainsi que ma puissance;<br /> -L'histoire à Marius pourrait m'associer,<br /> -César aura vécu pour me justifier!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>When I saw Talma come on to the stage I uttered a cry of astonishment. -Oh yes I it was indeed the impassive mask of the man I had seen pass in -his carriage, his head bent low on his breast, eight days before Ligny, -whom I saw return the day following Waterloo. Many have tried since, -with the aid of the green uniform, the grey overcoat and the little -hat, to reproduce that antique medallion, that bronze, half Greek, -half Roman; but not one of them, O Talma I possessed your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> lightning -glance, with the calm and imperturbable countenance upon which neither -the loss of a throne nor the death of thirty thousand men could imprint -one single line of regret or trace of remorse. Those who have never -seen Talma cannot imagine what he was: in him was the combination of -three supreme qualities which I have never found elsewhere combined -in one man—simplicity, power and poetry; it was impossible to be -more magnificent, with the perfect grace of an actor; I mean that -magnificence which has in it nothing personal attaching to the man, -but which changes according to the characters of the heroes he is -called upon to represent. It is impossible, I say, to find any actor -so endowed with this type of magnificence as was Talma. Melancholy in -<i>Orestes</i>, terrible in <i>Néro</i>, hideous in <i>Gloucester</i>, he could adapt -his voice, his looks, his gestures to each character. Mademoiselle -Mars was but the perfection of the graceful; Mademoiselle Rachel was -but the imperfection of the beautiful; Talma was the ideally great. -Actors lament that nothing of theirs survives themselves. O Talma! -I was a child when on that solemn evening I saw you for the first -time, as you came upon the stage and your gestures began, before that -row of senators, your clients; well, of that first scene, not one of -your actions is effaced from my memory, not one of your intonations -is lost.... O Talma! I can see you still, when these four lines are -uttered by Catiline:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Sur d'obscurs criminels qu'pargne ta clémence,<br /> -Je me tais; mais mon zèle eclaire ma prudence;<br /> -Le nom de Clodius sur la liste est omis,<br /> -C'est le plus dangereux de tous tes ennemis!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I can see you still, Talma!—may your great spirit hear me and thrill -with pleasure at not being forgotten!—I can see you still as with -scornful smile upon your lips you slowly diminish the distance that -separates you from your accuser; I can see and hear you still as you -place your hand upon his shoulder, and, draped like one of the finest -statues in Herculaneum or Pompeii, you utter these words to him, in -the vibrating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> voice which could penetrate to the very depths of one's -being:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je n'examine pas si ta haine enhardie<br /> -Poursuit dans Clodius l'époux de Valérie;<br /> -Et si Catiline, par cet avis fatal,<br /> -Pretend servir ma cause ou punir un rival."<br /> -</p> - -<p>O Talma! your incisive and sonorous intonation took root in the hearts -of all who heard you. It was indeed a fearfully ungrateful and barren -soil which at that unpoetical period of the Empire was left you to -cultivate, for, had you been disheartened by its sterility, there would -have been nothing great, or fine, or wide-spreading, during all those -thirty years in which you wore the Roman sandal or the Greek. Is it -that the spirit of genius, with all its absorbing power, is mortal like -that of the upas tree or the manchineel?</p> - -<p>I should like to continue speaking of Sylla to the end of the play in -order to render tribute to the prodigious talent Talma possessed, and -to follow him in the twofold development of his creation of the rôle of -Sylla and the details of that rôle. But what would be the good? Who is -interested in these things nowadays? Who amuses himself by recalling -thirty years after its extinction the intonation of an actor as he -declaimed line or hemistich or word? What does it matter to M. Guizard, -to M. Léon Faucher, to the President of the Republic, in what manner -Talma replied to Lænas, when he was sent by the Roman populace to learn -from Sylla the number of the condemned, and asked him—</p> - -<p> -"Combien en proscris-tu, Sylla?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>What matters it to those gentlemen to know how Talma uttered his</p> - -<p> -"Je ne sais pas!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>At the most, they can only remember the cadence of voice with which -General Cavaignac pronounced those four words when he was asked how -many people he had transported<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> untried out of France. And let us -remember that it is now but two years since the Dictator of 1848 -uttered these four words, which richly deserve to hold a place in -the annals of history beside those of Sylla. But though Talma was by -turns simple, great, magnificent, it was in the abdication scene that -he rose to actual sublimity. It is true that the abdication of Sylla -recalled that at Fontainebleau, and, we repeat, we have no doubt that -the resemblance between the modern and the ancient Dictator produced -an immense impression upon the vulgar public. This opinion was held by -the Censorship of 1821, which cut out these lines because they were -supposed to refer in turn to Bonaparte, first consul, and Napoleon, the -emperor.</p> - -<p>These to Bonaparte:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -... C'était trop pour moi des lauriers de la guerre;<br /> -Je voulais une gloire et plus rare et plus chère.<br /> -Rome, en proie aux fureurs des partis triomphants,<br /> -Mourante sous les coups de ses propres enfants,<br /> -Invoquait à la fois mon bras et mon génie:<br /> -Je me fis dictateur, je sauvai la patrie!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>These to Napoleon:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"J'ai gouverné le monde à mes ordres soumis,<br /> -Et j'impose silence à tous mes ennemis!<br /> -Leur haine ne saurait atteindre ma mémoire,<br /> -J'ai mis entre eux et moi l'abîme de ma gloire."<br /> -</p> - -<p>When one re-reads at the end of ten, twenty, or thirty years either -the lines which the Censorship forbade, or the plays it suppressed, -one is completely amazed at the stupidity of Governments. As soon -as a revolution has cut off the seven heads of a literary hydra, -governments make all speed to collect them again and to stick them -back on the trunk that feigned death whilst taking care not to lose -its hold on life. As though the Censorship had ever annihilated any -of the works that have been forbidden to be played! As though the -Censorship had strangled <i>Tartuffe, Mahomet, le Mariage de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> Figaro, -Charles IX., Pinto, Marion Delorme</i> and <i>Antony</i>! No, when one of these -virile pieces is hounded from the theatre where it has made its mark, -it waits, calm and erect, until those who have proscribed it fall or -pass away, and, when they are fallen or dead, when its persecutors -are hurled from their thrones, or entering their tombs, the calm and -immortal daughter of Genius, omnipotent and great, enters the enclosure -that the mannikins have closed against her, from whence they have -disappeared, and their forgotten crowns being too small for her brow -become the sport of her feet.</p> - -<p>The curtain fell in the midst of immense applause. I was stunned, -dazzled, fascinated. Adolphe proposed we should go to Talma's -dressing-room to thank him. I followed him through that inextricable -labyrinth of corridors which wind about the back regions of the -Théâtre-Français, and which to-day unfortunately are no longer unknown -regions to me. No client who ever knocked at the door of the original -Sylla felt his heart beat so fast and so furiously as did mine at the -door of the actor who had just personated him. De Leuven pushed open -the door. The great actor's dressing-room lay before us: it was full of -men whom I did not know, who were all famous or about to become famous. -There was Casimir Delavigne, who had just written the last scenes of -<i>l'École des Vieillards;</i> there was Lucien Arnault, who had just had -his <i>Régulus</i> performed; there was Soumet, still very proud of his -twofold success of <i>Saül</i> and of <i>Clytemnestre</i>; there was Népomucène -Lemercier, that paralysed sulky brute, whose talents were as crooked as -his body, who in his healthy moments had composed <i>Agamemnon, Pinto,</i> -and <i>Fridegonde,</i> and in his unhealthy hours <i>Christophe Colomb, la -Panhypocrisiade,</i> and <i>Cahin-Caha;</i> there was Delrieu, who had been at -work upon the revised version of his <i>Artaxerch,</i> since 1809; there -was Viennet, whose tragedies made a sensation for fifteen or twenty -years on paper, to live and agonise and die within a week, like him -whose reign lasted two hours and whose torture three days; there was, -finally, the hero of the hour, M. de Jouy, with his tall figure, his -fine white head, his intellectual and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> kindly eyes, and in the centre -of them all—Talma in his simple white robe, just despoiled of its -purple, his head from which he had just removed the crown and his two -graceful white hands with which he had just broken the Dictator's palm. -I stayed at the door, blushing vividly, and very humble.</p> - -<p>"Talma," said Adolphe, "we have come to thank you." Talma looked round -out of his eye-corners. He perceived me at the door.</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah!" he said; "come in."</p> - -<p>I took two steps towards him.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Poet," said he, "were you satisfied?"</p> - -<p>"I am more than that, monsieur ... I am wonder-struck." "Very well, you -must come and see me again, and ask for more seats."</p> - -<p>"Alas! Monsieur Talma, I leave Paris to-morrow or the day after at -latest."</p> - -<p>"That is a pity! you might have seen me in <i>Régulus.</i> ... You know I -have put <i>Régulus</i> on the bill for the day after to-morrow, Lucien?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Lucien replied.</p> - -<p>"And cannot you stop till the evening of the day after to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Impossible: I have to return to the provinces."</p> - -<p>"What do you do in the provinces?"</p> - -<p>"I dare not tell you: lama lawyer's clerk ..."</p> - -<p>And I heaved a deep sigh.</p> - -<p>"Bah!" said Talma, "you must not give way to despair on that account! -Corneille was clerk to a procurator!... Gentlemen, allow me to -introduce you to a future Corneille."</p> - -<p>I blushed to the eyes.</p> - -<p>"Lay your hand on my forehead: it will bring me good luck," I said to -Talma.</p> - -<p>Talma laid his hand on my head.</p> - -<p>"There—so be it," he said. "Alexandre Dumas, I baptize thee poet in -the name of Shakespeare, of Corneille and of Schiller!... Go back -to the provinces, go back to your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> office, and if you really have a -vocation, the angel of Poetry will know how to find you all right -wherever you be, will carry you off by the hair of your head like the -prophet Habakkuk and will take you where fate determines."</p> - -<p>I took Talma's hand and tried to kiss it.</p> - -<p>"Why, see!" he said, "the lad has enthusiasm and will make something of -himself;" and he shook me cordially by the hand.</p> - -<p>I had nothing more to wait for there. A longer stay in that -dressing-room crowded with celebrities would have been both -embarrassing and ridiculous: I made a sign to Adolphe, and we took our -leave. I wanted to fling my arms round Adolphe's neck in the corridor.</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed," I said to him, "be sure I shall return to Paris. You may -depend upon that!"</p> - -<p>We went down by the little twisting staircase, which has since been -condemned; we left by the black corridor; we went along the gallery -then called the galerie de Nemours, and called to-day I know not what, -and we came out on the place du Palais-Royal.</p> - -<p>"There, you know your way," said Adolphe,—"the rue Croix-des-Petits -Champs, the rue Coquillière, the rue des Vieux-Augustins. Good-night; I -must leave you: it is late, and it is a long way from here to the rue -Pigale.... By the way, remember we lunch at ten and we dine at five."</p> - -<p>And Adolphe turned round the corner of the rue Richelieu and -disappeared. It was indeed late; all lights were out, and only a few -belated people were passing across the place du Palais-Royal. Although -Adolphe had told it me, I did not in the least know my way, and I was -extremely scared when I found myself alone. It must be confessed I -felt very uneasy at being out in the streets of Paris at such a late -hour; for I had heard heaps of stories of night attacks, robberies and -assassinations, and, with my fifty sous in my pocket, I trembled at -the thought of being plundered. A struggle went on in my mind between -courage and fear. Fear won the day. I hailed a cab. The cab came up to -me and I opened the door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Monsieur knows it is past midnight?" said the driver.</p> - -<p>"Of course I know it," I replied; and I added to myself, "That is the -very reason I am taking a cab."</p> - -<p>"Where is the country squire going?"</p> - -<p>"Rue des Vieux-Augustins, <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins."</i></p> - -<p>"What?" said the driver.</p> - -<p>I repeated it.</p> - -<p>"Is monsieur quite sure he wants to go there?"</p> - -<p>"The deuce I do!"</p> - -<p>"In that case, off we go!"</p> - -<p>And lashing his horses, at the same time clicking with his tongue as do -all drivers, he urged them into a canter.</p> - -<p>Twenty seconds later, he pulled up, got down from his seat, and opened -the door.</p> - -<p>"Well ...?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, my country lad, we are at your destination, rue des -Vieux-Augustins, <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins"</i></p> - -<p>I raised my head, and there, beyond doubt, was the house. I then -understood the driver's astonishment at seeing a great bumpkin of -twenty, who seemed in no way unsound of limb, wanting to take a cab -from the place du Palais-Royal to go to the rue des Vieux-Augustins. -But as it would have been too absurd to avow that I did not know the -distance between the two places, I said in a stout voice—</p> - -<p>"All right—what is the fare?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know the fare well enough, young fellow."</p> - -<p>"If I knew it, I should not ask you."</p> - -<p>"It is fifty sous, then."</p> - -<p>"Fifty sous?" I exclaimed, horrified at having incurred such useless -expense.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, young chap, that is the tariff."</p> - -<p>"Fifty sous to come from the Palais-Royal here!"</p> - -<p>"I warned monsieur it was past midnight."</p> - -<p>"There you are," I said; "take your fifty sous."</p> - -<p>"Aren't you going to give me a <i>pourboire</i>, young fellow?"</p> - -<p>I made a movement to strangle the wretch; but he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> strong and -vigorous. I reflected that perhaps he would strangle me, so I stayed -my hand. I rang the bell, the door was opened, and I went inside. I -felt dreadfully stricken with remorse for having squandered my money, -especially when I considered that even had Paillet spent nothing on his -side, we only had twenty francs fifty centimes left. Paillet had been -to the Opera, and had spent eight francs ten sous. Only a dozen francs -were left us.</p> - -<p>We looked at each other with some anxiety.</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "you have seen Talma, I have heard <i>la Lampe -mervilleuse</i>; this was all you wanted to see, all I wanted to hear: if -you agree, let us leave to-morrow, instead of the next day."</p> - -<p>"That is exactly what I was going to suggest to you."</p> - -<p>"All right; do not let us lose any time. It is now one o'clock; let -us get to bed as quickly as possible and sleep until six; then let us -start at seven, and sleep, if we can manage it, at Manteuil."</p> - -<p>"Good-night"</p> - -<p>"Good-night...."</p> - -<p>A quarter of an hour later, we were rivalling one another who could go -to sleep the soundest.</p> - -<p>Next day, or rather the same day, at eight o'clock, we had passed -Villette; at three o'clock, we were dining at Dammartin, under the same -conditions as we had lunched there; at seven, we were having our supper -at Manteuil; and on Wednesday at one o'clock, loaded with two hares -and six partridges,—the result of the economy we had exercised by our -hunting of the previous night and day,—we entered Crespy, giving our -last twenty sous to a poor beggar. Paillet and I parted at the entry -to the large square. I went to Maître Lefèvre's by the little passage, -and up to my room to change my things. I called Pierre, through the -window, and asked him for news of M. Lefèvre. M. Lefèvre had returned -in the night. I gave my game to the cook, went into the office and -slipped into my place. My three office companions were all in their -places. Nobody asked me a question. They thought I had just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> returned -from one of my usual excursions, only one that had lasted rather longer -than usual. I enquired if M. Lefèvre had asked any questions about me. -M. Lefèvre had wanted to know where I was; they had replied that they -did not know, and the matter had ended there. I drew my papers from my -desk and set to work. A few minutes later, M. Lefèvre appeared. He went -to the head clerk, gave him some instructions, and then returned to -his room, without even having seemed to notice my presence, which led -me to think he had taken particular notice of my absence. Dinner-time -arrived. We sat down; all went on as usual; save that, after dinner, -when I was rising to go, M. Lefèvre said to me—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, I want a few words with you."</p> - -<p>I knew the storm was about to burst, and I resolved to keep myself well -in hand.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, monsieur," I replied.</p> - -<p>The head clerk and the office boy, who shared the master's table with -me, discreetly withdrew. M. Lefèvre pointed to a chair opposite his -own, on the other side of the fireplace. I sat down. Then M. Lefèvre -lifted his head as a horse does under the martingale, a gesture which -was customary with him, crossed his right leg over his left leg, held -up one leg till the slipper fell, took his gold snuff-box, inhaled a -pinch of snuff, drew a dignified breath, and then, in a voice all the -more threatening because of its dulcet tones, he said, scratching his -right foot with his left hand, his most cherished habit—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, have you any knowledge of mechanics?"</p> - -<p>"Not in theory, monsieur, only in practice."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you will know enough to understand my illustration."</p> - -<p>"I am listening, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, in order that a machine may work properly, none of its -wheels must stop."</p> - -<p>"Of course not, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Very well, Monsieur Dumas; I need not say more. I am the engineer, you -are one of the wheels in the machine; for two days you have stopped, -and consequently for two days the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> general action of the machine has -lacked the co-operation of your individual movement."</p> - -<p>I rose to my feet.</p> - -<p>"Quite so, monsieur," I said.</p> - -<p>"You will understand," added M. Lefèvre in a less dogmatic tone, "that -this warning is merely provisional?"</p> - -<p>"You are very good, monsieur, but I take it as definitive."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then, that is better still," said M. Lefèvre. "It is now seven in -the evening, night is coming on, and the weather is bad; but you may -leave when you like, my dear Dumas. From the moment you cease to be -third clerk here you can remain as a friend, and in that capacity the -longer you stay the better I shall be pleased."</p> - -<p>I bowed a graceful acknowledgment to M. Lefèvre and withdrew to my -room. I had taken a great step, and an important career was now closed -to me; henceforth my future was in Paris, and I made up my mind to move -heaven and earth to leave the provinces. I spent half the night in -thinking, and before I fell asleep all my plans were made.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III">BOOK III</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ib" id="CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I return to my mother's—The excuse I give concerning my return—The -calf's lights—Pyramus and Cartouche—The intelligence of the fox more -developed than that of the dog—Death of Cartouche—Pyramus's various -gluttonous habits</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I packed up my things next day and went. I was not without uneasiness -with regard to the way my mother might receive me—my poor mother! -her first expression at seeing me was always one of delight, but my -leaving Maître Lefèvre's would trouble her. So the nearer I drew to -Villers-Cotterets, the slower did my steps become. It generally took -me two hours to walk the three and a half leagues between Crespy and -Villers-Cotterets, for I used to run the last league; but now the -reverse was the case, for the last league took me the longest of all to -cover. I returned in shooting costume after my usual fashion. And my -dog was hardly three hundred yards away before he smelt home, stopped -an instant, lifted up his nose, and set off like an arrow. Five seconds -after he had disappeared down the road, I saw my mother appear on the -threshold. My courier had preceded me and announced my return. She met -me with her usual smile; the whole tenderness of her heart welled up at -my approach and shone in her face. I flung myself in her arms.</p> - -<p>Oh! what a love is a mother's!—a love always good, always devoted, -always faithful; a true diamond lost amongst all the false stones with -which youth decks its happiness; a pure and limpid carbuncle, which -shines in joy as in sorrow, by night as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> by day! My mother's first -thoughts were nought but joyful ones at seeing me again; then, at last, -she asked me how it was I had returned home on Thursday instead of on -Saturday, to spend Sunday with her, going back on Monday as usual.</p> - -<p>I dared not tell her of the misfortune that had befallen me. I told her -that, as business was slack at the office, I had obtained a holiday for -several days, which I meant to spend with her.</p> - -<p>"But," my mother observed, "I see you are wearing your hunting-coat and -breeches."</p> - -<p>"Yes, why not?"</p> - -<p>"How is it you have nothing in your game-bag?"</p> - -<p>It was not indeed customary for me to return with the game-bag empty.</p> - -<p>"I was so anxious to see you, dear mother, that instead of shooting, I -came the shortest way, by the high road."</p> - -<p>I lied. Had I spoken the truth, I should have said, "Alas! dear mother, -I was so much taken up with thinking what effect my news would have -upon you that I never thought of shooting, though at other times I have -forgotten everything for that passion." But had I told her that, I -should have had to tell her the news, and I wanted to delay it as long -as possible.</p> - -<p>An incident freed me from embarrassment and diverted my mother's -thoughts for the moment. I heard my dog howl.</p> - -<p>I ran to the door. The next house to ours was that of a butcher, -called Mauprivez. In the front of the butcher's slab there was a long -cross-bar of painted wood, in which at different intervals iron hooks -were fixed to hold various specimens of meat. In jumping up at a calfs -lights, Pyramus had got hooked like a carp on a fish-hook, and hung -suspended. That was why he howled, and, as will readily be imagined, -not without cause. I seized hold of him by the body, unhooked him, -and he rushed into the stable, his jaws bleeding. If I ever write the -history of the dogs that have belonged to me, Pyramus shall have a -prominent place by the side of Milord. I may therefore be allowed to -leave in suspense the interest my return naturally created, to talk -a bit about Pyramus, who, in spite of his name, which indicated that -all sorts of love misfortunes were before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> him, had never had, to my -knowledge, any misadventures except gastronomic ones. Pyramus was a -large chestnut-coloured dog, of very good French pedigree, who had been -given me when quite a puppy, with a fox-cub of the same age, which -the keeper who gave him me (it was poor Choron of la Maison-Neuve) -had had suckled by the same mother. I often amused myself by watching -the different instincts of these two animals develop, as they were -placed opposite one another in the yard in two parallel recesses. For -the first three or four months an almost brotherly intimacy reigned -between Cartouche and Pyramus. I need not mention that Cartouche -was the fox and Pyramus the dog. Nor need I mention that the name -of Cartouche was given to the fox in allusion to his instincts of -stealing and depredation. It was Cartouche who began to declare war -on Pyramus, although he was the weaker looking; this declaration of -war took place over some bones which were within Cartouche's boundary, -but which Pyramus had surreptitiously tried to annex. The first time -Pyramus attempted this piracy, Cartouche snarled; the second time, he -showed his teeth; the third time, he bit. Cartouche was the more to -be excused because he was always on the chain, while Pyramus had his -hours of liberty. Cartouche, restrained to a very circumscribed walk, -could not therefore, at full length of his chain, do unto Pyramus the -evil deeds which Pyramus, abusing his liberty, was guilty of on his -side. On account of this captivity, I was able to notice the superior -intelligence of the fox over that of the dog. Both were gourmands in -the highest degree, with this difference, that Pyramus was more of a -glutton and Cartouche more of an epicure. When they both stretched to -the full length of their chains, they could reach a distance of nearly -four feet, from the opening of their recesses. Add ten inches for the -length of Pyramus's head, four inches for Cartouche's pointed nose, and -you will arrive at this result, that whilst Pyramus, at the length of -his chain, could reach a bone at four feet ten inches from his recess, -Cartouche could only perpetrate the same deed four feet four inches -from his. Very well, if I placed a bone six feet off,—that is to -say, out of the reach of both,—Pyramus had to content<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> himself with -stretching his chain with the whole strength of his sturdy shoulders, -but not being able to break it, he would stand with fixed bloodshot -eyes, his jaws slobbering and open, attempting from time to time, -with plaintive whines, to exorcise the distance, or, by desperate -efforts, to break his chain. If the bone were not either taken away -or given him, he would have gone mad; but he had never succeeded, by -any ingenious contrivance, to snatch the prey beyond his reach. It was -another matter with Cartouche. His preliminary tactics were the same as -those of Pyramus, and consequently equally fruitless. But soon he began -to reflect, rubbing a paw on his nose; then, all at once, as though a -sudden illumination had come into his mind, he turned himself round, -adding the length of his body to the length of his chain, dragged the -bone into the circle of his kingdom, by the help of one of his hind -paws, turned round again, seized hold of the bone, and entered into -his kennel, from which it was not rejected until it was as clean and -polished as ivory. Pyramus saw Cartouche perform this trick ten times; -he would howl with jealousy as he listened to his comrade's teeth -grinding on the bone which he was gnawing; but, I repeat, he never had -the intelligence to do the same thing himself, and to use his hind -paw as a hook to draw the tit-bit within his reach. Cartouche was of -superior intelligence to Pyramus in a thousand other instances such -as this, although his tractability was always inferior. But it is -common knowledge that with animals as with human beings, the capacity -for being trained is not always, nay is scarcely ever, combined with -intelligence.</p> - -<p>The reader may ask why the injustice was perpetrated of keeping -Cartouche always fastened, while Pyramus was allowed his liberty at -times. This is why: Pyramus was only a glutton by need, while Cartouche -was destructive by instinct. One day he broke his chain, and went from -our yard into the farmyard belonging to our neighbour Mauprivez. In -less than ten minutes he had strangled seventeen fowls and two cocks. -Nineteen cases of homicide: it was impossible to plead extenuating -circumstances: he was condemned to death and executed. So Pyramus -reigned sole master of the place, which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> to his shame be it said, he -appreciated greatly. His appetite seemed to increase when he was left -alone. This appetite was a defect at home; but, out shooting, it was -a vice. Nearly always, the first game I killed under his nose, were -it small game, such as partridge, young pheasant or quail, would be -lost to me. His big jaws would open, and, with a rapid gulp, the piece -of game disappeared down his throat. Very rarely did I arrive in time -to perceive, by opening his jaws, the last feathers of the bird's -tail disappearing in the depths of his gullet. Then a lash with my -horse-whip, vigorously applied on the loins of the guilty sinner, would -cure him for the remainder of the chase, and it was seldom he repeated -the same fault; but, between one shoot and another, he generally -had time to forget the previous punishment, and more expenditure of -whipcord was needed. On two other occasions, however, the gluttony of -Pyramus turned out badly for him.</p> - -<p>One day de Leuven and I were shooting over the marshes of Pondron. It -was a place where two harvests were gathered during the year. The first -harvest was that of a small thicket of alderwood. The owner of the -land, after having cut his branches, stripped the twigs off, sawed it -and tied it in bundles. Then he became busy over his second harvest, -which was that of hay. They were just reaping this crop. But, as it was -luncheon-time, the reapers had rested their scythes, here and there, -and were feeding by a small river wherein they could moisten their -hard bread. One of them had placed his scythe against one of the heaps -of cut wood, about two feet and a half high, placed in cubic metres -or half-mètres. I put up a snipe; I fired and killed it, and it fell -behind this pile of wood against which the scythe was propped. It was -the first thing I had killed that day, consequently it happened to be -the perquisite Pyramus was in the habit of appropriating. So, putting -two and two together, he had scarcely seen the snipe, stopped in its -flight, fall vertically behind the wood pile, before he darted over -the stack so as to fall on the spot as soon as it did, without loss of -time. As I knew beforehand that it was a head of game lost, I did not -hurry myself to see the tail feathers of my snipe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> in the depths of -Pyramus's throat, but, to my great surprise, I saw no more of Pyramus -than if he had tumbled down an invisible chasm, hewn out behind the -pile of wood. When I had re-loaded my gun, I decided to fathom this -mystery. Pyramus had fallen on the far side of the heap of wood, his -neck on the point of the scythe; this point had penetrated to the right -of the pharynx, behind the neck, and stuck out four inches in front. -Poor Pyramus could not stir, and was bleeding' to death: the snipe, -intact, was within six inches of his nose. Adolphe and I raised him -up, so as to cause him the least possible hurt; we carried him to the -river, and we bathed him in deep water; then I made him a compress with -my handkerchief, folded in sixteen, which we bound round his neck with -Adolphe's silk one. Then, seeing a peasant from Haramont passing, with -a donkey carrying two baskets, we put Pyramus in one of the paniers -and we had him carried to Haramont, whence next day I took him away in -a small conveyance. Pyramus was a week between life and death. For a -month he carried his head on one side, like Prince Tuffiakin. Finally, -at the end of six weeks, he had regained his elasticity of movement, -and appeared to have completely forgotten the terrible catastrophe. But -whenever he saw a scythe, he made an immense detour to avoid coming -in contact with it. Another day, he returned home, his body as full -of holes as a sieve. He had been wandering about the forest alone, -watching his opportunity, and he had leapt at the throat of a hare; the -hare screamed out: a keeper, who was about a couple of hundred steps -away, ran up; but before the keeper could clear the two hundred paces, -the hare was half devoured. Now Pyramus, on seeing the approach of -the keeper and on hearing his execrations, understood that something -alarming would occur between himself and the man in blue clothes. He -took to his heels and set off full tear. But, as Friday, of Robinson -Crusoe memory remarked, "Small shot ran after me faster than you did!" -the keeper's small shot travelled faster than Pyramus, and Pyramus -returned home riddled in eight places.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<p>I have already related what happened to him ten minutes after my -return. A week later, he came in with a calf's lights in his mouth. A -knife was quivering in his side. Behind him came one of the Mauprivez' -sons.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he said, "isn't it enough that your beastly Pyramus carries away -the contents of our shop, joint by joint, but he must needs carry away -my knife too?"</p> - -<p>Seeing Pyramus carry off the calfs lights, Mauprivez' boy had hurled -at him the knife butchers generally wear at their girdles; but, as -the knife went three or four inches into Pyramus's hide, Pyramus had -carried off both meat and knife. Mauprivez recovered his implement; but -the calfs lights were already devoured. Just when Pyramus's various -misdeeds had incurred not merely our individual reprobation, but public -reprobation still more, an advantageous occasion offered to get rid -of him. But as that occasion was invested in my eyes with all the -semblance of a miracle, I must be permitted to relate that miracle in -its proper time and place, and not to anticipate it here.</p> - -<p>Let us, for the moment, occupy ourselves over the unexpected return of -the prodigal son to the maternal roof—a return from which Pyramus and -Cartouche have incidentally diverted our attention.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIb" id="CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Hope in Laffitte—A false hope—New projects—M. Lecornier—How and -on what conditions I clothe myself anew—Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du -Helder—Bamps at Villers-Cotterets—I visit our estate along with -him—Pyramus follows a butcher lad—An Englishman who loved gluttonous -dogs—I sell Pyramus—My first hundred francs—The use to which they -are put—Bamps departs for Paris—Open credit</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Although I had told my mother that my return was only a provisional -one, to use M. Lefèvre's expression, she had very little doubt at heart -that it was really final. Her doubt turned to certainty when she saw -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday pass by without my speaking of returning to -Crespy; but, poor mother! she never said a word to me concerning this -catastrophe: it had cost her so much to part with me, that, since God -had sent me back to her, she opened her maternal heart, arms and door -to me. I had some hope left me: Adolphe had promised to make overtures -to M. Laffitte, the banker, on my behalf; if M. Laffitte made me an -opening in his office, where they worked from ten to four, there would -be the whole of the evening and early morning to oneself for other -work. Besides, it was time I should earn something. The most important -thing was to get to Paris, to light our poor candles at that universal, -vast and dazzling fireside, which was a light to the whole world. -A fortnight after my return from Crespy, I received a letter from -Adolphe. His request had come to nothing, for M. Laffitte's offices -were over full of clerks as it was: they were talking of clearing -some out. So I decided to put in action at the first opportunity a -plan I had settled upon during the last sleepless night I had spent -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> M. Lefèvre's. This project was perfectly simple and, by its very -simplicity, seemed likely to succeed.</p> - -<p>I would select, from my father's desk, a dozen letters from Marshal -Jourdan, Marshal Victor, Marshal Sébastiani, from all the marshals -still living, in fact, with whom my father had had dealings. I would -collect a small sum of money and I would start for Paris. I would -approach these old friends of my father; they would do what they -could, and it would be a strange thing if four or five marshals of -France, one of whom was Minister for War, could not by their combined -influence find a situation at 1200 francs for the son of their old -comrade-in-arms. But although this plan looked as simple and artless, -at the first glance, as a pastoral by Florian, it was very difficult to -put in execution. Small though the sum was, it was not an easy thing -to raise it; moreover, an expenditure I had foolishly made at Crespy -complicated matters.</p> - -<p>I had become connected at Crespy with a young man who had lived in -Paris: his name was Lecornier. He was brother of that gracious person -to whom I gave a name in one of my preceding chapters—you will -recollect it, although it was only mentioned once—the charming name -of Athénaïs, or, in other words, Athena, Minerva, Pallas, although the -bearer of it was quite unaware of this fact. Well, ashamed of moving -in the aristocratic world of Crespy in my old-fashioned clothes of -Villers-Cotterets, I had asked Lecornier, as my build was exactly his, -to write to his tailor to make me a coat, a waistcoat and a pair of -trousers. Lecornier wrote: I sent my twenty francs as a remittance on -account, and, fifteen days later, the tailor forwarded me the goods, -enclosing a bill for a hundred and fifty-five francs, from which he had -deducted the twenty francs I had sent him on account. It was arranged -that the rest of the bill should be liquidated at the rate of twenty -francs a month. The tailor's name was Bamps, and he lived in the rue du -Helder, No. 12. It will be seen, from his charges, that although Bamps -lived in a fashionable quarter, he was neither a Chevreuil nor a Staub; -no, he was a journeyman who charged fancy prices, who had drifted from -the Latin quarter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> where he should always have remained. But for the -very reason that his business was small, Bamps had all the more need of -the profits it produced.</p> - -<p>Although I exercised the greatest economy possible, I had not been able -to put aside the promised twenty francs when the next month's payment -became due. Not having them, of course I could not send them. This -first infraction of our treaty made Bamps very uneasy. Nevertheless, -Bamps knew that Lecornier belonged to a family well to do, although -not wealthy; Lecornier kept his engagements with him with scrupulous -punctuality; so he decided to wait, before giving signs of his anxiety. -The second month came. With it came the same impossibility on my -part, and, consequently, redoubled uneasiness on the part of Bamps. -Meanwhile, I had left Crespy—under the circumstances related—and I -had returned to Villers-Cotterets. Five or six days after my departure, -Bamps, becoming more and more uncomfortable, had written to Lecornier. -Lecornier had replied, giving him my fresh address. It therefore came -about that one day—about the beginning of the third month after -receiving the clothes—as I was lounging on our threshold, the town -clock struck one, the diligence from Paris drew up in the square, and -a traveller got down from it who asked the conductor two or three -questions, took his bearings and came straight to me. I guessed half -the truth. Bamps was walking with his knees out like Duguesclin, and -nobody but a soldier or a tailor could walk thus. I was not mistaken: -the stranger came straight to me and introduced himself; it was Bamps. -It was necessary to play something like the scene between Don Juan -and M. Dimanche; this was all the more difficult as I had never read -<i>Don Juan.</i> However, instinct made up for ignorance. I gave Bamps -a most cordial reception; I introduced him to my mother, to whom, -fortunately, I had said a few words about this my first debt; I offered -him refreshment, and I asked him to sit down, or, if he preferred so to -do, to visit our estate. Under the circumstances, Bamps' choice was a -foregone conclusion: he preferred to visit <i>our estate.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, what was this property of which the reader has already heard me -speak, but which he will assuredly have forgotten? Our estate was the -house of M. Harlay on which my mother had been paying a life-annuity -for something like forty years; M. Harlay had died during my stay with -Maître Lefèvre; but, just as though he had made a wager, he died on -the anniversary of his birth, triumphantly terminating his ninetieth -year!... Unfortunately, his death had not been much advantage to us. -My mother had borrowed, on house and garden, almost as much as house -and garden were worth; so that we were neither richer nor poorer by -this inheritance; though, as there were certain duties to pay, I may -venture to state we were poorer rather than richer. But Bamps knew -none of these details. I therefore offered, as I have said, to take -him over our estate. He accepted. I unchained Pryamus, and we set off. -After going fifty yards, Pyramus left us to follow a butcher boy who -went by with a piece of mutton on his shoulder. I give this detail, -although, at first glance, it may appear very trivial; for it was not -without influence upon my future. For what would have happened to me -and to Bamps if this butcher boy, whose name was Valtat, had not passed -by, and if Pyramus had not followed him? We went on our way, without -thinking of Pyramus. Man jostles up against great events, every moment -of his life, without seeing them and without being conscious of them.</p> - -<p>We soon arrived. M. Harlay's house, now our own, was situated in the -place de la Fontaine, perhaps a couple of hundred steps from the house -we lived in. I had taken the keys: I opened the doors, and we began -by looking over the interior of the house. It was not so clean as to -inspire great confidence: everything had grown old along with the -worthy man who had just died in it, and who had taken great care not -to undertake a single repair in it; "for," said he, "it will last as -long as I shall." It had lasted as long as he had, true; but, all the -same, it was time he died. If he had lingered on merely another year -or two with the same intention in his head, he would have out-lasted -the house. The inside of our poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> property, then, afforded the most -melancholy sight of complete neglect and dilapidation. The floors were -broken through, the wall-papers torn off, the bricks broken. Bamps -shook his head, and said, in his half Alsacian and half French dialect, -"Ach! My vord! my vord! it is in a fery pad stade."</p> - -<p>Most surely would I have offered Bamps the house, in exchange for his -bill, if he would have taken it. When the house had been surveyed, I -said to Bamps—</p> - -<p>"Now let us go and see the garden."</p> - -<p>"Is de garten in zo pad a stade as de house?" he asked. "Well ... it -has been rather neglected, but now it belongs to us...."</p> - -<p>"It vill take much money to restore dis old tumbledown place," Bamps -discreetly observed.</p> - -<p>"Bah! we shall find it," I replied: "if it is not in our own pockets, -it will be in someone else's."</p> - -<p>"Goot! if you can vind it, zo much de better."</p> - -<p>We crossed the yard and entered the garden. It was at the beginning of -April; we had had two or three lovely days—days one knows so well, -on which the year, like a faithful servant, seems to fold up Winter's -white garment, and unfold the green robe of Spring.</p> - -<p>Now, although the garden was as neglected as the house, it was -pursuing its work of life, in opposition to the work of death going -on in the house. The house grew older year by year; year by year the -garden renewed its youth. It looked as though the trees had powdered -themselves for a forest ball: apples and pears in white, and peaches -and almonds in pink. You could not imagine anything younger, fresher -or more full of life, than was this garden of death. Everything was -waking up with Nature, as she herself woke up: the birds had begun to -sing, and three or four butterflies, deceived by the flowers and by the -first rays of sunshine, were flying about still somewhat benumbed; poor -ephemera, born in the morning, but to die by night!</p> - -<p>"Well," I asked Bamps, "what do you say to the garden?" "Oh! dat is -fery bretty: it is a bity it is not in de rue de Rifoli."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There will be more than a hundred crowns' worth of fruit in this -garden, you take my word for it."</p> - -<p>"Yess, if no pad frosts come."</p> - -<p>O Bamps! you Jew, my friend, you tailor, my creditor, you have probably -not read those fine lines of Hugo, which, by the way, were not then -written:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Il faut que l'eau s'épuise à courir les valines;<br /> -Il faut que l'éclair brille, et brille peu d'instants;<br /> -Il faut qu'avril jaloux brûle de ses gelées<br /> -Le beau pommier trop fier de ses fleurs etoilées,<br /> -Neige odorante du printemps."<br /> -</p> - -<p>We walked round the garden; then, when I fancied satisfaction carried -the day against dissatisfaction, I took Bamps back home. Dinner -was waiting for us. I believe the dinner caused Bamps to go from -satisfaction back to dissatisfaction.</p> - -<p>"Ah, veil," he said to me, when he had taken his cup of coffee and his -cognac, "we must now have a liddle talk about business."</p> - -<p>"Why not, my dear Bamps? Willingly."</p> - -<p>My mother heaved a sigh.</p> - -<p>"Veil, then," continued Bamps, "the bill is for a huntred and -vifty-vive francs."</p> - -<p>"Towards which I have given you twenty."</p> - -<p>"Towards vhich you haf gifen me tventy: so dere is a palance of a -huntred and thirdy-vive. Towards dese huntred and thirdy-vive, you said -you would gif me tventy per month. Two months haf gone py: so dat makes -forty you owe me."</p> - -<p>"Exactly forty, my dear sir—you reckon like Barême."</p> - -<p>"Veil, I can reckon all right."</p> - -<p>The situation was growing embarrassing. Had we opened my poor mother's -banking account and scratched together every farthing, we should -certainly not have been able to find the forty francs demanded. Just at -that moment the door opened.</p> - -<p>"Is M. Dumas in?" asked a hoarse, raucous voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, M. Dumas is here," I replied in a bad temper. "What do you want -with him?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want him."</p> - -<p>"Who does, then?"</p> - -<p>"An Englishman at M. Cartier's."</p> - -<p>"An Englishman?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes, an Englishman, who is very anxious to see you."</p> - -<p>That was my own state of mind too! The Englishman could not be more -anxious to see me than I was to get away from Bamps.</p> - -<p>"My dear Bamps," I said to him, "wait for me; I will come back. We will -settle up our account on my return."</p> - -<p>"Be qvick back; I must depard dis efening."</p> - -<p>"Set your mind at rest about that: I shall be back in an instant."</p> - -<p>I took up my cap and followed the stable lad, who had told my mother, -to her great surprise, that he had orders not to go back without me.</p> - -<p>Cartier, at whose house was the Englishman who demanded to see me, -was an old friend of our family, the proprietor of the <i>Boule d'or,</i> -a hotel situated at the extreme east of the town, on the road to -Soissons. The diligences stopped at his house. There was therefore -nothing surprising that the Englishman who was asking for me should be -staying there: what did astonish me was that this Englishman should -want me. When I appeared in the kitchen, old Cartier, who was warming -himself, according to his usual habit, in the chimney corner, came up -to me.</p> - -<p>"Look sharp," he said: "I believe I am going to pull off a good thing -for you."</p> - -<p>"Come now, that would be very welcome," I replied; "I was never in -greater need of a lucky windfall."</p> - -<p>"Well, follow me."</p> - -<p>And Cartier, walking in front of me, led me to a little parlour where -travellers dined. Just as we opened the door, we heard a voice saying, -with a strong English accent—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Take care, mine host: the dog does not know me, and will run out."</p> - -<p>"Never fear, milord," replied Cartier: "I am bringing his master."</p> - -<p>Every innkeeper considers an Englishman has the right to the title of -milord; so they use the title unsparingly: true, it usually pays them -to do so.</p> - -<p>"Ah! come in, sir," said the Englishman, trying to rise, by leaning -both his elbows on the arms of his chair. He could not succeed. Seeing -this, I hastened to say to him—</p> - -<p>"Pray do not disturb yourself, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I will not disturb myself," said the Englishman, falling back in -his arm-chair with a sigh. The time he took in getting up and falling -back in his chair, with the rising and falling movement suggestive -of an omelette soufflée which has fallen flat, was occupied by me in -quickly glancing at him and his surroundings. He was a man of between -forty and forty-five years of age, of sandy complexion, with his hair -clipped short and his whiskers cut <i>en collier</i>; he wore a blue coat -with metal buttons, a chamois leather waistcoat, breeches of grey -woollen material with gaiters to match, after the fashion of grooms. He -was seated before the table where he had just dined. The table bore the -debris of a meal sufficient for six people. He must have weighed from -three hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. Pyramus was seated on -the parquetry floor, looking very melancholy; round Pyramus were placed -ten or twelve shiny plates, licked clean with that thoroughness I knew -he was capable of in the matter of dirty plates. On the last plate, -however, were some scraps still unconsumed. These unconsumed scraps -were the cause of Pyramus's depressed spirits.</p> - -<p>"Please come and speak to me, monsieur," said the Englishman.</p> - -<p>I drew near him. Pyramus recognised me, yawned to notify the fact, -stretched himself full length on his stomach so as to get as near to me -as possible, his paws stretched out on the floor, his nose laid on his -paws.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur," I said to the Englishman.</p> - -<p>"Now!" said he. Then, after a pause, he added—</p> - -<p>"That dog of yours has taken my fancy."</p> - -<p>"He is greatly honoured, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"And they have told me you might perhaps agree to sell him to me, if I -were to pay you a good price for him."</p> - -<p>"I shall not need very much persuasion, monsieur; I have been trying to -get rid of him, and since he pleases you ..."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, he pleases me."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, take him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I do not want to take the dog without paying for him." Cartier -nudged my elbow.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I am not a dealer in dogs: he was given to me, I -will give him to you."</p> - -<p>"Well, but he has cost you his keep."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the keep of a dog does not come to much."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; if is but fair I should pay for his food.... How long have -you had him?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly two years."</p> - -<p>"Then I owe you for his food for two years."</p> - -<p>Cartier continued to nudge my elbow. And it occurred to me that the -dog's keep would help admirably to pay for the master's clothes.</p> - -<p>"Very well," said I, "we will settle it so: you shall pay me for his -keep."</p> - -<p>"Reckon it up."</p> - -<p>"What do you think of fifty francs per year?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh!"</p> - -<p>"Is it too much?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, I do not think it is enough: the dog eats a lot."</p> - -<p>"Yes, true, monsieur; I was intending to warn you of that." "Oh, I have -witnessed it; but I like animals and people who eat a lot: it shows -they have a good digestion, and a good digestion tends to good humour."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, you shall fix your own charge."</p> - -<p>"You said, I think, that it was to be ten napoleons?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No, monsieur; I said five napoleons."</p> - -<p>Cartier nudged my elbow harder and harder.</p> - -<p>"Ah! five napoleons?... You will not take ten?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, and only that because I happen at this moment to be in -great need of five napoleons."</p> - -<p>"Won't you take fifteen napoleons? I am sure the dog is worth fifteen -napoleons."</p> - -<p>"No, no, no, no; give me five napoleons, and he is yours."</p> - -<p>"What do you call him?"</p> - -<p>"Pyramus."</p> - -<p>"Pyramus!" exclaimed the Englishman.</p> - -<p>Pyramus did not budge.</p> - -<p>"Oh," continued the Englishman, "what did you say you called him?"</p> - -<p>"I said Pyramus."</p> - -<p>"He did not stir when I called him."</p> - -<p>"That is because he is not yet accustomed to your pronunciation."</p> - -<p>"Oh, he will soon get used to it."</p> - -<p>"There is no doubt of it."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure of it."</p> - -<p>"Good! I thank you, monsieur: here are the five napoleons."</p> - -<p>I hesitated to take them; but in the English accent with which he -pronounced the last words there was an intonation which so cruelly -reminded me of the German accent of Bamps that I decided.</p> - -<p>"I am much obliged to you, monsieur," I said.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, it is I who ought to thank you," the Englishman -replied, trying to raise himself afresh—an attempt which was as -abortive as the first.</p> - -<p>I made him a sign with my hand, as I bowed; he sank back into his -arm-chair, and I went out.</p> - -<p>"Well, now, how did it come about that Pyramus fell into the hands of -such a master?" I asked old Cartier.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That scamp of a dog was born with a lucky spoon in his mouth!"</p> - -<p>"It was the simplest thing in the world. Valtat brought me a piece of -lamb; Pyramus scented the fresh meat; he followed Valtat. Valtat came -here; Pyramus came here. The Englishman got out of the carriage; he -saw your dog. He had been recommended to take shooting exercise: he -asked me if the dog was a good one; I told him it was. He asked me who -owned the dog; I told him it belonged to you. He asked me if you would -consent to sell it; I told him I would send and fetch you, and then -he could ask you himself. I sent for you ... you came ... there's the -whole story.... Pyramus is sold and you are not ill pleased?"</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly not! The rascal is such a thief that I should have been -obliged to give him away or to break his neck.... He was ruining us!"</p> - -<p>Cartier shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "That would not be a -difficult task!" Then, passing to another train of ideas, he said—</p> - -<p>"So you have returned home?"</p> - -<p>"That is so."</p> - -<p>"You were sick of Crespy?"</p> - -<p>"I am sick of every place."</p> - -<p>"What do you want to do now?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I want to go to Paris."</p> - -<p>"And when do you start?"</p> - -<p>"May be sooner than you think."</p> - -<p>"Do not go without giving me an opportunity to pay you out."</p> - -<p>"Never fear!"</p> - -<p>Before I went to Crespy, I had thoroughly beaten Cartier at billiards.</p> - -<p>"Besides," I went on, "if I go, as I shall not leave in any carriage -but one of yours, you can stop me on the step."</p> - -<p>"Done!... But this time it must be a struggle to death." "To death!"</p> - -<p>"Your five napoleons must be staked."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You know I never play for money, and as for my five napoleons, they -already have their vocation."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well, adieu."</p> - -<p>"<i>Au revoir.</i>"</p> - -<p>And I left Cartier, with this engagement booked. We shall see where it -led me.</p> - -<p>When I re-entered the house, I found Bamps, who was beginning to grow -impatient. The first coach for Paris passed through Villers-Cotterets -at eight o'clock in the evening: it was now seven.</p> - -<p>"Ah! goot!" he said, "there you are!... I did not regon I should zee -you again."</p> - -<p>"What!" I said, imitating his jargon, "you did not regon you should zee -me again?"</p> - -<p>Wondrous power of money! I was mocking Bamps, who, an hour before, had -made me tremble with fear. Bamps knit his eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"We zay, den?" he said.</p> - -<p>"We say that I owe you twenty francs per month—that two months have -gone by without payment—and that, consequently, I owe you forty -francs."</p> - -<p>"You owe me vorty vrancs."</p> - -<p>"All right, my dear Bamps—here you are!"</p> - -<p>And I threw two napoleons on the table, taking care to let the three -others in the palm of my hand be visible. My poor mother looked at me -with the most profound amazement. I reassured her with a sign. The -sign allayed her fears, but not her surprise. Bamps examined the two -napoleons, rubbed them to make sure they were not false, and rolled -them, one after the other, into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"You do not vant any more dings?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No, thank you, my dear Monsieur. Besides, I am expecting to leave here -for Paris in a short time."</p> - -<p>"You will bear in mind that I have the first claim on your custom?"</p> - -<p>"All right, my dear Bamps, for good and all! But if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>you mean to start -at eight o'clock ...?"</p> - -<p>"If I mean to stard—! I should just tink so!"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, there is no time to lose."</p> - -<p>"The Tevil!"</p> - -<p>"You know where the coach stops?"</p> - -<p>"Yess."</p> - -<p>"Very well, <i>bon voyage</i>."</p> - -<p>"Atieu! Monsir Toumas! Atieu, Matame Toumas!... Atieu! atieu!"</p> - -<p>And Bamps, delighted, not only at having secured forty francs, but -still further at being somewhat reassured about the rest of his -account, set off, wafting us his parting benedictions, with all the -speed his little legs could make.</p> - -<p>My mother just waited till she had closed both doors, then she said—</p> - -<p>"But where did you get that money, you young rogue?"</p> - -<p>"I sold Pyramus, mother."</p> - -<p>"For how much?"</p> - -<p>"A hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"So that there are sixty francs left?"</p> - -<p>"At your service, dear mother."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I must take them. I have two hundred francs to pay -to-morrow to the warehouseman, and I only have a hundred and fifty -towards it."</p> - -<p>"Here they are ... but on one condition."</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"That you let me have them back again as soon as I set off for Paris."</p> - -<p>"With whom are you going?"</p> - -<p>"That must be my business."</p> - -<p>"Well, so be it.... I really begin to feel as though God were with you."</p> - -<p>At this, we both went to bed, with that settled faith that has never -deserted me. And I doubt even whether my mother's faith, at any rate at -that moment, was as strong as mine.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIb" id="CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house—The residue—The -Piranèses—An architect at twelve hundred francs salary—I discount my -first bill—Gondon—How I was nearly killed at his house—The fifty -francs—Cartier—The game of billiards—How six hundred small glasses -of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to Paris</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The time had now come when my poor mother was obliged to take a -definite step. She had borrowed so much and so often upon our thirty -or forty acres let to M. Gilbert of Soucy, and upon the house which M. -Harlay had at last left for us, that the value of both acres and house -was nearly absorbed by mortgages. So it was decided to sell everything. -The land was sold by auction, and fetched thirty-three thousand -francs. The house was sold, by private contract, for twelve thousand -francs to the M. Picot who had given me my first lessons in fencing. -We realised forty-five thousand francs. When our debts were settled -and all expenses paid, my mother had two hundred and fifty-three -francs left. Lest some optimistic readers should think that this was -our annual income, I hasten to say that it was capital. Need anyone -ask if my poor mother was distressed at such a result? We had never -really been so close to destitution. My mother fell into the depths -of discouragement. Since my father's death we had been unceasingly -drawing nearer and nearer to the end of all our resources. It had -been a long struggle—from 1806 to 1823! It had lasted for seventeen -years; but we were beaten at last. Nevertheless, I never felt gayer -or more confident. I do not know why I deserve it, whether for deeds -done in this world, or in other worlds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> where I may have had previous -existences, but God seems to have me under His special care, and -however grave my situation He comes openly to my succour. So, my God! -I proudly and yet very humbly confess Thy name before believers and -before infidels, and not even from the merit of faith do I say this, -but simply because it is the truth. For, hadst Thou appeared to me when -I invoked Thee, O my God! and hadst Thou asked me, "Child, say boldly -what it is you want," I should never have dared to ask for half the -favours Thou hast granted me out of Thy infinite bounty.</p> - -<p>Well, my mother told me that, when all our debts were paid, we only had -two hundred and fifty-three francs left.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said to my mother; "you must give me the fifty-three -francs: I will set out for Paris, and, this time, I promise to return -only with good news."</p> - -<p>"Are you aware, my dear boy," said my mother, "that you are asking me -for a fifth of our capital?"</p> - -<p>"You remember that you owe me sixty francs?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but recollect that when I said,'For what purpose shall I return -you the sixty francs?' you replied, 'That is my business.'"</p> - -<p>"Very well, so indeed it is my business.... Will you give me the -Piranèses which are upstairs in the big portfolio?"</p> - -<p>"What do you call the Piranèses?"</p> - -<p>"Those large black engravings that my father brought back from Italy."</p> - -<p>"What will you do with them?"</p> - -<p>"I will find a home for them."</p> - -<p>My mother shrugged her shoulders dubiously.</p> - -<p>"Do as you like about them," she said.</p> - -<p>There was an architect, named Oudet, amongst the staff at the -workhouse, who very much wanted our Piranèses. I had always refused him -them, telling him that one day I would bring him them myself. The day -had come. But it was an unlucky day: Oudet had no money. This was quite -conceivable. Oudet, as architect to the Castle, received only a hundred -francs per month. True, I was not very exorbitant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> in the matter of my -Piranèses, which were well worth five or six hundred francs; I only -asked fifty francs. Oudet offered to pay me these fifty francs in three -months' time.</p> - -<p>In three months!... How could I wait for three months?</p> - -<p>I left Oudet in despair. I ought to say, in justice to Oudet, -that he was probably in even lower straits than I was. In leaving -Oudet, I ran up against another of my friends, whose name was -Gondon. He was a shooting comrade. He had a property three leagues -from Villers-Cotterets,—at Cœuvre, the country of the beautiful -Gabrielle,—and we had very often spent whole weeks together there, -shooting by day and poaching by night. It was at his place that I -nearly lost my life one evening, in the most ridiculous fashion -imaginable. It was the evening before the opening of the shooting -season. Five or six of us shooters had come from Villers-Cotterets, -and we were putting up at Gondon's, in order to be up early for a -start at daybreak. Now, as we had neither rooms nor beds enough for -everybody, the sitting-room had been transformed into a dormitory, -in the four corners of which four beds were set up—that is to say, -four mattresses were laid down. When the candles were extinguished, my -three companions took it into their heads to start a bolster fight. As, -for some reason or another, I did not feel inclined for the sport, I -announced my intention of remaining neutral. The result of this compact -was that after a quarter of an hour's fight between Austrians, Russians -and Prussians, the Austrians, Russians and Prussians became allies -and united to fall upon me, who represented France. So they hurled -themselves on my bed, and began to belabour me with the afore-mentioned -bolsters, as threshers beat out corn with their flails in a barn. I -drew up my sheet over my head, and waited patiently till the storm -should have passed over, which could not be long first, at the rate -they were beating. And as I anticipated, the storm calmed down. One -thrasher retired, then another. But the third, who was my cousin, Félix -Deviolaine, upheld no doubt by the tie of kinship, continued striking -in spite of the retreat of the others. Suddenly he stopped, and I heard -him get silently into his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> bed. One might have thought some accident -had overtaken him, which he was anxious to conceal from his comrades. -In fact, the opposite end of the bolster to that which he had held in -his hands, had burst by the violence of the blows, and all the feathers -had escaped. This down made a mountain, just where the sheet which -protected my head joined the bolster. I was totally unaware of the -fact. As I did not feel any more blows, and having heard my last enemy -retire to his bed, I gently put out my head and, as for the past ten -minutes I had become more or less stifled, according as I tightened or -loosened the sheet, I drew a full breath. I swallowed a big armful of -feathers. Suffocation was instantaneous, almost complete. I uttered -an inarticulate cry, and feeling myself literally being strangled, I -began to roll about the room. My companions at first thought I had -now taken it into my head to pirouette like a ballet dancer, just as -they had fancied a fight; but they realised at last that the strangled -sounds I gave forth expressed acute agony. Gondon was the first to -realise that something very serious had happened to me, from some -unknown cause, and that I was <i>in extremis</i>. Félix, who alone could -have explained my gyrations and my wheezings, lay still, and pretended -to be asleep. Gondon rushed into the kitchen, returned with a candle, -and threw light on the scene. I must have been a very funny spectacle, -and I confess, there was a general burst of laughter. But though I -had been pretty gluttonous, I had not swallowed all the feathers and -all the down: some stuck to my curly head, giving me a false air of -resemblance to Polichinelle. This false air soon began to look like -reality from the flush of redness that strangulation had sent into -my face. They thought water was the best thing to give me. One of my -companions, named Labarre, ran in his shirt to the pump and filled a -pot with water, which he laughingly brought me. Such hilarity, when my -torture had reached its height, drove me wild. I seized the pot by the -handle, and chucked the contents down Labarre's back. The water was icy -cold. Its temperature was little in harmony with the natural warmth of -his blood, and it produced such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> gambols and such contortions on the -part of the anointed, that, in spite of my various woes, the desire -to laugh was now on my side. I made a different effort from any I had -tried hitherto, and I expectorated some of the feathers and down which -had blocked my throat. From that moment I was safe. Nevertheless, I -continued to spit feathers for a week, and I coughed for a month.</p> - -<p>I beg my reader's pardon for this digression; but, as I had neglected -to put down this important episode in my life in its chronological -order, it will not be deemed extraordinary if I seize the first -opportunity that presents itself to repair this omission.</p> - -<p>Well, I met Gondon coming out of Oudet's house. He had a hundred francs -in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear fellow," I said, "if you are so wealthy, you can surely -lend Oudet fifty francs."</p> - -<p>"What to do?"</p> - -<p>"To buy my Piranèses from me."</p> - -<p>"Your Piranèses?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I want to go to Paris. Oudet offered to buy my Piranèses for -fifty francs, and now...."</p> - -<p>"And now he does not wish to have them?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, he is dying to possess them; but he hasn't a son, and -cannot pay me for three months."</p> - -<p>"And you want fifty francs?"</p> - -<p>"Indeed I do."</p> - -<p>"You would like to have them?"</p> - -<p>"Rather."</p> - -<p>"Wait: perhaps we can arrange matters."</p> - -<p>"Oh, do try, my good fellow."</p> - -<p>"There is a very simple way: I cannot give you the fifty francs, -because I have promised my tailor a hundred francs to-day; but Oudet -can make a cheque out to me for fifty francs at three months, I will -endorse the cheque, and I will give it to the tailor as ready money."</p> - -<p>We went to Oudet's. Oudet made out the cheque, and I carried off the -money, thanking Gondon, and above all God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> who out of His infinite -loving kindness had provided me the means to advance a step farther on -my way. I accompanied Gondon as far as his tailor's. At the tailor's -door I ran up against old Cartier.</p> - -<p>"Well, my boy," he said, "isn't there a bit left of your dog's money to -pay for a small glass of wine for your old friend?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, if he wins it of me at billiards;" and I jingled my fifty -francs.</p> - -<p>I turned to Gondon.</p> - -<p>"Come and see what happens," I said to him.</p> - -<p>"You go on; I will rejoin you.... At Camberlin's, is it not?"</p> - -<p>"At Camberlin's."</p> - -<p>Camberlin was the traditional coffee-house; since the discovery of -coffee and the invention of billiards, the Camberlins had sold coffee -and kept a billiard-table, from father to son.</p> - -<p>It was to Camberlin's my grandfather used to go every evening to take -a hand at dominoes or piquet, until his little bitch Charmante came -scratching at the door, with two lanterns held in her jaws. It was -at Camberlin's my father and M. Deviolaine came to challenge each -other's skill at play, as, on another green carpet, they challenged -each other's skill at the chase. It was at Camberlin's, finally, that, -thanks to my antecedents, I had been able, almost gratis, when I lost, -to begin my education as an elder Philibert under three different -masters, who had ended by seeing me a better player than they were. -These three masters were—Cartier, against whom I was going to wipe -out an old score; Camusat, Hiraux's nephew, who reclothed his uncle at -la Râpée, when they turned him out of Villers-Cotterets in drawers and -shirt; and a delightful youth, called Gaillard, who was a first-class -player in all sorts of games, and who had, to my great satisfaction, -replaced M. Miaud, my old rival, at the work-house. So I had become -a much better player than Cartier; but, as he would never admit it, -he invariably declined the six points I as invariably offered him -before we began the match. Just as we were trying our cues on the -billiard-table, Gondon entered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What will you take, Gondon?" Cartier asked. "Dumas is paying."</p> - -<p>"I will take absinthe; I want to enjoy my dinner well to-day."</p> - -<p>"Well, so will I," said Cartier. "And you?"</p> - -<p>"I? You know I have made a vow never to take either liqueur or coffee."</p> - -<p>To what saint and on what occasion I made this vow I cannot at all say; -but I know I kept it religiously.</p> - -<p>"Then we will say two small absinthes?" replied Cartier, continuing to -joke. "That will be six sous, waiter, in exchange for your receipt." -In the provinces, at any rate at Villers-Cotterets, a small glass of -absinthe costs three sous.</p> - -<p>"My dear Gondon," I said, "I cannot offer you a better prayer than my -uncle's, the curé at Béthisy: 'My God, side neither with one nor with -the other, and you will see a rascal receive a jolly good whacking!' -Will you have your six points, father Cartier?"</p> - -<p>"Go along with you!" Cartier exclaimed disdainfully, putting my ball on -the yellow.</p> - -<p>We played Russian fashion, a game with five balls, and thirty-six -points. I made the yellow six times—three times into the right pocket -and three times into the left.</p> - -<p>"Six times six; thirty-six; first round. Your two small glasses are not -worth more than their three sous, father Cartier." "Four sous, you mean -to say."</p> - -<p>"Not unless I let you win the second round."</p> - -<p>"Come on, then!"</p> - -<p>"Will you have the six points?"</p> - -<p>"I will give them to you, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Done! Mark my six points, Gondon; I have my designs on father Cartier. -I mean him to contribute to my visit to Paris: the diligences start -from his hotel."</p> - -<p>At the second round, Cartier got up to twelve.</p> - -<p>At thirty points, I had a run and made sixteen more; that made -forty-six points, instead of thirty-six. Deducting the six points -restored to Cartier, there still remained four I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> offer him in -return. He refused them with his usual dignity. But Cartier was beside -himself when he had lost the first game, and the wilder he was the more -obstinate he became: once set going, he would have played away his -land, his hotel, his saucepans, to the very chickens that were turning -on his spit.</p> - -<p>Worthy old Cartier! He is alive yet; although he is eighty-six or -eighty-seven, he is still remarkably hale, and lives with his two -children. I never go to Villers-Cotterets without calling on him. Last -time I saw him, about a year ago, I paid him a compliment on his health.</p> - -<p>"My goodness, my dear Cartier," I said to him, "you are like our oak -trees, which, if they do not grow very tall, go deep into the soil and -gain in roots what they miss in the way of leaves. You will live to the -Last Judgment."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my boy," he said, "I have been very ill,—did you not know it?"</p> - -<p>"No—when?"</p> - -<p>"Three and a half years ago."</p> - -<p>"What was the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"I had toothache."</p> - -<p>"That was your own fault. What business have you with' teeth at your -age?"</p> - -<p>Well, on that day, poor old Cartier! (I am referring to the day of our -game),—on that day, to use a gaming term, I took a fine tooth out of -his head. We played for five hours on end, always doubling; I won <i>six -hundred small glasses of absinthe</i> from him. We should have played -longer, and you may judge what an ocean of absinthe Cartier would have -owed me, if Auguste had not come to look for him.</p> - -<p>Auguste was one of Cartier's sons: his father stood in great awe of -him; he put his finger to his lips to ask me to keep mum. I was as -generous as was Alexander in the matter of the family of Porus.</p> - -<p>I let Cartier go, without demanding my winnings from him. And Gondon -and I reckoned up the account. Reduced to money, the six hundred small -glasses of absinthe would have produced a total of eighteen hundred -sous—that is to say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> ninety francs. I could have paid the journey to -Paris a dozen times over. My mother had good cause to say, "My boy, God -is on your side."</p> - -<p>My mother was very uneasy when I returned home; she knew what folly -I was capable of, when I had got an idea into my head, and it was -therefore with some anxiety that she asked me where I had been. -Generally, when I had been to Camberlin's, I took a roundabout way -in telling her of it. My poor mother, foreseeing what passions would -one day surge in me, was afraid that gaming might be one of them. -In several of her surmises she was correct; but at any rate she was -completely mistaken in this one. So I told her what had just happened. -How the Piranèses had brought us in fifty francs, and how M. Cartier -was going to pay my fare to Paris. But these blessings from heaven -brought sadness with them, for they meant our separation. I did my best -to comfort her by telling her that the separation would be only for a -little while, and that as soon as I had obtained a berth at fifteen -hundred francs, she should leave Villers-Cotterets also and come and -join me; but my mother knew that a berth at fifteen hundred francs was -an Eldorado, difficult to discover.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVb" id="CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy—M. Danré of Vouty -advises my mother to let me go to Paris—My good-byes—Laffitte and -Perregaux—The three things which Maître Mennesson asks me not to -forget—The Abbé Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him—I leave -Villers-Cotterets</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>One morning, I said to my mother—</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say to M. Danré? I am going to Vouty."</p> - -<p>"What do you want of M. Danré?"</p> - -<p>"To ask him for a letter to General Foy."</p> - -<p>My mother raised her eyes to heaven; she questioned whence came all -these ideas to me, that converged all to one end.</p> - -<p>M. Danré was my father's old friend, who, having had his left hand -mutilated when out shooting, had been brought into our house. There, -the reader will remember, Doctor Lécosse had skilfully amputated his -thumb, and as my mother had nursed him with the greatest care through -the whole of the illness the accident brought on, he had a warm feeling -in his heart towards my mother, my sister and myself. It always, -therefore, gave him great pleasure to see me, whether I arrived with a -message from Me. Mennesson, his lawyer, when I was with Me. Mennesson, -or whether on my own account. This time it was on my own affairs. I -told him the object of my visit.</p> - -<p>When General Foy was put on the lists for election, the electors would -not appoint him; but M. Danré had supported his candidature, and, -thanks to M. Danré's influence in the department, General Foy had -been elected. We know what a foremost place the illustrious patriot -took in the Chamber.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> General Foy was not an eloquent orator; he was -far better than that: he possessed a warm heart, ready to act at the -inspiration of every noble passion. Not a single great question came -under his notice during all the time he was in the Chamber, that was -not supported by him if it was a worthy object, or that was not opposed -by him if it was unworthy; his words fell from the tribune, terrible as -the return thrusts in a duel—piercing thrusts, nearly always deadly to -his adversaries. But, like all men of feeling, he wore himself out in -the struggle, the most constant and most maddening struggle of all: it -killed him while rendering his name immortal.</p> - -<p>In 1823, General Foy was at the height of his popularity, and from the -pinnacle to which he had attained, he reminded M. Danré from time to -time of his existence, which proved to the humble farmer, who, like -Philoctètes, had made sovereigns, but had no desire to be one, that he -was still his affectionate and grateful friend. Therefore M. Danré did -not feel in any way averse to give me the letter I asked of him, and -it was couched in the most favourable terms. Then, when M. Danré had -written, signed and sealed the letter, he asked me about my pecuniary -resources. I told him everything, even to the ingenious methods by the -aid of which I had obtained what I had.</p> - -<p>"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I had half a mind to offer you my purse; -but, really, it would smirch your record. People do not do that sort of -thing to end in failure: you should succeed with that fifty francs of -yours, and I do not wish to take away the credit of owing it entirely -to yourself. Take courage, then, and go in peace! If you are absolutely -in need of my services, write to me from Paris."</p> - -<p>"So you feel hopeful?" I said to M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"Very."</p> - -<p>"Are you coming to Villers-Cotterets on Thursday?"</p> - -<p>Thursday was market day.</p> - -<p>"Yes; why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"Because if you are, I would beg you to call and tell my mother you are -hopeful: she has great confidence in you, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> as everybody seems bent -on telling her I shall never do anything...."</p> - -<p>"The fact is you have not done very much up to now!"</p> - -<p>"Because they were determined to push me into a vocation I was not -fitted for, dear Monsieur Danré; but you will see, directly they leave -me alone to do what I am cut out for, I shall become a hard worker."</p> - -<p>"Mind you do! I will reassure your mother, relying on your word."</p> - -<p>"You may, and I will fulfil it."</p> - -<p>The day but one after my visit, M. Danré came to Villers-Cotterets, -as he had promised, and saw my mother. I was watching for his coming; -I let him start the conversation and then I came in. My mother was -crying, but seemed to have made up her mind. When she saw me, she held -out her hand.</p> - -<p>"You are bent on leaving me, then?" she said.</p> - -<p>"I must, mother. But do not be uneasy; if we separate, this time it -will not be for long."</p> - -<p>"Yes, because you will fail, and return to Villers-Cotterets once more."</p> - -<p>"No, no, mother; on the contrary, because I shall succeed, and bring -you to Paris."</p> - -<p>"And when do you mean to go?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, mother dear: when a great resolution is taken, the sooner it -is put into execution the better.... Ask M. Danré."</p> - -<p>"Yes, ask Lazarille. I do not know what you did to M. Danré, but the -fact is...."</p> - -<p>"M. Danré is fair-minded, mother; he knows that everything must move -in its own appointed surroundings if it is to become of any worth. I -should make a bad lawyer, a bad solicitor, a bad sheriffs officer; I -should make a shocking bad teacher I You know quite well that it took -three schoolmasters to get me through the multiplication table and it -was not a brilliant success. Very well! I believe I can do something -better."</p> - -<p>"What, you scamp?"</p> - -<p>"Mother, I swear I know nothing about what I shall do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> but you -remember what the fortune-teller whom you questioned on my behalf -predicted?"</p> - -<p>My mother sighed.</p> - -<p>"What did she predict?" asked M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"She said," I replied, "'I cannot tell you what your son will become, -madame; I can only see him, through clouds and flashes of lightning, -like a traveller who is crossing high mountains, reaching a height -to which few men attain. I do not say he will command people, but I -foresee he will speak to them; although I cannot indicate the precise -lines of his destiny, your son belongs to that class of men whom we -style <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">RULERS</span>.' 'My son is to become a king, then?' my mother laughingly -retorted. 'No, no, but something similar, something perhaps more -desirable: every king has not a crown on his head and a sceptre in his -hand.' 'So much the better,' said my mother; 'I never envied the lot of -Madame Bonaparte.' I was five years old, Monsieur Danré, I was present -when my horoscope was made; well—I will prove the gipsy to be in the -right. You know that prophecies are not always fulfilled because they -must be fulfilled, but because they put a fixed idea into the minds of -those about whom they are made which influences events, which modifies -circumstances, which finally brings them to the end aimed at; because -this end was revealed to them in advance, whilst, had it not been for -the revelation, they would have passed by the end without noticing it."</p> - -<p>"I should like to know where he got all these notions from!" my mother -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, why, from his own thoughts," said M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"Then is it your judgment, too, that he ought to go?"</p> - -<p>"I advise it."</p> - -<p>"But you know the poor lad's resources!"</p> - -<p>"Fifty francs and his carriage fare paid."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"That will be enough, if he is to succeed, or if his destiny urges him -on as he says. If he had a million, he would not obtain what he wishes -to obtain so long as he had no vocation for it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, well, he had better go, if he is so set on it."</p> - -<p>"When shall I go, mother?"</p> - -<p>"When you like. Only, you must let us have a day together first."</p> - -<p>"Listen, mother mine. I will stay all to-day, to-morrow and Saturday -with you. On Saturday night I will leave by the ten o'clock coach: I -shall reach Paris by five.... I shall have time to get to Adolphe's -house before he goes out."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said my mother, as she heaved a sigh, "he is the one who has led -you astray!"</p> - -<p>I did not much heed the sigh, because I felt sure the engagement made -would be fulfilled. I began to make my round of farewells.</p> - -<p>I had not seen Adèle since her marriage. I would not write to her: the -letter might be opened by her husband, and compromise her. I applied -to Louise Brézette, our friend in common. Alas! I found the poor child -in tears. Chollet, whose education in forestry was finished, had -been obliged to return to his parents, and he had carried off with -him all the young girl's first dreams of love: she was forlorn and -inconsolable; she mourned the whole of her life for her lover, and bore -the marks of her love-sickness. I quoted the example of Ariadne to her, -advising her to follow it, and I believe ... I believe she followed it, -and that I contributed, in some measure, towards inducing her to follow -it....</p> - -<p>Poor beloved children! true and affectionate friends of my youth! my -life is now so much taken up, the hours that belong to me are so few, -I am common property to such an extent, that when, by chance, I go -home, or you come here, I cannot give you all the time that the claims -of love and of memory demand. But when I shall have won a few of those -hours of repose in search of which Théaulon spent his life, and which -he never found, oh! I promise you those hours shall be given to you -unquestionably, unshared by others. You have ample claims to demand the -leisure of my old age, and you will make my latter days to flourish as -in my springtime. For there are closed tombs there which draw me as -much,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> more even, than open houses; dead friends who talk to me more -clearly than do the living.</p> - -<p>When I left Louise, I went to Maître Mennesson; I had always kept on -pretty good terms with him. But, since our separation, he had married. -I think his marriage made him more sceptical than ever.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he said, when he caught sight of me, "so there you are!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have come to bid you good-bye."</p> - -<p>"You have decided to go, then?"</p> - -<p>"On Saturday night."</p> - -<p>"And how much do you take with you?"</p> - -<p>"Fifty francs."</p> - -<p>"My dear lad, there are people who started on less than that—M. -Laffitte, for example."</p> - -<p>"Yes, exactly so. I mean to pay him a call, and to ask him for a post -in his office."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, if you find a pin on his carpet, do not fail to pick it up -and to put it on his mantelpiece."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because when M. Laffitte arrived in Paris, much poorer even than -you, he went to see M. Perregaux, just as you are going to call on M. -Laffitte; he went to ask for a place in his office, as you are going -to ask for one in his. M. Perregaux had no vacancy; he dismissed M. -Laffitte, who was going away, his eyes looking down sadly on the floor -as father Aubry's were inclined towards the grave, when he perceived a -pin, not on the earth but on the carpet. M. Laffitte was a tidy man: -he picked up the pin and put it on the mantelpiece, saying, 'Pardon -me, monsieur.' But M. Perregaux, be it known, was a person who noticed -every little thing: he reflected that a young man who would pick up a -pin from the ground must be an orderly person, and, as M. Laffitte was -going away, he said to him, 'I have been thinking, monsieur, stay.' -'But you told me you had no opening in your office.' 'If there is not -one, we will make one for you.' M. Perregaux did as a matter of fact -make room for him—as his partner."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That is a very delightful story, dear Monsieur Mennesson, and I thank -you for your great kindness in relating it to me; but I am afraid it is -no good to me; for, unluckily, I am no picker up of pins."</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is precisely your great fault."</p> - -<p>"Or my strongest point ... we shall see. Therefore, if you have any -good advice to give me...?"</p> - -<p>"Beware of priests, hate the Bourbons, and remember that the only state -worthy of a great nation is a Republic."</p> - -<p>"My dear Monsieur Mennesson, reversing the order of your advice, I -would say: Yes, I am of your opinion as to the government which is most -suited to a great nation, and on the supposition that if I am anything -I am a Republican like yourself. As for the Bourbons, I neither love -them nor hate them. I have heard it said that their race produced a -holy king, a good one and a great one: Saint Louis, Henri IV. and -Louis XIV. Only, the last reigning sovereign returned to France riding -behind a Cossack; that, I believe, damaged the Bourbon cause in the -eyes of France; so it comes about that if some day my voice is needed -to hasten their going away, and my gun to assist their departure, those -who are driving them out will find one voice and one gun the more. As -to distrusting priests, I have only known but one, the Abbé Grégoire, -and as he seemed to me the model of all Christian virtues, until I -encounter a bad one, let me believe that all are good."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, you will change all that."</p> - -<p>"It is possible. Meanwhile, give me your hand: I am going to ask for -his blessing."</p> - -<p>"Go, then, and much good may it do you!"</p> - -<p>"I believe it will."</p> - -<p>I went to the abbé.</p> - -<p>"Well, well," he said, "so you are going to leave us?"</p> - -<p>It will be seen that the rumour of my departure had already spread all -over the place.</p> - -<p>"Yes, M. l'abbé, and I have come to ask you to remember me in your -prayers."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! my prayers? I thought that was the thing you cared least about."</p> - -<p>"M. l'abbé, do you remember the day I made my first communion?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know, it produced a profound impression on you, but you let it -stay at that, and you have never been seen at church since."</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose the sacrament would have the same effect on me at the -tenth time as on the first?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! my God, no, certainly not. Unhappily, one gets accustomed to -everything in this world."</p> - -<p>"Very well, M. l'abbé, my other impressions would have effaced that. -One must not get too used to sacred things, M. l'abbé; frequent use of -them not only takes away their grandeur, but still more their efficacy. -Who told you once that I should only need the consolation of the Church -in great trouble, as one only requires bleeding in serious illness?" -"You have a curious way of putting things...."</p> - -<p>"Well, M. l'abbé, you said it yourself, more than once: we must -treat men less according to their maladies than according to their -temperaments. I am impressionability personified. I have an impulsive -character, you yourself told me so. I shall commit all kinds of -mistakes, all kinds of follies—never a wicked or disgraceful action. -Not, indeed, because I am better than anyone else; but because bad and -dishonourable actions are the result of reflection and of calculation, -and when I act, it is on the spur of the moment; and this impulse is so -quick, that the action springing from it is done before I have had time -to consider the consequences or to calculate the results."—</p> - -<p>"There is some truth in what you say: but come, what is the use of -giving any advice to a character of your calibre?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I did not come to ask for your advice, dear abbé; I came to beg -your prayers."</p> - -<p>"Prayers?.... You do not believe in them."</p> - -<p>"Ah! pardon, that is another matter.... No, true, I have not always had -faith in them; but do not be troubled: on the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> when I shall have -need to believe in them, I shall believe in them. Listen: when I took -my communion, had I not read in Voltaire that it was a curious sort -of God that needed to be digested? and, in Pigault-Lebrun, that the -Host was nothing more than a wafer double the thickness of an ordinary -wafer? Well, did that prevent me feeling a trembling that shook my -whole body, when the Host touched my lips? Did it prevent the tears -springing into my eyes, tears of humility, tears of thankfulness, -above all, tears of love towards God? Do you not believe that God -prefers a generous heart which abandons itself utterly to Him when it -is too full, to a niggardly heart which only yields itself drop by -drop? Should not prayer come from the depths of the soul, rather than -consist of the words of one's lips? Do you believe God will be angry -if I forget Him during ordinary daily life, as one forgets the beating -of one's heart, so long as I return to Him at every time of trouble or -of joy? No M. l'abbé, no; on the contrary, I believe God loves me, and -that is why I forget Him, just as one forgets a good father whom one is -always sure of."</p> - -<p>"Well," replied the abbé, "it matters little to me if you forget God; -but I do not want you to doubt His existence."</p> - -<p>"Oh! be at rest on that point: it is not the hunter who ever doubts the -existence of God—no man does who has spent whole nights in the moonlit -woods, who has studied Nature, from the elephant down to the mite, who -has watched the setting and the rising of the sun, who has heard the -songs of the birds, their evening laments and their morning hymns of -praise!"</p> - -<p>"Then all will be well.... Now, you know, there is a text in the -Gospels which is short and easy to remember; make it the foundation -of your actions and you need not fear failure; this text, which ought -to be engraved in letters of gold over the entry to every town, over -the entry to every house, over the entry to every heart, is:'<i>Do not -do unto others that ye would not have them do to you.</i>' And when -philosophers, cavillers, libertines, say to you, 'Confucius has a maxim -better than that, as follows: Do unto others what you would have them -do to you,' reply, 'No, it is not better!—for it is false in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> its -application; one cannot always do what one would like others to do to -oneself, whilst one can always abstain from doing what one would not -like them to do to oneself.' Come, kiss me and let us leave matters -here.... We could not say anything better than that."</p> - -<p>And, with these words, we embraced warmly, and I left him.</p> - -<p>The next day but one, after having made my last visit to the -cemetery,—a pious pilgrimage which my mother made almost every day, -and in which, this time, I accompanied her,—we wended our way towards -the <i>Hôtel de la Boule d'or</i> where the passing coach was to pick me -up and take me away to Paris. At half-past nine we heard the sound of -the wheels; my mother and I had still another half-hour together. We -retired into a room where we were alone, and we wept together; but our -tears were from different causes. My mother wept in doubt, I wept in -hope. We could neither of us see the hand of God; but very certainly -God was present and His grace was with us.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vb" id="CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I find Adolphe again—The pastoral drama—First steps—The Duc de -Bellune—General Sébastiani—His secretaries and his snuff-boxes—The -fourth floor, small door to the left—The general who painted battles</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I got down at No. 9 rue du Bouloy, at five in the morning. This time, -I did not make the same mistake that I did when I left the Théâtre -Français. I took my bearings, and, by certain landmarks, I thought I -recognised the vicinity of the rue des Vieux-Augustins. I questioned -the conductor, who confirmed my convictions, and handed me my small -luggage. I disputed over it victoriously with several porters, and I -reached the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i> towards half-past five. There -I felt at home. The waiter recognised me as the traveller with the -hares and the partridges, and, in the absence of the landlord, who was -still asleep, he took me to the room I had occupied on my last visit. -My first desire was for sleep. Owing to the emotions of parting, and -owing to wakeful dreams I had had in the diligence, I arrived tired -out. I told the boy to wake me at nine, if I had not given any signs -of life before. I knew Adolphe's habits by now, and I knew I need not -hurry over going to his house. But when the landlord himself came into -my room at nine o'clock, he found me up: sleep would have none of -me. It was Sunday morning. Under the Bourbons Paris was very dreary -on Sundays. Strict orders forbade the opening of shops, and it was -considered not only a breach of religious order, but still worse, a -crime of <i>lèse majesty</i> to disobey these ordinances. I risked being -arrested in Paris at nine in the morning nearly as much as I had risked -it by being in the streets after midnight. I did not feel uneasy. -Thanks to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> my sportsman's instincts, I found the rue du Mont-Blanc; -then the rue Pigale; then, finally, No. 14 in the rue Pigale.</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven was, as usual, walking in his garden. It was early in May: -he was amusing himself by giving a bit of sugar to a rose. He turned -round and said—</p> - -<p>"Ah! it is you. Why have you been so long without coming to see us?"</p> - -<p>"Why, because I returned to Villers-Cotterets."</p> - -<p>"And you have now come back?"</p> - -<p>"As you see. I have come to try my fortune for the last time.... This -time, I must stop in Paris, whatever happens."</p> - -<p>"Well, as to that, you will always be welcome here, my dear boy. We -have a kind of Platonic republic here, save in the matter of the -community of women and the presence of poets: one mouth more or less -makes no difference to our republic. There is even an empty attic to -spare upstairs; you can dispute possession of it with the rats; but I -believe you are capable of defending yourself. Go and arrange it all -with Adolphe."</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven wrote on foreign politics at that time, for the <i>Courrier -français.</i> Brought up on the knees of the kings and queens of the -North, speaking all the Northern languages, knowing everything it is -permitted man to know, the politics of foreign courts were almost -his mother tongue. He rose at five o'clock every morning, received -the papers by six, and by seven or eight his work for the <i>Courrier -français</i> was finished.</p> - -<p>Generally, by the time his father finished his day's work, Adolphe had -not begun his. He was still in bed—which I forgave him after he had -assured me that he had worked at a little drama in two acts, called the -<i>Pauvre Fille</i>, until two in the morning.</p> - -<p>The reader will recollect Soumet's charming elegy:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"J'ai fui le pénible sommeil,<br /> -Qu'aucun songe heureux n'accompagne;<br /> -J'ai devancé sur la montagne<br /> -Les premiers rayons du soleil.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>S'éveillant avec la nature,<br /> -Le jeune oiseau chantait sur l'aubépine en fleurs;<br /> -Sa mère lui portait la douce nourriture;<br /> -Mes yeux se sont mouillés de pleurs.<br /> -Oh! pourquoi n'ai-je plus de mère?<br /> -Pourquoi ne suis-je pas semblable au jeune oiseau<br /> -Dont le nid se balance aux branches de l'ormeau,<br /> -Moi, malheureux enfant trouve sur une pierre,<br /> -Devant l'église du hameau?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Short lines were much in vogue at that period. M. Guiraud had just -made with his <i>Petits Savoyards</i> a reputation almost equal to that M. -Dennery has since made with his <i>Grâce de Dieu</i>, the only difference -being that M. Guiraud's Savoyard only asked for a son, while M. -Dennery's Savoyard asked for five. True, M. Dennery is a Jew. The first -of Hugo's <i>Odes</i> had made their appearance; Lamartine's <i>Méditations</i> -were out; but these were too strong and too substantial meat for the -stomachs of 1823, which had been nourished on the refuse of Parny, of -Bertin and of Millevoye.</p> - -<p>Adolphe was writing his <i>Pauvre Fille</i> in collaboration with Ferdinand -Langlé, and it was to be ready for a reading in a week's time.</p> - -<p>"Ah me! when shall I have reached that stage?" I thought to myself. -While I waited, I questioned Adolphe as to the composition of the -Ministry. You ask why I wanted to know about the composition of the -Ministry, and what I had to do with ministers? Why, I wanted to -know what the Duc de Bellune was. As ministers are but mortals, and -quickly forgotten when they are dead, it gives me pleasure to draw -this minister from his grave, and to acquaint the reader with the -constitution of the Ministry of 1823 at the date of my arrival in Paris.</p> - -<p>Keeper of the Seals, Comte de Peyronnet. Foreign Minister, Vicomte de -Montmorency. Minister for the Interior, Comte de Cubières. Minister -for War, <i>le Maréchal Duc de Bellune</i>. Minister for the Navy, Marquis -de Clermont-Tonnerre. Minister for Finance, Comte de Villèle. King's -Chamberlain, M. de Lauriston.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Duc de Bellune was still War Minister. That was all I wanted to -know.</p> - -<p>I have mentioned that I was interested in the Duc de Bellune, no -matter what office he held. I had a letter of his in my possession, -wherein he had thanked my father for a service he had rendered in -Italy; he placed himself at my father's disposition, in case he should -ever be able to do anything for him. The occasion offered on behalf -of the son instead of the father. But as, at that period, the law of -inheritance had not yet been abolished, as there was not even talk of -abolishing it, I did not doubt that as I had succeeded in the direct -line to Napoleon's hatred, I should succeed in direct line also to the -gratitude of the Duc de Bellune. I begged a pen and ink from de Leuven; -I trimmed the quill with the care the case demanded, and, in my very -best handwriting, I drew up a petition asking for an interview with -the Minister of War. I particularised all my claims to his favour; I -emphasised them in the name of my father, which the marshal could not -have forgotten; I recalled the old friendship which had united them, -while leaving unmentioned the service my father had rendered him, of -which the marshal's letter (he was then a major or a colonel) gave -proof. Then, easy about my future, I returned to literature.</p> - -<p>Adolphe sensibly pointed out to me that, sure though I felt of the -protection of Marshal Victor, it might still be as well to throw out my -line in other directions, in the unlikely, but still possible, case of -my being deceived.</p> - -<p>I told Adolphe that, if Marshal Victor failed me, there still remained -Marshal Jourdan and Marshal Sébastiani.</p> - -<p>It was quite out of the question that these would not move heaven -and earth for me. I had three or four letters from Jourdan to my -father, which gave token of a friendship equal to that of Damon and -Pythias. I had only one letter from Marshal Sébastiani; but this letter -proved that when at loggerheads with Bonaparte during the Egyptian -campaign, it was through the intercession of my father, who was then -on excellent terms with the general-in-chief, that he had obtained a -commission in the expedition. Surely such services as these would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -never be forgotten! At that time, as can be seen, I was very simple, -very provincial, very confiding. I am wrong in saying "at that time"; -alas! I am just the same now, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, Adolphe's -suspicions disturbed me. I decided not to wait for the Duc de Bellune's -answer before seeing my other patrons, and I told Adolphe I meant to -buy the <i>Almanach des 25,000 adresses</i> in order to find out where they -lived.</p> - -<p>"Do not put yourself to that expense," said Adolphe. "I believe my -father has it: I will lend it you."</p> - -<p>The tone in which Adolphe said "Do not put yourself to that expense" -annoyed me. It was as clear as day that he believed I should be making -a useless expenditure in buying the Directory in question. I was angry -with Adolphe for having such a low opinion of men.</p> - -<p>To give him the lie, I went next morning to Marshal Jourdan. I -announced myself as Alexandre Dumas. My success was surprising. The -marshal no doubt imagined that the news he had received fifteen years -ago was not true, and that my father was still alive. But when he saw -me, his face changed completely: he remembered perfectly that a General -Alexandre Dumas had existed in times gone by, with whom he had come in -contact, but he had never heard of the existence of a son. In spite -of all I could urge to establish my identity, he dismissed me, after -ten minutes' interview, still a disbeliever in my existence. This good -marshal was stronger than St. Thomas: he saw and did not believe.</p> - -<p>It was a sad beginning. I recalled the way in which, advising me not -to buy an <i>Almanach des 25,000 adresses,</i> Adolphe had said to me, -"Do not put yourself to that expense." Was it possible, perchance, -that Adolphe's scepticism might prove correct? These depressing -cogitations passed through my mind while I was walking from the -faubourg Saint-Germain to the faubourg Saint-Honoré—that is to say, -from Marshal Jourdan's to Marshal Sébastiani's. I announced myself, -as I had at Marshal Jourdan's; at my name the door opened. I thought, -for a moment, that I had inherited Ali Baba's famous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> "Open, sesame!" -The <i>general</i> was in his study. I italicise <i>general,</i> as I was in -error previously in calling the famous minister of foreign affairs -to Louis-Philippe <i>marshal</i>:—Comte Sébastiani was only a general -when I paid my visit to him. So the general was in his study: in the -four comers of this study, as at the four corners of a map are the -four cardinal points or four winds, were four secretaries. These -four secretaries were writing at his dictation. They were three less -in number than Cæsar's, but two more than Napoleon's. Each of these -secretaries had on his desk, besides his pen, his paper and his -penknife, a gold snuff-box which he opened and offered to the general, -every time the latter had occasion, when walking round the room, to -stop in front of the desk. The general would daintily insert the first -finger and thumb of a hand whose whiteness and delicacy had been the -envy of his grand-cousin Napoleon, take a voluptuous sniff of the -Spanish powder and, like <i>le Malade imaginaire,</i> proceed to measure the -length and the breadth of the room..</p> - -<p>My visit was short. Whatever consideration I might have for the -general, I did not feel inclined to become his snuff-box boy. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, somewhat cast -down. The first two men I had turned to had blown upon my golden -dreams, and tarnished them. Besides, although a whole day had gone by, -although I had given my address as accurately as possible, I had not -yet received any answer from the Duc de Bellune.</p> - -<p>I picked up my <i>Almanack des 25,000 adresses,</i> and began to -congratulate myself on not having wasted five francs in its -acquisition. I was quickly disillusioned, as will be seen; my cheerful -confidence had gone; I felt that sinking of heart which ever increases -in proportion as golden dreams give place to reality. I then turned -over the leaves of the book purely and simply at hap-hazard, looking -at it mechanically, reading without taking it in, when, all at once, I -saw a name that I had often heard my mother pronounce, and, each time, -in such eulogistic terms that all my spirits revived. That name was -General Verdier's, who had served in Egypt, under my father.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Come, come," I said; "the number three is a favourite with the gods; -perhaps my third unknown and providential protector will do more for me -than the other two—which would be no great tax, seeing the others have -not done anything at all."</p> - -<p>General Verdier lived in the faubourg Montmartre, No. 6. Ten minutes -later, I was holding the following terse dialogue with the concierge of -his house:—</p> - -<p>"Does General Verdier live here, please?"</p> - -<p>"Fourth floor, small door on the left."</p> - -<p>I made the concierge repeat it: I believed I must have misunderstood -him.</p> - -<p>Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani lived in sumptuous mansions, in -the faubourg Saint-Germain and the faubourg Saint-Honoré; entrance was -gained to these mansions by gates like those of Gaza. Why, then, should -General Verdier live in the rue du faubourg Montmartre, on the fourth -floor, and why did one gain access to him through a small doorway?</p> - -<p>The concierge repeated his words: I had not misunderstood.</p> - -<p>"Good gracious!" I said, as I climbed the staircase; "this does not -look like Marshal Jourdan's lackeys, nor Marshal Sébastiani's Swiss -guards. <i>General Verdier, fourth floor, small door on the left,</i> surely -this is a man likely to remember my father!"</p> - -<p>I reached the fourth floor; I discovered the small door; at this door -hung a humble, modest, green string. I rang with an uncontrollable -fluttering at my heart. This third trial was to decide my opinion of -men. Steps approached, the door was opened. A man of about sixty opened -the door; he wore a cap edged with astrakan, and was clothed in a green -braided jacket and trousers of white calf-skin. He held in his hand a -palette full of paints, and under his thumb, which held his palette, -was a paint-brush. I looked at the other doors.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, monsieur," I said; "I am afraid I have made some -mistake...."</p> - -<p>"What is your pleasure, monsieur?" asked the man with the palette.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To present my compliments to General Verdier."</p> - -<p>"In that case, step in: here you are."</p> - -<p>I went in, and, when we had crossed a tiny square hall which served as -an ante-chamber, I found myself in a studio.</p> - -<p>"You will allow me to go on with my work, monsieur?" said the painter, -placing himself in front of a battlepiece in the construction of which -I had interrupted him.</p> - -<p>"Certainly: but will you have the goodness, monsieur, to inform me -where I shall find the general?"</p> - -<p>The painter turned round.</p> - -<p>"The general? What general?"</p> - -<p>"General Verdier."</p> - -<p>"Why, I am he."</p> - -<p>"You?"</p> - -<p>I stared with such rude surprise at him that he began to laugh.</p> - -<p>"It astonishes you to see me handle the brush so badly," said he, -"after having heard, maybe, that I handled a sword passably? What -would you have me do? I have an active hand and I must keep it always -occupied somehow.... But come, as evidently, after the question you put -to me just now, you have nothing to say to the painter, what do you -want with the general?"</p> - -<p>"I am the son of your old comrade-at-arms in Egypt, General Dumas."</p> - -<p>He turned round quickly towards me, and looked at me earnestly; then, -after a moment's silence, he said—</p> - -<p>"By the powers, so you are! You are the very image of him." Tears -immediately came into his eyes, and, throwing down his brush, he held -out his hand to me, which I longed to kiss rather than to shake.</p> - -<p>"Ah! You remember him, then?"</p> - -<p>"Remember him! I should think I do: the handsomest and the bravest man -in the army! You are the very spit of him, my lad: what a model he -would have made any painter!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are right; I remember him perfectly."</p> - -<p>"And what brings you to Paris, my dear boy? for, if my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> memory serves -me, you lived with your mother, in some village or other."</p> - -<p>"True, General; but my mother is getting on in years, and we are poor."</p> - -<p>"We are both in the same boat," he said.</p> - -<p>"So," I went on, "I have come to Paris, in the hope of obtaining a -small situation, now that it is my turn to provide for her as hitherto -she has provided for me."</p> - -<p>"That is well thought of! But, my poor lad, a place is not so easy to -get in these times, no matter how small, especially for the son of a -Republican general. Ah! if you were the son of an <i>émigré</i> or of a -Chouan,—if only your poor father had served in the Russian or Austrian -army,—I daresay you might have had a chance."</p> - -<p>"The deuce, General, you frighten me! And I had been counting on your -protection."</p> - -<p>"What?" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>I repeated my sentence word for word, but with a little less assurance.</p> - -<p>"My protection!" He shook his head and smiled sadly.</p> - -<p>"My poor boy," he said, "if you wish to take lessons in painting, my -protection may be sufficient to provide you with them, and, even so, -you will never be a great artist if you do not surpass your master. My -protection! Well, well! I am grateful to you for that expression,'pon -my word! for you are, most likely, the only person in the world who -would ask me for such a thing to-day. You flatterer!"</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, General, I do not rightly understand."</p> - -<p>"Why, those rascals pensioned me off for some imaginary conspiracy with -Dermoncourt! So, you see, here I am, painting pictures; and if you -want to do the same, here are a palette, some brushes and a thirty-six -canvas."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, General; I have never got beyond the first stages; so you see -my apprenticeship would be too long, and neither my mother nor I could -wait——'</p> - -<p>"Ah! what can I say, my lad? You know the proverb: 'The prettiest girl -in the world....' Ah I pardon, pardon;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> I find I am mistaken. I have -still half my purse; I had forgotten that: it is true it is hardly -worth troubling about." He opened the drawer of a small chest in which, -I remember, there were two gold coins and forty francs in silver.</p> - -<p>"There," he said, "this is the remainder of my quarter's pay."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, General; but I am nearly as wealthy as you." It was my turn -to have tears in my eyes. "Thank you, but perhaps you can advise me -what further steps I can take."</p> - -<p>"You have already taken some steps, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I set about them this morning."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! And who have you seen?"</p> - -<p>"I saw Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani."</p> - -<p>"Pooh!... Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, General, pooh!..."</p> - -<p>"And after that...."</p> - -<p>"And after that, I wrote yesterday to the Minister of War."</p> - -<p>"To Bellune?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And has he answered you?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet, but I hope he will reply to me."</p> - -<p>The general, while he filled in the face of a Cossack, made a grimace -which might be summed up in the words: "If you are counting only on -that...."</p> - -<p>"I have still," I added, in response to his thought, "a letter of -introduction to General Foy, deputy of my own department."</p> - -<p>"Very well, my dear boy, as I believe that even if you have time to -lose, you have no money to spare, I advise you not to wait for the -minister's answer. To-morrow is Tuesday; there is a sitting of the -Chamber: but present yourself early at General Foy's,—you will find -him at work, for he is a hard worker, like myself; only, he does better -work. Don't worry; he will receive you kindly."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure of it."</p> - -<p>"I hope so, for I have a letter."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, he will give you a kindly reception, I have no doubt, because of -your letter; but above all he will receive you well for your father's -sake, although he did not know him personally. Now, will you dine with -me? We will talk of Egypt. It was hot there!"</p> - -<p>"Willingly, General. At what hour do you dine?"</p> - -<p>"At six o'clock.... Now go and take a turn on the boulevards, whilst I -finish my Cossack, and return at six."</p> - -<p>I took leave of General Verdier, and descended from the fourth floor, I -must confess, with a lighter heart than I had ascended to it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIb" id="CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p><i>Régulus</i>—Talma and the play—General Foy—The letter of -recommendation and the interview—The Duc de Bellune's reply—I -obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc d'Orléans—Journey -to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother the good news—No. 9—I gain a -prize in a lottery</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Men and things began to appear to me in their true light, and the -world, which until now had been hidden from me in the mists of -illusion, began to show itself as it really is, as God and the Devil -have made it, interspersed with good and evil, spotted with dirt. I -related to Adolphe everything that had occurred.</p> - -<p>"Go on," he said; "if your story finishes as it has begun, you will -accomplish much more than the writing of a comic opera: you will write -a comedy."</p> - -<p>But Adolphe's thoughts were in reality busy on my behalf. <i>Régulus</i> was -to be played at the Théâtre-Français that night: he had asked for two -orchestra stalls from Lucien Arnault, and had kept them for me; only, -on that evening, he would be too busy to come with me: the <i>Pauvre -Fille</i> claimed every minute of his time.</p> - -<p>I was almost glad of this inability: I could thus take General Verdier -to the play in return for his dinner. I found him waiting for me at his -house at six o'clock; I showed him my two tickets, and laid my proposal -before him.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well!" he said, "I cannot refuse this: I do not often -allow myself the luxury of going to the play, and especially as it is -Talma...."</p> - -<p>"You know some dramatists, then?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, I know M. Arnault."</p> - -<p>"Very good!... And now I must confess, General, that I want to stay in -Paris really to go in for literature."</p> - -<p>"Ah! not really?"</p> - -<p>"Really, General."</p> - -<p>"Listen: you came to ask my advice ...?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly I did."</p> - -<p>"Very well, don't count too much on literature for a living; you look -as though you had a good appetite; now, literature will necessitate -your going hungry many a time.... However, on those days, you must look -me up: the painter always shares his crusts with the poet. <i>Ut pictura -poesis!</i> I do not need to interpret that, for I presume you know Latin."</p> - -<p>"A little, General."</p> - -<p>"That is much more than I do. Come, let us go and dine."</p> - -<p>"Do we not dine at your rooms?"</p> - -<p>"Do you imagine I am rich enough, on my half-pay, to keep up a kitchen -and a household? No, no, no, indeed! I dine at the Palais-Royal for -forty sous; to-day we will have an <i>extra</i>, and I can get it for six -francs. You see you are not going to cost me much, so need not be -anxious."</p> - -<p>We betook ourselves to the Palais-Royal, where indeed we dined -excellently for our six francs, or rather for General Verdier's -six francs. Then we went to take our places for <i>Régulus.</i> My mind -was still full of <i>Sylla</i>; I saw the gloomy Dictator enter with -his flattened locks, his crowned head, his forehead furrowed with -anxieties: his speech was deliberate, almost solemn; his glance—that -of a lynx and a hyena—shot from under his drooping eyelids like that -of a nocturnal animal which sees in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Thus I awaited Talma.</p> - -<p>He entered, at a rapid pace, with haughty head and terse speech, as -befitted the general of a free people and a conquering nation; he -entered, in short, as <i>Régulus</i> would have entered. No longer, the -toga, no longer the purple, no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> the crown: a simple tunic, bound -by an iron girdle, without any other cloak than that of the soldier. -Here was where Talma was admirable in his personality—always that of -the hero he was called upon to represent—he reconstructed a world, he -refashioned an epoch.</p> - -<p>Yes, in <i>Sylla</i> he was the man of the falling republic; he was the -man who, in putting aside the purple, and in restoring to Rome that -temporary independence which she was soon no longer to know, said, to -those who assisted at this great act of his public life:—</p> - -<p> -"J'achève un grand destin; j'achève un grand ouvrage;<br /> -Sur ce monde étonné, j'ai marqué mon passage.<br /> -Ne m'accusez jamais dans la postérité,<br /> -Romains, de vous avoir rendu la liberté!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>It was Sylla who, in Marius and with Marius, witnessed the expiration -of the last breath of republican virility; it was he who saw the rise -of Cæsar—that Cæsar who later spoke thus to Brutus:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"O le pauvre insensé! qui vient, du couchant sombre,<br /> -Demander la lumière, et qui marche vers l'ombre!<br /> -Et qui se croit, rêvant les antiques vertus,<br /> -Au siècle des Camille et des Cincinnatus!<br /> -Oui, leur siècle était grand, peut-être regrettable;<br /> -Oui, la simplicity des habits, de la table;<br /> -Cette orge qui bouillait sur le plat des Toscans;<br /> -Ce peu qu'on avait d'or, qui reluisant aux camps;<br /> -Annibal, sous nos murs plantant sa javeline;<br /> -Et nos guerriers debout sur la porte Colline;<br /> -Voilà qui défendait au vice d'approcher!...<br /> -Mais le Nil dans le Tibre est venu s'épancher,<br /> -Et l'or asiatique, aux mains sacerdotales,<br /> -A remplacé l'argile étrusque des vestales;<br /> -Et le luxe, fondant sur nous comme un vautour,<br /> -Venge les nations et nous dompte à son tour.<br /> -La Rome des consuls et de la république<br /> -A brisé dès longtemps sa ceinture italique.<br /> -Rome a conquis la Grèce, et Carthage, et le Pont;<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Rome a conquis l'Espagne et la Gaule.—Répond,<br /> -Toi, qui ne veux pas voir, comme une mer de lave,<br /> -Monter incessamment vers nous le monde esclave:<br /> -Cette ville aux sept monts, qu'un dieu même créa,<br /> -Est-ce toujours la fille et l'Albe et de Rhéa,<br /> -La matrone sévère ou bien la courtisane?...<br /> -Ville de Mithridate et d'Ariobarzane,<br /> -Ville de Ptolémée, et ville de Juba.<br /> -Rome est un compost de tout ce qui tomba!<br /> -Rome, c'est l'univers! et sa débauche accuse<br /> -Marseille, Alexandrie, Athènes, Syracuse,<br /> -Et Rhode et Sybaris, fécondes en douleurs,<br /> -Et Tarente lascive, au front chargé de fleurs!..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Well, it was in this first epoch, spoken of by Cæsar, when "l'orge -bouillait sur le plat des Toscans," that Regulus flourished. Therefore, -from his very entry, Talma appeared as the stern republican, the man -vowed to great causes. Yes, yes, Talma, you were indeed, this time, -the Punic warrior, the colleague of Duillius—that conqueror to whom -his contemporaries, still in ignorance of the titles and the honours -with which defenders of their country should be rewarded, were giving -a flute player to follow him wherever he went, and a rostral column -to set up in front of his house; yes, you were indeed the consul who, -when he landed on African shores, had to beat down monsters before -he could beat down men, and who tested the implements of war, which -were destined to break down the walls of Carthage, by crushing a -boa-constrictor a hundred cubits in length. You were indeed that man -whose two victories spelt two hundred towns, and who refused Carthage -peace: Carthage, the Queen of the Mediterranean, the Sovereign of -the Ocean, who had coasted down Africa as far as the Equator, who -had spread North as far as the Cassiterides, and who possessed armed -ships. O Carthaginians, merchants, lawyers and senators! you were lost -at last. The race of traders had to give way to the race of warriors, -speculators to soldiers, Hannons to Barcas; you would have consented -to all the demands of Regulus, if there had not been found in Carthage -a Lacedemonian, a mercenary, a Xantippe, who declared that Carthage -still possessed the means for resisting, and demanded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the chief -command of the armies. The command was given him. He was a Greek. He -lured the Romans into the plain, charged into them with his cavalry and -crushed them beneath his elephants. It was at this stage of affairs, O -Regulus—Talma that you made your entry into Carthage, but conquered, -and a prisoner!</p> - -<p>Lucien Arnault had certainly not extracted all the dramatic force out -of this splendid republican subject that it was capable of showing: -he had certainly not shown us Rome, patient and indefatigable as the -ploughing oxen; he had certainly not depicted commercial Carthage, with -its armies of condottieri recruited from the sturdy Ligurians, that -Strabo shows us, in the mountains of Genes, breaking down the rocks and -carrying enormous burdens; from those clever slingers who came from the -Balearic Isles, who could stop a stag in its flight, an eagle on the -wing, with their stone-throwing; from the sturdy and strong Iberians, -who seemed insensible to hunger and to fatigue, when they were marching -to battle with their red cloaks and their two-edged-swords; finally, -from the Numidians whom we fight even to-day at Constantine and at -Djidjelli, terrible cavaliers, centaurs thin and fiery like their -chargers. No,—although the epoch was not remote,—the piece lacked -poetry; you, my dear Lucien, simply extracted from this mass of -material the devotion of a single man, and did not choose to depict a -people.</p> - -<p>Talma was superb when he was urging the Roman Senate to refuse peace, -thereby condemning himself to death; Talma was magnificent in that last -cry which hung for two centuries after, like a menace, over the city of -Dido: "To Carthage! to Carthage!"</p> - -<p>I returned to my quarters, this second time even more filled with -admiration than on the first occasion; only, as I knew my way, I -dispensed with the expense of a cab. Besides, my way was nearly the -same as General Verdier's to the faubourg Montmartre; he left me at the -corner of the rue Coquillière, shaking my hand and wishing me good luck.</p> - -<p>Next day, at ten, I presented myself at General Foy's. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> lived at No. -64 rue du Mont-Blanc. I was shown into his study, and found him engaged -upon his <i>Histoire de la Péninsule.</i> As I entered he was writing, -standing against a table which could be lowered or raised as required. -Round him, on chairs, on arm-chairs, on the floor, were scattered, in -apparent confusion, speeches, proofs, maps and open books. When the -general heard the door of his sanctum open he turned round. General -Foy was, at that time, a man of about forty-eight or fifty years of -age, thin, short rather than tall, with scanty grey hair, a projecting -forehead, an aquiline nose and a bilious complexion. He carried his -head high, his manner was short and his gestures commanding. I was -announced.</p> - -<p>"M. Alexandre Dumas!" he repeated after the servant; "let him come in."</p> - -<p>I appeared before him, trembling all over.</p> - -<p>"Are you M. Alexandre Dumas?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, General."</p> - -<p>"Are you the son of General Dumas who commanded the Army of the Alps?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, General."</p> - -<p>"I have been told that Bonaparte treated him very unjustly and that -this injustice was extended to his widow."</p> - -<p>"He left us in poverty."</p> - -<p>"Can I do anything for you?"</p> - -<p>"I confess, General, that you are nearly my sole hope."</p> - -<p>"How is that?"</p> - -<p>"Will you first make yourself acquainted with this letter from M. -Danré."</p> - -<p>"Ah! worthy Danré!... You know him?"</p> - -<p>"He was an intimate friend of my father."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he lived a league from Villers-Cotterets, where General Dumas -died.... And what is the good fellow doing?"</p> - -<p>"He is happy and proud to have been of some use to you in your -election, General."</p> - -<p>"Of some use? Say rather he did everything!" said he, breaking open -the letter. "Do you know," he continued, as he held the letter open -without reading it,—"do you know that he made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> himself answerable on -my account to the electors—body and soul, body and soul?... They did -not want to appoint me! I hope his rash zeal did not cost him too much. -Let me see what he says."</p> - -<p>He began to read.</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! he commends you to me most pressingly; he is very fond of you, -then?"</p> - -<p>"Almost as fond as he is of his own son, General."</p> - -<p>"I must first find out what you are fit for."</p> - -<p>"Oh! not good for much."</p> - -<p>"Bah! you surely know some mathematics?"</p> - -<p>"No, General."</p> - -<p>"You have at least some notion of algebra, of geometry, of physics?"</p> - -<p>He stopped between each word, and at each word I blushed afresh, and -the perspiration ran down my forehead in faster and faster drops. -It was the first time I had been thus actually confronted with my -ignorance.</p> - -<p>"No, General," I replied, stammering; "I do not know anything of those -things."</p> - -<p>"You have perhaps studied law?"</p> - -<p>"No, General."</p> - -<p>"You know Latin, Greek?"</p> - -<p>"A little Latin, no Greek."</p> - -<p>"Can you speak any modern language?"</p> - -<p>"Italian."</p> - -<p>"You understand book-keeping?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world."</p> - -<p>I was in agony, and he himself was visibly sorry for me.</p> - -<p>"Oh, General!" I burst out in tones that seemed to impress him greatly, -"my education is utterly defective and I am ashamed to say that I never -realised it until this moment.... Oh! but I will mend matters, I give -you my word; and soon, very soon, I shall be able to reply 'Yes' to all -the questions to which I have just now said 'No.'"</p> - -<p>"But have you anything to live upon in the meantime, my young friend?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Nothing, absolutely nothing, General!" I replied, crushed by the -feeling of my powerlessness.</p> - -<p>The general looked at me in profound pity.</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless," he said, "I do not want to abandon you ..."</p> - -<p>"No, General, for you will not be abandoning me only! True, I am -ignorant and good for nothing; but my mother counts upon me; I have -promised her I will find a place, and she ought not to be punished for -my ignorance and my laziness."</p> - -<p>"Give me your address," said the general. "I will consider what can be -done for you.... Write, there, at that desk."</p> - -<p>He held the pen out to me which he had just been using. I took it; I -looked at it, still wet; then, shaking my head, I gave it back to him.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"No, General," I said; "I cannot write with your pen: it would be a -profanation."</p> - -<p>He smiled. "What a child you are!" he said. "Look, here is a new one."</p> - -<p>"Thanks." I wrote. The general looked on.</p> - -<p>I had scarcely written my name before he clapped his hands together.</p> - -<p>"We are saved!" he said.</p> - -<p>"How is that?"</p> - -<p>"You write a beautiful hand."</p> - -<p>My head fell on my breast; my shame was insupportable. The only thing -I possessed was a good handwriting. This diploma of incapacity well -became me! A beautiful handwriting! So some day I might become a -copying-clerk. That was my future! I would rather cut off my right -arm. General Foy went on without paying much heed to what was passing -through my mind.</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "I am dining to-day at the Palais-Royal; I will -mention you to the Duc d'Orléans; I will tell him he ought to take the -son of a Republican general into his offices. Sit down there...."</p> - -<p>He pointed to an empty desk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Draw up a petition, and write your very best."</p> - -<p>I obeyed. When I had finished, General Foy took my petition, read -it and traced a few lines in the margin. His handwriting compared -unfavourably with mine and humiliated me most cruelly. Then he folded -up the petition, put it in his pocket and, holding out his hand to bid -me good-bye, he invited me to return and lunch with him next day. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and there I found -a letter franked by the Minister of War. Good and evil fortune had, -up to this time, treated me pretty impartially. The letter that I was -about to break open should turn the scale definitely. The minister -replied that, as he had no time for a personal interview, he invited -me to lay before him anything I had to say in writing. Decidedly, -the balance of the scale was towards ill-fortune. I replied that the -audience I asked of him was but to hand him the original of a letter -of thanks he had once written to my father, his general-in-chief; but -that, as I might not have the honour of seeing him, I would content -myself with sending him a copy of it. Poor marshal! I have seen him -since: he was then as affectionate to me as he had been indifferent -under the circumstances I have just related; and, nowadays, his son and -his grandson are my good friends.</p> - -<p>I went early, next morning, as I had been advised, to General Foy's, -who was now my only hope. The general was at his work, as on the -previous day. He received me with a smiling face, which looked very -promising.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "our business is settled."</p> - -<p>I looked at him, astounded.</p> - -<p>"How is that?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are to enter the secretarial staff of the Duc d'Orléans as -supernumerary, at twelve hundred francs. It is nothing very great; but -mow is your chance to work."</p> - -<p>"It is a fortune!... And when am I to begin?"</p> - -<p>"Next Monday, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Next Monday?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is arranged with the chief clerk in the office."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<p>"M. Oudard.... You will introduce yourself to him in my name."</p> - -<p>"Oh, General, I can hardly believe my good fortune."</p> - -<p>The general looked at me with an indescribably kindly expression. This -reminded me that I had not even thanked him. I threw my arms round his -neck and kissed him. He began to laugh.</p> - -<p>"There is good stuff in you," he said; "but remember what you have -promised me: study!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, General; I am now going to live by my handwriting: but I -promise you that one day I shall live by my pen."</p> - -<p>"We shall see; take your pen and write to your mother."</p> - -<p>"No, General, no; I wish to tell her this good news with my own lips. -To-day is Tuesday; I will start to-night: I will spend Wednesday, -Thursday, Friday and Saturday with her; I will come back here on the -night of Sunday—and on Monday I will go to my office."</p> - -<p>"But you will ruin yourself in carriages!"</p> - -<p>"No; I have a free pass from the diligence proprietor."</p> - -<p>And I related to him how old Cartier owed me a dozen fares. "Now," I -asked of the general, "what message shall I take from you to M. Danré?"</p> - -<p>"Well, tell him we had lunch together and that I am very well."</p> - -<p>A small round table ready laid was carried in at this juncture.</p> - -<p>"A second cover," ordered the general.</p> - -<p>"Really, General, you make me ashamed...."</p> - -<p>"Have you lunched?"</p> - -<p>"No, but——"</p> - -<p>"To table, to table!... I have to be at the Chamber by noon."</p> - -<p>We lunched <i>tête-à-tête.</i> The general talked to me of my future plans; -I confided all my literary plans to him. He looked at me; he listened -to me with the benevolent smile of a large-hearted man; he seemed -to say, "Golden dreams!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> foolish hopes! purple but fugitive clouds, -which sail over the heaven of youth, may they not vanish into the -azure firmament too quickly for my poor protégé!" Beloved and kindly -general! loyal soul! noble heart! you are now, alas! dead, before -those dreams were realised; you died without knowing they were to be -realised one day,—you are dead, and gratitude and grief have inspired -me, on the borders of that tomb into which you descended before your -time, to write I will not say the first good lines I made,—that would -perhaps be too ambitious,—but the first of my lines which are worth -the trouble of being quoted. Here are those I recall; the rest I have -completely forgotten:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Ainsi de notre vieille gloire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chaque jour emporte un débris!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chaque jour enrichit l'histoire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Des grands noms qui nous sont repris!</span><br /> -Et, chaque jour, pleurant sur la nouvelle tombe<br /> -D'un héros généreux dans sa course arrêté,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chacun de nous se dit épouvante:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Encore une pierre qui tombe</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Du temple de la Liberté!' ..."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>With one bound I covered the distance between the rue du Mont-Blanc -and the rue Pigale. I longed to tell Adolphe the realisation of all my -hopes. I was now, at last, sure of remaining in Paris. A most ambitious -career opened out before me, limitless and vast. God, on His side, had -done all that was necessary: He had left me with Aladdin's lamp in -the enchanted garden. The rest depended on myself. No man had ever, -I believe, seen his wishes more completely satisfied, his hopes more -entirely crowned. Napoleon could not have been prouder and happier -than I on the day when, having espoused Marie-Louise, he repeated -three times before nightfall, "My poor uncle Louis XVI.!" Adolphe -entered very heartily into my delight. M. de Leuven, to be still -characteristic, quietly ridiculed my raptures. Madame de Leuven, the -most perfect of women, rejoiced in advance over the joy my mother would -shortly experience. All three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> wanted to keep me to dinner with them; -but I remembered that a diligence left at half-past four o'clock, and -that by it I should be able to reach home by one in the morning. It -was odd I should be as eager to return to Villers-Cotterets as I had -been to come to Paris. True, I was not returning for long. I reached -Villers-Cotterets at one o'clock. One thing marred my joy: everybody -was asleep; no one was in the dark streets; I could not cry out from -the door of the diligence, "Here I am! but only for three days; I am -going back to Paris for good." Oh! what an incontestable reality had -the fable of King Midas become to me! When I reached Cartier's house, -I leapt from the coach to the ground without thinking of making use of -the step. When on mother-earth I rushed off, shouting to Auguste—</p> - -<p>"It is I, it is I, Auguste! Put my fare down to your father's account."</p> - -<p>In five minutes I was at home. I had a special way of my own of opening -the door, after my nocturnal escapades; I turned it to account, and I -entered my mother's room, who had hardly been an hour in bed, crying—</p> - -<p>"Victory, dear mother, victory!"</p> - -<p>My poor mother sat up in bed in great agitation: such an early return -and one so completely successful had never entered her head. She was -obliged to believe my word when, after kissing her, she saw me dance -round the room still shouting "Victory!" I told her the whole story: -Jourdan and his lackeys, Sébastiani and his secretaries, Verdier and -his pictures, the Duc de Bellune refusing to receive me and General -Foy receiving me twice. And my mother made me repeat it over and over -again; unable to believe that I, her poor child, had in three days, -without support, without acquaintances, without influence, by my -persistence and determination, myself changed the course of my destiny -for ever.</p> - -<p>At last I got to the end of my tale and sleep had a hearing. I went -to the bed that was scarcely cold since I had last used it, and, -when I woke up, I wondered if I could really have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> been absent from -Villers-Cotterets during those three days, and if it had not all been -a dream. I leapt out of my bed, I dressed myself, I kissed my mother -and I ran off along the road to Vouty. M. Danré ought to be the first -to hear of my good fortune. This was but fair, since he had brought it -about.</p> - -<p>M. Danré learnt the news with feelings of personal pride. There is -something very comforting to poor human nature when a man counts on -a friend for a good action, and this friend accomplishes the deed, -without ostentation, in fulfilment of his promise.</p> - -<p>M. Danré would have liked me to have stayed there all day; but I was -as slippery as an eel. I was not merely in haste that everybody should -know of my happiness, but I wanted to increase this happiness twofold, -by telling it myself. Dear M. Danré understood this, like the good soul -he was. We lunched, and then he set me free. Without, I am thankful to -say, representing the same mythological idea as Mercury, my heels, like -his, were endowed with wings: in twenty or twenty-five minutes, I was -back in Villers-Cotterets; but the news had spread in my absence, in -spite of my celerity. Everybody already knew, on my return, that I was -a supernumerary in the secretariat of the Duc d'Orléans, and everybody -was waiting for me at their doors to congratulate me on my good -fortune. They followed me in procession to the door of Abbé Grégoire's -house. What recollections of my own have I not put in the story of my -poor fellow-countrywoman Ange Pitou! I found our house full of gossips -when I returned. Besides our friend Madame Darcourt, our neighbours -Mesdames Lafarge, Dupré, Dupuis were holding a confabulation. I was -welcomed with open arms, fêted by everybody. They had never doubted my -powers; they had always said that I should become somebody; they were -delighted to have prophesied an event to my poor mother which was now -realised. These ladies, with the exception of Madame Darcourt, let it -be noted, were those who had predicted to my mother that her darling -son would always be a good-for-nothing. But Fate is the most powerful, -the most inexorable of kings; it is not, then, to be wondered at that -it has its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> courtiers. We were never left alone together the whole of -the day. I took advantage of the numbers in the house to go and pay a -special farewell visit to my good Louise, who would fain have comforted -me after Adèle's marriage, if I had been consolable, and whom I would -assuredly have comforted after Chollet had gone, had not I myself left.</p> - -<p>In the evening my mother and I at last found ourselves alone together -for a little while. We took the opportunity to talk over our private -affairs. I wanted my mother to sell everything that we did not need -and come as soon as possible to settle with me in Paris. Twenty years -of misfortunes had sown distrust in my mother's heart. In her opinion, -it was far too hasty to act like this. Then, the twelve hundred francs -that I looked upon as a fortune was a very small amount to live upon in -Paris. Besides, I had not got the salary yet. A supernumerary is but a -probationer: if at the end of one month, or two months, they thought -that I was not suitable for the post, and if M. Oudard, the head of my -office, should make me take a seat as Augustus had made Cinna, as M. -Lefèvre had made me, and ask me, as M. Lefèvre had asked me, "Monsieur, -do you understand mechanics?" we were lost; for my mother would not -even have her tobacco-shop to fall back upon, which she would have left -and which she could not sell merely temporarily. My mother, therefore, -decided on a common-sense course, which was as follows—</p> - -<p>I was to return to Paris, where my bed, my bedding, my sheets, my table -linen, four chairs, a table, a chest of drawers and two sets of plate -would be forwarded; I would hire a small room, the cheapest possible; I -would stay there until my position was established; and when my place -was secure, I would write to my mother. Then my mother would hesitate -no longer: she would sell everything and come to join me.</p> - -<p>The next day was a Thursday. I utilised my being at Villers-Cotterets -to draw for the conscription; my years would have called me to the -service of my country, had I not been the son of a widow. I took No. 9, -which was no inconvenience to myself, and did not deprive another of a -good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> number I might have taken. I met Boudoux, my old friend of the -<i>marette</i> and the <i>pipée.</i></p> - -<p>"Ah! Monsieur Dumas," he said, "as you have obtained such an excellent -situation, you can surely give me a four-pound loaf."</p> - -<p>I took him off to the baker; and instead of a four-pound loaf I paid -for one of eight pounds for him.</p> - -<p>I held my conscription ticket in my hand.</p> - -<p>"What is that?" asked Boudoux.</p> - -<p>"That? It is my number."</p> - -<p>"You have taken No. 9?"</p> - -<p>"As you see."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, I have an idea: in return for your eight-pound loaf, -Monsieur Dumas, if I were you, I would go to my aunt Chapuis, and I -would put a thirty-sous piece on No. 9. Thirty sous wont ruin you, and -if No. 9 turns up, it will bring you in seventy-three francs."</p> - -<p>"Here are thirty sous, Boudoux; go and put them on in my name, and -bring me back the ticket."</p> - -<p>Boudoux went off, breaking off, with his right hand, huge chunks of the -bread which he carried under his left arm. His aunt Chapuis kept both -the post-office and the lottery-office.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later, Boudoux returned with the ticket. There was only a -fragment of crust left of the eight-pound loaf, and that he finished -before my eyes. It was the final day of the lottery. I should know, -therefore, by Saturday morning whether I had won my seventy-three -francs or lost my thirty sous.</p> - -<p>Friday was taken up with making preparations for my Parisian -housekeeping. My mother would have liked me to carry off everything -in the house; but I realised that, with my twelve hundred francs per -annum, the smaller the room the more economical it would be, and I -stuck to the bed, the four chairs, and the chest of drawers.</p> - -<p>One slight inconvenience remained to me. General Foy had told me that -I was a supernumerary at twelve hundred francs; but these hundred -francs per month which the munificence of Monseigneur the Duc d'Orléans -conceded me would not be paid me until the end of the month. I had not -Boudoux's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> appetite, but I could certainly eat and eat very heartily: -General Verdier had not been out in his surmise.</p> - -<p>I had thirty-five francs left out of my fifty. My mother decided to -part with another hundred francs: it was half of what she had left. It -went to my heart very bitterly to take my poor mother's hundred francs, -and I was just thinking of having recourse to the purse of M. Danré, -when, in the midst of our discussion, which took place on Saturday -morning, I heard Boudoux's voice shouting out—</p> - -<p>"Ah! M. Dumas, now this is well worth a second eight-pound loaf."</p> - -<p>"What is worth an eight-pound loaf?"</p> - -<p>"No. 9 came up! If you go to aunt Chapuis's office, she will count you -out your seventy-three francs."</p> - -<p>My mother and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Boudoux.</p> - -<p>"Are you telling me the truth, Boudoux?"</p> - -<p>"Before God, I am, M. Dumas; that rascally No. 9 turned up: you can go -and see for yourself on the list; it is the third."</p> - -<p>There was nothing astonishing about this: had we not struck a vein of -good fortune?</p> - -<p>My mother and I went to Madame Chapuis. We were even better off than we -supposed. Boudoux had calculated upon the number coming out along with -others; I had put my thirty sous on the single item: the result of this -difference was that my thirty sous brought me in a hundred and fifty -francs, instead of seventy-three.</p> - -<p>I have never rightly understood the reason why Madame Chapuis doubled -the amount, which was paid me, I remember, in crowns of six livres, -plus the necessary smaller change; but when I saw the crowns, when I -was allowed to carry them off, I did not ask for further explanation. I -was the possessor of the sum of a hundred and eighty-five francs! I had -never had so much money in my pocket. Therefore, as all these six-livre -crowns made a great chinking and took up a lot of room, my mother -changed them for me into gold.</p> - -<p>Oh! what a fine thing gold is, however much decried, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> it is the -realisation of the dearest hopes in life! Those nine gold coins were -little enough; but nevertheless, at that moment, they were of more -value in my eyes than the thousands of similar pieces which have passed -through my hands since; and which, after the fashion of Jupiter, I have -showered upon that most costly of all mistresses men call <i>Fancy.</i> So I -cost my mother nothing, not even for the carriage of my furniture, for -which I paid the carrier in advance, bargaining with him for the sum -of twenty francs to bring them to Paris, to the door of the hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins, to be removed from there when I should have chosen my -lodgings. They were to be delivered on the Monday night.</p> - -<p>At last the hour of parting came. The whole town assisted at my -departure. It was for all the world as though one of the navigators -of the Middle Ages were leaving to discover an unknown land, and the -wishes and the cheering of his compatriots were giving him a send-off -across the seas.</p> - -<p>In truth, those dear good friends realised, with their simple and -kindly instinct, that I was embarking on an ocean quite as stormy and -uncertain as that which, according to the blind soothsayer, surrounded -the shield of Achilles.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I find lodgings—Hiraux's son—Journals and journalists in 1823—By -being saved the expense of a dinner I am enabled to go to the play at -the Porte-Saint-Martin—My entry into the pit—Sensation caused by my -hair—I am turned out—How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one—A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The reader will have observed that my balance increased each journey -I made to Paris. It was but four months since the firm of Paillet and -Company had entered the city with thirty-five francs apiece; only a -week ago I had reached the barrier with fifty francs in my pocket; now, -finally, I alighted at the door of the <i>Hôtel des Vieux Augustins</i> with -one hundred and eighty-five francs.</p> - -<p>I began to search for lodgings the same day. When I had climbed and -descended a good many staircases, I stopped at a little room on a -fourth floor. This room, which contained the luxury of an alcove, -belonged to that immense mass of houses called the Italian quarter, -and formed part of No. 1. It was papered with a yellow paper at twelve -sous the piece, and looked out on the yard. It was let to me for the -sum of a hundred and twenty francs per annum. It suited me in every -respect, so I did not haggle. I told the porter I would take it, and -I advised him that my furniture would come in on the following night. -The porter asked me for the <i>denier à Dieu.</i> I was a complete stranger -to Parisian habits and I did not know what the <i>denier à Dieu</i> meant. -I thought it must be a commission on letting the room: I majestically -took a napoleon out of my pocket, and I dropped it into the hand of the -porter, who bowed down to the ground.</p> - -<p>In his eyes I evidently passed for a prince travelling incognito.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -To give twenty francs as <i>denier à Dieu</i> for a room at a hundred and -twenty!... Such a thing had never been heard of. Twenty francs! it was -a sixth of the rent!... So his wife instantly asked for the honour -of looking after me. I granted her this favour for five francs per -month—always with the same regal air.</p> - -<p>From there, I ran to General Verdier's to get up my appetite, and I -told him the good news. I had left Paris at such short notice, on the -previous Monday, that I had not had time to ascend his four flights of -stairs. I mounted them, this time, fruitlessly: the general had taken -advantage of its being Sunday and had gone out. I followed his example: -I strolled about the boulevards,—the only place where I ran no risk -of being lost,—and I reached the <i>Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré</i> -at the end of my strolling. Suddenly, through the windows, I saw -someone I knew: it was Hiraux, the son of good old Hiraux, who had so -unsuccessfully endeavoured to make a musician of me. I entered the -café. Hiraux had recently bought it: he was the proprietor of it.... -I was in his house!... Although he was slightly older than myself, we -had been very good chums in our childhood. He kept me to dinner. While -waiting for dinner, he put all the journals of the establishment before -me. Some of those papers have since disappeared. The chief of them at -that time were: the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, always under the direction of -the brothers Bertin, and a supporter of the Government. It reflected -the views of Louis XVIII. and of M. de Villèle—namely, a moderate -and conciliatory Royalism, a policy of optimism and vacillation; the -system, in fact, by which, in the midst of the plots of the Carbonari -and the intrigues of the Extreme Party, Louis XVIII. managed to die -almost in tranquillity: if not on the throne, at any rate close by it.</p> - -<p>The old <i>Constitutionnel</i>—of Saint-Albin, Jay, Tissot and Évariste -Dumoulin—was suppressed one day for an article which the Censorship -placed on the Index, an article which somehow had managed to get -inserted without any trace of the claws and teeth of the censors. Then, -with a rapidity of decision<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> which indicated the extreme devotion the -<i>Constitutionnel</i> of every epoch has always exhibited in its own cause, -it bought for a mere song the <i>Journal du Commerce</i>, which had four -hundred subscribers; and, under the title of the <i>Journal du Commerce</i> -appeared next morning: it need hardly be said that the good old rogue -was recognised under this transparent disguise, and just about the -time when I arrived in Paris, it had resumed, or was about to resume, -its old title, so dear to the citizens of Paris. The <i>Constitutionnel</i> -was very timid: it represented the Liberal opinion, and never really -breathed out thunder and lightning except against the Jesuits, towards -whom it had vowed the same cruel and magnificent hatred that nowadays -it fulminates against <i>demagogues</i>.</p> - -<p>The <i>Drapeau blanc</i> was edited by Martainville, a man of infinite -resource, but one who could hate and was hated in return. Charged with -the defence of the bridge of Pecq, as commandant of the National Guard -of Saint-Germain, he was reproached with having, in 1814, delivered -up this bridge to the Prussians; and he replied to the reproach, not -merely by an avowal, but with bravado: not being able to deny it, he -boasted about it. But as all treachery torments the heart of the man -who has committed it, irrespective of what he said, so it preyed on -his vital forces. M. Arnault had infuriated him by deriving his name -from <i>Martin</i> on his father's, and <i>Vil</i> (vile) on his mother's side. -He was courageous enough, and, ever ready to tackle an adversary, he -did battle with Telleville Arnault over his <i>Germanicus.</i> The bullet of -the poet's son merely grazed the thigh of the critic, leaving nothing -worse than a slight bruise behind it. "Bah!" said Arnault's father, "he -has not even felt it: a blow from a stick would have produced the same -effect."</p> - -<p>The <i>Foudre</i> was the admitted journal of the Marsan Party, the -outspoken expression of the ultra-Royalists, who, through all the -reactions that followed, leant for support on the Comte d'Artois, and -who waited impatiently for that decomposition of the elements, which, -at the rate things were going, could not fail to be accomplished under -Louis XVIII.</p> - -<p>The editors of the <i>Foudre</i> were Bérard, the two brothers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> Dartois (who -were also comic-opera writers), Théaulon and Ferdinand Langlé, Brisset -and de Rancé.</p> - -<p>At the opposite pole of Liberal opinion to the <i>Foudre</i> was the -<i>Miroir</i>, a newspaper hussar, a delightful skirmisher, overflowing with -wit and <i>humour</i>; it was controlled by all the men who were noted for -their spirit of opposition to the times, and who, we hasten to say, -were really opposed to it. These men were MM. de Jouy, Arnault, Jal, -Coste, Castel, Moreau, etc. So the unfortunate <i>Miroir</i> was the object -of relentless persecution at the hands of the Government, in whose eyes -it was for ever flashing a broken ray of sunlight from the days of the -Empire. Suppressed as the <i>Miroir</i>, it reappeared as the <i>Pandore;</i> -suppressed as <i>Pandore</i>, it became the <i>Opinion;</i> suppressed finally as -<i>Opinion</i>, it rose again under the title of the <i>Reunion;</i> but this was -the last of its metamorphoses: Proteus was run to earth, and died in -chains.</p> - -<p>Do not let us forget the <i>Courrier français</i>, the sentinel of advanced -opinion, almost Republican, at a time when no one dared even to -pronounce the word republic. It was for the <i>Courrier français,</i> edited -by Châtelain, one of the most honest and most enlightened patriots of -that period, that, as I have already mentioned, M. de Leuven worked.</p> - -<p>But I had really nothing to do with any of these political journals: -I only read the literary news. As I had found a dinner which cost me -nothing, I decided to spend the price of my dinner on a theatre ticket, -a ticket for a play: I hunted through the theatre advertisements in all -the newspapers, and, guided by Hiraux in the choice of the literature -on which I proposed to spend my evening, I decided to go to the -Porte-Saint-Martin.</p> - -<p>The play was the <i>Vampire.</i> It was only the third or fourth -representation of the revival of this piece. Hiraux advised me to make -haste; the piece had caught on and was drawing crowds. It was played -by the two actors who were popular at the Porte-Saint-Martin: Philippe -and Madame Dorval. I followed Hiraux's advice; but, in spite of all the -haste I made, it is a long way from the <i>Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré</i> -to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin: I found the approaches to it -blocked.</p> - -<p>I was quite fresh to Paris. I did not know all the various theatre -customs. I went along by the side of an enormous queue enclosed in -barriers, not daring even to ask where the entrance-money was taken. -One of the <i>habitués</i> in the queue no doubt perceived my confusion, for -he called out to me—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur! monsieur!"</p> - -<p>I turned round, wondering if he were addressing me.</p> - -<p>"Yes ... you, monsieur," continued the habitué, "you with the frizzy -locks ... do you want a place?"</p> - -<p>"Do I want a place?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes. If you put yourself at the bottom of this queue, you will never -get in to-night. Five hundred people will be turned away."</p> - -<p>This was Hebrew to me. Of his language I only gathered that five -hundred folk would be turned away and that I should be one of the -number.</p> - -<p>"Come, would you really like my place?" continued the habitué.</p> - -<p>"Have you got a place, then?"</p> - -<p>"Can't you see for yourself?"</p> - -<p>I could see nothing at all.</p> - -<p>"Taken in advance, then?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Taken since noon."</p> - -<p>"And a good one ...?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by good?"</p> - -<p>Now it was the habitué who did not understand.</p> - -<p>"Well," I went on, "shall I have a good place?"</p> - -<p>"You can sit where you like."</p> - -<p>"What! I can sit where I like?"</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>"How much did your place cost?"</p> - -<p>"Twenty sous."</p> - -<p>I reflected within myself that twenty sous to sit where I liked was not -dear. I drew twenty sous from my pocket and gave them to the <i>habitué</i>, -who immediately, with an agility that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> proved he was well accustomed -to this exercise, climbed up the rails of the barrier, got over it and -alighted by my side.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "now where is your place?"</p> - -<p>"Take it, ... but look sharp; for, if they push up, you will lose it."</p> - -<p>At the same moment light broke in on my mind: "Those people, inside -that barrier, have no doubt taken and paid for their places in advance, -and it is in order to keep them they are penned in like that."</p> - -<p>"Ah! good, I see!" I replied; and I strode over the barrier in my turn, -the reverse way; so that, contrary to the action of my place-seller, -who had come without from within, I went from the outside within. I did -not understand matters at all. After a second, there was a movement -forward. They were just opening the offices. I was carried forward -with the crowd, and ten minutes later, I found myself in front of the -grating.</p> - -<p>"Well, monsieur, aren't you going to take your ticket?" asked my -neighbour.</p> - -<p>"My ticket? What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Of course, your ticket!" answered someone just behind me. "If you -aren't going to take your ticket, at least allow us to take ours."</p> - -<p>And a light thrust showed the desire of those behind me to have their -turn.</p> - -<p>"But," I said, "surely I have bought my place ...?"</p> - -<p>"Your place ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I gave twenty sous for it, as you saw.... Why, I gave twenty sous -to that man who sold me his place!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, his place in the queue!" exclaimed my neighbours; "but his place -in the queue is not his place inside the theatre."</p> - -<p>"He told me that, with his place, I could go where I liked."</p> - -<p>"Of course you can go where you like; take a stage-box. You can do -what you like, and you can go where you like. But tickets for the -stage-boxes are at the other office."</p> - -<p>"Forward! forward! hurry up!" exclaimed those near me.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, clear the gangway, if you please," cried a voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It is this gentleman, who will not take his ticket, and who prevents -us from getting ours!" cried a chorus of my neighbours.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, make up your mind."</p> - -<p>The murmurs grew, and with them ringing in my ears, by degrees it -dawned upon me what had been pretty clearly dinned into me—namely, -that I had bought my place in the queue, and not my place in the -theatre.</p> - -<p>So, as people were beginning to hustle me in a threatening fashion, -I drew a six-francs piece from my pocket and asked for a pit ticket. -They gave me four francs six sous, and a ticket which had been white. -It was time! I was immediately carried away by a wave of the crowd. -I presented my once white ticket to the check-taker: they gave me in -exchange a ticket that had been red. I went down a corridor to the -left; I found a door on my left with the word <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">PARTERRE</span> written over it, -and I entered. And now I understood the truth of what the <i>habitué</i> who -had sold me his place for twenty sous had said. Although I had scarcely -fifteen or twenty people in front of me in the queue, the pit was -nearly full. A most compact nucleus had formed beneath the lights, and -I realised then that those must be the best places.</p> - -<p>I immediately resolved to mix with this group, which did not look to me -to be too closely packed, for a good place therein. I climbed over the -benches, as I had seen several other people do, and balancing myself, -on the tops of their curved backs, I hastened to reach the centre.</p> - -<p>I was becoming, or rather, it must be admitted, I was, a very -ridiculous object. I wore my hair very long, and, as it was frizzy, it -formed a grotesque aureole round my head. Moreover, at a period when -people wore short frock-coats, hardly reaching to the knee, I wore a -coat which came down to my ankles. A revolution had taken place in -Paris, which had not yet had time to reach as far as Villers-Cotterets. -I was in 1 the latest fashion of Villers-Cotterets, but I was in the -last but one Parisian mode. Now, as nothing generally is more opposed -to the latest fashion than the last mode but one, I looked excessively -absurd, as I have already had the modesty to admit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Of course, I -appeared so in the eyes of those towards whom I advanced; for they -greeted me with shouts of laughter, which I thought in very bad taste.</p> - -<p>I have always been exceedingly polite; but at this period, coupled -with the politeness I had acquired from my maternal education, there -woke in me a restless, suspicious hastiness of temper which I probably -inherited from my father. This hastiness made my nerves an easy prey -to irritation. I took my hat in my hand—an action which revealed -the utter oddity of my way of wearing my hair—and the general -hilarity among the group in the rows to which I desired to gain access -redoubled. "Pardon me, gentlemen," I said in the politest of tones, -"but I should like to know the cause of your laughter, so that I may -be able to laugh with you. They say the piece we have come to see is -extremely sad, and I should not be sorry to make merry before I have to -weep."</p> - -<p>My speech was listened to in the most religious silence; then, from the -depths of this silence, a voice suddenly exclaimed—</p> - -<p>"Oh! that 'ead of 'is!"</p> - -<p>The apostrophe seemed to be exceedingly funny, for it had hardly been -uttered before the bursts of laughter were redoubled; but the hilarity -had scarcely begun afresh before it was accompanied by the sound of a -stinging smack in the face which I gave to the wag. "Monsieur," I said, -as I slapped him, "my name is Alexandre Dumas. Until after to-morrow, -you will find me at the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i>, in the road of the -same name, and after to-morrow at No. 1 place des Italiens."</p> - -<p>It would seem that I spoke a language quite unknown to these gentlemen; -for, instead of replying to me, twenty fists were flourished -threateningly, and everybody shouted—</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!"</p> - -<p>"What!" I cried, "put me to the door? That would be a nice thing, upon -my word, seeing that I have already paid for my place twice over—once -in the queue, and then again at the box-office."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried the voices afresh, with redoubled -fury.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, I have had the honour to give you my address."</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried the people, in strident, raucous -tones.</p> - -<p>All the people present had risen from their seats, were leaning over -the gallery, and were almost half out of the boxes. I seemed to be at -the end of an immense funnel with everybody gazing at me from all sides.</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried those who did not even know what the -commotion was about, but who calculated that one person less would mean -room for one more.</p> - -<p>I was debating what course to take, from the depths of my funnel, when -a well-dressed man broke through the crowd, which deferentially opened -a way for him, and he asked me to go out.</p> - -<p>"Why am I to go out?" I asked in great surprise.</p> - -<p>"Because you are disturbing the performance."</p> - -<p>"What! I am disturbing the play?... The play has not begun yet."</p> - -<p>"Well, you are disturbing the audience."</p> - -<p>"Really, monsieur!"</p> - -<p>"Follow me."</p> - -<p>I remembered the affair that my father, at about my age, had had with a -musketeer at la Montansier, and although I knew that the constabulary -was dissolved, I expected I was in for something of the same sort. So -I followed without making any resistance, in the midst of the cheers -of the audience, who testified their satisfaction at the justice that -was being dealt out to me. My guide led me into the corridor, from the -corridor to the office, and from the office into the street. When in -the street he said, "There! don't do it again." And he returned to the -theatre.</p> - -<p>I saw that I had got off very cheaply, since my father had kept his -warder attached to him for a whole week, whilst I had only been in -custody for five minutes. I stood for a moment on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> the pavement, -whilst I made this judicious reflection, and seeing that my guide had -re-entered, I too decided to do the same.</p> - -<p>"Your ticket?" said the ticket collector.</p> - -<p>"My ticket? You took it from me just now, and, as a proof, it was a -white one, for which you gave me in exchange a red ticket."</p> - -<p>"Then what have you done with your red ticket?"</p> - -<p>"I gave it to a woman who asked me for it."</p> - -<p>"So that you have neither ticket nor check?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no, I have neither ticket nor check."</p> - -<p>"Then you cannot go in."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say I cannot enter, after having paid for my ticket -twice over?"</p> - -<p>"Twice?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, twice."</p> - -<p>"How did you do that?"</p> - -<p>"Once in the queue, and again at the box-office."</p> - -<p>"You humbug!" said the ticket collector.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?"</p> - -<p>"I said you cannot go in, that is what I said."</p> - -<p>"But I mean to get in, nevertheless."</p> - -<p>"Then take a ticket at the office."</p> - -<p>"That will be the second."</p> - -<p>"Well, what does that matter to me?"</p> - -<p>"What does it matter to you?"</p> - -<p>"If you have sold your ticket at the door, it is no affair of mine."</p> - -<p>"Ah! so you take me for a dealer in checks?"</p> - -<p>"I take you for a brawler who has just been turned out for disturbing -the peace, and if you go on doing it, you'll not be led out into the -road the next time, but into the police station."</p> - -<p>There could be no mistaking the threat. I began to understand that, -without intending it, I had infringed the law—or rather custom, which -is far more jealous of contravention than the law.</p> - -<p>"Ah, is this so?" I said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That is about it," said the collector.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, you are the stronger of the two," I said.</p> - -<p>And I went out.</p> - -<p>When outside the door, I considered how stupid it was to have come to -see a play, to have paid for two places to see it-a place in the queue -and a place at the office—to have seen only a curtain representing -hangings of green velvet, and to come away without seeing anything -else. I went on to reflect that, since I had already paid for two -tickets, I might as well incur the expense of a third, and as people -were still going in and a double queue circled the theatre so that -the door formed as it were the clasp to the girdle, I placed myself -at the end of the queue which looked to me to be the shortest. It was -the opposite queue to the one I had gone in by before; it was not so -dense, as it led to the orchestra, the front galleries, the stage-boxes -and the first and second rows of stalls. This was what I was informed -by the clerk at the box-office when I asked for a ticket for the pit. -I looked up, and, as he had indicated, I saw upon the white plan the -designation of the places to be obtained at that particular office. The -cheapest places were those in the orchestra and second row of stalls. -Seats in the orchestra and in the second row of stalls cost two francs -fifty; centimes. I took two francs fifty centimes from my pocket, and -asked for an orchestra seat. The orchestra ticket was handed to me, and -my play-going cost me five francs all told.</p> - -<p>No matter: it was no good crying over spilt milk! My dinner had not -cost me anything, and to-morrow I was to enter the Duc d'Orléans' -secretarial offices; I could well afford to allow myself this trivial -orgy. I reappeared triumphant before the check barrier, holding my -orchestra ticket in my hand. The collector smiled graciously upon -me, and said, "On the right, monsieur." I noticed this was quite a -different direction from the first time. The first time I had tacked -myself on to the right-hand queue and gone in at the left; the second -time, I followed the left queue and they told me to enter on the right. -I augured from this that since I had this time reversed the order of my -proceedings, the manner of my reception would also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> be reversed, and, -consequently, that I should be welcomed instead of rejected.</p> - -<p>I was not mistaken. I found quite a different stamp of people in the -orchestra from those I had found in the pit, and, as the girl who -showed me to my seat pointed out to me a vacant place towards the -centre of a row, I set to work to reach it. Everyone rose politely -to allow me to pass. I gained my seat, and sat down by the side of a -gentleman, wearing grey trousers, a buff waistcoat and black tie. He -was a man of about forty or forty-two. His hat was placed on the seat -I came to fill. He was interrupted in the perusal of a charming little -book,—which I learnt later was an Elzevir,—apologised as he took up -his hat, bowed to me and went on reading. "Upon my word!" I said to -myself, "here is a gentleman who seems to me better brought up than -those I have just encountered." And, promising to enter into friendly -relations with my neighbour I sat down in the empty stall.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My neighbour—His portrait—The <i>Pastissier françois</i>—A course in -bibliomania—Madame Méchin and the governor of Soissons—Cannons and -Elzevirs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>At this period of my life, being made up entirely of ignorance, -optimism and faith, I did not know in the least what an Elzevir, or -rather Elzevier, was. I learnt that evening, as we shall see; but -I did not understand thoroughly until much later, after I had made -the acquaintance of my learned friend, <i>la bibliophile</i> Jacob. So it -is a little previous to say that the polite gentleman was reading -an Elzevir; I ought to say simply that he was reading a book. I -have related how I had taken the seat next his, and how, having -been distracted from his reading by having to lift his hat off my -seat, he had immediately plunged back again into his reading, more -absorbedly than ever. I have ever admired men who are capable of doing -anything whole-heartedly <i>(passionnément</i>);—please do not confound -<i>passionnément</i> with <i>passionnellement</i>; this latter adverb was not -invented in 1823, or, if it were, Fourier had not yet exploited it.</p> - -<p>It was not surprising that, interested as I was in literature, I should -endeavour to find out what the book was which could inspire such a -powerful influence over my neighbour, who was so deeply absorbed in -his reading that, metaphorically speaking, he gave himself up, bound -hand and foot, into my power. I had more than a quarter of an hour in -which to make this investigation before the curtain rose, therefore I -conducted it at my leisure. First of all, I tried to see the title of -the book; but the binding was carefully hidden by a paper cover, so -it was impossible to read the title on the back of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> the book. I rose; -in that position I could look down on the reader. Then, thanks to the -excellent sight I have the good fortune to possess, I was able to -read the following curious title on the opposite side to the engraved -frontispiece:—</p> - -<p class="center"> -LE PASTISSIER FRANÇOIS<br /> -Où est enseignée la manière de faire toute sorte<br /> -de pastisserie<br /> -Très-utile à toutes sortes de personnes;<br /> -Ensemble le moyen d'apprester toutes sortes;<br /> -d'œufs pour les jours maigres et autres<br /> -En plus de soixante façons.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">AMSTERDAM</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHEZ LOUIS ET DANIEL ELZÉVIER</span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center">1655 -</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah!" I said to myself, "now I have it! This well-mannered -gentleman is surely a gourmand of the first order,—M. Grimod de la -Reyniere perhaps, whom I have so often heard described as a rival of -Cambacérès and of d'Aigrefeuille;—but stay, this gentleman has hands -and M. Grimod de la Reyniere has only stumps." At that moment, the -polite gentleman let his hand and the book he held fall on his knees; -then, casting his eyes upward, he appeared to be lost in profound -reflection. He was, as I have said, a man of forty or forty-two years -of age, with an essentially gentle face, kindly and sympathetic; he had -black hair, blue-grey eyes, a nose slightly bent to the left through an -excrescence, a finely cut, clever-looking, witty mouth—the mouth of a -born story-teller.</p> - -<p>I was yearning to get up a conversation with him—I, a hobbledehoy of a -country bumpkin, ignorant of everything, but <i>anxious to learn</i> as they -put it in M. Lhomond's elementary lessons. His benevolent countenance -encouraged me. I took advantage of the moment when he stopped reading -to address a word or two to him.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said I, "pray forgive me if my question seems impertinent, -but are you extremely fond of eggs?"</p> - -<p>My neighbour shook his head, came gradually out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> reverie, -and, looking at me with a distraught expression, he said, in a very -pronounced Eastern French accent—</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, monsieur, but I believe you did me the honour of addressing -me ...?"</p> - -<p>I repeated my sentence.</p> - -<p>"Why do you suppose that?" he said.</p> - -<p>"The little book you are reading so attentively, monsieur,—excuse -my rudeness, but my eyes fell involuntarily on the title,—contains -recipes, does it not? for cooking eggs in more than sixty different -ways?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, true...." he said.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, that book would have been of great use to an uncle of -mine, a curé, who was, or rather still is, a great eater, and a fine -sportsman: one day he made a bet with one of his <i>confrères</i> that he -would eat a hundred eggs at his dinner; he was only able to discover -eighteen or twenty ways of serving them ... yes, twenty ways, for he -ate them by fives at a time. You see, if he had known sixty ways of -cooking them, instead of a hundred, he could have eaten two hundred."</p> - -<p>My neighbour looked at me with a certain attention which seemed to -imply that he was asking himself, "Am I by any chance seated next to a -young lunatic?"</p> - -<p>"Well?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Well, if I could procure such a book for my dear uncle, I am sure he -would be most grateful to me."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said my neighbour, "I doubt if, in spite of the sentiments -which do a nephew's heart the greatest credit, you could procure this -book."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because it is exceedingly rare."</p> - -<p>"That little old book exceedingly rare?"</p> - -<p>"Do you not know that it is an Elzevir, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Do you not know what an Elzevir is?" exclaimed my neighbour, -overwhelmed with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, no; but do not be alarmed at such a trifle: since I came -to Paris not quite a week ago, I have discovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> that I am ignorant of -nearly everything. Tell me what it is, please: I am not well enough off -to afford myself masters, I am too old to go back to college and I have -made up my mind to take <i>the whole world</i> as my teacher—a teacher whom -report says is even more learned than Voltaire."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! quite right, monsieur," said my neighbour, looking at me with -some interest; "and if you profit by the lessons that teacher will give -you, you will become a great philosopher, as well as a great savant. -Well, what is an Elzevir?... First of all, and in particular, this -little volume that you see is one; or, in general, every book that -came from the establishment of Louis Elzevir and of his successors, -booksellers of Amsterdam. But do you know what a bibliomaniac is?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know Greek, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"You know your ignorance and that is something. The bibliomaniac—root, -βιβλιο, book; μανια, madness—is a variety of the species -man—<i>species bipes et genus homo.</i>"</p> - -<p>"I understand."</p> - -<p>"This animal has two legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and -down the quays and the boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, -turning over every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that -is too long for him and trousers that are too short; he always wears on -his feet shoes that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, -under his coat, and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together -with string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he -never washes his hands."</p> - -<p>"But you are describing a perfectly disgusting animal. I hope the race -does not consist entirely of specimens like that, and that there are -exceptions."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but these exceptions are rare. Well, what this creature is in -particular quest after, among the old shopkeepers and on the old -bookstalls,—for you know that all animals hunt for something or -other,—is for Elzevirs."</p> - -<p>"Are they hard to find?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, more and more difficult every day."</p> - -<p>"And how can Elzevirs be recognised?... Pray remember,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> monsieur, that -you are not risking anything by instructing me; I do not ever expect to -become a bibliomaniac, and my questions are solely out of curiosity."</p> - -<p>"How can they be recognised? I will tell you. In the first place, -monsieur, the first volume in which one finds the name of Elzevir or -Elzevier is one entitled <i>Eutropii histories romanæ</i>, <i>lib. X. Lugduni -Batavorum, apud Ludovicum Elzevierum</i>, 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 -pages. The design on the frontispiece,—remember this carefully, it is -the key to the whole mystery,—the design on the frontispiece is that -of an angel holding a book in one hand and a scythe in the other."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I understand: 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 pages, an angel holding -a book in one hand and a scythe in the other."</p> - -<p>"Bravo!... Isaac Elzevir—whom some declare to be the son and others -the nephew of Louis Elzevir: I maintain that he is the son; Bérard -maintains that he is the nephew, and, although he has Techener on his -side, I still think I am right—Isaac Elzevir substituted for this -design an elm tree, encircled by a vine laden with grapes, with this -device: <i>Non solus.</i> Do you follow me?"</p> - -<p>"The Latin, yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Daniel Elzevir, in his turn, adopted Minerva and the olive -tree as his mark, with the device: <i>Ne extra oleas</i>. You still follow -me?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly: Isaac, a vine laden with grapes; Daniel, Minerva and the -olive tree."</p> - -<p>"Better and better. But, besides these recognised editions, there -are anonymous and pseudonymous editions, and there is where the -inexperienced bibliomaniacs get confused. Ah!"</p> - -<p>"Will you be my Ariadne?"</p> - -<p>"Well, these editions are usually designated by a sphere."</p> - -<p>"Then that is a guide."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but you will see! These brothers, cousins or nephews Elzevir were -a very capricious lot of fellows. Thus, for example, one finds, since -1629, a buffalo head forming part of the headpieces in their books, at -the beginning of prefaces, dedicatory epistles and text."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, thanks to the buffalo's head, it seems...."</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit ... this lasted for five years. Since the <i>Sallust</i> of 1634 -and even perhaps earlier, they adopted another sign which resembled a -siren. Also in this edition...."</p> - -<p>"The <i>Sallust</i> of 1634?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly! They adopted also, for the first time, on page 216, a -tail-piece of a head of Medusa."</p> - -<p>"So, when once this principle is fixed and one knows that on page 216 -of the <i>Sallust</i> of 1634 there is a figure representing ...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, upon my word, that would be delightful, if it could be laid -down as a positive rule; but, bah! Daniel did not remain constant to -his designs. For example, in the 1661 <i>Terence</i>, he substitutes a -garland of hollyhocks for the buffalo head and the siren, and this -garland is to be found in a great many of his editions. But, in the -<i>Persius</i> of 1664 he does not even put that."</p> - -<p>"Oh, gracious! and what does he adopt in the <i>Persius</i> of 1664?"</p> - -<p>"He adopts a large ornament, in the centre of which are two swords -crossed over a crown."</p> - -<p>"As though to indicate that the Elzevirs are the kings of the -book-selling world."</p> - -<p>"You have hit it exactly, monsieur: a sovereignty no one disputes with -them."</p> - -<p>"And the one you have there, monsieur,—which treats of French -confectionery and the sixty ways of cooking eggs,—is it the angel with -the book and the scythe? Is it the vine cluster? Is it the Minerva and -the olive tree? Is it the buffalo head? Is it the siren? Is it the head -of Medusa? Is it the garland of hollyhocks? Or is it the crown and two -swords?"</p> - -<p>"This one, monsieur, is the rarest of all. I found it, this evening, -as I was coming here. Just think how I have argued with that idiot of -a Bérard over this Elzevir, for three years; he thinks himself a great -savant, and is not even half instructed."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And, without seeming too inquisitive, monsieur, may I ask what was the -object of the discussion?"</p> - -<p>"He would have it that <i>le Pastissier françois</i> was printed in 1654, -and contained only four preliminary leaves; whilst I maintained, and -with reason, as you see, that it was printed in 1655 and that it had -five preliminary leaves and a frontispiece. Now here is the very -date, 1655; here are the five preliminary leaves; here is the very -frontispiece."</p> - -<p>"Upon my word, so it is."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! how sheepish, how utterly foolish my friend Bérard will look -now!"</p> - -<p>"But, monsieur," I suggested timidly, "did you not tell me that you had -argued over this little volume for the past three years?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed, for more than three years."</p> - -<p>"Well, it seems to me that if the discussion no longer amused you, you -had a very simple remedy at hand to stop it."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Does not one of the ancient philosophers prove the incontestability of -movement to another philosopher who denies movement, by walking before -him?"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you must prove to M. Bérard the superiority of your -knowledge over his, by showing him the Elzevir you have there, and -unless he is more incredulous than St. Thomas...."</p> - -<p>"But, to show it, monsieur, it was necessary to possess it, and I had -it not."</p> - -<p>"This little volume is, then, very rare?"</p> - -<p>"It is the rarest of the lot! There are probably only ten examples of -it left in Europe."</p> - -<p>"And why is this particular volume rarer than the others? Were there -fewer copies printed?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, Techener declares that there were five thousand five -hundred copies issued, and I maintain that there were more than ten -thousand printed."</p> - -<p>"The deuce! was the edition burnt, then, with the library of -Alexandria?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No; but it was lost, spoilt, torn up in kitchens. You can quite -understand that chefs and cookmaids are indifferent bibliomaniacs: -they served the <i>Pastissier françois</i> as they served <i>Carême</i> or the -<i>Cuisinier royal</i>; hence the rarity of the book."</p> - -<p>"So rare that, as you say, you have not found one before to-night?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I knew of it six weeks ago. I told Frank to keep it for me, as I -was not well enough off to buy it."</p> - -<p>"What! You were not rich enough to buy it, not rich enough to buy that -little old book?"</p> - -<p>The bibliomaniac smiled disdainfully.</p> - -<p>"Do you know, monsieur," he said to me, "what a copy of the <i>Pastissier -françois</i> is worth?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I should judge it worth about a crown."</p> - -<p>"A copy of the <i>Pastissier françois,</i> monsieur, is worth from two -hundred to four hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"From two to four hundred francs ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed.... Only a week ago, old Brunet, the author of <i>Manuel des -libraires</i>, an enthusiastic Elzeviriomaniac, inserted a notice in the -papers that he was willing to pay three hundred francs for a copy such -as this. Luckily, Frank did not see the notice."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, monsieur! but I warned you what an ignoramus lam ... you -said a book like that was worth from two hundred to four hundred -francs."</p> - -<p>"Yes, from two hundred to four hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"Why is there such a difference in the price?"</p> - -<p>"Because of the margins."</p> - -<p>"Ah! the margins?"</p> - -<p>"All the value of an Elzevir consists in the width of its margins; the -wider they are, the dearer the Elzevir. An Elzevir without a margin is -worth next to nothing; they measure the margins with compasses, and, -according as they have twelve, fifteen or eighteen lines, the Elzevir -is worth two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and even six hundred -francs."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Six hundred francs!... I am of Madame Méchin's way of thinking."</p> - -<p>"And what was Madame Méchin's way of thinking?"</p> - -<p>"Madame Méchin is a very witty woman."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am aware of that."</p> - -<p>"Her husband was prefect of the department of Aisne."</p> - -<p>"I know that too."</p> - -<p>"Well, one day when she was visiting Soissons with her husband, the -governor of the place, to do her honour, showed her the guns upon the -ramparts, one after the other. When she had seen all the kinds, of -every date and every shape, and had exhausted her repertory of <i>Ohs!</i> -and <i>Reallys!</i> and <i>Is it possibles! </i> Madame Méchin, who did not know -what to say next to the governor, asked him, 'How much does a pair of -cannon cost, M. le gouverneur?' 'A twelve, twenty-four or thirty-six -pounder, madame la comtesse?' 'Oh, let us say thirty-six?' 'A pair -of thirty-six cannon, madame,' replied the governor,—'a pair of -thirty-six cannon might cost from eight to ten thousand francs. 'Well, -then,' replied Madame Méchin, 'I am not going to put my money on them.'"</p> - -<p>My neighbour looked at me, doubtful whether I had told the story -innocently or jokingly. He was possibly going to question me on that -head, when we heard the call bell; the overture began, and there were -cries for silence. Upon this, I prepared myself to listen, whilst -my neighbour plunged more deeply than ever into the reading of his -precious Elzevir.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXb" id="CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Prologue of the <i>Vampire</i>—The style offends my neighbour's ear—First -act—Idealogy—The rotifer—What the animal is—Its conformation, its -life, its death and its resurrection</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The overture was intended to represent a storm. The scene opened in the -cave of Staffa. Malvina slept on a tomb. Oscar sat on another. A third -enclosed Lord Ruthven, who was to come out of it at a given moment. -The part of Malvina was taken by Madame Dorval; Oscar, or the angel of -marriage, by Moessard; Lord Ruthven, or the Vampire, by Philippe.</p> - -<p>Alas! who could have known at that moment, when I was looking eagerly -beyond the curtain, taking in the whole scene, decorations and -characters combined, that I should be present at Philippe's funeral, -watch by Madame Dorval's death-bed, and see Moessard crowned?</p> - -<p>In the prologue, there was another angel, called Ithuriel, the angel -of the moon, talking with the angel of marriage. This was Mademoiselle -Denotte. I do not know whether she is now living or dead.... The -narrative was carried on between the angel of marriage and the angel of -the moon, two angels who, as they wore the same armour, might have been -taken to belong to the same family.</p> - -<p>Malvina had lost herself in hunting; the storm terrifying her, she had -taken shelter in the cave of Staffa. There, unable to keep awake, she -had fallen asleep on a tomb. The angel of marriage was watching over -her. The angel of the moon, who had slid down on a ray of the pale -goddess, through the cracks of the basaltic roof, asked why the angel -of marriage sat there, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> above all, how it came about that there -was a young girl in the grotto of Staffa.</p> - -<p>The angel of marriage replied that, as Malvina, sister of Lord -Aubrey, was to espouse Lord Marsden next day, he had been summoned -by the importance of the occasion, and that his looks, when Ithuriel -interrupted him in the act of silently gazing upon the beautiful -betrothed girl, and the sadness depicted upon his face, sprang from -knowledge of the misfortunes in store for the young maiden, who was -about to fall from the arms of Love into those of Death. Then Ithuriel -began to understand.</p> - -<p>"Explain thyself," said Ithuriel, "is it true that horrible phantoms -<i>come (viennent)</i> sometimes ...?"</p> - -<p>My neighbour trembled, as though an asp had bitten him in his sleep.</p> - -<p>"<i>Vinssent!</i>" he cried,—"<i>vinssent!</i>3"</p> - -<p>Cries of "Silence!" burst forth all over the theatre, and I too -clamoured loudly for silence, for I was enthralled by this opening.</p> - -<p>The angel of the moon, interrupted in the middle of her sentence, threw -an angry look across the orchestra, and went on:</p> - -<p>"Is it true that horrible phantoms come <i>(viennent)</i> under the cloak -of the rights of marriage, to suck blood from the throat of a timid -maiden?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Vinssent! vinssent! vinssent!</i>" murmured my neighbour.</p> - -<p>Fresh cries of "<i>Hush!</i>" drowned his exclamation, which it must be -confessed was less bold and less startling this time than the first.</p> - -<p>Oscar replied: "Yes! and these monsters are called vampires. A Power -whose inscrutable decrees we are not permitted to call in question, -has permitted certain miserable beings, who are tormented by the -punishments which their crimes have drawn down upon them on this earth, -to enjoy a frightful power, which they exercise by preference over the -nuptial couch and over the cradle; sometimes their formidable shapes -appear clothed in the hideous guise death has bestowed upon them; -others, more highly favoured, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> their career is more brief and -their future more fearful, obtain permission to reclothe themselves -with the fleshy vesture lost in the tomb, and reappear before the -living in the bodily shapes they formerly possessed."</p> - -<p>"And when do these monsters appear?" asked Ithuriel.</p> - -<p>"The first hour of the morning wakes them in their sepulchre," replied -Oscar. "When the sound of its sonorous stroke has died away among the -echoes of the mountains, they fall back motionless in their everlasting -tombs. But there is one among them over whom my power is more limited -... what am I saying?... Fate herself can never go back on her -decisions! ... After having carried desolation into twenty different -countries, always conquered, ever continuing, the blood which sustains -its horrible existence ever renewing its vitality ... in thirty-six -hours, at one o'clock in the morning, it has at length to submit to -annihilation, the lawful punishment of an infinite succession of -crimes, if it cannot, at that time, add yet another crime, and count -one more victim."</p> - -<p>"My God! think of writing a play like that!" murmured my neighbour.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that he was too critical; for I thought this -dialogue was couched in the finest style imaginable. The prologue -continued. Several persons who had heard my neighbour gave vent to -various whispered comments on the presumption of this indefatigable -interrupter; but, as he buried himself in his <i>Pastissier françois,</i> -the murmurs ceased.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to point out that the young betrothed asleep on the -tomb was the innocent heroine who was destined to be the bride of the -Vampire, and had the public been in any doubt, all their doubts would -have been dispersed after the last scene of the prologue.</p> - -<p>"What do I hear?" said Ithuriel; "thy conversation has kept me long -while in these caves."</p> - -<p>As the angel of the moon asks this question, the silvery chime of a -distant clock is heard striking one, and the reverberation is repeated -in echoes again and again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Oscar.</i> "Stay and see."</p> - -<p>All the tombs open as the hour sounds; pale shades rise half out of -their graves and then fall back under their monumental stones as the -sound of the echoes dies away.</p> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">A SPECTRE</span>, clad in a shroud, escapes from the most conspicuous of these -tombs: his face is exposed; he glides to the place where Miss Aubrey -sleeps, exclaiming—</p> - -<p>"Malvina!"</p> - -<p><i>Oscar.</i> "Withdraw."</p> - -<p><i>Spectre.</i> "She belongs to me!"</p> - -<p>Oscar puts his arms round the sleeping girl. "She belongs to God, and -thou wilt soon belong to the regions of nothingness."</p> - -<p>The Spectre retires, but repeats threateningly, "To nothingness."</p> - -<p>Ithuriel crosses the stage in a cloud.</p> - -<p>The scene changes and represents an apartment in the house of Sir -Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"Absurd! absurd!" exclaimed my neighbour. And he resumed his reading of -<i>le Pastissier françois.</i></p> - -<p>I did not at all agree with him: I thought the staging magnificent; I -had nothing to say about Malvina, for she had not spoken; but Philippe -seemed to me exceedingly fine, notwithstanding his paleness, and -Moessard very good. Moreover, crude as it was, it was an attempt at -Romanticism—a movement almost entirely unknown at that time. This -intervention of immaterial and superior beings in human destiny had -a fanciful side to it which pleased my imagination, and maybe that -evening was responsible for the germ in me from which sprang the <i>Don -Juan de Marana</i> of eleven years later. The play began.</p> - -<p><i>Sir</i> Aubrey (the reader will see presently why I underline the word -<i>Sir)—Sir</i> Aubrey met Lord Ruthven, a rich English traveller, at -Athens, and they became friends. During their wanderings about the -Parthenon and their day-dreams by the seashore, they planned means -for tying the bonds of their friendship more firmly, and, subject to -Malvina's consent, they decided upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> a union between the young girl, -who was at home in the castle of Staffa, and the noble traveller, -who had become her brother's closest friend. Unfortunately, during -an excursion which Aubrey and Ruthven made to the suburbs of Athens, -to attend the wedding of a young maiden endowed privately by Lord -Ruthven, the two companions were attacked by brigands: a sharp defence -put the assassins to flight; but Lord Ruthven was struck down mortally -wounded. His last words were a request that his friend would place him -on a hillock bathed by the moon's rays. Aubrey carried out this last -request, and laid the dying man on the place indicated; then, as his -friend's eyes closed and his breathing ceased, Aubrey began to search -for his scattered servitors; but when he returned with them, an hour -later, the body had disappeared. Aubrey fancied that the assassins must -have taken the body away to remove all traces of their crime.</p> - -<p>When he returned to Scotland, he broke the news of Lord Ruthven's death -to his brother, Lord Marsden, and told him of the close relationship -that had united them during their travels. Then Marsden claimed -succession to his brother's rights, and proposed to marry Malvina, if -Malvina would consent to this substitution. Malvina, who did not know -either the one or the other, made no objection to Lord Marsden's claim -or to her brother's wishes.</p> - -<p>Lord Marsden is announced. Malvina feels that slight embarrassment -which, like an early morning mist, always comes over the hearts of -young maidens at the approach of their betrothed. Aubrey, overjoyed, -rushes to greet him; but when he sees him he utters a cry of surprise. -It is not Lord Marsden—that is to say, a person hitherto unknown—who -stands before him; it is his friend Lord Ruthven!</p> - -<p>Aubrey's astonishment is intense; but all is explained. Ruthven did not -die; he only fainted: the coolness of the night air brought him back -to consciousness. Aubrey's departure and his return to Scotland had -been too prompt for Ruthven to send him word; but when he was well he -returned to Ireland, to find his brother dead; he inherited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> his name -and his fortune, and, under that name, with twice the fortune he had -before, he offered to espouse Malvina, and rejoiced in anticipation at -the joy he would cause his beloved Aubrey, by his reappearance before -him. Ruthven is charming: his friend has not overrated him. He and -Malvina were both so favourably impressed with one another that, under -the pretext of very urgent business, he asked to be allowed to marry -her within twenty-four hours. Malvina makes a proper show of resistance -before yielding. They return to Marsden's castle. The curtain falls.</p> - -<p>Now I had been watching my neighbour almost as much as the play, and, -to my great satisfaction, I had seen him close his Elzevir and listen -to the final scenes. When the curtain fell, he uttered an exclamation -of disdain accompanied by a deep-drawn sigh.</p> - -<p>"Pooh!" he said.</p> - -<p>I took advantage of this moment to renew our conversation.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, monsieur," I said, "but at the conclusion of the prologue -you said,'How absurd!'"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said my neighbour, "I suppose I did say so; or, if I did not say -it, I certainly thought it."</p> - -<p>"Do you then condemn the use of supernatural beings in the drama?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all; on the contrary, I admire it extremely. All the great -masters have made potent use of it: Shakespeare in <i>Hamlet</i>, in -<i>Macbeth</i> and in <i>Julius Cæsar</i>; Molière in <i>le Festin de pierre</i>, -which he ought rather to have called <i>le Convive de pierre</i>, for -his title to be really significant; Voltaire in <i>Sémiramis</i>; Goethe -in <i>Faust.</i> No, on the contrary, I highly approve of the use of the -supernatural, because I believe in it."</p> - -<p>"What! you have faith in the supernatural?"</p> - -<p>"Most certainly."</p> - -<p>"In everyday life?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. We elbow every moment against beings who are unknown to us -because they are invisible to us: the air, fire, the earth, are all -inhabited. Sylphs, gnomes, water-sprites,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> hobgoblins, bogies, angels, -demons, fly, float, crawl and leap around us. What are those shooting -stars of the night, meteors which astronomers in vain try to explain to -us, and of which they can discover neither cause nor end, if they are -not angels carrying God's orders from one world to another? Some day we -shall see it all."</p> - -<p>"Did you say, we shall see?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, by heaven! we shall see. Do you not think that we see these -miracles?"</p> - -<p>"You said 'we'; do you think we personally shall see them?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I did not exactly say that ... not I, for I am already old; -perhaps you, who are still young; but certainly our descendants."</p> - -<p>"And why, for heaven's sake, will our descendants see anything that we -cannot see?"</p> - -<p>"In the same way that we see things which our ancestors never did."</p> - -<p>"What things do we see which they did not?"</p> - -<p>"Why, steam, piston guns, air-balloons, electricity, printing, -gunpowder! Do you suppose the world progresses only to stop half-way? -Do you imagine that after having conquered successively the earth, -water and fire, man, for instance, will not make himself master of the -air? It would be ridiculous to hold that belief. If perchance you doubt -it, young man, so much the worse for you."</p> - -<p>"I confess one thing, monsieur, and that is, I neither doubt nor -believe. My mind has never dwelt on such theories. I have been wrong, I -see, since they can be interesting, and I should take to them if I had -the pleasure of talking for long with you. So you believe, monsieur, -that we shall gradually attain to a knowledge of all Nature's secrets?"</p> - -<p>"I am convinced of it."</p> - -<p>"But we should then be as powerful as the Almighty."</p> - -<p>"Not quite.... As knowing, perhaps; as powerful, no."</p> - -<p>"Do you think, then, that there is such a great distinction between -knowledge and power?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There is an abyss between those two words! God has given you authority -to make use of all created things. None of these things is useless -or idle: all at the right moment are capable of contributing to the -well-being of man, to the happiness of humanity; but, in order to be -able to apply these things to the good of the race and to the welfare -of the individual, man must know precisely the cause and the end of -everything. He will utilise all, and when he has utilised the earth, -water, fire and air, neither space nor distance will any longer exist -for him: he will see the world as it is, not merely in its visible -forms, but also in its invisible forms; he will penetrate into the -bowels of the earth, as do gnomes; he will inhabit water, like nymphs -and tritons; he will play in fire, as do hobgoblins and salamanders; -he will fly through the air, like angels and sylphs; he will ascend, -almost to God, by the chain of being and by the ladder of perfection; -he will see the supreme Ruler of all things, as I see you; and if, -instead of learning humility through knowledge, he should gain pride; -if, instead of worshipping, he be puffed up; if because of his -knowledge of creation, he thinks himself equal to the Creator, God will -say to him, 'Make Me a star or a <i>rotifer</i>!'"</p> - -<p>I thought I had not heard him correctly, and I repeated—</p> - -<p>"A star or a...?"</p> - -<p>"Or a rotifer:—it is an animal I have discovered. Columbus discovered -a world and I an ephemera. Do you imagine that Columbus weighed -heavier, for all that, before the eyes of God, than I?"</p> - -<p>I remained in thought for a moment. Was this man out of his mind? -Whether or no, his madness was a fine frenzy.</p> - -<p>"Well," he went on, "one day people will discover water-sprites, -gnomes, sylphs, nymphs, angels, just as I discovered my animalcule. -All that is needed is to find a microscope capable of perceiving -the infinitely transparent, just as we have discovered one for the -infinitely little. Before the invention of the solar microscope, -creation, to man's eyes, stopped short at the acarus, the seison; he -little thought there were snakes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> in his water, crocodiles in his -vinegar, blue dolphins ... in other things. The solar microscope was -invented and he saw them all."</p> - -<p>I sat dumbfounded. I had never heard anyone speak of such extraordinary -things. "Good gracious! monsieur," I said to him, "you open out to me a -whole world of whose existence I knew nothing. What! are there serpents -in water?"</p> - -<p>"Hydras."</p> - -<p>"Crocodiles in our vinegar?"</p> - -<p>"Ichthyosauri."</p> - -<p>"And blue dolphins in ...? But it is impossible!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is the usual formula—'It is impossible!' ... You said just -now,'It is impossible!' in reference to things we do not see. And now -you say 'It is impossible' of things that everybody else but yourself -has seen. All 'impossibility' is relative: what is impossible to the -oyster is not impossible to the fish; what is impossible to the fish -is not impossible to the serpent; what is impossible to the serpent is -not impossible to the quadruped; what is impossible to the quadruped -is not impossible to man; what is impossible to man is not impossible -with God. When Fulton offered to demonstrate the existence of steam to -Napoleon, Napoleon said, as you, 'It is impossible!' and had he lived -two or three years longer he would have seen pass by, from the top of -his rocky island, their funnels smoking, the machines that might still -have kept him emperor, had he not scorned them as the creatures of a -dream, utopian and impossible! Even Job prophesied steamships...."</p> - -<p>"Job prophesied steamships?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, most certainly.... What else do you think his description of -leviathan meant, whom he calls the king of the seas?—'I will not -forget the leviathan, his strength and the marvellous structure of -his body. By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like -the eyelids of the morning. Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out -of a seething pot or caldron. His breath kindleth coals: his heart is -as firm as a stone, yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. -He maketh the deep to boil as a pot; he maketh the sea like a pot of -ointment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> He maketh a path to shine after him: one would think the -deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without -fear.' Leviathan is, of course, the modern steamship!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed, monsieur," I said to my neighbour, "you make my head reel. You -know so much and you talk so well, I feel carried away by all you tell -me, like a leaf by a whirlwind. You spoke of a tiny animal that you -discovered—an ephemera: do you call that a rotifer?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Did you discover it in water, in wine or in vinegar?"</p> - -<p>"In wet sand."</p> - -<p>"How did it come about?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! why, in a very simple way. I had begun making microscopic -experiments upon infinitely small things, long before Raspail. One day, -when I had examined under the microscope water, wine, vinegar, cheese, -bread, all the ingredients in fact that experiments are usually made -upon, I took a little wet sand out of my rain gutter,—I then lodged on -a sixth floor,—I put it on the slide of my microscope and applied my -eye to the lens. Then I saw a strange animal move about, in shape like -a velocipede, furnished with two wheels, which it moved very rapidly. -If it had a river to cross, these wheels served the same purpose as -those of a steamboat; had it dry land to go over, the wheels acted the -same as those of a tilbury. I watched it, I studied its every detail, I -drew it. Then I suddenly remembered that my rotifer,—I had christened -it by that name, although I have since called it a <i>tarentatello</i>>—I -suddenly remembered that my rotifer had made me forget an engagement. I -was in a great hurry; I had an appointment with one of the animalculæ -which do not like being kept waiting—an ephemera whom mortals call a -woman.... I left my microscope, my rotifer and the pinch of sand which -was his world. I had other work to do where I went, protracted and -engaging work, which kept me all the night. I did not get back until -the next morning: I went straight to my microscope. Alas! the sand had -dried up during the night, and my poor rotifer, which needed moisture, -no doubt, to live,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> had died. Its almost imperceptible body was -stretched on its left side, its wheels were motionless, the steamboat -puffed no longer, the velocipede had stopped."</p> - -<p>"Ah! poor rotifer!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Wait, wait!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! was it like Lord Ruthven, then? He was not dead? Was he, like Lord -Ruthven, a vampire?"</p> - -<p>"You will see! Quite dead though he was, the animal was still a curious -variety of ephemera, and his body was as worth preserving as that of a -mammoth or a mastodon. Only, you understand, quite other precautions -have to be taken to handle an animal a hundred times smaller than a -seison, than to change the situation of an animal ten times greater -than an elephant! I selected a little cardboard box, from among all -my boxes; I destined it to be my rotifer's tomb, and by the help of -the feather end of a pen I transported my pinch of sand from the slide -of my microscope to my box. I meant to show this corpse to Geoffroy -Saint-Hilaire or to Cuvier; but I did not get the opportunity. I never -met these gentlemen, or, if I did meet them, they declined to mount my -six flights of stairs; so for three or maybe six months or a year I -forgot the body of the poor rotifer. One day, by chance, the box fell -into my hand; and I desired to see what change a year had wrought on -the body of an ephemera. The weather was cloudy, there had been a great -fall of stormy rain. In order to see better, I placed my microscope -close to the window, and I emptied the contents of the little box on -to the slide. The body of the poor rotifer still lay motionless on the -sand; but the weather, which remembers the colossal so ruthlessly, -seemed to have forgotten the tiny atom. I was looking at my ephemera -with an easily understood feeling of curiosity, when suddenly the wind -drove a drop of rain on to the microscope slide and wet my pinch of -sand."</p> - -<p>"Well?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, then the miracle took place. My rotifer seemed to revive at -the touch of that refreshing coolness: it began to move one antenna, -then another; then one of its wheels began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> to turn round, then both -its wheels: it regained its centre of gravity, its movements became -regular; in short, it lived!"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, the miracle of the resurrection, in which perhaps you -believe, although Voltaire had no faith in it, was accomplished, not -at the end of three days ... three days, a fine miracle!... but at the -end of a year.... I renewed the same test ten times: ten times the sand -dried, ten times the rotifer died! ten times the sand was wetted, and -ten times the rotifer came to life again! I had discovered an immortal, -not a rotifer, monsieur! My rotifer had probably lived before the -Deluge and would survive to the Judgment Day."</p> - -<p>"And you still possess this marvellous animal?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, monsieur," my neighbour replied, with a deep sigh, "I have not -that happiness. One day when, for the twentieth time, perhaps, I was -preparing to repeat my experiment, a puff of wind carried away the dry -sand, and, with the dry sand, my deathless phenomenon. Alas! I have -taken many a pinch of wet sand from my gutters since, and even from -elsewhere, but always in vain; I have never found again the equivalent -of what I lost. My rotifer was not only immortal but even unique.... -Will you allow me to pass, monsieur? The second act is about to begin, -and I think this melodrama so poor that I much prefer to go away."</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur," I said, "I beg of you not to go; I have many more -things to ask of you, and you seem to me to be very learned!... You -need not listen if you don't want to; you can read <i>le Pastissier -françois,</i> and in the intervals we can talk of Elzevirs and -rotifers.... I will listen to the play, which, I assure you, interests -me greatly."</p> - -<p>"You are very good," said my neighbour; and he bowed.</p> - -<p>Then came the three raps and, with the charming suavity I had already -noticed in him, he resumed his reading.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose, revealing the entrance to a farm, a chain of snowy -mountains, and a window. The farm represented on the stage was that -belonging to Marsden Castle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Xb" id="CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Second act of the <i>Vampire</i>—Analysis—My neighbour again objects—He -has seen a vampire—Where and how—A statement which records the -existence of vampires—Nero—Why he established the race of hired -applauders—My neighbour leaves the orchestra</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>While Ruthven's preparations for marrying Malvina were in progress, -Edgard, one of his vassals, married Lovette. Lovette made the -prettiest, the sweetest and the most graceful betrothed imaginable: she -was Jenny Vertpré, at twenty.</p> - -<p>Lord Ruthven, who really loved Malvina, would much rather have sucked -the blood of another man's wife than that of his own; so, at the -request of Edgard, his servant, he willingly acceded to be present at -his nuptials. The marriage takes place. Lord Ruthven is seen sitting -down: the ballet is just about to begin, when an ancient bard comes -forward with his harp; he was a guest at every castle, the poet invited -to every marriage. He recognised Ruthven, who did not recognise him, -being otherwise employed in ogling poor Lovette.</p> - -<p>The bard tunes his harp and sings:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"O jeune vierge de Staffa<br /> -Brûlant de la première flamme,<br /> -Dont le cœur palpite déjà<br /> -Aux doux noms d'amante et de femme!<br /> -Au moment d'unir votre sort<br /> -A l'amant de votre pensée,<br /> -Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>This first couplet rouses Lord Ruthven's anger, who sees in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> it a -warning addressed to Lovette, and who consequently fears to see his -victim snatched away from him. So he turns his bewitching glance -from the young girl to glare furiously on the bard, who continues -unconcernedly:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Quand le soleil de ces déserts<br /> -Des monts ne dore plus la cime,<br /> -Alors, les anges des enfers<br /> -Viennent caresser leurs victimes....<br /> -Si leur douce voix vous endort,<br /> -Reculez, leur main est glacée!<br /> -Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>A third stanza and Lovette will escape from the Vampire. The bard, who -is the angel of marriage in disguise, must not therefore be allowed to -sing his third stanza. Lord Ruthven complains that the song brings back -unhappy memories, and sends the old man away.</p> - -<p>Then, as night draws on, as there is no time to lose, since, unless -he can suck the blood of a maiden before one o'clock in the morning, -he must die, he seeks an interview with Lovette. Lovette would fain -decline; but Edgard is afraid of displeasing his lord and master, who, -left alone with Lovette, endeavours to seduce her, swears to her that -he loves her, and places a purse full of gold in her hand. Just at that -moment the bard's harp is heard and the refrain of the song:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then everybody comes on, and the ballet begins. Towards the middle of -the ballet, Lovette withdraws, tired; Ruthven, who has not let her go -out of sight, follows her. Edgard soon perceives that neither Lovette -nor his lord are present. He goes out in his turn. Cries are heard from -the wing; Lovette runs on, terrified; a pistol-shot is heard: Lord -Ruthven falls mortally wounded on the stage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<p>"He tried to dishonour my betrothed!" cries Edgard, who appears, his -pistol still smoking in his hand.</p> - -<p>Aubrey dashes towards the wounded man. Lord Ruthven still breathes; he -asks to be left alone with his friend. Everybody goes off.</p> - -<p>"One last promise, Aubrey," says Lord Ruthven.</p> - -<p>"Oh, ask it, take my life!... it will be unbearable to me without -thee," replies Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"My friend, I only ask thee for profound secrecy for twelve hours."</p> - -<p>"For twelve hours?"</p> - -<p>"Promise me that Malvina shall not know anything of what has -happened—that you will not do anything to avenge my death before the -hour of one in the morning has struck.... Swear secrecy by my dying -breath!..."</p> - -<p>"I swear it!" says Aubrey, stretching forth his hands. The moon comes -out from behind clouds and shines brilliantly during Ruthven's last -words.</p> - -<p>"Aubrey," says Ruthven, "the queen of night casts light upon me for the -last time.... Let me see her and pay my final vows to heaven!"</p> - -<p>Ruthven's head falls back at these words. Then Aubrey, helped by -Lovette's father, carries the dead man to the rocks in the distance, -kisses his hand for the last time, and retires, led away by the old -man. At that moment the moonlight completely floods Ruthven's body with -its rays and lights up the frozen mountains....</p> - -<p>The curtain falls, and the whole house applauds enthusiastically, -save my neighbour, who still growls under his breath. Such inveterate -animosity against a play which appeared to me to be full of interest -astonished me, coming from a person who seemed so well disposed as he. -He had not merely contented himself with noisy exclamations, as I have -indicated, but, still worse, during the whole of the last scene he had -played in a disturbing fashion with a key which he several times put to -his lips.</p> - -<p>"Really, monsieur," I said, "I think you are very hard on this piece."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<p>My neighbour shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur, I know it, and the more so because the author considers -himself a man of genius, a man of talent, the possessor of a good -style; but he deceives himself. I saw the piece when it was played -three years ago, and now I have seen it again. Well, what I said then, -I repeat: the piece is dull, unimaginative, improbable. Yes, see how he -makes vampires act! And then <i>Sir</i> Aubrey! People don't talk of <i>Sir</i> -Aubrey. Aubrey is a family name, and the title of <i>Sir</i> is only used -before the baptismal name. Ah! the author was wise to preserve his -anonymity; he showed his sense in doing that."</p> - -<p>I took advantage of a moment when my neighbour stopped to take breath, -and I said—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, you said just now, 'Yes, see how he makes vampires act!' Did -you not say so? I was not mistaken, was I?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Well, by employing such language you gave me the impression that you -believe they really exist?"</p> - -<p>"Of course they exist."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever seen any, by chance?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly I have seen them."</p> - -<p>"Through a solar microscope?" I laughingly suggested. "No, with my own -eyes, as Orgon and Tartuffe."</p> - -<p>"Whereabouts?"</p> - -<p>"In Illyria."</p> - -<p>"In Illyria? Ah! Have you been in Illyria?"</p> - -<p>"Three years."</p> - -<p>"And you saw vampires there?"</p> - -<p>"Illyria, you must know, is the historic ground of vampires like -Hungary, Servia and Poland."</p> - -<p>"No, I did not know.... I do not know anything. Where were the vampires -you saw?"</p> - -<p>"At Spalatro. I was lodging with a good man of sixty-two. He died. -Three days after his burial, he appeared to his son, in the night, and -asked for something to eat: the son gave him all he wanted; he ate it, -and then vanished. The next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> day the son told me what had happened, -telling me he felt certain his father would not return once only, and -asking me to place myself, the following night, at a window to see -him enter and go out. I was very anxious to see a vampire. I stood -at the window, but that night he did not come. The son then told me, -fearing lest I should be discouraged, that he would probably come on -the following night. On the following night I placed myself again at my -window, and sure enough, towards midnight, the old man appeared, and I -recognised him perfectly. He came from the direction of the cemetery; -he walked at a brisk pace, but his steps made no sound. When he reached -the door, he knocked; I counted three raps: the knocks sounded hard on -the oak, as though it were struck with a bone and not with a finger. -The son opened the door and the old man entered...."</p> - -<p>I listened to this story with the greatest attention, and I began to -prefer the intervals to the melodrama.</p> - -<p>"My curiosity was too highly excited for me to leave my window," -continued my neighbour; "there I stayed. Half an hour later, the old -man came out; he returned whence he had come—that is to say, in the -direction of the cemetery. He disappeared round the corner of a wall. -At the same moment, almost, my door opened. I turned round quickly and -saw the son. He was very pale. 'Well,' I said,'so your father came?' -'Yes ... did you see him enter?' 'Enter and come out.... What did -he do to-day?' 'He asked me for food and drink, as he did the other -day.' 'And did he eat and drink?' 'He ate and drank.... But that is -not all ... this is what troubles me. He said to me ...' 'Ah!' he said -something else than a mere request for food and drink?' 'Yes, he said -to me, "This is the second time I have come and eaten with thee. It -is now thy turn to come and eat with me."' 'The devil!...' 'I am to -expect him the same hour the day after to-morrow.' 'The deuce you are!' -'Yes, yes, that is just what worries me.' The day but one after, he was -found dead in his bed! The same day two or three other people in the -same village who had also seen the old man, and to whom he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> had spoken, -fell ill and died too. It was then recognised that the old man was a -vampire. I was questioned; I told all I had seen and heard. Justice -demanded an examination of the graveyard. They opened the tombs of all -those who had died during the previous six weeks: every corpse was in -a state of decomposition. But when they came to Kisilowa's tomb—that -was the old man's name—they found him with his eyes open, his lips -red, his lungs breathing properly, although he was as rigid as if in -death. They drove a stake through his heart; he uttered a loud cry and -blood gushed out from his mouth: then they laid him on a stack of wood, -reduced him to ashes and scattered the ashes to the four winds.... I -left the country soon after. I never heard if his son turned into a -vampire too."</p> - -<p>"Why should he have become a vampire too?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Ah! because it is the custom of those who die from a vampire's bite to -become vampires."</p> - -<p>"Really, you say this as though it were a known fact."</p> - -<p>"But indeed it is a known, registered and well established fact! Do you -doubt it?... Read Don Calmet's <i>Traité des apparitions</i>, vol ii. pp. -41 <i>et sqq</i>.; you will find a record signed by the hadnagi Barriavar -and the ancient heïduques; further by Battiw, first lieutenant of the -regiment of Alexander of Wurtemberg; by Clercktinger, surgeon-major of -the Fürstenberg regiment; by three other surgeons of the company and by -Goltchitz, captain at Slottats, stating that in the year 1730, a month -after the death of a certain heïduque, who lived in Medreiga, named -Arnold-Paul, who had been crushed by the fall of a hay waggon, four -people died suddenly, and, from the nature of their death, according -to the traditions of the country, it was evident that they had been -the victims of vampirism; they then called to mind that, during his -life, this Arnold-Paul had often related how, in the neighbourhood -of Cossova, on the Turko-Servian frontier, he had been worried by a -Turkish vampire,—for they too hold the belief that those who have -been passive vampires during their lives become active vampires after -their death,—but that he had found a cure in the eating of earth -from the vampire's grave, and in rubbing himself with its blood—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> -precautions which did not prevent him from becoming a vampire after -his death; for, four persons having died, they thought the deed was -due to him, and they exhumed his body forty days after his burial: -he was quite recognisable, and his body bore the colour of life; his -hair, his nails and his beard had grown; his veins were filled with a -bloody fluid, which exuded from all parts of his body upon the shroud -in which he was wrapped round: the hadnagi, or bailiff of the place, -in the presence of those who performed the act of exhumation, and who -was a man experienced in cases of vampirism, caused a very sharp stake -to be driven through the heart of the said Arnold-Paul, after the -usual custom, piercing his body through and through, a frightful cry -escaping from his lips, as though he were alive; this act accomplished, -they cut off his head, burned him to ashes, and did the same with the -corpses of the four or five other victims of vampirism, lest they, -in their turn, should cause the deaths of others; but none of these -precautions prevented the same wonders from being renewed, five years -later, about the year 1735, when seventeen people, belonging to the -same village, died from vampirism, some without any previous illness, -others after having languished two or three days; among others a young -person, named Stranoska, daughter of the heïduque Jeronitzo, went to -bed in perfect health, waked up in the middle of the night, trembling -all over, uttering fearful shrieks, and saying that the son of the -heïduque Millo, who had died nine weeks before, had tried to strangle -her during her sleep; she languished from that instant, and died in -three days' time: since what she had said of the son of Millo led them -to suspect him of being a vampire, they exhumed him, and found him in -a state which left no doubt of the fact of vampirism; they discovered, -in short, after prolonged investigation, that the defunct Arnold-Paul -had not only killed the four persons already referred to, but also -many animals, of which fresh vampires, and particularly Millo's son, -had eaten; on this evidence, they decided to disinter all who had died -since a certain date, and among about forty corpses they discovered -seventeen which bore evident signs of vampirism; so they pierced their -hearts, cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> off their heads, then burnt them and threw their bodies -into the river."</p> - -<p>"Does the book which contains this evidence cost as much as an Elzevir, -monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Oh dear no! You will pick it up anywhere, two volumes, in 18mo, of 480 -pages each. Techener, Guillemot or Frank will have a copy. It will cost -you from forty sous to three francs."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, I shall give myself the pleasure of buying a copy."</p> - -<p>"Now will you allow me to depart?... Three years ago I thought the -third act pretty bad; it will seem worse to me to-day."</p> - -<p>"If you really must, monsieur ..."</p> - -<p>"Yes, really you must let me go."</p> - -<p>"But first may I ask your advice?"</p> - -<p>"With the greatest pleasure.... Speak."</p> - -<p>"Before I came into the orchestra, I entered the pit, and there I had a -slight breeze."</p> - -<p>"Ah! It was you, was it?"</p> - -<p>"It was I."</p> - -<p>"You ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Smacked ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"What occasioned you to allow yourself that diversion?"</p> - -<p>I told him my adventure, and asked him if I ought to forewarn my -witnesses overnight, or if it would be time enough next morning.</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Oh, neither to-night nor to-morrow morning," he said.</p> - -<p>"What! neither to-night nor to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"No; it would be useless trouble."</p> - -<p>"Why so?"</p> - -<p>"Because you fell into a nest of hired applauders."</p> - -<p>"A nest of hired applauders!... What are they?" I asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! young man," exclaimed my neighbour in paternal accents, "do your -utmost to preserve your holy innocence!"</p> - -<p>"But suppose I beg you to put an end to it ...?"</p> - -<p>"Have you ever heard that in former times there were emperors of Rome?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the name of the fifth of those emperors?" "I think it -was Nero."</p> - -<p>"Right.... Well, Nero, who poisoned his cousin Britannicus, -disembowelled his mother Agrippina, strangled his wife Octavia, -killed his wife Poppæa with a kick in the stomach, had a tenor voice, -after the style of Ponchard; only his style was less cultivated, and -occasionally he sang false! That did not matter whilst Nero sang before -his roystering companions or before his courtesans at the Palatine -or Maison-Dorée; neither was it of much consequence when Nero sang -as he watched Rome burn: the Romans were too much occupied with the -fire to pay any attention to a semi-tone too high or a flat too low. -But when he took it into his head to sing in a public theatre, it was -a different matter: every time the illustrious tenor deviated in the -slightest degree from musical correctness, some spectator allowed -himself—what I shall permit myself to do immediately, if you insist on -my remaining to the end of this silly melodrama—to whistle. Of course -the spectator was arrested and promptly flung to the lions; but as he -passed before Nero, instead of saying simply, according to custom, -'Augustus, he who is about to die salutes thee!' he said,'Augustus, -I am to die because you sang false; but when I am dead, you will not -sing the more correctly.' This final salutation, taken up and added -to by other culprits, annoyed Nero: he had the whistlers strangled in -the corridors, and no one whistled any more. But it was not enough for -Nero,—that <i>hankerer after the impossible,</i> as Tacitus called him,—it -was not enough that no one whistled any more, he wanted everybody to -applaud him. Now, he could indeed strangle those who whistled, but he -could not exactly strangle those who did not applaud; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> would have -had to strangle the whole audience, and that would have been no light -job: Roman theatres held twenty, thirty, forty thousand spectators!... -As they were so strong in numbers, they could easily have prevented -themselves from being strangled. Nero went one better: he instituted a -body composed of Roman nobles—a kind of confraternity consisting of -some three thousand members. These three thousand chevaliers were not -the emperor's pretorians, they were the artist's body-guard; wherever -he went, they followed him; whenever he sang, they applauded him. Did -a surly spectator raise a murmur, a sensitive ear allow its owner -to utter a slight whistle, that murmur or whistle was immediately -drowned by applause. Nero ruled triumphant in the theatre. Had not -Sylla, Cæsar and Pompey exhausted all other kinds of triumph? Well, -my dear sir, that race of chevaliers has been perpetuated under the -name of <i>claqueurs</i>. The Opéra has them, the Théâtre-Français has -them, the Odéon has them—and is fortunate in having them!—finally, -the Porte-Saint-Martin has them; nowadays their mission is not only -to support poor actors—it consists even more, as you have just seen, -in preventing bad plays from collapsing. They are called <i>romains</i>, -from their origin; but our <i>romains</i> are not recruited from among the -nobility. No, managers are not so hard to please in their choice, and -it is not necessary to show a gold ring on the first finger; provided -they can show a couple of big hands, and bring these large hands -rapidly and noisily together, that is the only quartering of nobility -required of them. So, you see, I am quite right to warn you not to -upset two of your friends for one of those rapscallions.... Now that I -have enlightened you, will you allow me to leave?"</p> - -<p>I knew it would be impertinent to retain my neighbour any longer. -Though his conversation, which had covered a wide range of subjects -in a short time, was agreeable and highly edifying to myself, it was -evident he could not say the same of mine. I could not teach him -anything, save that I was ignorant of everything he knew. So I effaced -myself with a sigh, not daring to ask him who he was, and allowing him -to pass by with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> his <i>Pastissier françois</i> hugged with both hands to -his breast, fearing, no doubt, lest one of the chevaliers of whom he -had just spoken, curious in the matter of rare books, should relieve -him of it.</p> - -<p>I watched him withdraw with regret: a vague presentiment told me that, -after having done me so much service, this man would become one of my -closest friends. In the meanwhile, he had made the intervals far more -interesting than the play.</p> - -<p>Happily the bell was ringing for the third act, and so the intervals -were at an end.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIb" id="CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>A parenthesis<i>—Hariadan Barberousse</i> at Villers-Cotterets—I play the -rôle of Don Ramire as an amateur—My costume—The third act of the -<i>Vampire</i>—My friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment—He is expelled from the theatre—Madame Allan-Dorval—Her -family and her childhood—Philippe—His death and his funeral</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The only definite feeling I was conscious of, when my neighbour had -gone, was one of utter loneliness in that vast building. So I gave -my whole attention to the play. Could I judge clearly? No, certainly -not as yet: the <i>Vampire</i> was one of the first melodramas I had come -across. The first was <i>Hariadan Barberousse.</i> I have forgotten to tell -at the proper time and place how I became acquainted with the work of -MM. Saint-Victor and Corse.</p> - -<p>A troop of poverty-stricken actors came to Villers-Cotterets -(you will understand they must have been poor indeed to come to -Villers-Cotterets), and there they pretty nearly died of starvation. -They consisted of but one family named Robba. These poor devils were -possessed with the idea of giving a benefit for themselves, and they -thought of begging two or three young ladies and young gentlemen of the -town to play with them and for them. Naturally I was applied to. Nature -had already implanted in my heart that fountain of goodwill through -which everything that I had, that I have, that I shall have, passed, -passes, and always will pass. I agreed to undertake the rôle of Don -Ramire. All the other mothers refused to allow their boys and girls -to act. Were their children going to mount the boards and play with -ordinary actors? No indeed! My mother alone kept her promised word, and -I was the only artiste on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> special occasion whose name, printed in -big letters on the bills, was utilised in the philanthropic mission of -obtaining a good audience for them.</p> - -<p>I had to concoct a costume. It was a lengthy business to bring such an -operation to a conclusion. Happily, no one was very exacting at that -period, above all at Villers-Cotterets. Even Talma, who was a great -renovator, played <i>Hamlet</i> in white satin breeches, <i>bottes à cœur</i> -and a polonaise. But of this wardrobe I only had the <i>bottes à cœur:</i> -I could not play Don Ramire with the aid only of the boots. We made -a tunic,—everybody played in tunics at that epoch,—and a splendid -tunic it was, indeed, for it was made out of two red cashmere shawls, -ornamented with a great gold-flowered pattern; my father had brought -the shawls from Egypt, and I believe I have already referred to them. -We contented ourselves with sewing them together, leaving an opening -on each side for my arms, a sword-belt at the waist serving as a -girdle; out of each arm-hole appeared a satin sleeve, and Don Ramire -was, if not exactly sufficiently, at least sumptuously and modestly, -clad from the shoulders to half-way down his thighs. A turned-down -collar and a satin toque to match the tunic in colour completed the -upper part of the costume. But the question of the lower half was more -serious. Tights were rare in Villers-Cotterets; I might even say that -they were unknown; so it was of no use wishing to procure tights: it -would have been time wasted, a vision, a dream. The longest pair of -silk stockings that could be found, sewed into a pair of drawers, did -the business. Then came the laced boots. Ah! these laced boots, they -were an invention of my own. A second pair of silk stockings were dyed -red; soles were sewed to them; they were put over the first pair, -then turned back, rolled up to within three inches of the ankle; the -roll was tied fast to make a pad; we imitated the lacing of a laced -boot with green ribbon; and then this footgear formed the base of a -presentable-looking Don Ramire, who, atop, indulged in the luxury -of a satin toque with an ostrich plume. Finally came the sword. My -father's sword, the sword of a Republican, with its cap of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> Liberty, -looked somewhat odd when compared with the rest of Don Ramire's attire. -The mayor, M. Mussart, lent me a silver-mounted Louis XV. sword: the -chain which had fastened it was detached; but, though the guard had -disappeared, the hilt and the sheath were left, and this was sufficient -to satisfy the most exacting.</p> - -<p>The announcement of this important entertainment made a great -sensation: people came from all the towns and all the villages round, -even from Soissons. I looked perfectly absurd, having never seen any -play but <i>Paul et Virginie</i> at the age of three, and the <i>Jeunesse de -Henri V.</i> when I was eleven. But the Robbas took eight hundred francs -at the doors—a fortune to them; and a mother, a father, children and -grandchildren had wherewithal to keep themselves in food for two-thirds -of a year.</p> - -<p>Poor Robbas! I recollect that the whole of their <i>répertoire</i> only -consisted of <i>Adolphe et Clara</i> and the <i>Déserteur.</i> God alone knows -what became of the poor things! That was how I came to know <i>Hariadan -Barberousse</i>, which, with the <i>Vampire</i>, whose last act I was about to -see, completed the sum total of my melodramatic equipment.</p> - -<p>The third act was but a repetition of what had passed in the first. -Ruthven, whom his friend Aubrey believed dead at</p> - -<p>Marsden's farm, comes to life again, a sepulchral Endymion, under the -kisses of the moon. He returns to the castle before Malvina's brother -and urges forward his marriage; then Aubrey comes back and finds the -bride adorned and the chapel prepared. He approaches his sister to tell -her the terrible news of the death of her betrothed, and, seeing him -pale and distressed, Malvina exclaims—</p> - -<p>"Dear brother, you are in trouble!... For heaven's sake, tell me all!"</p> - -<p>"Rally your courage, then," says Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"You terrify me!" exclaims Malvina.</p> - -<p>Then, turning towards the door—</p> - -<p>"Milord is long a-coming," she says.</p> - -<p>"Since I must rend your heart, know that all my plans are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> broken. A -fearful, an unlooked-for event has deprived us, me of a friend, you of -a husband!... The unfortunate Ruthven."</p> - -<p>At this juncture Ruthven comes forward, seizes Aubrey by the arm and -says to him in a grim voice—</p> - -<p>"Think of thy oath!"</p> - -<p>At these words, and just as the whole audience burst into applause, -a loud whistle sounded from one of the boxes. I turned round, and -everybody in the orchestra and the pit did likewise. The hired -applauders rose in a body and, climbing on the forms, shouted, "Put -him out!" This formidable mountain could be seen rising up in the -centre of the theatre, like the enormous counterfeit Parnassus of M. -Titon-Dutillet at the Bibliothèque. But the whistler continued to -whistle, hidden in his box, sheltered behind the railing as behind an -impregnable rampart. I do not know why, but I came to the conclusion -that it was my neighbour who was at last gratifying to his heart's -content his desire to deride the piece which had disgusted him -throughout the night. The play was totally stopped: Philippe, Madame -Dorval and Thérigny stood on the stage without being able to utter -a syllable; shouts of "Put him out!" increased and a police officer -was sent for. By dint of gazing hard into the box I could see through -the bars, and there I discerned, in the dusky interior, the untoward -whistler. It was indeed my neighbour the bibliomaniac. The police -officer arrived. In spite of all his protestations, the whistler was -expelled from the theatre, and the piece went on in the midst of -stampings and bravoes.</p> - -<p>The play was drawing to its close. Aubrey, seized by Lord Ruthven's -attendants, is carried away from Malvina's side, and she remains -unprotected. Ruthven bears her off; a door opens—it is that of the -chapel, illuminated for the nocturnal marriage. Malvina hesitates -to contract the marriage without the presence of her brother; but -Ruthven becomes more and more urgent; for unless the blood of a young -damsel gives him renewed life within a very few minutes, he <i>will -be annihilated,</i> as the angel of marriage had predicted! Suddenly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> -Aubrey, who has escaped from his guardians, appears in the chapel; he -stops his sister; he implores her not to go on any farther with the -proceedings. Ruthven again recalls Aubrey to his oath.</p> - -<p>"Yes," says Aubrey, "but the hour is just about to strike when I may -reveal everything."</p> - -<p>"Wretch!" cries Ruthven, drawing a dagger, "if you utter one word...."</p> - -<p>"You shall only take her bathed in my blood!" cries Aubrey, redoubling -his resistance.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you shall both perish!" says Ruthven.</p> - -<p>He is about to strike Aubrey. One o'clock sounds; Malvina falls -fainting in the arms of Bridget; thunder rumbles.</p> - -<p>"Annihilation! annihilation!" shrieks Ruthven.</p> - -<p>He lets his dagger fall and tries to flee. Shades come up out of the -ground and carry him off; the destroying angel appears in a cloud; -lightning flashes, and Ruthven is engulfed amidst the shades.</p> - -<p>"<i>PLUIE DE FEU</i>"</p> - -<p>It will be gathered that we are copying from the manuscript itself.</p> - -<p>Philippe was recalled. But Madame Dorval's part was so execrable -that no one dreamt of recalling her; she was only engaged at the -Porte-Saint-Martin to play the worst parts; the favourite artiste, -Mademoiselle Lévesque, took the good ones.</p> - -<p>Allow me a few words concerning that poor dear creature, whom I then -saw for the first time, and who died in my arms twenty-six years -later.<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>A large portion of these Memoirs will be devoted to remarks concerning -the influence of eminent artistes, great comedians or famous poets; for -my pages are intended to deal with the development of art in France -during one half of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>Political events will also no doubt have their share of attention, -but only their due share. It is time things were relegated to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> their -proper positions, and, as our century is first and foremost one of -appreciation, it is desirable that men and things should be appreciated -at their proper value.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Mars and Talma, those two great artistic glories of the -Empire and the Restoration, will still survive in the thoughts of the -twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, when the very names of those -political actors whom men call ministers will long have been forgotten, -the men who disdainfully flung to these glorious mendicants the grant -annually allowed by the Chamber as though it were an alms.</p> - -<p>Who was minister in England the year Shakespeare wrote <i>Othello</i>? Who -was gonfalonier in Florence when Dante wrote his <i>Inferno</i>? Who was -minister to King Hiero when the author of <i>Prometheus</i> came to beg -protection from him? Who was archon of Athens when the divine Homer -died on one of the Sporades, towards the middle of the tenth century -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">B.C.</span>?</p> - -<p>To answer such queries one must needs be my neighbour,—my neighbour -who knew so many things, who could recognise Elzevirs, who knew where -vampires were to be found, who knew the origin of hired applauders -and who had been put out of the theatre for whistling at the prose -of MM.... for no name was ever printed on the <i>Vampire</i> pamphlet, -published by Barba, who ostentatiously put below his name: <i>Publisher -of the Works of Pigault-Lebrun.</i></p> - -<p>Let us return to Madame Allan-Dorval, as she was called at that period. -As I advance with these Memoirs there are many men and women, literary -or political comedians whom we shall meet with, who made a name for -themselves in their day, and I shall do for these personages what I am -just about to do for poor Marie Dorval. When she died I undertook to -raise a monument over her grave—a literary monument in my writings, -a sepulchral monument in stone. The stones were to be paid for by my -literary labours, and it pleased me to think of being the architect of -both monuments.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, I began the erection of my literary monument in the -<i>Constitutionnel.</i> At the second article, I referred to <i>Antony</i> and -the old <i>Constitutionnel.</i> M. Véron's susceptibility took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> fright: -the literary monument was arrested at its first attempt. And as the -sepulchral monument depended on the literary monument, the sepulchral -monument was never begun.</p> - -<p>Some day we will take up this matter again, among many others we have -been compelled to drop, and with God's help, and in spite of the -ill-will of men, we will finish them.</p> - -<p>The age of artistes is ever a problem that is never solved until after -their death. I never learned Dorval's age until she died. She was born -on Twelfth Night in the year 1798; so in 1823, when I was twenty, she -was twenty-five. She did not call herself Marie Dorval then: those two -names, so easy to pronounce that they seem always to have belonged to -her, were not then linked to each other by the golden chain of genius. -Her real name was Thomase-Amélie Delaunay: she was born close to the -théâtre de Lorient and her earliest steps were patters across its -boards. Her mother was an actress who took the part of leading singer. -<i>Camille ou le Souterrain</i> was then the comic opera in vogue. The -little maiden was rocked on the stage to these lines, which her mother -could hardly sing save with tears in her eyes:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Oh! non, non, il n'est pas possible<br /> -D'avoir un plus aimable enfant!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Directly she could talk, her lips stammered out the prose of Panard and -Collé, Sedaine and Favart; at seven, she passed into what was called -the <i>emploi des Betsy.</i> Her most popular air was in <i>Sylvani</i>—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je ne sais pas si mon cœur aime."<br /> -</p> - -<p>An artist at Lorient painted her portrait at that time—that is to -say, in 1808. In 1839, Madame Dorval returned to Lorient, her native -town. The day following a striking success, an old white-haired man -came to call upon her to pay her his tribute. His offering was this -painting of her as a child: a third of a century had passed by and the -woman could not be recognised in it. To-day both painter and Madame -Dorval are dead, but the portrait still continues to smile. It hung in -Madame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> Dorval's bedroom. I saw it, for the first time, when I helped -to close her eyes. It was a melancholy contrast, I need hardly say, to -see the face of the rosy child in the picture confronting the livid -face on the death-bed opposite. How many joys, hopes, disappointments -and sorrows had passed between that childish smile and the death-agony! -At twelve years of age little Delaunay left Lorient with the whole -company. That was in 1810, when diligences did not traverse France in -every direction: in those days railways had not yet carved their way -through the valleys or tunnelled the mountains; if you wanted to go to -Strassbourg—that is to say, to cross France from west to east—you had -to club together and buy a large wicker carriage, and it took six weeks -to go from the Ocean, to the Rhine.</p> - -<p>The comedy company passed through Paris and stopped four days in the -capital. It was the zenith of Talma's reputation: how could anyone pass -through Paris without seeing Talma? For three days, the mother and -daughter economised in their breakfasts and in their dinners, and on -the fourth day they took two tickets for the second gallery. Talma was -playing <i>Hamlet</i>.</p> - -<p>Those of you who knew Madame Dorval will understand what it meant to a -nature such as hers to see the famous actor play; what it meant to that -heart which was so loyally filial in its early days and so motherly -in later years, to listen to the gloomy ravings of the Danish prince, -as he speaks of his father in a voice full of tears, in the way Talma -represented him. And at these three lines—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"On remplace un ami, son épouse, une amante;<br /> -Mais un vertueux père est un bien précieux<br /> -Qu'on ne tient qu'une fois de la bonté des cieux!"—<br /> -</p> - -<p>the young actress, who, with the intuition of genius in her, -comprehended the greatness of art displayed, as well as realised, the -depth of the pathos, leant backwards, sobbed and fainted away. They -carried her into an adjoining room; but the play continued in vain, so -far as she was concerned: she would not see any more of it. She did not -see Talma again until ten years later.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> - -<p>The company continued its journey and reached Strassbourg. And then -Mademoiselle Delaunay gradually became famous. She changed her line -of character and played <i>les Dugazon.</i> She made a fascinating young -girl, overflowing with mischievousness and good humour, declaiming M. -Étienne's prose excellently, but singing M. Nicholo's music out of -tune. Now it is a great defect for a <i>Dugazon</i> to sing falsely, while -speaking correctly. Happily, Perrier, who was acting at Strassbourg, -advised Madame Delaunay to let her daughter give up comic opera, and -turn her attention to comedy. In deference to this advice, <i>la Dugazon</i> -became a young lover. Panard was given up for Molière and the actress -and the public profited by the change.</p> - -<p>From that time dated Madame Dorval's first successes. Alas! from that -time dated also her first sorrows. Her mother fell ill of a long and -painful disease. The engagements which Madame Delaunay found as first -singer became fewer as her voice grew weaker. Then the young girl -redoubled her labours; she knew that talent was not only a question -of art, but still more one of necessity. Thanks to her efforts, her -engagements brought in eighty francs to a hundred francs; and those of -her' mother diminished, at the same time, from three hundred francs to -one hundred and fifty francs, and from one hundred and fifty francs -they fell to nothing. From that time began the young girl's life of -devotion which continued on into womanhood.</p> - -<p>For a year Amélie Delaunay did everything for her mother: she was -servant, nurse, comforter; then, at the end of a year, the mother died, -and all those nights of watching and weeping, all her careful tendings, -were lost, except in the sight of God.</p> - -<p>When her mother died the young girl was left alone in the world. She -could never afterwards remember what she did during the two years after -her mother's death: memory was drowned in grief! The company moved -on from Lorient to Strassbourg, from Strassbourg to Bayonne, always -travelling in the same wicker carriage with the same horses, which -belonged to the company. However, one great event came about:</p> - -<p>Amélie Delaunay married a poor boy of fifteen, out of loneliness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> -She had no love for him: he was one of her fellow-actors, who played -the rôle of <i>les Martins;</i> his name was Allan-Dorval. He died at St. -Petersburg. Where he lived nobody ever knew. This marriage had no other -influence on the actress's life beyond giving her the name by which -she became known; her other name, that of Marie, was given her by us. -Antony was her godfather and Adèle d'Hervey her godmother.</p> - -<p>Their journeyings were continued and, as they were <i>en route</i> for -Bayonne, they came close to Paris. I do not know in what village, -upon what road, at what inn, Potier, the great actor whom Talma -admired, met Madame Allan-Dorval, in what theatre he saw her play or -what part she was taking, when she uttered one of those heartfelt -phrases, one of those outbursts of fraternal affection by which great -artistes recognise each other's talents. I know nothing of all this, -for poor Marie forgot it herself; but, in a trice he described to her -Paris—that is to say, splendour, fame, suffering!</p> - -<p>The young wife came to Paris with a letter of introduction from Potier -to M. de Saint-Romain, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin. M. de -Saint-Romain engaged Madame Allan-Dorval on this recommendation, and -from that day her name became part of the recollections of Parisians, -her life became interwoven with the literary life of Paris. This was in -1818.</p> - -<p>What had this poor talented young woman played ere Potier's -encouragement had made a path for her genius? She had acted in the -<i>Cabane du Montagnard,</i> the <i>Catacombes</i>, the <i>Pandoursy</i> and, finally, -in the <i>Vampire</i>, at which my neighbour had hooted so shamelessly. Poor -Marie! only she herself could relate the sufferings of those early -days. There was, I remember, one special costume on which she had to -sew some lace trimming every evening before the performance, and it had -to be unsewn every evening after the play.—O Frétillon! Frétillon! thy -cotillion never saw half what that dress did!</p> - -<p>She whom I now saw for the first time was the Eve from whose womb a -new dramatic world was to spring. As for Philippe, who eclipsed her at -that time, with the dignity and majesty of his steps and gestures, his -was the acting of the pure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> old-fashioned melodrama of Pixérécourt and -Caignez. No one could wear yellow top boots, a buff tunic embroidered -in black, a plumed toque and a cross-handled sword like Philippe. This -attire, at that period, went by the name of the costume of a cavalier. -Lafont carried it off perfectly in <i>Tancrède</i> and in <i>Adélaïde -Duguesclin.</i></p> - -<p>Philippe died the first. His death made almost as much stir as his -life. As I shall not have occasion to speak of him again, and as, had -he lived, he would not have had anything to do with contemporary art, -we will finish his story here. Philippe died on 16 October 1824—that -is to say, one month, to the day, after the death of Louis XVIII. On -the 18th, they brought his body to the church of Saint-Laurent, his own -parish church; but the clergy refused to take it in. The same thing -happened with regard to Mademoiselle Raucourt. But Philippe's comrades -and all his public admirers decided to go forward with stout hearts, to -proceed without uproar, or violent acts, or rebellious deeds. They drew -the shell from the hearse: six actors from the different Paris theatres -bore it on their shoulders, and, followed by over three thousand -people, they took it to the Tuileries. They meant to deposit the coffin -in the Castle courtyard, to demand justice, and not to withdraw until -they had received it. The resolution was all the more impressive as it -was accomplished with composure and solemnity. The cortège was moving -along the boulevards, and had reached the top of the rue Montmartre, -when a squadron of police rushed out at full gallop, swords in hand, -and barred the entire width of the boulevard. Then a council of -deliberation was held over the bier, and, still with the same calmness -and the same composure, a deputation of five was elected to go to the -Tuileries and to ask for the prayers of the Church and a Christian -burial for the body of poor Philippe. These five deputies were: MM. -Étienne, Jourdan, Colombeau, Ménessier and Crosnier. Charles X. refused -to receive them, and sent them back to M. de Corbières, the Minister -for the Interior. M. de Corbières, very brutal by nature, replied -roughly that the clergy had their laws, that it was not his business -to transgress them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> although he was in charge of the police of the -realm. The five deputies brought back this reply to the three thousand -Parisians camped in the boulevard, round the coffin that was craving -burial. The bearers then took the body up again on their shoulders and -pursued their course with it along the road to Père-Lachaise. Victory -remained on the side of authority, as the saying is; only, it is by -such kinds of victories that authority cuts its own throat. "Another -victory like that," said Pyrrhus, after the battle of Heracles, "and we -shall be lost!"</p> - -<p>From that moment the generous promises made by Charles x. on his -accession to the throne were valued at their true worth: and who shall -say that one of the clouds that caused the storm of 27 July 1830, was -not whirled into being on 18 October 1824?</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See <i>les Morts vont vite</i>, vol. ii. pp. 241 ff.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_IV" id="BOOK_IV">BOOK IV</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ic" id="CHAPTER_Ic">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My beginning at the office—Ernest Basset—Lassagne—M. Oudard—I see -M. Deviolaine—M. le Chevalier de Broval—His portrait—Folded letters -and oblong letters—How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters—I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac and whistler</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The next day I waited from eight o'clock in the morning until ten -o'clock; but, as my neighbour in the orchestra had predicted, nobody -came to demand satisfaction for the blow I had dealt on the previous -evening. However, I had now arrived at two convictions—namely, that -there must be something extravagant about my appearance and about -some portion of my clothing. For fear of falling out egregiously with -everybody I met abroad, I ought to cut my locks and to shorten the -length of my coat. My hair was fully two inches too long; my coat -certainly a foot beyond regulation length. I called in a barber and a -tailor. The barber asked me for ten minutes; the tailor for a day. I -gave up my coat to the tailor and my head to the barber. I intended to -go to the office in a morning coat: it should be understood that my -first visit to the office was almost in the nature of a call upon my -chiefs. A morning coat would not be out of place.</p> - -<p>My face was completely changed by the cropping of my hair: when it -was too long, I looked like one of the sellers of "Lion Pomade," who -make their own heads their principal prospectuses; when my hair was -too short, I looked like a seal. Of course the barber cut my hair -too short; unfortunately, there was then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> no remedy left me but to -wait until it grew again. When I had breakfasted fairly well at my -hotel, and given notice that I should settle my account and leave the -establishment that evening, I made my way towards the office.</p> - -<p>As a quarter-past ten struck, I made inquiries of the porter in the -hall and he told me which staircase led to M. Oudard's offices, -otherwise the Secretariat. They were situated at the right angle of -the second court of the Palais-Royal, looking upon the square from -the side of the garden. I went towards this staircase and I furnished -myself with fresh instructions from a second porter: the offices were -on the third floor, so I climbed up. My heart was beating violently: I -was entering upon another life—one which I had desired and chosen for -myself this time. This staircase was leading me to my future office. -Where would my future office lead me?... No one had arrived. I waited -with the office-boys. The first employé who appeared was a fine big -fair youth; he came singing up the stairs, and took down the office -door key from a nail. I rose.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Ernest," said one of the office-boys, the eldest of them, a -lad called Raulot, "this young man wants to speak to M. Oudard."</p> - -<p>The person addressed as Ernest looked at me for a moment with his keen, -clear blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," I said to him, "I am one of the supernumeraries, of whom -you may perhaps have heard."</p> - -<p>"Ah yes! M. Alexandre Dumas," he exclaimed; "the son of General -Alexandre Dumas, recommended by General Foy?"</p> - -<p>I saw he knew all about me.</p> - -<p>"I am the same," I said.</p> - -<p>"Come in," he said, going in before me and opening the door of a small -room, with one window in it and three desks. "See," he continued, "you -are expected; here is your seat. Everything is ready—paper, pens, ink; -you have but to sit down and to draw up your chair to your desk."</p> - -<p>"Have I the pleasure of talking to one of those with whom I am destined -to spend my days?" I asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes.... I have just been promoted as ordinary clerk at eighteen -hundred francs; I am giving up my place as copying-clerk, and that -place will be yours, after a longer or shorter probationary period."</p> - -<p>"And who is our third companion?"</p> - -<p>"He is our deputy head clerk, Lassagne."</p> - -<p>The door opened.</p> - -<p>"Hullo! who is talking about Lassagne?" asked a young man of -twenty-eight to thirty, as he came in.</p> - -<p>Ernest turned round.</p> - -<p>"Ah! it is you," he replied. "I was just saying to M. Dumas,"—he -pointed to me, I bowed,—"I was just telling M. Dumas that this was -your place, that his, and the other mine."</p> - -<p>"Are you our new colleague?" Lassagne asked me.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"You are welcome." And he held out his hand to me.</p> - -<p>I took it. It was one of those warm and trembling hands that it is a -pleasure to shake from the first touch—a loyal hand, revealing the -nature of him to whom it belonged.</p> - -<p>"Good!" I said to myself: "this man will be friendly to me, I am sure."</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "a word of advice. It is rumoured that you have come -here with the idea of entering upon a literary career: do not talk too -loudly of such a project; it will only do you harm.... Hush! that is -Oudard entering his room."</p> - -<p>And I heard in the neighbouring room the self-possessed, measured tread -of a man accustomed to rule an office. A moment later, the door of our -office opened and Raulot appeared.</p> - -<p>"M. Oudard wants M. Alexandre Dumas," he said.</p> - -<p>I rose and cast a glance at Lassagne: he understood what I felt like.</p> - -<p>"Go along," he said; "he is a capital fellow, but you have to become -acquainted with him: however, you will soon do that."</p> - -<p>This was not altogether reassuring; so it was with my heart beating -very rapidly that I proceeded along the corridor and entered M. -Oudard's office.</p> - -<p>I found him standing before the fireplace. He was a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> of five feet -six inches high, with a brown complexion, black hair and an impassive -face, gentle although firm. His black eyes had that direct look to be -found in men who have risen from a lower class to a high position; its -expression was almost stonily hard when it was fixed on you; you would -have said he had ridden rough-shod over everything and everybody that -had come in his way, as so many obstacles on the road towards that -goal, known only to himself, which he had made up his mind to reach. -He had fine teeth; but, contrary to the habit of those who possess -this advantage, he rarely smiled: one could see that nothing—not even -the most insignificant event—was indifferent to him; a pebble under -the foot of an ambitious man will raise him higher by the size of that -pebble. Oudard was very ambitious; but as he was also essentially -honest, I doubt whether his ambition had ever, I will not say inspired -him with an evil thought—what man is master of his thoughts?—but -caused him to commit a mean action. Later, it will be seen that he was -hard on me, almost pitiless. He was, I am sure, well intentioned in -being so; he did not think of the future I wanted to carve for myself, -and he feared I should only lose the position I had made—the position -which he had helped me to make. Oudard, unlike other upstarts (and let -us admit, he was really more a man who had achieved success than a mere -parvenu), talked a great deal of the village where he was born, of the -home in which he had been brought up, of his old mother, who came to -see him, dressed in her peasant's costume, with whom he would walk out -in the Palais-Royal or whom he would take to the play, just as she was: -perhaps all this talk was only another form of pride, but it is a pride -I like. He was devoted to his mother—a sentiment sufficiently rare -in ambitious men to be noted here as out of the common. Oudard must -have been thirty-two at that period; he was head of the Secretarial -Department, and private secretary to the Duchesse d'Orléans. These two -posts combined must have been worth about twelve thousand francs a year -to him, perquisites included. He was clad in black trousers, a white -piqué waistcoat and a black coat and cravat. He wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> very fine cotton -stockings and slippers. Such was the get-up of a man who was not merely -chief clerk of an office, but one who might be called into the presence -of a prince or princess at any moment.</p> - -<p>"Come in, Monsieur Dumas," he said.</p> - -<p>I went up to him and bowed.</p> - -<p>"You have been very especially commended to me by two persons, one of -whom I greatly respect and the other of whom I love dearly."</p> - -<p>"Is not General Foy one of these, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he is the man I respect. But how is it you do not guess the name -of the other?"</p> - -<p>"I confess, monsieur, I should be puzzled to name anyone else in whom I -can have inspired sufficient interest to cause him to take the trouble -to recommend me to you."</p> - -<p>"It was M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>"M. Deviolaine?" I repeated, in considerable surprise.</p> - -<p>"Yes, M. Deviolaine.... Is he not related to you?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, monsieur; but when my mother begged M. Deviolaine to have -the goodness to recommend me to Monseigneur le Duc d'Orléans, M. -Deviolaine met the request so coldly...."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know, brusqueness is almost the leading trait in the character -of our worthy Conservator.... You must not pay any heed to that."</p> - -<p>"I fear, monsieur, that if my good cousin spoke much of me to you, in -recommending me to you, he has not flattered me."</p> - -<p>"That would not be bad for you, since it would but give you a chance to -surprise me agreeably."</p> - -<p>"He has probably told you I was idle?"</p> - -<p>"He told me you had never done much work; but you are young, and you -can make up for lost time."</p> - -<p>"He told you I cared for nothing but shooting?"</p> - -<p>"He confessed you were something of a poacher."</p> - -<p>"He told you I was wayward and changeable in my ideas and fancies?"</p> - -<p>"He said you had been under all the solicitors in Villers-Cotterets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> -and Crespy and had not been able to stop with any of them."</p> - -<p>"He exaggerated somewhat.... But if I did not remain with either -of the two solicitors under whom I worked, it was on account of my -unalterable, intense desire to come to Paris."</p> - -<p>"Very well, here you are, and your desire is fulfilled."</p> - -<p>"Was that all M. Deviolaine told you about me?"</p> - -<p>"Well, no; ... he said, too, that you were a good son, and that, -although you constantly made your mother miserable, you adored her; -that you had never really wished to learn anything, but more from -over-quickness, than from want of intelligence; he told me, besides, -that you had certainly a poor head, but that he also believed you were -good-hearted.... Go and thank him, go and thank him."</p> - -<p>"Where shall I find him?"</p> - -<p>"One of the office-boys will take you to him."</p> - -<p>He rang.</p> - -<p>"Take M. Dumas to M. Deviolaine's rooms," he said.</p> - -<p>Then, addressing me—</p> - -<p>"You have already met Lassagne?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have just had five minutes' talk with him."</p> - -<p>"He is a very good fellow with but one failing: he will be too weak -with you; luckily I shall be at hand. Lassagne and Ernest Basset will -tell you what your work will be."</p> - -<p>"And M. de Broval?" I asked.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval was the general manager.</p> - -<p>"M. de Broval will be told you have come, and will probably ask for -you. You know that your whole future depends on him?"</p> - -<p>"And on you, monsieur, yes."</p> - -<p>"I hope, so far as I am concerned, that that will not cause you much -uneasiness.... But go and thank M. Deviolaine; go! You have already -delayed too long."</p> - -<p>I bowed to M. Oudard and I went out. Five minutes afterwards, I was at -M. Deviolaine's. He worked in a large room by himself, and at a desk -which stood alone in the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> the room. As I was preceded by an -office-boy, and as it was presumed that I had been sent by M. Oudard, -they let me enter unannounced. M. Deviolaine heard the door open and he -waited an instant for someone to speak; then, as I also was waiting, he -looked up and asked—</p> - -<p>"Who is there?"</p> - -<p>"It is I, M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>"Who, you? (<i>toi</i>)"</p> - -<p>"I see you recognise me, by the way you speak."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I recognise you.... So there you are! Well, you are a fine lad!"</p> - -<p>"Why, if you please?"</p> - -<p>"Well! you have been to Paris three times without paying me a single -call."</p> - -<p>"I did not know you would care to see me."</p> - -<p>"It was not for you to question whether it would please me or not; it -was your duty to come."</p> - -<p>"Well, here I am; better late than never."</p> - -<p>"What have you come for now?"</p> - -<p>"I have come to thank you."</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>"For what you said about me to M. Oudard."</p> - -<p>"You are not difficult to please, then."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know what I did say?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly: you told him I was an idle lad; that I was no good except -for copying deeds; that I had tired out the patience of every solicitor -in Villers-Cotterets and in Crespy."</p> - -<p>"Well, is there much thanks due to me for all that?"</p> - -<p>"No, it was not for that I came to thank you; it was for what you -added."</p> - -<p>"I did not add anything."</p> - -<p>"But you did!... you went on to say...."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I added nothing; but I will add something now you are here: -that is, that if you are so ill-advised as to write filthy plays and -trashy verses here, as you did in Villers-Cotterets, I will report you, -I will carry you off with me, I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> confine you in one of my offices -and I will lead you a dog's life ... see if I don't!"</p> - -<p>"Let me say, cousin...."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"While I am here...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Even if you do not let me go back."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Because that,—<i>A cause que</i>, a grammatical error, I know quite well; -but Corneille and Bossuet made use of it,—because that I have only -come to Paris to write filthy plays and trashy verses, whether I am -in the Secretarial Department or here, I must still continue to write -them."</p> - -<p>"Ah, is that so? Do you seriously imagine you can become a Corneille, a -Racine or a Voltaire after an education of three francs a month?"</p> - -<p>"If I were to become such a man as any one of those three, I should be -only what another man has been, and that would not be worth while."</p> - -<p>"You mean, then, that you would do better than they?"</p> - -<p>"I would do something different."</p> - -<p>"Come a little nearer me, so that I can give you a good kick, you -conceited lad."</p> - -<p>I went nearer to him.</p> - -<p>"Here I am!"</p> - -<p>"I believe the impudent boy has actually come closer!"</p> - -<p>"Yes.... My mother told me to give you her love."</p> - -<p>"Is your poor mother quite well?"</p> - -<p>"I hope she is."</p> - -<p>"She is a good creature! How the devil did you happen to come into the -world by such a mother? Come, shake hands and be off with you!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, cousin."</p> - -<p>He kept hold of my hand.</p> - -<p>"Do you want any money, you rogue?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks.... I have some."</p> - -<p>"Where did you get it?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I will tell you that some other time; it would take too long now."</p> - -<p>"You are right; I have no time to lose. Be off with you!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, cousin."</p> - -<p>"Come and dine with me when you like."</p> - -<p>"Oh! thanks, yes, for your people to look down on me." "To look down on -you! I would like to see them do that. My wife dined often enough with -your grandfather and your grandmother to justify you in coming to dine -with me as often as you like.... But now be off, cub! you are making me -waste all my time."</p> - -<p>M. Deviolaine's office-boy came in. His name was Féresse. We shall see -more of him later.</p> - -<p>"M. Deviolaine," he said, "M. de Broval wishes to know if the report on -the management of the forest of Villers-Cotterets is finished?"</p> - -<p>"No, not yet ... in a quarter of an hour."</p> - -<p>Then, turning to me—</p> - -<p>"You see?... you see?"</p> - -<p>"I will make myself scarce, M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>And off I went, while M. Deviolaine buried his nose in the report, -growling as usual.</p> - -<p>I returned to our common office, and I sat down at my desk. My desk -was next to Lassagne's, so we were only separated from one another by -the width of our tables and by the little black set of pigeon-holes in -which the current work was usually put. Ernest had gone out, I know not -why. I asked Lassagne to tell me what to do. Lassagne got up, leant -over my desk and told me. I always took a great interest in studying -people around me, and especially the man whose position in the office -was that of my immediate superior; for, although Ernest was now a -full-fledged clerk and I only destined to be a simple copying-clerk, he -was more my comrade than my superior.</p> - -<p>Lassagne, as I think I have already said, was at that time a man -of twenty-eight or thirty, with an attractive face, enshrined in -beautiful black hair, animated by black eyes full of intelligence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> and -cleverness, and lighted up (if the phrase may be permitted) by teeth so -white and so regular that the vainest of women might have envied them. -The only defect in his face was his aquiline nose, which was a little -more inclined to one side than the other; but this very irregularity -gave an original touch to his face that it would not have had without -it. Add to these things a sympathetic voice which seemed gently to -vibrate in one's ear, and at the sound of which it was impossible not -to turn round and smile. In short, a delightful person whose like I -have rarely met; well informed; a brilliant song-writer; the intimate -friend of Désaugiers, Théaulon, Armand Gouffé, Brazier, Rougemont and -all the opera-writers of the time; so that he refreshed himself after -his official work, which he loathed, by entering into the literary -world, which he adored, and his daily labour alternated with desultory -work, consisting partly of articles for the <i>Drapeau blanc</i> and the -<i>Foudre</i> and partly of contributions to some of the most delightful -plays of the operatic theatres. It will be admitted that here was the -very superior I needed, and I could not have asked Providence for -anything that would have seemed to me better for me.</p> - -<p>Well, during the five years that we spent in the same office there was -never a cloud, or a quarrel, or a feeling of cross purposes between -Lassagne and me. He made me like the hour at which I began my daily -work, because I knew he would come in immediately after me; he made me -love the time I spent at my desk, because he was always ready there to -help me with an explanation, to teach me something fresh about life, -which had as yet, for me, scarcely opened, about the world of which I -was totally ignorant, and finally about foreign or national literature, -of which in 1823 I knew practically nothing, either of the one or of -the other.</p> - -<p>Lassagne arranged my daily work; it was entirely mechanical, and -consisted in copying out, in the finest handwriting possible, the -largest possible number of letters: these, according to their -importance, had to be signed by M. Oudard, M. de Broval, or even by the -Duc d'Orléans. In the midst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> of this correspondence, which concerned -the whole range of administration and which often, when addressed -to princes or foreign kings, passed from matters of administration -to politics, there occurred reports connected with the contentious -affairs of M. le Duc d'Orléans; for the Duc d'Orléans himself prepared -his litigious business for his counsel, doing himself the work that -solicitors do for barristers—that is to say, preparing the briefs. -These were nearly always entirely in the handwriting of the Duc -d'Orléans, or at all events corrected and annotated in his large thick -writing, in which every letter was fastened to its neighbouring letter -by a solid stroke, after the fashion of the arguments of a logical -dialectician, bound together, entwined, succeeding each other.</p> - -<p>I was attacking my first letter, and, by the advice of Lassagne, who -had laid great stress on this point, I was despatching it in my very -best handwriting, when I heard the door of communication between -Oudard's office and ours open. I pretended, with the hypocrisy of an -old hand, to be so deeply absorbed in my work that no noise could -distract my attention, when I heard the creak of steps advancing -towards my desk and then they stopped by me.</p> - -<p>"Dumas!" called out Lassagne to me.</p> - -<p>I raised my head and I saw, standing close to me on my left, a person -who was totally unknown to me.</p> - -<p>"M. le Chevalier de Broval," added Lassagne, adding information to his -exclamation.</p> - -<p>I rose from my seat.</p> - -<p>"Do not disturb yourself," he said. And he took the letter I was -copying, which was nearly finished, and read it.</p> - -<p>I took advantage of this respite to examine him.</p> - -<p>M. le Chevalier de Broval, as everyone knows, had been one of the -faithful followers of M. le Duc d'Orléans. He had never left him during -the last portion of his exile, serving him sometimes as secretary, -at other times as diplomatist; in this latter capacity he had been -mixed up in all the lengthy discussions over the marriage of the -Duc d'Orléans with Princess Marie-Amélie, daughter of Ferdinand and -Caroline, King and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> Queen of Naples; and in connection with this -marriage he had gained the Order of Saint-Janvier, which he wore on -a braided coat on high festivals, next to the cross of the Legion of -Honour. He was a little old man of about sixty years of age, with short -stubbly hair; he was slightly lame, walked crookedly on his left side, -had a big red nose, which told its own tale, and small grey eyes, that -expressed nothing; he looked a typical courtier, polite, obsequious, -fawning to his master, kind by fits and starts, but generally -capricious with his subordinates; he thought a great deal of trifles, -attaching supreme importance to the manner in which a letter was folded -or a seal was fastened; he really imbibed these notions from the Duc -d'Orléans himself, who was even more particular over little details -than perhaps was M. de Broval.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval read the letter, took my pen, added an apostrophe or a -comma here and there; then, replacing it in front of me: "Finish it," -he said.</p> - -<p>I finished it.</p> - -<p>He waited behind me, literally pressing on my shoulders.</p> - -<p>Every fresh face I saw in turn had its effect on me. I finished with a -very shaky hand.</p> - -<p>"There it is, M. le chevalier," I said.</p> - -<p>"Good!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>He took a pen, signed, threw sand over my writing and over his; then, -giving me back the epistle, which was for a simple inspector,—as, at -first, they did not risk confiding more than that to my inexperienced -hand,—he said—</p> - -<p>"Do you know how to fold a letter?"</p> - -<p>I looked at him with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"I ask you if you know how to fold a letter. Answer me!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes ... at least, I believe so," I replied, astonished at the -fixed stare his little grey eyes had assumed.</p> - -<p>"You believe? Is that all? You are not sure?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, I am not yet sure about anything, as you see, not even about -the folding of a letter."</p> - -<p>"And there you are right, for there are ten ways of folding a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> letter, -according to the rank of the person to whom it is addressed. Fold this -one."</p> - -<p>I began to fold the letter in four.</p> - -<p>"Oh! what are you about?" he said.</p> - -<p>I stopped short. "Pardon, monsieur," I said, "but you <i>ordered</i> me to -fold the letter, and I am folding it."</p> - -<p>M. de Broval bit his lip. I had laid emphasis on the word "ordered" in -the spoken phrase as I have just underlined it in the written phrase.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said; "but you are folding it square—that is all right for -high functionaries. If you give square-folded letters to inspectors and -sub-inspectors, what will you do for ministers, princes and kings?"</p> - -<p>"Quite so, M. le chevalier," I replied; "will you tell me what is the -correct way for inspectors and sub-inspectors?"</p> - -<p>"Oblong, monsieur, oblong."</p> - -<p>"You will pardon my ignorance, monsieur; I know what an oblong is in -theory, but I do not yet know what it is in practice."</p> - -<p>"See...."</p> - -<p>And M. de Broval condescended willingly to give me the lesson in things -oblong I had asked of him.</p> - -<p>"There!" he said, when the letter was folded.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, monsieur," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Now, monsieur, the envelope?" he said.</p> - -<p>I had never made envelopes, except for the rare petitions I had written -for my mother, and once on my own account in General Foy's office, so -I was still more ignorant about the making of envelopes than about -the folding. I took a half-sheet of paper in my left hand, a pair of -scissors in my right hand, and I began to cut the sheet.</p> - -<p>M. le Chevalier de Broval uttered a mingled cry of surprise and terror.</p> - -<p>"Oh! good Lord!" he said, "what are you going to do?"</p> - -<p>"Why, M. le chevalier, I am going to make the envelope you asked me to -make."</p> - -<p>"With scissors?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"First learn this, monsieur: paper should not be cut, it should be -torn."</p> - -<p>I listened with all attention.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"It should be torn," repeated M. de Broval; "and then in this case -there is no need even to tear the paper, which perhaps you do not -realise either?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, I do not."</p> - -<p>"You will learn.... It only wants an English envelope."</p> - -<p>"Ah! an English envelope?"</p> - -<p>"You do not know how to make an English envelope?"</p> - -<p>"I do not even know what it is, M. le chevalier."</p> - -<p>"I will show you. As a general rule, monsieur, square letters and -square envelopes are for ministers, for princes and for kings."</p> - -<p>"Right, M. le chevalier; I will remember."</p> - -<p>"You are sure?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Good.... And for heads of departments, chief assistants, inspectors -and sub-inspectors, oblong letters and English envelopes."</p> - -<p>I repeated, "Oblong letters and English envelopes."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, of course.... There, that is what we call an English -envelope."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Now the seal.... Ernest, will you light me a taper?" Ernest hastened -to bring us the lighted taper; and now, I confess to my shame, my -confusion increased: I had never hitherto sealed my letters except with -wafers—that is to say, when I had sealed them.</p> - -<p>I took the wax in so awkward a fashion, I heated it in such a queer -way, I blew it out so quickly, for fear of burning the paper, that -this time I excited pity rather than impatience in the breast of M. de -Broval.</p> - -<p>"Oh! my friend," he said, "have you really never even sealed a letter?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Never, monsieur," I replied. "Who was there for me to write to, buried -away as I have been in a little country town?"</p> - -<p>This humble confession touched M. de Broval.</p> - -<p>"See," he said, heating the wax, "this is how one seals a letter."</p> - -<p>And, believe me, he sealed the letter at arm's length, with as steady -a hand as though he had been twenty-five years of age. Then, taking -a large silver seal, he pressed it on the lake of burning wax, and -did not withdraw it until the impress was clearly defined and I could -see the escutcheon with the three heraldic fleurs-de-lis of Orléans, -surmounted by the ducal coronet.</p> - -<p>I was disheartened, I must confess.</p> - -<p>"Write the address," M. le Chevalier de Broval said imperiously.</p> - -<p>I wrote the address with a trembling hand.</p> - -<p>"Good, good!" said M. le Chevalier de Broval; "don't be discouraged, my -boy.... It is all right; now countersign it."</p> - -<p>I stopped, completely ignorant of what a countersign was.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval began to realise, as General Foy had done, how ignorant I -was. He pointed with a finger to the corner of the letter.</p> - -<p>"There," he said, "write there <i>Duc d'Orléans.</i> That is to frank the -letter. You hear?"</p> - -<p>I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly -understood what was said.</p> - -<p>"There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it -with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all -these things.... Ernest,"—Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and -in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian -name,—"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and -to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off.</p> - -<p>The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to -begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with -hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making -envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> will into it, and it was not -long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill.</p> - -<p>When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had -become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the -third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was -this—</p> - -<p>"The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have -ever seen."</p> - -<p>While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, -Lassagne was reading the papers.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:—"A scene which recalls -that of la Fontaine at the first representation of <i>Florentin</i> took -place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of -the <i>Vampire.</i> Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled -from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. -Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the <i>Vampire</i>."</p> - -<p>"So!" I cried, "my neighbour of the orchestra was Charles Nodier!"</p> - -<p>"Did you have any talk with him?" asked Lassagne.</p> - -<p>"I did nothing else during the intervals."</p> - -<p>"You were fortunate," continued Lassagne: "had I been in your place, I -should have greatly preferred the intervals to the play."</p> - -<p>I knew Charles Nodier by name, but I was in complete ignorance as to -what he had done.</p> - -<p>As I left the office, I entered a bookshop and asked for a novel by -Nodier. They gave me <i>Jean Sbogar.</i></p> - -<p>The reading of that book began to shake my faith in Pigault-Lebrun.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIc" id="CHAPTER_IIc">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Illustrious contemporaries—The sentence written on my foundation -stone—My reply—I settle down in the place des Italiens—M. de -Leuven's table—M. Louis-Bonaparte's witty saying—Lassagne gives me my -first lesson in literature and history</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>When I came up to Paris, the men who held illustrious rank in -literature, among whom I sought a place, were—MM. de Chateaubriand, -Jouy, Lemercier, Arnault, Étienne, Baour-Lormian, de Béranger, Ch. -Nodier, Viennet, Scribe, Théaulon, Soumet, Casimir Delavigne, Lucien -Arnault, Ancelot, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Désaugiers and Alfred de -Vigny. It will, of course, be understood that I do not rank them in the -order I have written down their names. Then follow men whose interests -were half literary half political, such as—MM. Cousin, Salvandy, -Villemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, -Mérimée and Guizot. Then, finally, those who were not yet famous, but -were gradually coming forward, such as Balzac, Soulié, de Musset, -Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier.</p> - -<p>The three women of the day were all poets—Mesdames Desbordes-Valmore, -Amable Tastu, Delphine Gay. Madame Sand was still unknown, and did not -reveal her powers until the production of <i>Indiana</i>, in 1828 or 1829, I -believe.</p> - -<p>I knew the whole of this <i>pléiade</i>, who entertained the world with -their wit and poetry for over half a century—some as friends and -supporters, others as enemies and adversaries. Neither the benefits -I have received from the former, nor the harm the latter sought to -do me, shall influence in the slightest degree the judgments I shall -pass on them. The first, in supporting me, have not caused me to climb -higher by one step; the second,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> in trying to hinder me, have not kept -me back one step. Through all the friendships, hatreds, jealousies of -a life that has been harassed in its minor details, but ever calm and -serene in its progress, I reached the position God had assigned me; -I attained it without the aid of intrigues or cliques, and advanced -only by my own endeavours. I have reached the summit which every man -mounts half-way through life, and I ask for nothing, I desire nothing, -I covet nothing. I have many friendships, I have not a single enmity. -If, at the starting-point of my life, God had said to me, "Young -man, what do you desire?" I should not have dared to demand from His -infinite greatness that which He has condescended to grant me out of -His fatherly goodness. So I will say all I have to say of the men I -have named, according as they have appeared to me on my path through -life: if I conceal anything, it will be the evil I know about them. -Why should I be unjust to them? Not one among them possessed a single -honour or good fortune in exchange for which I ever had any desire to -barter my reputation or my purse.</p> - -<p>Yesterday I read the following words, written by an unknown hand on the -foundation stone of a house which I had caused to be built for me, and -which, until I or someone else can inhabit it, as yet shelters only -sparrows and swallows:—</p> - -<p>"O Dumas! tu n'as pas su jouir, et pourtant tu regretteras! E. L."</p> - -<p>I wrote underneath:—</p> - -<p>"Niais!... si tu es un homme. Menteuse!... si tu es une femme. A. D."</p> - -<p>But I took good care to obliterate the sentence.</p> - -<p>Let us return to my contemporaries, and add to the list of famous names -that led me to these reflections.</p> - -<p>Among musical composers, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Auber, Donizetti, -Bellini, Liszt, Thalberg. Among dramatic artists, Talma, Lafont, Mars, -Duchesnois, Georges, Leverd, Frédérick (Lemaître), Dorval, Potier, -Monrose père, Déjazet, Smithson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> Lablache, Macready, Karatikin, Miss -Faucit, Schroeder-Devrient, la Malibran, la Hungher.</p> - -<p>I have had the honour to know several kings and princes,—they will -have their place,—but my kings in the realms of art come before all, -my princes in imagination have first place. To each sovereign his due -honour.</p> - -<p>When I came out of my office, or rather from the bookshop where I had -bought <i>Jean Sbogar</i>, I made haste to the place des Italiens. My waggon -load of furniture was waiting at the door; it took but an hour to -settle my household arrangements, and at the end of that time all was -finished.</p> - -<p>Of a poet's usual equipment I now had the attic; of the possessions of -the happy man, I now had a loft under the tiles. Better than all these -things, I was only twenty! I cleared the distance between the place des -Italiens and the rue Pigale in no time. I was longing to tell Adolphe -that I was installed at the Duc d'Orléans'; that I possessed a desk, -paper, pens, ink, sealing-wax, in the Palais-Royal; four chairs, a -table, a bed and a room papered yellow in the place des Italiens.</p> - -<p>Adolphe very sincerely shared my delight. M. de Leuven, chewing his -tooth-pick, gently ridiculed my enthusiasm. Madame de Leuven, the most -perfect of women, rejoiced in the joy my mother would feel.</p> - -<p>I was invited to fix a regular day on which I should dine at M. de -Leuven's. On that day my place should always be laid: it should be an -institution in perpetuity. In perpetuity! What a great word!—one so -often uttered in life, but one which really exists only in death!</p> - -<p>"You are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, monseigneur," said my -dear and good friend Nogent Saint-Laurent to Prince Louis-Bonaparte.</p> - -<p>"How long does perpetuity last in France, Monsieur Saint-Laurent?" -asked the prince.</p> - -<p>His perpetuity, as a matter of fact, lasted at Ham for five years—two -years less than the perpetuity of M. de Peyronnet and M. de Polignac.</p> - -<p>My perpetuity at M. de Leuven's table lasted exactly as long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> as that -of Prince Louis at Ham. I will tell how it came to cease, and I might -as well admit at once that the fault was not M. de Leuven's, nor Madame -de Leuven's, nor Adolphe's. It was arranged that I should dine there on -the following day to make the acquaintance of the Arnault family: this -was to be an extra dinner.</p> - -<p>It can be realised how preoccupied I was, throughout the twenty-two -hours that had to elapse before we sat down to the table, with the -thought of dining with the author of <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>, the man who -had written <i>Régulus.</i></p> - -<p>I announced the great news to Ernest and to Lassagne. Ernest seemed -quite unmoved by it, and Lassagne was only indifferently interested. I -badgered Lassagne to know why he was so cold in matters concerning such -celebrities.</p> - -<p>He answered simply, "I am not of the same political views as those -gentlemen, and I do not think much of their literary value either."</p> - -<p>I stood astounded.</p> - -<p>"But," I asked, "have you not read <i>Germanicus</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but it is very bad!"</p> - -<p>"Have you not read <i>Régulus</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but it is very poor!"</p> - -<p>I lowered my head, more astonished than ever.</p> - -<p>Then, finally, I struggled to rise from under the weight of the -anathema.</p> - -<p>"But why are these plays so successful?"</p> - -<p>"Talma acts in them ..."</p> - -<p>"The reputation of these men ..."</p> - -<p>"They bring that about themselves through their newspapers!... When -M. de Jouy, M. Arnault or M. Lemercier produces a play in which Talma -takes no part, you will see it will only run ten nights."</p> - -<p>Again I hung down my head.</p> - -<p>"Listen, my dear boy," Lassagne went on, with that wonderful sweetness -of his in eyes and voice, and above all with that almost fatherly -kindliness that I still noticed in him, when I met him by chance -twenty-five years later and had the happiness to greet him,—"listen: -you want to become a literary man?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh yes!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Not so loud!" he said, laughing; "you know I told you not to talk so -loud about that ... here, at any rate. Well, when you do write, do not -take the literature of the Empire as your model: that is my advice."</p> - -<p>"But what shall I take?"</p> - -<p>"Well, upon my word, I should be much puzzled to tell you. Our young -dramatic authors, Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot, -certainly possess talent; Lamartine and Hugo are poets—I therefore -leave them out of the question; they have not done theatrical work, and -I do not know if they are likely to, though if they ever do, I doubt -whether they would succeed...."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because the one is too much of a visionary, and the other too much of -a thinker. Neither the one nor the other lives in the actual world, and -the theatre, you see, my lad, is humanity. I say, then, that our young -dramatic authors—Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot—have -talent; but take particular notice of what I am telling you: they -belong purely and solely to a period of transition; they are links -which connect the chain of the past to the chain of the future, bridges -which lead from what has been to what shall be."</p> - -<p>"And what is that which shall be ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! there, my young friend, you ask me more than I can tell you. The -public has not made up its mind; it knows already what it does not want -any longer, but it does not yet know what it wants."</p> - -<p>"In poetry, in drama or in fiction?"</p> - -<p>"In drama and in fiction ... there, nothing is settled; in poetry we -need not look farther than to Lamartine and Hugo, who represent the -spirit of the age quite sufficiently."</p> - -<p>"But Casimir Delavigne ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! he is different. Casimir Delavigne is the poet of the people: we -must leave him his circle; he does not enter into competition."</p> - -<p>"Well, in comedy, tragedy, drama, whom ought one to follow?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> - -<p>"In the first place, you should never imitate anybody; you should -study: the man who follows a guide is obliged to walk behind. Will you -be content to walk behind?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then you must study. Do not attempt to produce either comedy, or -tragedy, or drama; take passions, events, characters, smelt them -all down in the furnace of your imagination, and raise statues of -Corinthian bronze."</p> - -<p>"What is Corinthian bronze?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know?"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing."</p> - -<p>"What a happy state to be in!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because then you can find things out for yourself: you need only -measure things by the standard of your own intelligence: you need no -other rule than that of your own capacity. Corinthian bronze?... have -you heard that once upon a time Mummius burnt Corinth?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I think I translated that once somewhere, in the <i>De Viris.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Then you will remember that the heat of the fire melted the gold, -silver and brass, which ran down the streets in streams. Now, the -mingling of these three, the most valuable of all metals, made one -single metal; and they gave to this metal the name of Corinthian -bronze. Well, then, the man who will be endowed with the genius to do -for comedy, tragedy and the drama that which Mummius, in his ignorance, -in his vandalism, in his barbarity, did for gold, silver and brass, who -will smelt by aid of the fire of inspiration, and who will melt into -one single mould Æschylus, Shakespeare and Molière, he, my dear friend, -will have discovered a bronze as precious as the bronze of Corinth."</p> - -<p>I pondered for a moment over what Lassagne had said to me. "What you -say sounds very beautiful, monsieur," I replied; "and, because it is -beautiful, it ought to be true."</p> - -<p>"Are you acquainted with Æschylus?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Do you know Shakespeare?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Have you read Molière?"</p> - -<p>"Hardly at all."</p> - -<p>"Well, read all that those three men have written. When you have read -them, re-read them; when you have re-read them, learn them by heart."</p> - -<p>"And next?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! next?... You will pass from them to those who preceded them—from -Æschylus to Sophocles, from Sophocles to Euripides, from Euripides -to Seneca, from Seneca to Racine, from Racine to Voltaire, and from -Voltaire to Chénier, in the realms of tragedy. Thus you will understand -the transformation that altered a race of eagles into a race of -parroquets."</p> - -<p>"And from Shakespeare to whom shall I turn?"</p> - -<p>"From Shakespeare to Schiller."</p> - -<p>"And from Schiller?"</p> - -<p>"To no one."</p> - -<p>"But Ducis?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't confound Schiller with Ducis. Schiller is inspired, Ducis -imitates; Schiller remains original, Ducis became a copyist, and a poor -copyist."</p> - -<p>"And what about Molière?"</p> - -<p>"As to Molière, if you want to study something that is worth taking -trouble over, you must ascend, not descend."</p> - -<p>"From Molière to whom?"</p> - -<p>"From Molière to Terence, from Terence to Plautus, from Plautus to -Aristophanes."</p> - -<p>"But it seems to me you are forgetting Corneille?"</p> - -<p>"I am not forgetting him: I have put him on one side." "Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because he is neither an ancient Greek nor an old Roman."</p> - -<p>"What is Corneille, then?"</p> - -<p>"He is a Cordouan, like Lucan; you will see, when you compare -them, that his verse has striking resemblance to the metre of the -<i>Pharsalia</i>."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> - -<p>"May I write down all you have told me?"</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>"To act as a guide to my studies."</p> - -<p>"You need not trouble, seeing you have me at hand."</p> - -<p>"But perhaps I shall not always have you."</p> - -<p>"If you have not me, you will have someone else."</p> - -<p>"But he might not perhaps know what you do?"</p> - -<p>Lassagne shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"My dear lad," he said, "I only know what all the world knows; I only -tell you what the first person you met might tell you."</p> - -<p>"Then I must be ignorant indeed!" I murmured, letting my head fall into -my hands.</p> - -<p>"The fact is, you have much to learn; but you are young, you will -learn."</p> - -<p>"Tell me what needs to be done in fiction?"</p> - -<p>"Everything, just as in the drama."</p> - -<p>"But I thought we had some excellent novels."</p> - -<p>"What have you read in the way of novels?"</p> - -<p>"Those of Lesage, Madame Cottin and Pigault-Lebrun."</p> - -<p>"What effect did they have on you?"</p> - -<p>"Lesage's novels amused me; Madame Cottin's made me cry; -Pigault-Lebrun's made me laugh."</p> - -<p>"Then you have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper?"</p> - -<p>"I have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper."</p> - -<p>"Well, read them."</p> - -<p>"And when I have read them, what shall I do?"</p> - -<p>"Make Corinthian bronze all the time; only, try to put in a slight -ingredient they all lack."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"Passion.... Goethe gives us poetry; Walter Scott character studies; -Cooper the mysterious grandeur of prairies, forests and oceans; but you -will look in vain for passion among them."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So, a man who could be a poet like Goethe, an observer like Walter -Scott, clever at description like Cooper, with the addition of a touch -of passion ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! such a man would be almost perfect."</p> - -<p>"Which are the first three works I ought to read of those three -masters?"</p> - -<p>"Goethe's <i>Wilhelm Meister</i>, Walter Scott's <i>Ivanhoe</i> and Cooper's -<i>Spy."</i></p> - -<p>"I read <i>Jean Sbogar</i> through last night."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that is another story altogether."</p> - -<p>"What kind is it?"</p> - -<p>"It belongs to the <i>genre</i> style of novel. But France is not waiting -for that."</p> - -<p>"What is she waiting for?"</p> - -<p>"She is waiting for the historical novel."</p> - -<p>"But the history of France is so dull!"</p> - -<p>Lassagne raised his head and looked at me.</p> - -<p>"What!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"The history of France is so dull!" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>I blushed.</p> - -<p>"People have told me it is."</p> - -<p>"Poor boy! People have told you!... Read for yourself and then you will -have an opinion."</p> - -<p>"What must I read?"</p> - -<p>"Why, there is a whole world of it: Joinville, Froissart, Monstrelet, -Châtelain, Juvénal des Ursins, Montluc, Saulx-Tavannes, l'Estoile, -Cardinal de Retz, Saint-Simon, Villars, Madame de la Fayette, Richelieu -... and so I could go on."</p> - -<p>"How many volumes do those make?"</p> - -<p>"Probably between two and three hundred."</p> - -<p>"And you have read them?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"And I must read them?"</p> - -<p>"If you wish to write novels, you must not only read them, you must get -them off by heart."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why, you frighten me! I should not be able to write a word for two or -three years!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! longer than that, or you will write ignorantly."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my God! what a lot of time I have lost!"</p> - -<p>"You must retrieve it."</p> - -<p>"You will aid me, will you not?"</p> - -<p>"What about the office?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! I will read and study at night; I will work at the office, and we -can have a chat from time to time...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, like to-day's; but we have talked too much."</p> - -<p>"One word more. You have told me what I ought to study in the drama?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In romance?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In history?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, in poetry, what ought I to study?"</p> - -<p>"First, what have you read?"</p> - -<p>"Voltaire, Parny, Bertin, Demoustier, Legouvé, Colardeau."</p> - -<p>"Good! forget the lot."</p> - -<p>"Really?"</p> - -<p>"Read Homer as representative of antiquity; Virgil among the Latin -poets; Dante in the Middle Ages. I am giving you giants' marrow to feed -on."</p> - -<p>"And among the moderns?"</p> - -<p>"Ronsard, Mathurin, Régnier, Milton, Goethe, Uhland, Byron, Lamartine, -Victor Hugo, and especially a little volume which has just been -published by Latouche."</p> - -<p>"What is the name of it?"</p> - -<p>"<i>André Chénier</i>."</p> - -<p>"I have read it...."</p> - -<p>"You have read Marie-Joseph.... Do not confuse Marie-Joseph with André."</p> - -<p>"But how am I to read foreign authors when I do not know either Greek -or English or German?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The deuce! Why, that is simple enough: you must learn those languages."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know; but remember this: one can always learn what one wants -to learn. And now I think it is time we gave our attention to business. -One more piece of advice."</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"If you mean to follow the instructions I give you...."</p> - -<p>"Indeed I do!"</p> - -<p>"You must not say a word to M. Arnault of this little scheme of study."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because you would not be a friend of his for long."</p> - -<p>"You think not?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain of it."</p> - -<p>"Thanks.... I will keep my mouth shut."</p> - -<p>"You will do well. Now, a second word of advice."</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>"You must not repeat a word of our conversation either to Oudard or to -M. de Broval."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because they would not leave us long in the same office."</p> - -<p>"The devil! I want to stay in it dreadfully."</p> - -<p>"Then it depends on yourself."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if it depends on me, we shall be together for many years."</p> - -<p>"So be it."</p> - -<p>At this point M. Oudard entered, and I set to my task with an avidity -that won me many compliments from him at the end of the day.</p> - -<p>I made a splendid discovery—which was that I could copy without -thinking of what I was copying, and consequently I was able to think of -other things whilst copying.</p> - -<p>By the second day I had advanced as far as others who had been at work -for four or five years.</p> - -<p>As will be seen, I was making rapid progress.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIc" id="CHAPTER_IIIc">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase—M. Dormeuil—<i>Kenilworth -Castle</i>—M. Warez and Soulié—Mademoiselle Lévesque—The Arnault -family—The <i>Feuille—Marius à Minturnes</i>—Danton's epigram—The -reversed passport—Three fables—<i>Germanicus</i>—Inscriptions and -epigrams—Ramponneau—The young man and the tilbury-<i>Extra ecclesiam -nulla est salus</i>—Madame Arnault</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>It was well I could copy without taking in what I was doing; for -Lassagne's conversation, as may be imagined, gave me much to think -about. Every day showed me my deplorable ignorance more and more, and, -like a traveller lost in a marshy, unstable bog, I did not know whereon -to place my feet in order to find that solid ground which would lead me -to the end I was trying to reach.</p> - -<p>How was it Adolphe had never spoken to me of all these matters? So far -reaching were the vistas that opened before me every moment, that I -was bewildered. Did Adolphe think all this of little use in connection -with the art and practice of literature? Or was it that the kind -of literature he wanted me to produce could dispense with all such -knowledge? I had often noticed his father shrug his shoulders at our -theatrical schemes; was it not perchance that his father, who knew so -many things, laughed in his sleeve at me for being so ignorant? And M. -Deviolaine, who instinctively (for, except as a valuer and in questions -of forestry, he hardly knew more than I did) called my attempts filth -and my efforts at poetry mere rubbish, could he by chance be right?</p> - -<p>Of course, one could read, work and study, but how was it possible to -keep all the things I had heard about since the previous evening in my -mind without revealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> them? I resolved to have an open talk about it -all with Adolphe.</p> - -<p>At half-past five I reached M. de Leuven's house, but Adolphe had not -yet returned: he was reading at the Gymnase a play he had written -in collaboration with Frédéric Soulié. He put in an appearance at -a quarter to six, looking more melancholy and more thoughtful than -Hippolytus on the road to Mycenæ.</p> - -<p>"Well, my poor friend," said I, "refused again?"</p> - -<p>"No," he replied; "but only accepted subject to correction."</p> - -<p>"Then all hope is not lost?"</p> - -<p>"True. Dormeuil made us go into his office, after the reading, and as -he thought there were tedious passages in the piece, he said to us,'My -dear fellows, my dear fellows, it must be cut down to the quick.' -At these words Soulié snatched the play out of his hands, crying, -'Monsieur Dormeuil, not a hand must be laid on it.' So, you will -understand, Dormeuil is furious."</p> - -<p>"Who is Dormeuil?"</p> - -<p>"One of the managers of the Gymnase."</p> - -<p>"And that means...."</p> - -<p>"And that means that Soulié has vowed the piece shall be played as it -is or not at all."</p> - -<p>"The deuce! Then Soulié doesn't mind if his things get played or not?"</p> - -<p>"You do not know that fellow's obstinacy; there is no way of turning -him. Did you hear what he said to Warez?"</p> - -<p>"Who is Warez?"</p> - -<p>"Warez is manager to Madame Oudinot, proprietor of the Ambigu."</p> - -<p>"Well, what did he say to Warez?"</p> - -<p>"We took him a melodrama to read, called <i>Kenilworth Castle;</i> Warez -read it. He was not very much struck with the work. When we went, -yesterday, for his answer, 'Gentlemen,' he said to us, 'will you -allow me to read your play to M. Picard?' 'Ah!' replies Soulié, 'in -order that he can steal the idea from us. 'What! Monsieur Soulié,' -exclaims Warez, 'steal your play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> from you—an Academician!' 'Well,' -says Soulié, 'three-fourths of the Academicians certainly steal their -places, why should they stick at stealing other people's work?' I need -not tell you, my dear friend, that that meant another closed door! I -had some sort of an idea of going to Mademoiselle Lévesque, who is all -powerful at the theatre, to offer her the part of Marie Stuart, which -is magnificent...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"You know what happened to Casimir Delavigne, at the reading of the -<i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, at the Théâtre-Français?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the piece was refused."</p> - -<p>"Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to -give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the -work was badly <i>written</i>.'"</p> - -<p>"And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?"</p> - -<p>"No; but she said that, at the <i>present</i> moment, she had so many new -parts, she could not possibly undertake <i>ours."</i></p> - -<p>"The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study -so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of -my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?"</p> - -<p>"Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn -all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go -in to dinner."</p> - -<p>We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,—I was already -acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis.</p> - -<p>I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet -Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked -to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, -as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. -Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses -of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, -and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since -the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the -underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> up his gun -and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by.</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!"</p> - -<p>"Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then -asked her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur, you will see...."</p> - -<p>And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which -she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo.</p> - -<p>"You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he -sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and -note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault's family consisted of Lucien and Telleville, his two sons by -a first marriage; of Louis and Gabrielle, his two children by a second -marriage. M. Arnault's second wife was a young lady from Bonneuil. Let -me say a few words about this excellent family. We will begin, like the -Gospels, with the meek and mild members.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle was a pretty child of fourteen or fifteen, with a dazzlingly -white complexion; she was of no more account in the household as yet -than a bud in a bouquet. Louis was about my own age, namely, twenty -or twenty-one. He was a good-looking lad, fair, fresh-coloured, -rosy-cheeked, a trifle spruce, ever laughing, on the most friendly -terms with his sister, full of respect for his mother and admiration -for his father. Telleville was a handsome captain; very brave, very -loyal, very daring, a Bonapartist like the rest of the family, thrown -into the midst of the artistic world, without ever having written a -verse of poetry, but possessing a delightful wit, and being full of -spirit and originality. Lucien, the author of <i>Régulus</i>, and, later, of -<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> and of <i>Tibère,</i> had too cold and calculating a -mind to be really poetical; yet there was a certain boldness of style -in his lines and a certain melancholy about his ideas, that appealed -both to the imagination and to the heart. There is one of the truest -and most charming lines I know, in <i>Pierre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> de Portugal</i>, a line such -as Racine wrote in his best days, universally known because it belongs -to that school:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Les chagrins du départ sont pour celui qui reste."<br /> -</p> - -<p>The year before my arrival in Paris, <i>Régulus</i> had achieved enormous -popularity. I will quote a few lines of it, to give some idea of the -author, who appears to have given up literary work.</p> - -<p>Regulus is about to leave Rome, to which he was devotedly attached, and -he says to Licinius:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je meurs pour la sauver, c'est mourir digne d'elle!<br /> -Mais, toi, Licinius, parjure à l'amitié,<br /> -Disciple de ma gloire, as-tu donc oublié<br /> -Ces jours où j'opposais, dans les champs du carnage,<br /> -Ma vieille expérience à ton jeune courage?<br /> -Aimant un vrai soldat dans un vrai citoyen,<br /> -Ne le souvient-il plus que, par un doux lien,<br /> -Ma tendresse voulait vous unir l'un à l'autre?<br /> -Le hasard a trahi mon espoir et le vôtre;<br /> -Mais, des bords du tombeau, je puis enfin bénir<br /> -Les nœuds qui pour jamais doivent vous réunir.<br /> -Si tu l'aimes, viens, jure au dieu de la victoire<br /> -De servir, aujourd'hui, la patrie et la gloire;<br /> -D'éclairer les Romains par toi seul égarés;<br /> -De rétablir la paix dans ces remparts sacrés;<br /> -Jure! dis-je. A l'instant, je te donne ma fille,<br /> -Je te lègue mon nom, mon honneur, ma famille;<br /> -Et les dieux ne m'auront opprimé qu'à demi,<br /> -Si, dans un vrai Romain, je retrouve un ami!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Lucien was about thirty or thirty-two at this period. Until the -downfall of Napoleon his career had been administrative: he had been -made auditor to the State Council and a prefect at twenty-five. In -spite of much physical suffering which saddened his life, he was indeed -one of the best-hearted and most benevolent persons I ever knew. For -five years I saw Lucien two or three times a week; I do not think -that, during the long period of intimacy, I ever heard him jibe at -his <i>confrères</i>, or complain or whine; he was one of those gentle, -melancholy and tranquil spirits one sees in dreams. I do not know what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> -became of him; after 1829 I lost sight of him completely. Twenty-two -years of absence and of separation will certainly have driven me from -his remembrance; those twenty-two years have engraved him the more -deeply on mine.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault was quite different. I never knew a more subtle, mordant, -satirical nature than this brilliant person owned. In military parlance -he would have been described as a damned good shot. Neither Bertrand -nor Lozes ever returned a straight thrust more rapidly and more surely -than did M. Arnault, on every occasion, by a word or an epigram or -a flash of wit. He was but an indifferent dramatic author, but he -excelled in fables and satire. Once, in a fit of despondency, he let -fall what was probably the only tear he shed, like that of Aramis upon -the death of Porthos: he dipped his pen in the salt drops, and wrote -the following lines—a gem that André Chénier, or Millevoye, Lamartine -or Victor Hugo might have wished to write:—</p> - - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LA FEUILLE</span><br /> -<br /> -"De ta tige détachée,<br /> -Pauvre feuille desséchée,<br /> -Où vas-tu?—Je n'en sais rien.<br /> -L'orage a brisé le chêne<br /> -Qui seul était mon soutien;<br /> -De son inconstante haleine<br /> -Le zéphir ou l'aquilon,<br /> -Depuis ce jour me promène<br /> -De la forêt à la plaine,<br /> -De la montagne au vallon.<br /> -Je vais où le vent me mène<br /> -Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer;<br /> -Je vais où va toute chose,<br /> -Où vont la feuille de rose<br /> -Et la feuille de laurier!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I do not know what the famous poets of my day would have given to -have written those fifteen lines; I know I would have given any of -my plays the fates might have chosen. M. Arnault's great ambition -was, unluckily, to write for the stage. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> begun by <i>Marius à -Minturnes</i>, at the time when he was with Monsieur. The tragedy was -produced in 1790, and in spite of the prediction of the Comte de -Provence, who had asserted that a tragedy without a woman must be -a failure, it was a great success. Saint-Phal played young Marius, -Vanhove Marius, and Saint-Prix le Cimbre. That was the happy period -when men of the talent of Saint-Prix accepted parts in which they came -on only in one scene, and in that single scene uttered a few lines, -<i>e.g.</i>:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Quelle voix, quel regard, et quel aspect terrible!<br /> -Quel bras oppose au mien un obstacle invincible?...<br /> -L'effroi s'est emparè de mes sens éperdus ...<br /> -Je ne pourrais jamais égorger Marius!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>The play was dedicated to Monsieur. I have heard M. Arnault relate, in -his extremely fascinating way, that success made him very vain, very -peremptory and very scornful. One day, in 1792, he was in the balcony -of the Théâtre-Français, talking loudly, in his customary fashion, -making a great noise with his cane and hindering people from hearing; -this went on from the raising of the curtain till the end of the first -act, when a gentleman, who was behind M. Arnault and only separated -from him by one row, bent forward, and touching his shoulder with the -tips of his gloved hand, said, "Monsieur Arnault, pray allow us to -listen, even though they are playing <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>."</p> - -<p>This polite and, I might even add, witty gentleman was Danton. A -month later, this same polite and witty gentleman had instituted the -September massacres. M. Arnault was so alarmed by these massacres -that he fled on foot. On reaching the barricade, he found it guarded -by a sans-culotte in name and in reality; this sans-culotte was -engaged in preventing a poor woman from passing, under the pretext -that her passport for Bercy had not been <i>vised</i> at the section des -Enfants-Trouvés. Now, while he noted the persistence of this honourable -sentinel, an idea occurred to M. Arnault—that this terrible Cerberus -could not read. Joking is a bad disease, of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> one is rarely cured. -M. Arnault, who suffered much from this malady, boldly walked up to the -sans-culotte and presented his passport upside down to the man, saying—</p> - -<p>"<i>Viséd</i> at the Enfants-Trouvés: there is the stamp."</p> - -<p>M. Arnault guessed rightly.</p> - -<p>"Pass," said the sans-culotte.</p> - -<p>And M. Arnault passed.</p> - -<p>In the interval that had elapsed between <i>Marius</i> and the 3rd of -September, the date at which we have arrived, M. Arnault had produced -his tragedy of <i>Lucrèce.</i> The play falling flat, the author laid its -want of success at Mademoiselle Raucourt's door.... It is known that -this famous actress's aversion to men was not entirely imputed to -virtuous causes. However that may be, later, we shall have to speak -of Mademoiselle Raucourt in connection with her pupil, Mademoiselle -Georges.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very -amusing manner, in his memoirs entitled <i>Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire</i>, -the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an -Ossianic tragedy, called <i>Oscar</i>, which was very successful, and which -he dedicated to Bonaparte; then <i>les Vénitiens,</i> the catastrophe of -which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people -would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good -people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of -Ducis's <i>Othello</i>, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, -according to the choice of the spectators. <i>Les Vénitiens</i> was a -tremendous success.</p> - -<p>While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, -under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into -his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it -was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, the <i>Roi d'Yvetot.</i> -Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and -retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted -with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave -a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed -nearly all his fables, a charming collection but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> little known, as -very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going -to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these -three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, -I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case -of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about -to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams.</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COLIMAÇON</span><br /> -<br /> -"Sans amis comme sans famille,<br /> -Ici-bas, vivre en étranger;<br /> -Se retirer dans sa coquille,<br /> -Au signal du moindre danger;<br /> -S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes,<br /> -De soi seul emplir sa maison;<br /> -En sortir, selon la saison,<br /> -Pour faire à son prochain les cornes<br /> -Signaler ses pas destructeurs<br /> -Par les traces les plus impures;<br /> -Outrager les plus belles fleurs<br /> -Par ses baisers ou ses morsures;<br /> -Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison,<br /> -Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste;<br /> -C'est l'histoire de l'égoiste<br /> -Ou celle du colimaçon."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE DROIT DE CHACUN</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Un jour, le roi des animaux</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Défendit, par une ordonnance,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A ses sujets, à ses vassaux,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De courir sans une licence</span><br /> -Sur quelque bête que ce soit;<br /> -Promettant, il est vrai, de conserver le droit<br /> -A quiconque en usait pour motif honnête.<br /> -Tigres, loups et renards, de présenter requête<br /> -A Sa Majesté: loups, pour courir le mouton,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Renards, pour courir le chapon,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tigres, pour courir toute bête.</span><br /> -Parmi les députés, qui criaient à tue-tête,<br /> -Un chien s'égosillait à force d'aboyer.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>'Plaise à Sa Majesté, disait-il, m'octroyer<br /> -Droit de donner la chasse, en toute circonstance,<br /> -A tous les animaux vivant de ma substance.<br /> -—Gentilshommes, à vous permis de giboyer,<br /> -Dit, s'adressant au tigre, au loup, au renard même<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Des forêts le maître suprême</span><br /> -Aux chasseurs tels que vous permis de déployer,<br /> -Même chez leurs voisins, leurs efforts, leurs astuces;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mais néant au placet du chien!'</span><br /> -Que réclamait, pourtant, ce roturier-ta?—Rien,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Que le droit de tuer ses puces."</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LES DEUX BAMBOUS</span><br /> -<br /> -"L'an passé—c'était l'an quarante,—<br /> -L'an passé, le Grand Turc disait au grand vizir:<br /> -'Quand, pour régner sous moi, je daignai te choisir,<br /> -Roustan, je te croyais d'humeur bien différente.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roustan met son plus grand plaisir.</span><br /> -A me contrarier; quelque ordre que je donne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Au lieu d'obéir, il raisonne;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Toujours des <i>si,</i> toujours des <i>mais</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Il défend ce que je permets:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ce que je défends, il l'ordonne.</span><br /> -A rien ne tient qu'ici je ne te fasse voir<br /> -A quel point je suis las de ces façons de faire!<br /> -Va-t'en! Qu'on fasse entrer mon grand eunuque noir<br /> -C'est celui-là qui connaît son affaire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">C'est lui qui, toujours complaisant,</span><br /> -Sans jamais m'étourdir de droit ni de justice,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">N'ayant de loi que mon caprice,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sait me servir en m'amusant.</span><br /> -Jamais ce ton grondeur, jamais cet air sinistre!<br /> -Ainsi que tout désir, m'épargnant tout travail,<br /> -Il conduirait l'empire aussi bien qu'un sérail.<br /> -J'en veux faire un premier ministre.<br /> -—En fait de politique et de gouvernement,<br /> -Sultan, dit le vizir, chacun a son système:<br /> -Te plaire est le meilleur; le mien, conséquemment,<br /> -Est mauvais.... Toutefois, ne pourrais-je humblement,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Te soumettre un petit problème?</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Parle.—Ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Que péniblement je me traîne,</span><br /> -Vieux et cassé, sultan, dans ma marche incertaine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma faiblesse a besoin d'appui.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, j'ai deux roseaux de la Chine:</span><br /> -Plus ferme qu'un bâton, l'un ne sait pas plier,<br /> -L'autre, élégant, léger, droit comme un peuplier,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Est plus souple qu'une badine.</span><br /> -Lequel choisir?—Lequel?... Roustan, je ne crois pas<br /> -Qu'un flexible bambou puisse assurer nos pas.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Tu le crois! lorsque tu m'arraches</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ton sceptre affermi par mes mains,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pour le livrer à des faquins</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sans caractere et sans moustaches.'</span><br /> -<br /> -Rois, vos ministres sont, pour vous,<br /> -Ce qu'est, pour nous, le jonc dont l'appui nous assiste,<br /> -Je le dis des vizirs ainsi que des bambous,<br /> -On ne peut s'appuyer que sur ce qui résiste."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">If you read, one after the other, M. Arnault's one hundred and fifty -fables, you will find throughout, the same ease, the same touch, the -same carping spirit. When you have read them, you will certainly not -say of the author, "He is a delightful person," but you will assuredly -say, "He is an honest man."</p> - -<p>In 1815 M. Arnault was exiled. Why? For so slight a reason that no one -bothered even to think of it; his name was on the list, and that was -all! But who signed that list? Louis XVIII., formerly Monsieur—that is -to say, the very same Comte de Provence under whose protection the poet -had begun his career, and to whom he had dedicated his <i>Marius.</i></p> - -<p>Now, although there was no reason for M. Arnault's exile, party spirit -invented one and said that he was proscribed as a regicide. There were, -however, two sufficient reasons why this could not be: first, because -M. Arnault did not belong to the Convention; secondly, because in 1792 -and 1793 he was abroad. Nevertheless, the rumour was tacitly accepted, -and soon nobody doubted that M. Arnault was exiled on that ground.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault sent <i>Germanicus</i> from Brussels: it was played on the -22nd of March 1817, and forbidden the following day. During the -representation the tragedy shifted from the stage to the pit, where a -terrible fight took place, in which several people were hurt and one -even killed. The battle was waged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> between the Life Guards and the -partisans of the late Government. The weapon that was generally made -use of in this skirmish was that kind of bamboo upon which Roustan, -the Grand Turk's first vizir, whose grievances we have just heard, was -wont to lean. One can understand that the thicker and less pliable they -were, the better they served for defence and for attack. From the date -of that fray these canes were dubbed "<i>Germanicus"</i> Angry feelings -waxed strong at this period. The day but one after the representation, -Martainville published a scurrilous article attacking M. Arnault's -private honour. This article, which was the result of a blow given the -critic by Telleville, led to a duel in which, as we said above, the -journalist had his thigh bruised by a bullet.</p> - -<p><i>Germanicus</i> was revived later. We were present at the revival; -but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a -success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added -a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature—a bitterness which cropped out -on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by -the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand -francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house -in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder -sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault -found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than -before he had inherited that sum.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every -occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the -Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait -had been exhibited in the last Salon.</p> - -<p>Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's -wit, but also his very nature:—</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix;</span><br /> -Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN</span><br /> -<br /> -"Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde,<br /> -Je suis votre humble serviteur;<br /> -Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœur<br /> -Ne s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON</span><a name="FNanchor_1_10" id="FNanchor_1_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_10" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /> -<br /> -"Il est altéré de vin;<br /> -Il est altéré de gloire;<br /> -Il ne prend jamais en vain<br /> -Sa pinte ou son écritoire.<br /> -Des flots qu'il en fait couler,<br /> -Abreuvant plus d'un délire.<br /> -Il écrit pour se soûler,<br /> -Il se soûle pour écrire."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN</span><br /> -<br /> -"Je n'attaque jamais en traître,<br /> -Je caresse sans intérêt,<br /> -Je mords parfois, mais à regret:<br /> -Bon chien se forme sur son maître."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME</span><br /> -<br /> -"Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain,<br /> -En triompher est peu possible:<br /> -L'épée en main il est terrible,<br /> -Terrible il est la plume en main;<br /> -Et pour se battre et pour écrire,<br /> -Nul ne saurait lui ressembler;<br /> -Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire,<br /> -Il écrit à faire trembler."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">No matter what were his troubles, M. Arnault had always worshipped -dogs. Out of fifty of his fables, more than twenty have these -interesting quadrupeds for their heroes. When I was honoured by an -introduction into the private life of his family, the gate was guarded -by a horrible beast, half pug, half poodle, called Ramponneau. M. -Arnault never stirred without this dog:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> he had him in his study while -he worked, in his garden when he took his walks there. Only the king's -highway was denied him by M. Arnault, for fear of poisoned meat. M. -Arnault himself superintended his dog's education, and on one point -he was inexorable. Ramponneau would persist in committing ill manners -in his study. Directly the sight and the odour revealed the crime -committed, Ramponneau was seized by his flanks and the skin of his -neck, conducted to the spot where the indiscretion had been committed -and soundly thrashed. After this, Ramponneau's nose was rubbed in the -subject-matter of his crime, according to an old custom, the origin -of which is lost in the deeps of time—an operation to which he -submitted with visible repugnance. These daily faults and the ensuing -chastenings went on for nearly two months, and M. Arnault began to -fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this point, although he -learnt a crowd of pleasing tricks, such as feigning death, standing to -attention, smoking a pipe, leaping to honour the Emperor. I ask pardon -for the word "uneducatible." I could not find the word I wanted, so I -made one up. M. Arnault, I repeat, began to fear that Ramponneau was -uneducatible on this one point, when, one day, Ramponneau, who had -just committed his usual crime, seeing his master was far too much -absorbed in his tragedy of <i>Guillaume de Nassau</i> to perceive what -had just happened, went and pulled at the hem of his dressing-gown. -M. Arnault turned round: Ramponneau jumped up two or three times to -attract his attention; then, when he was quite sure he had arrested it, -he went straight to the spot which we have termed the subject-matter of -his crime, and rubbed his nose in, purely of his own accord, without -any compulsion, certainly with evident repugnance, but with touching -resignation. The poor beast was deceived. He had thought that the -whippings and punishment which followed the crime had had no other end -than to teach him to rub his nose in the object in question of his own -accord. Ramponneau's education was completely at fault, and he kept -this defect all his life, the muzzle he was provided with making very -little difference to his habit.</p> - -<p>I have already referred to M. Arnault's remarkable gift of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> swift and -witty repartee. I will give two instances of it now, and others in -their due place and season later, as we come across them.</p> - -<p>One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A -young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of -his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. -Arnault, who was not a patient man.</p> - -<p>"You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?"</p> - -<p>"What did you say,—blackguard?" exclaimed the young man.</p> - -<p>"Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my -address!"</p> - -<p>"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to."</p> - -<p>Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without -saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; -besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that -time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round.</p> - -<p>"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not -salute me."<a name="FNanchor_2_11" id="FNanchor_2_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_11" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the -Gospel: <i>Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."</i><a name="FNanchor_3_12" id="FNanchor_3_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_12" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame -Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she -was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, -full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for -five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the -reader shall judge when the time comes.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_10" id="Footnote_1_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_10"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The Abbé Geoffrey.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_11" id="Footnote_2_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_11"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Et qui ne me salue pas.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_12" id="Footnote_3_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_12"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Hors de l'Église, pas de salut!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVc" id="CHAPTER_IVc">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses of the various -plays, sung as prologues and epilogues—Transformation of the -vaudeville—The Gymnase and M. Scribe—The <i>Folle de Waterloo</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric -Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the -Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration -as a refusal.</p> - -<p>I shall often return to, and speak much of Soulié: he was one of the -most powerful literary influences of the day, and his personality was -one of the most marked I have known. He died young. He died, not only -in the full tide of his talent, but even before he had produced the -perfect and finished work he would certainly have created, some day -or other, had not death hastened its footsteps. Soulié's brain was a -little confused and obscure; his thoughts were only lighted up on one -side, after the fashion of this planet; the reverse side to the one -illuminated by the sun was pitifully dark. Soulié did not know how to -begin either a novel or a drama. The opening explanation of his work -was done hap-hazard: sometimes in the first act, sometimes in the -last, if it were a play; if it were a novel, sometimes in the first, -sometimes in the last volume. His introduction, timidly begun, nearly -always was laboriously unravelled. It seemed as though, like those -night birds which need the darkness to develop all their faculties, -Soulié was not at ease save in twilight.</p> - -<p>I was for ever quarrelling with him on this point. As he was gifted -with unrivalled imagination and power, when he was on the warpath, -I used to beseech him continually to let in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> the utmost possible -daylight at the beginning of his action. "Be clear to the verge of -transparency," I continually said to him. "God's greatness consists in -His making of light; without light, we should not have known how to -appreciate the sublime grandeur of creation."</p> - -<p>Soulié was twenty-six when I first knew him. He was a lusty young -man, of medium height, but capitally proportioned; he had a prominent -forehead; dark hair, eyebrows and beard; a well-shaped nose and full -eyes; thick lips and white teeth. He laughed readily, although it was -never a fresh young laugh. It sounded ironical and strident, which gave -it the quality of age. Being naturally of a bantering disposition, -irony was a weapon he could wield admirably.</p> - -<p>He had tried his hand at most things, and he retained some slight -knowledge of everything he had done. After having received an excellent -education in the provinces, I believe he studied law at Rheims, to -which we owe the admirable description of student's life in his book -entitled <i>Confession générale.</i> He passed his legal examinations and -was called to the Bar; but he did not take kindly to the profession. -Rather than follow that very liberal avocation, he preferred a -mercantile calling. This aversion led to his developing the notion of a -big steam sawmill in 1824 or 1825.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, Soulié (who then signed himself Soulié de Lavelanet) -lived upon a small allowance his father made him a hundred louis, as -far as I am able to remember. He lived in the rue de Provence, on the -first floor, in a bewitching room that seemed a palace to us. There -was, above all else, a most unwonted luxury in this room, a piano on -which Soulié could play two or three tunes. He was both very radical -and very aristocratic, two qualities which often went together at that -period: see, for example, Carrel, whom we have already seen in the -Béfort affair, and who will reappear on the scene presently, after the -amnesty to be accorded by Charles X. on his accession to the throne.</p> - -<p>Soulié was brave, without being quarrelsome; but he had the -sensitiveness both of the student and of the Southerner. He was -passably skilful as a swordsman and a first-rate shot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> - -<p>Soulié at first thought me a worthless lad, of no importance; and it -was quite natural he should. He was astonished and almost overwhelmed -by my early successes. By that time I knew Soulié as he was; jealous -almost to envy, but, by reason of the strong kindliness of his good and -upright heart, able to keep all the evil tendencies of his character -under control. A constant struggle was waged within him between good -and bad principles, and yet not once perhaps did the evil principle get -the better of him. He very often tried to hate me, but never managed to -succeed: very often, when he set out to run me down in conversation, -he would end by praising me. And, as a matter of fact, I was the man -who hampered his career more than any other: in the theatre, in the -newspapers, in the matter of books, I was everywhere in his path, doing -him involuntary but actual damage everywhere; and, in spite of this, -I was so certain of Soulié, and so sure of his supreme justice and -goodness of heart, that, if I had needed any act of service, I should -have gone to Soulié to ask it of him, rather than of any other—and he -would have rendered me this service, more readily than any other person -would.</p> - -<p>At first Soulié turned his attention towards poetry. It was in the -domain of poetry, I believe, that he looked to make his conquests. His -first stage-play was an imitation of Shakespeare's <i>Romeo and Juliet.</i> -I never experienced greater emotion than that which I felt at the first -representation of this play.</p> - -<p>We were often months or a year without seeing each other; but when -fate turned us face to face, no matter how far off we might be, we -each walked straight to the other's heart and open arms. Perhaps, -before catching sight of me, Soulié had not particularly cared to meet -me; perhaps, had someone told him, "Dumas is over there," he would -have made a detour; but, directly he caught sight of me, the electric -current dominated his will and he was mine, body and soul, as though -never a single jealous thought had crossed his mind. It was different -with regard to Hugo or Lamartine: he did not like them, and he rarely -spoke impartially of their talent. I feel convinced that it was Hugo's -<i>Odes et Ballades</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> Lamartine's <i>Méditations</i> which led Frédéric -Soulié to write in prose. Rest in peace, friend of my youth, companion -of my first serious efforts, I will depict thee as thou wert; I will -design a statue of thee, not a bust; I will isolate thee; I will place -thee on the pedestal of thy works, so that all those who never knew -thee may take the measure of thy impressive figure; for thou art one -of those who can be studied from all aspects, and who, living or dead, -have no need to be afraid of being placed in a full light.</p> - -<p>At the time of which I am writing, Soulié was linked in literary -friendship with Jules Lefèvre and Latouche,—Latouche, with whom he -quarrelled so fiercely later over <i>Christine.</i> In private life, his -chief friend was a tall, stout fellow called David, who was at that -time, and may still be, a stockbroker. I do not know whether Soulié was -his only friend; but I believe that on the Exchange he made not a few -enemies.</p> - -<p>When we went to see Soulié, he was entertaining a dozen of his friends -to tea, cake and sandwiches. Such luxuries quite dazzled me. Soulié was -conscious of his own powers, and this rendered him extremely scornful -towards second-rate literature. In his efforts to poach upon other -writers' preserves, until the time came when he could do better than -they, he treated certain contemporary celebrities, whose positions I -envied greatly, with lofty off-handedness. He proposed, he said, to -publish an Almanac for the coming year, 1824, entitled the <i>Parfait -Vaudevilliste</i>, which should consist of ready-made verses from old -soldiers and young colonels. Among these verses from old soldiers were -some of the first order, and the following may be taken as a model: it -is one which Gontier sang in <i>Michel et Christine</i>, and for which he -was enthusiastically applauded nightly:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Sans murmurer,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Votre douleur amère,</span><br /> -Frapp'rait mes yeux, plutôt tout endurer!<br /> -Moi, j'y suis fait, c'est mon sort ordinaire;<br /> -Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sans murmurer!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> - -<p>There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of -representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current -events, and these found a fitting place in the <i>Parfait Vaudevilliste.</i> -Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. -Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his -collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the -choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what -period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard -waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and -legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the -names of their begetters.</p> - -<p>These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He -placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty -ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used -a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from the <i>Barbier -châtelain</i>, by Théaulon: to every man his due.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Ça soulage,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">En voyage.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -Retirons-nous sans bruit."<br /> -</p> - -<p>This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to -hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, -of Brazier and Courcy, in the <i>Parisien à Londres,</i> was also not devoid -of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it -was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair -number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised -during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a -lively curiosity among the audience.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p> - -<p>So the audience sang:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Nous allons voir juger<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Cet étranger,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Qui fut bien léger!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A l'audience,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">On défend l'innocence,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Et l'on sait la venger."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, -left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Nous <i>avons vu</i> juger<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Cet étranger,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Qui fut bien léger!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A l'audience,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">On défend l'innocence,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Et l'on sait la venger."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres -than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus -of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the -table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers.</p> - -<p>They sang this:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Quel repas</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plein d'appas,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Où, gai convive,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">L'Amour arrive!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quel repas</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plein d'appas!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On n'en fait pas</span><br /> -De pareils ici-bas!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>In spite of the holy laws of propriety, more respected, one knows, -among dramatic authors than in any other class of society, Adolphe -one day allowed himself the liberty of using this couplet and had the -audacity to put it in one of his plays, without troubling to change -it one single iota. There is quite a long story about this: Adolphe, -threatened with a lawsuit by Dumanoir, was only able to settle matters -by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> offering a chorus for dancers in exchange for the drinking chorus.</p> - -<p>This is de Leuven's chorus: it will be seen that if Dumanoir did not -gain much through this, he did not lose much by it:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"A la danse,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A la danse,</span><br /> -Allons, amis, que l'on séance!<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Entendez-vous du bal</span><br /> -Les gais accords, le doux signal?..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dumanoir faithfully adhered to the agreement, but only used the chorus -once; then he returned it to Adolphe, who, on regaining possession, -continued to use his chorus, to the great satisfaction of the audience.</p> - -<p>All these choruses, however, pale before that of <i>Jean de Calais</i>. This -was by Émile Vanderburch, one of the authors of the <i>Gamin de Paris</i>, -and it concluded the play. It runs thus:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Chantons les hauts faits<br /> -De Jean de Calais!<br /> -On dira, dans l'histoire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Qu'il a mérité</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sa gloire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et sa félicité!..."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Indeed, a great revolution was taking place at this time in comic -opera; and this revolution was brought about by a man who has since -proscribed others as revolutionists. We refer to Scribe, who, in the -literary revolution of 1820 to 1828, played pretty nearly the rôle the -Girondists played in the political revolution of 1792 and 1793.</p> - -<p>Before Scribe, comic operas (with the exception of the delightful -sketches of Désaugiers) were hardly more than bare skeletons, left for -the actors to clothe as they liked. Nowadays the great thing is to -create rôles for M. Arnal, M. Bouffé, or Mademoiselle Rose Chéri, but -at that time no one thought of creating a rôle for M. Potier, M. Brunet -or M. Perrin. M. Perrin, M. Brunet or M. Potier found their rôles -outlined for them at the first rehearsal, and made them what they were -at the first representation.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> - -<p>Scribe was the first author to make plays instead of outline sketches. -Plots developed in his clever hands, and so, in three or four years, -the Théâtre du Gymnase attained its full growth. It was not modelled on -any other company, but created what might well be called M. Scribe's -company: it was composed almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, -old soldiers and faithful servants. Never had such widows been seen, -never such colonels; never had old soldiers spoken thus; never had -such devoted servants been met with. But the company of the Gymnase, -as M. Scribe created it, became the fashion, and the direct patronage -of Madame la Duchesse de Berry contributed not a little towards the -fortune made by the manager, and to the author's reputation. The form -of verse itself was changed. The old airs of our fathers, who had been -satisfied with the gay repetition of <i>lon, lon, la, larira dondaine,</i> -and the <i>gai, gai, larira dondé,</i> were abandoned for the more -artificially mannered comic opera, pointed epigrams and long-drawn-out, -elegantly turned verses. When the situation became touching, eight or -ten lines would express the feelings of the character, borrowing charm -from the music, and sighing declarations of love, for which prose had -ceased to suffice. In short, a charming little bastard sprang into -being, of which, to use a village expression, M. Scribe was both father -and godfather, and which was neither the old vaudeville, nor comic -opera, nor comedy.</p> - -<p>The models of the new style were the <i>Somnambule, Michel et Christine</i>, -the <i>Héritière</i>, the <i>Mariage de raison, Philippe</i> and <i>Marraine.</i> -Later, some vaudevilles went a degree farther; for example, the -<i>Chevalier de Saint-Georges, un Duel sous Richelieu,</i> the <i>Vie de -bohème.</i> These bordered on comedy, and could at a pinch be played -without lines. Other changes will be pointed out, so far as they -affected the arts. Let us briefly state here that we had entered into -the age of transition. In 1818, Scribe began by the vaudeville; from -1818 to 1820 Hugo and Lamartine appeared in the literary world, the -former with his <i>Odes et Ballades</i>, the latter with his <i>Méditations,</i> -the first attempts of the new poetry; from 1820 to 1824 Nodier -published novels of a kind which introduced a fresh type—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>namely, the -picturesque; from 1824 to 1828 it was the turn of painting to attempt -fresh styles; finally, from 1828 to 1835, the revolution spread to the -dramatic world, and followed almost immediately on the footsteps of the -historical and imaginative novel. Thus the nineteenth century, freed -from parental restraint, assumed its true colour and originality. Of -course it will be understood that, as I was so closely associated with -all the great artists and all the great sculptors of the time, each -of them will come into these Memoirs in turn; they will constitute a -gigantic gallery wherein every illustrious name shall have its living -monument.</p> - -<p>Let us return to Soulié. We had reached the date when his first -piece of poetry had the honour of print: it was called the <i>Folk de -Waterloo</i>, and had been written at the request of Vatout, for the work -he produced on the Gallery of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that -Soulié read it to us. Here it is: we give it in order to indicate the -point of departure of all our great poets. When we take note of the end -to which they have attained, we can measure the distance traversed. -Probably some contemporary grumblers will tell us it matters very -little where they started or where they ended: to such we would reply -that we are not merely writing for the year 1851 or the year 1852, but -for the sacred future which seizes chisel, brush, and pen as they drop -from the hands of the illustrious dead.</p> - - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LA FOLLE DE WATERLOO</span><br /> -<br /> -"Un jour, livrant mon âme à la mélancolie,<br /> -J'avais porté mes pas errants<br /> -Dans ces prisons où la folie<br /> -Est offerte en spectacle aux yeux indifférents.<br /> -C'était à l'heure qui dégage<br /> -Quelques infortunés des fers et des verrous;<br /> -Et mon cœur s'étonnait d'écouter leur langage,<br /> -Où se mêlaient les pleurs, le rire et le courroux.<br /> -<br /> -Tandis que leur gardien les menace ou les raille,<br /> -Une femme paraît pâle et le front penché;<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>Sa main tient l'ornement qui, les jours de bataille.<br /> -Brille au cou des guerriers sur l'épaule attaché,<br /> -Et de ses blonds cheveux s'échappe un brin de paille<br /> -A sa couche arrache<br /> -<br /> -En voyant sa jeunesse et le morne délire,<br /> -Qui doit, par la prison, la conduire au tombeau,<br /> -Je me sends pleurer.... Elle se prit à rire,<br /> -Et cria lentement:'Waterloo! Waterloo!'<br /> -<br /> -'Quel malheur t'a donc fait ce malheur de la France?'<br /> -Lui dis-je.... Et son regard craintif<br /> -Ou, sans voir la raison, je revis l'espérance,<br /> -S'unit pour m'appeler à son geste furtif.<br /> -<br /> -'Français, parle plus has, dit-elle. Oh! tu m'alarmes!<br /> -Peut-être ces Anglais vont étouffer ta voix;<br /> -Car c'est à Waterloo que, la première fois,<br /> -Adolphe m'écouta sans répondre à mes larmes.<br /> -<br /> -'Lorsque, dans ton pays, la guerre s'allumait,<br /> -Il me quitta pour elle, en disant qu'il m'aimait;<br /> -C'est là le seul adieu dont mon cœur se souvienne ...<br /> -La gloire l'appelait, il a suivi sa loi;<br /> -Et, comme son amour n'était pas tout pour moi,<br /> -Il servit sa patrie, et j'oubliai la mienne!<br /> -<br /> -'Et, quand je voulus le chercher,<br /> -Pour le voir, dans le sang il me fallut marcher;<br /> -J'entendais de longs cris de douleur et d'alarmes;<br /> -La lune se leva sur ce morne tableau;<br /> -J'aperçus sur le sol des guerriers et des armes,<br /> -Et des Anglais criaient: "Waterloo! Waterloo!"<br /> -<br /> -'Et moi, fille de l'Angleterre,<br /> -Indifférente aux miens qui dormaient sur la terre,<br /> -J'appelais un Français, et pleurais sans remords ...<br /> -Tout à coup, une voix mourante et solitaire<br /> -S'éleva de ce champ des morts:<br /> -<br /> -"Adolphe?" me dit-on. "Des héros de la garde<br /> -Il était le plus brave et marchait avec nous;<br /> -Nous combattions ici.... Va, baisse-toi, regarde,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>Tu l'y retrouveras, car nous y sommes tous!"<br /> -<br /> -'Je tremblais de le voir et je le vis lui-même....<br /> -Dis-moi quel est ce mal qu'on ne peut exprimer?<br /> -Ses yeux, sous mes baisers, n'ont pu se ranimer....<br /> -Oh! comme j'ai souffert à cette heure suprême;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Car il semblait ne plus m'aimer!</span><br /> -<br /> -Et puis ... je ne sais plus!... Connaît-il ma demeure?<br /> -Jadis, quand il venait, il venait tous les jours!<br /> -Et sa mère, en pleurant, accusait nos amours....<br /> -Hélas! il ne vient plus, et pourtant elle pleure!<br /> -<br /> -La folle vers la porte adresse alors ses pas,<br /> -Attache à ses verrous un regard immobile,<br /> -M'appelle à ses côtés, et, d'une voix débile:<br /> -'Pauvre Adolphe, dit-elle, en soupirant tout bas;<br /> -Comme il souffre!... il m'attend, puisqu'il ne revient pas!'<br /> -<br /> -Elle dit, dans les airs la cloche balancée<br /> -Apprit à la douleur que l'heure était passée<br /> -D'espérer que ses maux, un jour, pourraient finir.<br /> -La folle se cachait; mais, dans le sombre asile<br /> -Où, jeune, elle portait un si long avenir,<br /> -A la voix des gardiens d'où la pitié s'exile,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seule, il lui fallut revenir.</span><br /> -<br /> -'Adieu! je ne crains pas qu'un Français me refuse,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dit-elle, en me tendant la main;</span><br /> -Si tu le vois, là-bas, qui vient sur le chemin;<br /> -D'un aussi long retard si son amour s'accuse,<br /> -Dis-lui que je le plains, dis-lui que je l'excuse,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dis-lui que je l'attends demain!'"</span><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> -</p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vc" id="CHAPTER_Vc">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with -him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to gain rank—Her -history—The statement of the Duc d'Orléans—Judgment of the -Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's -certificate of birth</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had been installed nearly a month at the office, to the great -satisfaction of Oudard and of M. de Broval (who, thanks to my beautiful -handwriting, thought that M. Deviolaine had been too hard on me), -when the former sent word by Raulot that he wanted me in his office. -I hastened to respond to the invitation. Oudard looked very solemn. -"My dear Dumas," he said, "M. le Duc d'Orléans has just asked me for -someone to copy quickly and neatly a piece of work he has prepared -for his counsel. Although there is nothing secret about it, you must -understand that it will not do to have the papers left about in the -office while being copied. I thought of you, because you write rapidly -and correctly: it will be the means of bringing you before the duke. I -am going to take you into his room."</p> - -<p>I must confess I felt greatly excited on learning that I was about to -find myself face to face with a man whose influence might be of much -importance in the shaping of my destiny.</p> - -<p>Oudard noticed the effect this news produced on me, and tried to -reassure me by telling me of the perfect kindness of the duke. This did -not at all prevent me from feeling very nervous as I approached His -Royal Highness's room. I had a moment's respite, for His Royal Highness -was at breakfast; but I soon heard a step that I guessed was his, -and fear seized me once more. The door opened, and the Duc d'Orléans -appeared. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> had seen him already, once or twice, at Villers-Cotterets, -when he came to the sale of the woods. I believe I said that he stayed -then with M. Collard, from whom he was the recipient of the most lavish -hospitality imaginable, although, so far as he himself was concerned, -the Duc d'Orléans always tried to restrain hospitality offered him -within the limits of a simple family visit.</p> - -<p>M. le Duc d'Orléans had, as a matter of fact, the good feeling to -recognise almost publicly his illegitimate relations: he had his two -natural uncles—the two abbés Saint-Phar and Saint-Albin—living with -him at the Palais-Royal, and he did not make any distinction between -them and the other members of his family.</p> - -<p>The prince would be fifty years old the following October: he was -still a very good-looking man, though his figure was marred by his -stoutness, which had increased during the past ten years; his face was -frank, his eyes bright and intelligent, without depth or steadfastness; -he was fluently affable, but nevertheless his words never lost their -aristocratic savour unless his sole interest were to conciliate a vain -citizen; he had a pleasant voice, which in his good-humoured moments -was usually kind in tone; and, when he was in the mood, he could be -heard, even a long way off, singing the mass in a voice almost as -out of tune as that of Louis XV. I have since heard him sing the -<i>Marseillaise</i> as falsely as he sang the mass. To make a long story -short, I was presented to him: not much ceremony was observed in my -case.</p> - -<p>"Monseigneur, this is M. Dumas, of whom I have spoken to you, the -protégé of General Foy."</p> - -<p>"Oh, good!" replied the duke. "I was delighted to do something to -please General Foy, who recommended you very warmly to me, monsieur. -You are the son of a brave man, whom Bonaparte is said to have left -almost to die of starvation."</p> - -<p>I bowed in token of affirmation.</p> - -<p>"You write a very good hand, you make and seal envelopes excellently; -work, and M. Oudard will look after you."</p> - -<p>"In the meantime," Oudard interposed, "Monseigneur wishes to entrust -you with an important piece of work: His Highness desires it to be done -promptly and correctly."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I will not leave it until it is finished," I replied, "and I will do -my utmost to be as accurate as His Highness requires."</p> - -<p>The duke made a sign to Oudard, as much as to say, "Not bad for a -country lad."</p> - -<p>Then, going before me, he said—</p> - -<p>"Come into this room and sit down at that table."</p> - -<p>And with these words he pointed out a desk to me.</p> - -<p>"Here you will be undisturbed."</p> - -<p>He then opened a bundle in which about fifty pages were arranged in -order, covered on both sides with his big handwriting and numbered at -the front of each page.</p> - -<p>"See," he said, "copy from here to there: if you finish before I come -back, you must wait for me; I have several corrections to make in -certain passages, and I will make them as I dictate them to you."</p> - -<p>I sat down and set to work at my task. The work with which I was -entrusted was concerned with an event which had recently made a great -stir, and which could not fail to take up the attention of Paris. This -was the claim made by Maria-Stella-Petronilla Chiappini, Baroness of -Sternberg, to the rank and fortune of the Duc d'Orléans, which she -contended belonged to her.</p> - -<p>Here is the fable upon which her pretension was founded. We give it -from Maria-Stella's point of view, without, be it well understood, -believing for a single instant in the justice of her claim.</p> - -<p>Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans, who was married in 1768, had, -to the beginning of January 1772, only presented her husband, -Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orléans, with a still-born daughter. The -absence of male issue troubled the Duc d'Orléans greatly, as his -fortune, derived chiefly from portions granted him as a younger son, -would, in default of male issue, revert to the Crown. It was with this -in his mind and in the hope that travel might perhaps lead to the -Duchesse d'Orléans being again pregnant, that Louis-Philippe and his -wife set out for Italy, in the early part of the year 1772, under the -name of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> - -<p>I repeat for the last time, that throughout this narrative it is not I -who am speaking, but the claimant, Maria-Stella-Petronilla.</p> - -<p>Well, the august travellers had scarcely reached the top of the -Apennines before symptoms of a fresh pregnancy declared themselves, -which caused the Duchesse d'Orléans to stay at Modigliana.</p> - -<p>In the village of Modigliana there was a prison, and a gaoler to watch -over the prison. The gaoler was called Chiappini. M. le Duc d'Orléans, -faithful to his traditions of familiarity with the people, became on -still more easy terms with the gaoler as the intimacy took place under -cover of his incognito. There was, besides, a reason for the intimacy. -Chiappini's wife was expecting her confinement just at the same time -as Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans. A treaty was accordingly entered into -between the illustrious travellers and the humble gaoler, to the effect -that should Madame la Comtesse de Joinville by chance give birth to -a girl, and the wife of Chiappini to a boy, the two mothers should -exchange their two children.</p> - -<p>Fate ordained matters as the parents had foreseen: the gaoler's wife -gave birth to a boy, the prince's wife gave birth to a girl; and the -agreed exchange was made, the prince handing over a considerable sum to -the gaoler as well.</p> - -<p>The child destined to play the part of prince was then transported -to Paris, and although he was born as far back as 17 April 1773, the -fact was kept secret till 6 October, on which date it was declared, -and the child was baptized by the almoner of the Palais-Royal, in the -presence of the parish priest and of two valets. In the meantime, the -duchess's daughter, left in Italy, was brought up there under the name -of Maria-Stella-Petronilla. The rest of the story can be guessed. -Nevertheless, we will give it in detail. Maria-Stella did not know -the story of her birth until after the death of the gaoler Chiappini. -She had a melancholy childhood. The gaoler's wife, who regretted her -son and who was for ever reproaching her husband for the agreement -made, rendered the child's life very miserable. The young girl was, it -seems, extremely beautiful, and at the age of seventeen she made such a -deep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> impression upon Lord Newborough, one of the wealthiest noblemen -of England, who was passing through Modigliana, that he married her -almost in spite of herself, and took her away to London. She was left -a widow very young, with several children,—one of whom is now a peer -of England,—but she soon married the Baron de Sternberg, who took her -away to St. Petersburg, where she presented him with a son.</p> - -<p>One day, the Baroness de Sternberg, who was almost separated from her -husband, received a letter with an Italian postmark; she opened it -and read the following lines, written by the hand of the man whom she -believed to be her father:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MILADY</span>,—I have at last reached the close of my life, -without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely -concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:—</p> - -<p>"The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name -I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this -life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked -to make an exchange, and taking into consideration -the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I -consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made -to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and -at the same time the other person adopted my son. I -perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since -you are placed in a higher station in life than your -father—though he was in almost the same rank—and it is -this reflection which allows me to die with some degree -of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you -may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your -forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to -keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be -able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter -will not even be sent you until after my death. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAURENT -CHIAPPINI</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>Upon receipt of this letter, Maria-Stella at once prepared to travel -to Italy. She did not agree with the gaoler Chiappini in thinking the -matter irremediable: she wished to know who was her true father. She -gathered information wherever she could find it, and at length she -learned that in 1772—in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> words, a year before her birth—two -French travellers arrived at Modigliana, and remained there until the -month of April 1773. These two travellers called themselves the Comte -and Comtesse de Joinville. Upon this slight clue, the Baroness de -Sternberg set off to France, and began by visiting the little town of -Joinville, whose name her father bore. Here she learnt that Joinville -had once been an inheritance belonging to the Orléans family, and that -Duc Louis-Philippe-Joseph, who had been travelling in Italy in 1772, -had died upon the scaffold in 1793.</p> - -<p>Only his son, the Duc d'Orléans, was left (the two younger brothers -having died, the Duc de Montpensier in England and the Duc de -Beaujolais at Malta), the inheritor of the whole of his father's -wealth. He lived in Paris, and he was the only prince of the blood of -the house of Orléans.</p> - -<p>Maria-Stella left immediately for Paris, made useless efforts to gain -access to the duke himself, gave herself into the hands of intriguing -persons who exploited her cause, to business men who cheated her, and -ended by writing to the papers, stating that the Baroness de Sternberg, -who was the bearer of a communication of the greatest importance to -the heirs of the Comte de Joinville, had arrived in Paris, and desired -to acquaint them with this communication at the earliest possible -opportunity.</p> - -<p>The Duc d'Orléans did not wish to receive this communication direct; -neither did he desire to have recourse to the agency of a business man: -he commissioned his uncle, the old Abbé of Saint-Phar, to call on the -baroness.<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Then everything was laid bare, and the duke discovered -the whole plot that was being weaved about him. Learning that, whether -from honest belief or from cupidity, Maria-Stella seriously meant to -pursue her cause, and that she was going to return to Italy to furnish -herself with documents wherewith to establish her identity, he hastened -to take the precaution of preparing a memoir, intended for his counsel, -to refute the fabrication by the aid of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> Maria-Stella intended to -take away his rank and his fortune, or at all events to make him pay -for the right to keep them. In the meantime, she was appealing to the -Duchesse d'Angoulême as the likeliest person to harbour the liveliest -feelings of resentment against the Orléans family.</p> - -<p>It was this memoir that I was called upon to copy. I must own that I -did not transcribe it without reading it, although my total ignorance -of history left many points obscure to me in the prince's refutation. -Not only was this paper based upon fact, but it was written with that -customary power of reasoning which the Duc d'Orléans was noted for -exercising, even in minor matters of diplomacy. He employed counsel for -form's sake only, for he himself drew up not merely notes on the case -he wished to prove, but lengthy statements, which roused the admiration -of the celebrated barrister Me. Dupin, to whom they were always sent.</p> - -<p>I came to the end of the portion the duke had told me to write, after a -couple of hours' work; so I put down my work and waited. When the duke -returned, he came to the table at which I was writing, picked up my -copy, made a gesture indicative of his approval of my handwriting, but -almost immediately afterwards said—</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! you have a punctuation of your own, I see;" and taking a pen, -he sat down at a corner of the table and began to punctuate my copy -according to the rules of grammar.</p> - -<p>The duke flattered me highly by saying I had a punctuation of my -own. I knew no more about punctuation than about anything else: I -punctuated according to my fancy, or rather, I did not punctuate at -all. To this day, I only punctuate on my proofs: I believe you could -take up any of my manuscripts hap-hazard and run through a whole volume -without finding a single exclamation mark, or an acute accent or a -grave accent. After the duke had read the statement and corrected my -punctuation, he got up and, walking up and down, dictated to me the -part he wanted to correct. I wrote almost as quickly as he dictated, -which seemed to please him extremely. I reached this sentence: "And if -there were nothing else but the <i>striking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> resemblance which exists -between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis -XIV.</i>, would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the -falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?"</p> - -<p>Although, as I have previously stated, I was not very well read in -history, yet in this matter I knew quite enough (as they say in -duelling of a man who has had three months' training in a fencing -school) to make a fool of myself—that is to say, I knew that M. le Duc -d'Orléans was descended from Monsieur, that Monsieur was the son of -Louis XIII. and brother of Louis XIV., and that, consequently, Louis -XIV., being Monsieur's brother, could not be the grandfather of the Duc -d'Orléans, who was honouring me by dictating to me a memorandum against -Maria-Stella's claim. So, when he came to these words, "And if there -were nothing else but the <i>striking resemblance which exists between -the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV."</i> I looked -up. It was most impertinent of me! A prince is never mistaken, and in -this instance the prince did not allow himself to be taken in.</p> - -<p>So, the Duc d'Orléans stopped in front of me and said to me, "Dumas, -you should know this: when a person is descended from Louis XIV. even -if only through bastards, it is a sufficiently great honour to boast -about!... Proceed."</p> - -<p>And he resumed: "Would not that likeness alone be sufficient to -demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?..."</p> - -<p>I wrote this time without raising an eye, and I never looked up again -throughout the remainder of the sitting.</p> - -<p>At four o'clock the Duc d'Orléans set me free, asking me if I could -come to work in the evening.</p> - -<p>I replied that I was at His Highness's disposition. I picked up my hat, -I bowed, I went out, I took the stairs four at a time and I ran to find -Lassagne. He chanced to be still at his desk.</p> - -<p>"How can Louis XIV. be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans?" I asked -as soon as I got in, without any preliminary explanation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Good gracious!" he said, "it is plain enough: because the regent -married Mademoiselle de Blois, who was Louis XIV.'s natural daughter by -Madame de Montespan—a marriage that procured him a sound smack in the -face when it was announced by him to the Princess Palatine, Monsieur's -second wife, who thus expressed her feelings at the <i>mésalliance.</i> ... -You will find all this in the memoirs of the Princess Palatine and in -Saint-Simon."</p> - -<p>I felt extinguished by the ready and accurate answer given me.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I said, with downcast head, "I shall never be as learned as that!"</p> - -<p>I finished the copy of the statement by eleven o'clock that same -evening. It was sent next day to M. Dupin, who should have it still, -written in my handwriting.</p> - -<p>We will now finish the story of Maria-Stella.</p> - -<p>When she had threatened the Duc d'Orléans, she returned to Italy, to -hunt up evidence that would establish the authenticity of her birth, -and the substitution of the daughter of the Comtesse de Joinville for -the son of the gaoler Chiappini.</p> - -<p>She did, in fact, obtain the following decree from the Ecclesiastical -Court of Faenza, on 29 May 1824: we will give it for what it is worth, -or rather for what it was worth. This decree is followed by the -official rectification of the birth certificate:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA</span></p> - -<p>"Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, -sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and -His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded -or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any -other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, -petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles -Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte -Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other -person not present having or claiming an interest in -the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> most excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at -Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before -the law;—whereas the petitioner, appearing before this -episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of -the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to -its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to -have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the -insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas -the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the -claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and -whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not -appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by -an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, -according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the -effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its -bearing on the case;</p> - -<p>"In virtue of the acta, etc.;—having heard the -respective defendants, etc.;—Considering that Laurent -Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, -by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after -the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said -petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to -her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of -a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; -that it has been clearly proved by experts that this -letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that -the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is -not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, -presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that -such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a -solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of -his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee -would essay in vain to impair the validity of the -evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention -is made therein as to who were the real father and mother -of the petitioner, seeing that—though such mention is -in effect wanting—recourse has nevertheless been had, -on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, -to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is -written proof, as in the present case, testimonial -proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when -it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a -case of identity, following on the principle of written -proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much -the more should it hold good in this case, where the -demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, -in the question of identity;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>—considering that it -clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of -the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters -Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte -and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective -children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter -and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in -effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come -to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of -the priory of Modigliana, in the name of <i>Maria-Stella</i>, -her parents being falsely declared to be the couple -Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the -date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the -birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons -in support of their cognisance, etc.;—considering that -it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood -of this evidence, since not only is there nothing -impossible in their statements, but they are, on the -contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large -number of other presumptions and conjectures; that -one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour -and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection -with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to -past events, having the value of truth and of full -cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only -by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, -but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique -de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of -Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which -were legally and judicially examined in their places of -origin and before their respective tribunals; that the -vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing -testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is -documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of -the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the -said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to -take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. -Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he -was arrested, and then, after having been detained some -time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken -by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. -le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that -M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial -examination, that, while sorting some old papers of -the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from -Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he -does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' -which stated that the changeling had died, and that any -scruple on its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> account was now removed;—considering -that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance -in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is -further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes -of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the -exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; -that the petitioner received an education suitable to -her distinguished rank, and not such as would have -been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it -results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, -and from several others contained in the pleadings, -that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of -birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, -and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame -la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, -a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of -the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said -Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead -of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy;</p> - -<p>"Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we -declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as -follows:—that the objections raised by the trustee, the -aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; -and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely -adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April -1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory -church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, -in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that -Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and -of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and -that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter -of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de -Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also -order that the rectification in question be forthwith -executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, -by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, -Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, -to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and -rectified to all who may demand it, etc.;</p> - -<p>"Preambles pronounced by me:—domestic canon</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;">"<i>(Signed)</i> <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">VALERIO BORCHI</span>, Pro-Vicar General</p> - -<p class="p2">"The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by -these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and -very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting -in public audience, and it has been read and published -by me, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> undersigned prothonotary, in the year of our -Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 -May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in -the first year of his pontificate, there being present, -amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. -Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 40%;">(<i>Signed</i>) <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">ANGE MORIGNY</span></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 45%;">"Episcopal Prothonotary General</p> - -<p class="p2">"Correction of the Certificate of Birth:—</p> - -<p>"This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the -holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, -happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, -indiction XII, at Faenza;—the delay of ten days, the -time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the -day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the -Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,—in -the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de -Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that -town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis -and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others -absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, -or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as -well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in -the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered -an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers -given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded -to put the same judgment into execution—namely, the -rectification of the certification of birth produced in -the pleadings of the trial, as follows:—</p> - -<p>"In the name of God, <i>Amen</i>, I the undersigned canon -chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of -Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of -Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese -of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth -book of the birth register, the following notice: -'<i>Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the -married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, -public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia -Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, -was baptized, on</i> 17 <i>April</i> 1773, <i>by me, Canon -François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather -and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and -Stella<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> Ciabatti</i>.—Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April -1824; (<i>signed</i>) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I -say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into -execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, -which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms -following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday -of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la -Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,—then -dwelling in the district of Modigliana,—was baptized on -April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the -chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François -Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.'</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;">"<i>(Signed)</i> <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">ANGE MORIGNY</span></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;">"Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"<a name="FNanchor_2_14" id="FNanchor_2_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_14" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p></blockquote> - -<p class="p2">Furnished with these documents, the Baroness de Sternberg returned -to Paris towards the close of the year 1824; but, it seems, neither -these documents nor the personages who had set her going inspired -great confidence; for, neither from Louis XVIII.,—who was not very -fond of his cousin, since, under no pretext, would he ever allow him -to be styled Royal Highness, while he reigned, saying that he would be -always quite close enough to the throne,—nor from Charles X., could -she obtain any support in aid of the restitution of her name and of her -estates.</p> - -<p>When Charles X. fell and the Duc d'Orléans became king, matters were -even worse for her. There was no means of appealing from Philip asleep -to Philip awake. Intimidation had no effect; the most determined -enemies of the new king did not wish to soil their hands with -this claim, which they regarded in the light of a conspiracy, and -Maria-Stella remained in Paris, without so much as the notoriety of the -persecution she expected to receive. She lived at the top of the rue -de Rivoli, near the rue Saint-Florentin, on the fifth floor; and in -the absence of two-footed, featherless courtiers, she held a court of -two-clawed feathered creatures which waked the whole rue de Rivoli at -five o'clock in the morning with their chatter. Those of my readers who -live in Paris may perhaps recollect to have seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> flocks of impudent -sparrows swooping down, whirling by thousands about the balconied -windows: these three windows were those of Maria-Stella-Petronilla -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, who, in order not to give the lie to -herself, to the end of her life signed herself "Née Joinville."</p> - -<p>She died in 1845, the day after the opening of the Chambers. Her last -words were—</p> - -<p>"Hand me the paper, that I may read the speech of that villain!"</p> - -<p>She had not been outside her door for five years, for fear, she said, -of being arrested by the king. The poor creature had become almost -mad....</p> - -<p>About three weeks after I had made the copy of the memorandum -concerning her, M. Oudard called me into his office and informed me -that I had been <i>placed on the regular staff.</i> In other words, I was -given a berth at a salary of twelve hundred francs, in reward for my -good handwriting and my cleverness in the matter of making envelopes -and sealing. I had no reason to complain: Béranger had exactly the same -on his entry into the University.</p> - -<p>I sent my mother this good news the same day, begging her to get -ready to come to me as soon as I had received the first payment of my -increased salary.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I do not know whether the Abbé de Saint-Phar saw or did -not see Maria-Stella. I merely transcribe the memoirs of that lady.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_14" id="Footnote_2_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_14"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The translator is obliged to a legal friend for the -version of the above documents.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIc" id="CHAPTER_VIc">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The "year of trials"—The case of Potier and the director of -the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin—Trial and condemnation -of Magallon—The anonymous journalist—Beaumarchais sent to -Saint-Lazare—A few words on censorships in general—Trial of -Benjamin Constant—Trial of M. de Jouy—A few words concerning the -author of <i>Sylla</i>—Three letters extracted from the <i>Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin</i>—Louis XVIII. as author</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>My anxiety to bring my readers along, without interruption, to the -moment when my lot and that of my mother was settled, by my being -placed on the staff as a copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs, has -caused me to pass over a host of events of far greater interest, no -doubt, to strangers, than those I have related, but which—if egotism -may be permitted me—in my own eyes, and to my mind, should take a -secondary place.</p> - -<p>The year 1823, which we might style the "year of trials," opened by the -trial of Potier on 7 January. Those who never saw Potier can form no -conception of the influence this great comedian, who was much admired -by Talma, had on the public; yet the damages and compensation that M. -Serres, the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin, demanded from him, may -give some idea of the value that was put upon him. One morning Potier, -faithful, as M. Étienne would have said, to his <i>first loves</i>, took it -into his head to return to the Variétés, a project which he carried -out, it appears, forgetting to ask M. Serres to cancel his engagement -before he left. Now Potier had been acting the part of old Sournois -in <i>Petites Dandaïdes</i>, with such success both in the way of applause -and in packed houses, that M. Serres not only refused to sanction this -desertion, but reckoning up the losses which he considered Potier had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> -caused him by his departure, and would cause him in the future, because -of this same departure, decided, after sending through the sheriffs -officer his account to the famous comedian, to send a duplicate copy -of it to the first Chamber of the Royal Court. The odd thing about the -account was that the manager of the theatre of Porte-Sainte-Martin -claimed absolutely nothing but what was due to him under the terms of -his contract. These are the particulars of his claim:—</p> - -<pre style="margin-left: 15%;"> -1. For each day's delay, reckoning at the -highest receipts taken in the theatre, -from 1 March 1822 to 1 April in -the same year, being at a rate -of three thousand six hundred and -eleven francs ... 144,408 fr. -2. Restitution of money.. 30,000 " -3. Amount paid in advance, forfeited. 20,000 " -4. Damage and compensation.. 60,000 " -5. For one hundred and twenty-two days - which have expired since the first claim.... 440,542 " -6. For the seven years and ten months - which remain to run before the end of the - engagement.. 10,322,840 " -7. Finally, as damages and compensation - in respect of this period of seven years.... 200,000 " - Total. 11,217,790 " -</pre> - -<p>If the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin had had the misfortune to win -his case, he would have been obliged to pay Potier, in order to notify -the sentence, a registration fee of three to four hundred thousand -francs.</p> - -<p>The Court condemned Potier to resume his engagement within a week's -time: as to damages and compensation, it condemned him, <i>par corps</i>, -to pay them according to the estimated scale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> Three days later, it -was known that the matter had been settled, less a discount of eleven -million two hundred and seven thousand seven hundred and ninety francs -made by the manager.</p> - -<p>On 8 February it was the turn of Magallon, the chief editor of the -<i>Album.</i> Magallon appeared before the seventh Chamber of the Police -Correctional Court, accused of having hidden political articles under -the cloak of literature, with intent to incite hatred and contempt -towards the Government. The Court condemned Magallon to thirteen -months' imprisonment and to pay a fine of two thousand francs.</p> - -<p>It was a monstrous sentence, and it created great uproar; but a far -greater scandal still, or rather, what converted a matter of scandal -into an outrage, was that for this slight literary offence, and on the -pretext that the sentence exceeded one year, Magallon was taken to the -central prison of Poissy, on foot, with his hands bound, tied to a -filthy criminal condemned afresh to penal servitude, who, dead-drunk, -kept yelling unceasingly the whole way, "Long live galley slaves! -honour to, all galley slaves!"</p> - -<p>When they reached Poissy, Magallon was put into prison clothes. From -that evening he had to live on skilly and learn to pick oakum.... We -content ourselves with relating the bare facts; although we cannot -resist adding that they happened under the reign of a prince who -pretended to be a man of letters, since he had ordered a quatrain from -Lemierre and a comedy from Merville....</p> - -<p>We have already related that M. Arnault, whose <i>Marius à Minturnes</i> had -succeeded, in spite of Monsieur's prediction, paid, in all probability, -for this want of respect for the opinion of His Royal Highness by four -years of exile, on the return of the Bourbons.</p> - -<p>And this was not Louis XVIII.'s first attempt on his <i>confrères</i>, -the men of letters. Without mentioning M. de Chateaubriand, whom he -hounded out of the ministry as though he were a lackey,—an act which -caused that worthy gentleman to remark, on receiving his dismissal, -"It is strange, for I have not stolen the king's watch!"—without -counting Magallon, whom he sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> to Poissy chained to a scurvy convict; -without counting M. Arnault, whom he banished from the country; there -was, besides, a little story of the same kind in connection with -Beaumarchais.</p> - -<p>More than once has M. Arnault related in my hearing the curious and too -little known history of Beaumarchais' imprisonment. These are the facts.</p> - -<p>There is always a public Censorship, except during the first two or -three months following the accession of princes to the throne, and the -two or three months after they are deposed; but when these three months -have elapsed, the Censorship reappears on the waters after its plunge, -and proceeds to discover some minister, preferably of Liberal or even -Republican tendencies, and to lay a snare for him.</p> - -<p>When the <i>Mariage de Figaro</i> was running its course, M. Suard was -censor, and he was also a journalist. He was one of those who had most -bitterly opposed the representation of Beaumarchais' work, and he -was largely responsible for the fifty-nine journeys—<i>du marais à la -police</i>—that the illustrious author made without being able to obtain -leave for his play to be performed.</p> - -<p>At length, thanks to the intervention of the queen and the Comte -d'Artois, the <i>Folle Journée</i>, recovered intact out of the claws of -these gentlemen, was played on 27 April 1784. M. Suard was vindictive -both in his capacity as censor and as a journalist; so that if he -could not exercise the Censorship by the use of scissors, he had -recourse to his pen. M. Suard was on very familiar terms with the -Comte de Provence, and he served the Comte de Provence as a screen -when His Royal Highness wished to give vent, incognito, to some petty -literary spite. M. le Comte de Provence detested Beaumarchais almost -as much as did M. Suard himself; the result was that the Comte de -Provence hastened to unburden himself, by means of M. Suard, in the -<i>Journal de Paris</i>, against the unfortunate <i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, which -continued its successful run, in spite of M. Suard's signed articles -or the anonymous articles of His Royal Highness. In the meantime, -Beaumarchais<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> handed over the sum of about thirty or forty thousand -francs which he received as author's rights in the <i>Mariage de Figaro</i> -to the <i>association for helping poor foster-mothers.</i></p> - -<p>Monsieur, who had not got a child (a less polite chronicler than myself -would say who was incapable of begetting one), and who consequently, -owing to his failing in this respect, had not much sympathy with -<i>foster-mothers</i>, indulged himself, always under the cloak of -anonymity, in attacking the man, after having attacked the play, and -wrote a letter against him in the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, overflowing with -venomous spleen. Beaumarchais, who thought he recognised this onslaught -as from the hand of M. Suard, proceeded to lash the pedant soundly. -As ill-luck would have it, it was His Royal Highness who received the -tanning intended for the censor's hide. Monsieur, smarting under the -stripes, went with the story of his grievances to Louis XVI., giving -him to understand that Beaumarchais was perfectly well aware that he -was not replying to the royal censor, but to the brother of the king. -Louis XVI.; offended on behalf of Monsieur, commanded the citizen who -dared to take the liberty of chastising a royal personage, regardless -of his rank, to be arrested and taken to a house of correction—not -to the Bastille, that prison being considered too good for such a -worthless scamp; and as His Majesty was playing loo when he made this -decision, it was on the back of a seven of spades that the order was -written for Beaumarchais' arrest and his committal to Saint-Lazare.</p> - -<p>Thus we see that, when Louis XVIII. had Magallon taken to Poissy, he -remained faithful to Monsieur's traditions.</p> - -<p>... Apropos of the Censorship, a good story of the present censor is -going the rounds this 6th of June, 1851. We will inquire into it and, -if it be true, we will relate it in the next chapter.</p> - -<p>This excellent institution furnishes so many other instances of a like -nature that its facts and achievements have to be registered regardless -of chronological order, where and when one can, lest one run the risk -of forgetting them, and that I would indeed be a sad pity!...</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Revenons à nos moutons!</i> our poor <i>moutons</i> shorn to the quick, like -Sterne's lamb.</p> - -<p>I have remarked that the year 1823 was the "year of trials"; let us see -how it earned that name.</p> - -<p>During the week that elapsed between the Magallon affair and the -sentence passed on him, Benjamin Constant appeared before the Royal -Court, on account of two letters: one addressed to M. Mangin, -procurator-general at the Court of Poitiers, and the other to M. -Carrère, sub-prefect of Saumur. As it was a foregone conclusion that -Benjamin Constant was to be condemned, the Court sentenced him to pay a -fine of a thousand francs and costs.</p> - -<p>On 29 January—a week before this happened—the Correctional Police -sentenced M. de Jouy to a month's imprisonment, a fine of a hundred -and fifty francs and the costs of the trial, for an article in the -<i>Biographie des contemporains</i> which had been recognised as his. This -article was the biography of the brothers Faucher. The sentence created -a tremendous sensation. M. de Jouy was then at the height of his fame: -the <i>Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> had made him popular, the hundred -representations of <i>Sylla</i> had made him famous.</p> - -<p>I knew M. de Jouy well: he was a remarkably loyal man, with a -delightful mind and an easy pen. I believe he had been a sailor, -serving in India, where he knew Tippo-Sahib, upon whom he founded a -tragedy, commissioned, or very nearly so, by Napoleon, which was acted -on 27 January 1813. The work was indifferent and did not meet with much -success.</p> - -<p>On the return of the Bourbons, the Court was half-heartedly willing -to encourage men of letters, M. de Jouy in particular, who held one -of the highest positions among them. It was the more easily managed -since M. de Jouy was an old Royalist, and I believe a soldier of -Condi's army; it was not a case of making a convert but retaining an -old partisan. His articles in the <i>Gazette</i>, signed "l'Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin," had an enormous success. I heard it said at the -time that M. de Jouy was called up before M. de Vitrolles and asked to -mention what it was he wanted. What he wanted was the due recognition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> -of his services, namely, the Cross of Saint-Louis,—for, as a rule, -straightforward men only desire things they are entitled to;—desiring -the Cross, and having deserved it, he asked for it. But they wished to -force conditions upon him: they desired that he should not merely be -satisfied with refraining from pointing fun at the absurdities of the -Restoration; they wanted him to emphasise the glories of the Empire. -They wanted him to do a base action before he, a loyal soldier, a -clean-handed man, a poet of considerable repute among his <i>confrères</i>, -could obtain the Cross. What happened? The noted poet, the loyal -soldier, the honest man, said that the Cross should go to Hades first, -and he showed the person who came to propose these conditions to the -door. It was the right way to treat the minister, but it was unlucky -for the Cross, which would not have honoured M. de Jouy, but which M. -de Jouy would have honoured! And behold M. de Jouy in the Opposition, -behold M. de Jouy writing articles in the <i>Biographie</i> which cost him a -month's imprisonment, and which increased his popularity twofold. What -fools Governments are to refuse a man the Cross he asks, and to grant -him the persecution he does not desire, the persecution which will be -far more benefit to him, in honour and in worldly goods, than the bit -of ribbon which nobody would have noticed! Moreover, M. de Jouy did not -write anything so very reprehensible. No; on the contrary, M. de Jouy -was distinguished for the suavity of his criticism, the urbanity of his -opposition, the courtesy of his anger. The manner adopted by this good -Ermite has long since been forgotten; and the generation which followed -ours has not even read his works. Heigho! if the said generation reads -me, it will read him; for I am about to open his works and to quote -some pages from them at hap-hazard. They go back to the first months -of the second return of the Bourbons, to the period when all the world -lived out in the squares, to the time when everybody seemed eager after -I know not what: after a Revolution, one has need to hate men; but -after a Restoration, one can do nothing but despise them!</p> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">M. B. de L</span>—— is overwhelmed with requests for positions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> and writes -to the Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin to beg him to insert the following -letters in his paper:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MONSIEUR</span>,—We have neither of us time to spare, so I -will explain to you the object of my letter in a very few -words. I formerly had the honour to be attached to one -of the princes of the house of Bourbon; I may even have -been so fortunate as to show some proofs of my devotion -to that august family at a time when, if not meritorious, -it was at least dangerous to allow one's zeal to leak -out; but I endeavour not to forget that the Mornays, -the Sullys, the Crillons would modestly style this the -fulfilment of one's duty. I am unaware upon what grounds -people in my province credit me with what I do not enjoy, -and to which I am indebted for the hosts of solicitations -I receive, without being able to be of service to those -who apply to me. I have only discovered one method of -escaping from this novel form of persecution—that is, to -publish a letter of one of my relatives and the answer I -thought fit to make to it. The first is in some measure -a résumé of three or four hundred letters that I have -received on the same topic. I am the less reluctant to -make it public since I reserve to myself the right of -holding back the writer's name, and besides, this letter -reflects as much credit on the heart of the writer as it -displays the good sense of the mind that dictated it.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"B. DE L——"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This is the relative's letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"How glad I am, my friend, that events have brought back -our illustrious princes to the throne! What good fortune -it is! You have no notion what reputation these events -and your stay in Paris give me here. The prefect is -afraid of me, and his wife, who never used to bow to me, -has invited me twice to dinner. But there is no time to -be lost, and we rely on you. Would you believe that my -husband has not yet taken any steps whatever to regain -his position, pretending that it exists no longer, and -that the commission was made up to him in assignats? -There isn't a more apathetic man in the whole of France.</p> - -<p>"My brother-in-law has laid claim to the Cross of -Saint-Louis: he had been waiting for it for nine years -when the Revolution broke out. It would be unjust of -them not to compensate him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> for the twenty years of -his services, the troubles and the misfortunes he has -undergone on his estates; he is counting on you to hasten -the prompt despatch of his patent.</p> - -<p>"I append a memorandum to my letter, from my oldest son, -the marquis; he had the right to his uncle's reversion, -and it will be easy for you to obtain it for him. I am -anxious that his brother, the chevalier, shall be placed -in the navy, but in a rank worthy of his name and the -past services of his family. And as my grandson, Auguste -de G——, is quite old enough I to become a page, you -have only to speak a word on his behalf.</p> - -<p>"We are coming to Paris early next month. I shall bring -my daughter with me, as I wish to present her at Court. -They will not refuse you this favour if you solicit it -with sufficient perseverance and willingness.</p> - -<p>"Think of poor F——. He failed us, it is true, at the -time of the Revolution; but he has made ample amends -during the past month: you know he is penniless, and -is ready to sacrifice everything for our rulers. His -devotion goes even so far as to be willing to take a post -as prefect, and he is well fitted for it. Do you not -remember the pretty song he made about me?</p> - -<p>"M. de B——, son of the late intendant of the province, -is coming to see you; try and be useful to him; he -is a friend of the family. If they are not going to -re-establish intendancies, he will be satisfied with a -post as receiver-general; it is the least they can do for -a man devoted to his sovereign, one who was imprisoned -for six months during the Terror.</p> - -<p>"I must not forget to recommend M—— to your notice. He -has been blamed for having served all parties, because -he has been employed in every Government in France for -the last twenty years; but he is a good fellow—you can -take my word for it: he was the first to don the white -cockade; besides, all he asks is to be allowed to keep -his place as superintendent of the posting service. Be -sure and write to me under cover of his frank.</p> - -<p>"I append my father-in-law's papers: a sum of forty-five -thousand francs is still owing to him from the estates -of Languedoc; I hope they will not keep you waiting for -its reimbursement, and that you will not hesitate to -make use of the money if you are under any temporary -embarrassment, though this is very unlikely in your -present situation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> Adieu, my dear cousin. With greetings -in which the whole family unite, and expecting the -pleasure of seeing you soon in Paris.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"J. DE P——"</p></blockquote> - -<p><i>[Answer]</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 60%;">"PARIS, 15 <i>June</i> 1814</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR COUSIN</span>,—You can hardly conceive with what -interest I have read the letter you have done me the -honour to send me, or with what zeal I have tried to -further the just and reasonable demands of all the -persons you recommend to my notice. You will, not be -more astonished than I have been myself at the obstacles -placed in my way, which you would deem insurmountable if -you knew as well as I the people with whom we have to -deal.</p> - -<p>"When I spoke of your son, who has long been desirous -of service, and asked for a berth as major in his -father's old regiment, they urged, as a not unreasonable -objection, that peace was concluded, and that before -thinking of a position for the Marquis de V——, they -must consider the lot of 25,000 officers, some of whom -(would you believe it?) press for the recognition of -their campaigns, their wounds, and even go so far -as to urge the number of battles in which they were -engaged; whilst others more directly associated with the -misfortunes of the royal family had returned to France -without any fortune beyond the goodwill and complaisance -of the king. I then asked, with a touch of sarcasm, what -they meant to do for your son and for the multitude of -brave Royalists who have suffered so much through the -misfortunes of the realm, and whose secret prayers for -the recall of the royal family to the throne of its -ancestors had been unceasing. They replied that they -rejoiced to see the end of all our afflictions and the -fulfilment of our prayers.</p> - -<p>"Your husband is a very extraordinary man. I can well -understand, my dear cousin, all you must be suffering -on account of his incredible apathy. To be reduced at -the age of sixty-five, or sixty-six at the outside, to -a fortune of 40,000 livres income, to bury himself in -the depth of a château, and to renounce all chance of an -ambitious career, as though a father had no duty towards -his children, as though a gentleman ought not to die -fighting!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am sorry your brother-in-law should have laid claim -to the Cross of Saint-Louis before it had been granted -to him; for it may happen that the king will not readily -part with the right to confer this decoration himself, -and that he will not approve of the honour certain -persons are anxious to have conferred upon them. You will -realise that it would be less awkward not to have had the -Cross of Saint-Louis than to find oneself obliged to give -it up.</p> - -<p>"I did not forget to put forward the claims of your -son, the chevalier, and I do not despair of getting him -entered for the examination of officers for the Royal -Marines. We will then do our utmost to get him passed -into the staff of one hundred officers, who are far too -conscious of their worth, of the names they bear and of -the devotion they profess to have shown at Quiberon.</p> - -<p>"Your grandson Auguste is entered for a page; I cannot -tell you exactly when he will be taken into the palace, -my dear cousin, as your request followed upon three -thousand seven hundred and seventy-five other requests, -made on behalf of the sons of noblemen or officers slain -on the field of battle, though they cannot show the -slightest claim on account of services rendered to the -State or to the princes.</p> - -<p>"You are well advised in wishing to place your daughter -at Court, and it will not be difficult when you have -found a husband for her whose rank and fortune will -entitle her to a position there. If this is not arranged, -I do not quite see what she would do there, or what -suitable post she could occupy there, however able she -may be: maids of honour are not yet reinstated.</p> - -<p>"I have presented a petition in favour of F, to which I -annexed the pretty song he composed for you; but they -have become so exacting that such claims no longer -suffice to obtain a post as prefect. I will even go so -far as to tell you that they do not think much of your -protégé's conversion and of the sacrifices he is prepared -to make; his enemies persist in saying that he is not a -man who can be relied upon.</p> - -<p>"I witnessed his powers of work in former times, and I am -convinced that if he would serve the good cause nowadays -with half the zeal he formerly exerted on behalf of the -bad cause, they would be able very usefully to employ -him. But will this ever be put to the test?</p> - -<p>"I have not learnt whether intendances are to be -re-established, but they seem to think that public -receiverships will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> diminished, if only in the number -of those which exist in departments beyond our bounds. -This makes me fear that M. de B—— will have to be -satisfied with the enormous fortune his father made -in the old revenue days, which he found means to hide -during the Revolutionary storms: he must learn to be -philosophical.</p> - -<p>"Do not be in the least uneasy over the lot of M——. I -know him: he has considerable elasticity of character -and of principle—for twenty years he has slipped in and -out among all parties, without having offended any. He -is a marvellously clever fellow, who will serve himself -better than anyone else ever will be served: he is no -longer superintendent of the posting bureau, having just -obtained a more lucrative post in another department of -the Government. Do you always take such great interest in -his affairs?</p> - -<p>"I return you your father-in-law's papers, dear cousin, -relative to the debt on the Languedoc estates. From -what I can gather, the liquidation does not seem likely -to take place yet a while, in spite of the justice of -your claim. They have decided that arrears of pay due -to troops, the public debt, military pensions and a -crowd of other objects of this nature shall be taken -into consideration—this measure is evidently the fruit -of some intrigue. You should tell F—— to draw up a -pamphlet upon the most urgent needs of the State and to -endeavour to refer to this debt in the first line of his -pamphlet. You have no idea how much the Government is -influenced by the multitude of little pamphlets which are -produced every day by ill-feeling, anger and hunger with -such commendable zeal.</p> - -<p>"You will see, my dear cousin, that, at the rate things -are going, you must possess your soul in patience. I -would even add that the journey you propose to take -to Paris will not advance your affairs. According to -the police reckoning, there are at this present moment -a hundred and twenty-three thousand people from the -provinces, of all ranks, of all sexes, of all ages, who -are here to make claims, furnished with almost as good -credentials as yours, and who will have the advantage -over you in obtaining a refusal of being first in the -field to put forward their cases. Finally, as I know you -are acquainted with philosophy and the best things in -literature, I beg you to read over again a chapter in -the English <i>Spectator</i>, on the just claims of these who -ask for posts: it is in the thirty-second section of the -seventh volume in the duodecimo edition: history repeats -itself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Accept, my dear cousin, an expression of my most -affectionate greetings, coupled with my sincere regrets.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%;">"B. DE L——"</p></blockquote> - -<p>In 1830, after the Revolution of July, Auguste Barbier produced a poem -on the same subject, entitled the <i>Curée.</i> When one re-reads those -terrible verses and compares them with work by M. de Jouy, the writings -of the latter seem a model of that Attic wit which was characteristic -of the old school, and Barbier an example of the brutal, fiery, -unpremeditated writing I so typical of his Muse.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, at about the period we have reached, whilst Louis XVIII. was -hunting down men of letters with that ruthlessness of which we have -just cited a few examples, he was laying claim to a place in their -midst. Through the foolish advice of his sycophants, the regal author -published a little work entitled <i>Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles.</i> I do -not know whether it would be possible to-day to procure a single copy -of the royal brochure, wherein were to be found not only such errors -in French grammar as "J'étais déjà un peu gros, à cette époque, pour -<i>monter et descendre de cabriolet</i>," but, worse still, revelations of -ingratitude and heartlessness.</p> - -<p>A poor widow risks her head to take in fugitives, and sacrifices her -last louis to give them a dinner; Monsieur relates this act of devotion -as though it were no more than the fugitives' due, and ends the chapter -by saying, "The dinner was execrable!"</p> - -<p>It was written in kitchen French, as Colonel Morisel observed to M. -Arnault.</p> - -<p>"That is easily explained," replied the author of <i>Germanicus</i>, "since -the work was by a <i>restaurateur"</i>.</p> - -<p>The <i>Miroir</i>, ordered to review the <i>Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles</i>, -contented itself by saying, "If the work is by the august personage to -whom it is attributed, it is above the region of criticism; if it is -not by him, it is beneath criticism."</p> - -<p>Let us revert to Colonel Morisel, one of the most interesting -characters of the time. They could not get up the same kind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> trial -against the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, of the <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, -of the <i>Comédiens</i> and of <i>Paria</i>, as they did against M. de Jouy and -Magallon; they could not imprison him in Sainte-Pélagie or send him to -Poissy, bound hand to hand and side by side with a filthy convict; but -they could reduce him to poverty, and that is what they did.</p> - -<p>On 15 April we read in the Liberal papers: "We hear that M. Ancelot, -author of <i>Louis IX.</i> and of <i>Maire du Palais</i>, has just received -letters patent of nobility, and that M. Casimir Delavigne, author -of <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, of <i>Paria</i> and of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, has -just lost his post in the Library of the Minister of Justice." It was -quite true: M. Ancelot had been made a baron, and M. Casimir Delavigne -was turned out into the street! It was at this juncture that, on the -recommendation of Vatout, who had just published the <i>Histoire de la -Fille d'un Roi</i>, the Duc d'Orléans appointed Casimir Delavigne to the -post of assistant librarian at the Palais-Royal, where, six years -later, I became his colleague.</p> - -<p>Vatout was an excellent fellow, a trifle conceited; but even his vanity -was useful as a spur which, put in motion by the example of others, -goaded him to do the work he would otherwise not have attempted. One -of his conceits was to pretend he was a natural son of a prince of the -House of Orléans—a very innocent conceit, as it did not harm anyone, -and nobody considered it a crime; for he used the influence he acquired -by his post at the Palais-Royal in rendering help to his friends, and -sometimes even to his enemies.... Just at this moment the information -I have been seeking concerning the last act of the Censorship has been -brought me.</p> - -<p>Ah! my dear Victor Hugo, you who are busy trying to wrest from the -jury, before whom you are defending your son, the entire abolition -of the death penalty; make an exception in favour of the censor, and -stipulate that he shall be executed twice over at the next Revolution, -since once is not nearly enough.</p> - -<p>I wish here to swear on my honour that what I am about to state is -actual truth.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIc" id="CHAPTER_VIIc">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The house in the rue Chaillot—Four poets and a doctor—Corneille and -the Censorship—Things M. Faucher does not know—Things the President -of the Republic ought to know</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the year III of the Second French Republic, on the evening of 2 -June, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon Faucher minister, M. -Guizard director of the Fine Arts, the following incident occurred, -in a salon decorated with Persian draperies, on the ground floor of a -house in the rue de Chaillot.</p> - -<p>Five or six persons were discussing art—a surprising fact at a time -when the sole topics of conversation were dissolution, revision and -prorogation. True, of these five persons four were poets, and one a -doctor who was almost a poet and entirely a man of culture. These four -poets were: first, Madame Émile de Girardin, mistress of the house in -the rue de Chaillot where the gathering took place; second, Victor -Hugo; third, Théophile Gautier; fourth, Arsène Houssaye. The doctor's -name was Cabarus.</p> - -<p>The gentleman indicated under number four held several offices: perhaps -he was rather less of a poet than were the other three, but he was far -more of a business man, thus equalizing the balance; he was manager of -the Théâtre-Français, the resignation of which post he had already sent -in three times, and each time it had been refused.</p> - -<p>You may perhaps ask why M. Arsène Houssaye was so ready to send in his -resignation.</p> - -<p>There is a very simple answer: the members of the Théâtre-Français -company made his life so unendurable that the poet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> was ever ready -to send to the right about his demi-gods, his heroes, his kings, -his princes, his dukes, his marquises, his counts and his barons of -the rue de Richelieu, in order to re-engage his barons, his counts, -his marquises, his dukes, his princes, his kings, his heroes and -his demi-gods of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whom he -knew and whose strings he could pull as though he were the Comte de -Saint-Germain, who was their familiar friend.</p> - -<p>Now why should the members of the Théâtre-Français company make their -manager's life so hard? Because he made money, and nothing irritates a -member of the Théâtre-Français company so much as to see his theatre -<i>make money.</i> This may seem inexplicable to sensible folk: it is indeed -a mystery; but I have not set myself to explain the fact; I state it, -that is all.</p> - -<p>Now, in his capacity as manager of the Théâtre-Français, M. Arsène -Houssaye thought of something which had not occurred to anyone else. -This was that as the day in question was 2 June 1851, in four days' -time—that is to say, on 6 June—it would be the two hundred and -forty-fourth anniversary of the birth of Corneille.</p> - -<p>He translated his thought into words, and turning to Théophile Gautier, -he said, "Come now! my dear Théo, you must write for me some sixty -lines, for the occasion, upon the Father of Tragedy: it will be much -better than what is usually given us on such anniversaries, and the -public will not grumble."</p> - -<p>Théophile Gautier pretended not to hear.</p> - -<p>Arsène Houssaye repeated his request.</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! no," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because I do not know anything more tiresome to write than an official -panegyric, were it on the greatest poet in the world. Besides, the -greater the poet, the more difficult is it to praise him."</p> - -<p>"You are mistaken, Théophile," said Hugo; "and if I were in a position -at this moment to do what Arsène asks, I would undertake it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Would you think of passing in review Corneille's twenty or thirty -plays? Would you have the courage to speak of <i>Mélite</i>, of <i>Clitandre</i>, -of the <i>Galerie du Palais</i>, of <i>Pertharite</i>, of <i>Œdipe</i>, of <i>Attila</i>, -of <i>Agésilas</i>?"</p> - -<p>"No, I should not mention any one of them."</p> - -<p>"Then you would not be extolling Corneille: when a poet is praised, you -must praise his bad work loudest of all; when one does not praise, it -savours of criticism."</p> - -<p>"No," said Hugo, "I do not mean anything like that: I would not -undertake a vulgar eulogy. I would describe the agèd Corneille, -wandering through the streets of old Paris, on foot, with a shabby -cloak on his shoulders, neglected by Louis XIV., who was less generous -towards him than his persecutor Richelieu; getting his leaky shoes -mended at a poor cobbler's, whilst Louis XIV., reigning at Versailles, -was promenading with Madame de Montespan, Mademoiselle de la Vallière -and Madame Henriette, in the galleries of Le Brun or in the gardens of -Le Nôtre; then I would pay compensation to the poet's shade by showing -how posterity puts each one in his proper place and, as days are added -unto days, months to months and years to years, increases the poet's -fame and decreases the power of the king...."</p> - -<p>"What are you looking for, Théophile?" asked Madame de Girardin of -Gautier, who had got up hastily.</p> - -<p>"I am looking for my hat," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Girardin is asleep on it," replied Cabarus drily.</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't wake him," said Madame de Girardin. "It will make an -article!"</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, I cannot go without my hat," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Where are you off to?" asked Arsène Houssaye.</p> - -<p>"I am going to write you your lines, of course; you shall have them -to-morrow."</p> - -<p>They pulled Théophile's hat from under Girardin's shoulders. It had -suffered by reason of its position; but what cared Théophile for the -condition of his hat?</p> - -<p>He returned home and set to work. The next day, as he had promised, -Arsène Houssaye had the verses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p> - -<p>But both poet and manager had reckoned without the Censorship.</p> - -<p>These are Théophile Gautier's lines on the great Corneille,—they were -forbidden by the dramatic censor, as I have said, in the year III -of the Second Republic, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon -Faucher minister and M. Guizard director of the Fine Arts:—</p> - -<p class="p2"> -"Par une rue étroite, au cœur du vieux Paris,<br /> -Au milieu des passants, du tumulte et des cris,<br /> -La tête dans le ciel et le pied dans la fange,<br /> -Cheminait à pas lents une figure étrange.<br /> -C'était un grand vieillard sévèrement drapé,<br /> -Noble et sainte misère, en son manteau râpé!<br /> -Son œil d'aigle, son front, argenté vers les tempes<br /> -Rappelaient les fiertés des plus mâles estampes;<br /> -Et l'on eut dit, à voir ce masque souverain,<br /> -Une médaille antique à frapper en airain.<br /> -Chaque pli de sa joue, austèrement creusée,<br /> -Semblait continuer un sillon de pensée,<br /> -Et, dans son regard noir, qu'éteint un sombre ennui,<br /> -On sentait que l'éclair autrefois avait lui.<br /> -Le vieillard s'arrêta dans une pauvre échoppe.<br /> -<br /> -Le roi-soleil, alors, illuminait l'Europe,<br /> -Et les peuples baissaient leurs regards éblouis<br /> -Devant cet Apollon qui s'appelait Louis.<br /> -A le chanter, Boileau passait ses doctes veilles;<br /> -Pour le loger, Mansard entassait ses merveilles;<br /> -Cependant, en un bouge, auprès d'un savetier,<br /> -Pied nu, le grand Corneille attendait son soulier!<br /> -Sur la poussière d'or de sa terre bénie,<br /> -Homère, sans chaussure, aux chemins d'Ionie,<br /> -Pouvait marcher jadis avec l'antiquité,<br /> -Beau comme un marbre grec par Phidias sculpté;<br /> -Mais Homère, à Paris, sans crainte du scandale,<br /> -Un jour de pluie, eut fait recoudre sa sandale.<br /> -Ainsi faisait l'auteur d<i>'Horace</i> et de <i>Cinna</i>,<br /> -Celui que de ses mains la muse couronna,<br /> -Le fier dessinateur, Michel-Ange du drame,<br /> -Qui peignit les Romains si grands, d'après son âme.<br /> -O pauvreté sublime! ô sacré dénûment!<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>Par ce cœur héroique accepté simplement!<br /> -<br /> -Louis, ce vil détail que le bon goût dédaigne,<br /> -Ce soulier recousu me gâte tout ton règne.<br /> -A ton siècle en perruque et de luxe amoureux,<br /> -Je ne pardonne pas Corneille malheureux.<br /> -Ton dais fleurdelisé cache mal cette échoppe;<br /> -De la pourpre où ton faste à grands plis s'enveloppe,<br /> -Je voudrais prendre un pan pour Corneille vieilli,<br /> -S'éteignant, pauvre et seul, dans l'ombre et dans l'oubli.<br /> -Sur le rayonnement de toute ton histoire,<br /> -Sur l'or de ton soleil c'est une tache noire,<br /> -O roi! d'avoir laissé, toi qu'ils ont peint si beau,<br /> -Corneille sans souliers, Molière sans tombeau!<br /> -Mais pourquoi s'indigner! Que viennent les années,<br /> -L'équilibre se fait entre les destinées;<br /> -A sa place chacun est remis par la mort:<br /> -Le roi rentre dans l'ombre, et le poëte en sort!<br /> -Pour courtisans, Versaille a gardé ses statues;<br /> -Les adulations et les eaux se sont tues;<br /> -Versaille est la Palmyre où dort la royauté.<br /> -Qui des deux survivra, génie ou majesté?<br /> -L'aube monte pour l'un, le soir descend sur l'autre;<br /> -Le spectre de Louis, au jardin de Le Notre,<br /> -Erre seul, et Corneille, éternel comme un Dieu,<br /> -Toujours sur son autel voit reluire le feu,<br /> -Que font briller plus vif en ses fêtes natales<br /> -Les générations, immortelles vestales.<br /> -Quand en poudre est tombé le diadème d'or,<br /> -Son vivace laurier pousse et verdit encor;<br /> -Dans la postérité, perspective inconnue,<br /> -Le poëte grandit et le roi diminue!"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">Now let us have a few words on this matter, Monsieur Guizard, for you -did not reckon things would end here; you did not hope to escape at -the cost of a few words written with a double meaning, inserted in a -newspaper printed yesterday, published to-day and forgotten on the -morrow.</p> - -<p>No, when such outrages are perpetrated upon art, it is meet that the -culprit should be deprived of his natural judges and taken to a higher -court, as your models carried Trélat and Cavaignac to the House of -Peers, as your friends carried Raspail, Hubert and Sobrier to the Court -of Bourges. And I call upon you to appear, Monsieur Guizard, you who -took the place of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> my friend Cavé, as superintendent of the department -of Fine Arts.</p> - -<p>Look you, now that things are being cut down all round, has not -a letter been economised in the description of your office? and -instead of being responsible for the <i>department</i>, are you not really -responsible for the <i>departure</i> of the Fine Arts? Moreover, I have -something to relate that passed between us, three months ago. Do you -remember I had the honour of paying you a visit, three months ago? I -came to give you notice, on behalf of the manager of the Cirque, that -while we were waiting for the <i>Barrière de Clichy</i> we were going to put -the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> in rehearsal.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i>!" you exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"But is not the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> a drama written by -yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Is it not in the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> that the famous chorus -occurs—</p> - -<p> -'Mourir pour la patrie'?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, we will not allow the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> to be -played."</p> - -<p>"You will not allow the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> to be played?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, no, no, no!"</p> - -<p>"But why not?"</p> - -<p>Then you looked me in the face and you said to me—</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to tell me you do not know that the <i>Chevalier de -Maison-Rouge</i> contributed to the establishment of the Republic?"</p> - -<p>You said that to me, Monsieur Guizard! You made that extraordinary -avowal to me, in the year III of the Republic! M. Léon Faucher being -minister of the Republic! you, Monsieur Guizard, being director of the -Fine Arts of the Republic!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was so astounded at the reply that I could find nothing else to say -than "How the devil does it come about that I, who lost nearly 200,000 -francs by the coming of the Republic, am a Republican, whilst you, who -gained thereby a post bringing you in 12,000, are a Reactionary?"</p> - -<p>True, you did not condescend to explain this anomaly: I left your -office without discovering a reason, and now, as I write these lines, I -am still at a loss for one!</p> - -<p>Now, in the hope that someone more clever than I at guessing riddles -might be found, I decided to print what happened to me, three months -ago, side by side with what happened to Gautier to-day!</p> - -<p>What can one expect? Every man makes use of the tool or of the -instrument he has in his hand: some have scissors, and they cut; others -have an engraver's tool, and they etch.</p> - -<p>What I write, I warn you, M. Guizard, is translated into eight or nine -different languages. So we shall have the assistance of learned men in -many lands to help us in our researches, and the archæologists of three -generations; for, suppose my works live no longer than the time it -will take for rats to devour them, it will take those creatures quite -a hundred years to eat my thousand volumes. You may tell me that the -order to stop M. Théophile Gautier's verses came from a higher source, -from the minister. To that I have nothing to say: if the order came -from the minister, you were obliged to obey that order. And I must in -that case wend my way to M. Léon Faucher. So be it!</p> - -<p>O Faucher! is it really credible that you, who are so halfhearted a -Republican, you who were so ill-advised, according to my opinion, as to -pay a subsidy to the Théâtre-Français to have the dead exhumed and, the -living buried,—is it really credible, I repeat, that so indifferent -a Republican as yourself, did not wish it said, on the stage that -Corneille created, that genius is higher than royalty, and that -Corneille was greater as a poet than Louis XIV. was as a monarch?</p> - -<p>But, M. Faucher, you know quite as well as I that Louis XIV. was only a -great king because he possessed great ministers and great poets.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps you will tell me that great ministers and poets are created by -great kings?</p> - -<p>No, M. Faucher, you will not say that; for I shall retort, "Napoleon, -who was a great emperor, had no Corneille, and Louis XIII., who was a -pitiable king, could boast a Richelieu."</p> - -<p>No, M. le ministre, Louis XIV., believe me, was only great as a king -because (and Michelet, one of the greatest historians who ever lived, -will tell you exactly the same) Richelieu was his precursor, whilst -Corneille's precursor was ... who? Jodelle.</p> - -<p>Corneille did not need either Condé, or Turenne, or Villars, or de -Catinat, or Vauban, or Mazarin, or Colbert, or Louvois, or Boileau, -or Racine, or Benserade, or Le Brun, or Le Nôtre, or even M. de -Saint-Aignan to help him to become a great poet.</p> - -<p>No; Corneille took up a pen, ink and paper; he only had to lean his -head upon his hand and his poetry came.</p> - -<p>Had you but read Théophile Gautier's lines, M. le ministre,—but I am -sure you have not read them,—you must have seen that these verses are -not merely the finest Théophile Gautier ever penned, but the finest -ever written since verses came to be written. You must have seen that -their composition was excellent and their ideas above reproach. A -certain emperor I knew—one whom apparently you did not know—would -have sent the officer's Cross of the Legion of Honour and a pension to -a man who had written those verses.</p> - -<p>You, M. le ministre, sent orders that Théophile Gautier's lines were -not to be read on the stage of the Théâtre-Français!</p> - -<p>But perhaps this order came from higher authority still? Perhaps it -came from the President of the Republic?</p> - -<p>If it came from the President of the Republic, it is another matter -... and it is with the President of the Republic that I must settle my -grievance.</p> - -<p>I shall not take long in dealing with the President of the Republic.</p> - -<p>"Ah! M. le président de la République," I shall say to him, "you -who have forgotten so many things in the overwhelming rush of state -affairs, have you, by any chance, forgotten what Monsieur your uncle -said of the author of the <i>Cid</i>, 'If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> Corneille had lived in my time, I -would have made him a prince.'"</p> - -<p>Now that I have said to the President of the Republic, to M. le -Ministre de l'Intérieur, and to M. le Chef de Division Chargé du -Département des Beaux-Arts, what I had it in my mind to say, let us -return to the year 1823, which also possessed its Censorship, but one -that was much less severe than that of 1851.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_V" id="BOOK_V">BOOK V</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Id" id="CHAPTER_Id">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Chronology of the drama—Mademoiselle Georges Weymer—Mademoiselle -Raucourt—Legouvé and his works—Marie-Joseph Chénier—His letter -to the company of the Comédie-Française—Young boys <i>perfectionnés</i> -—Ducis—His work</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Now the Royalist reaction of which we were speaking—before we -interrupted ourselves to address the high public functionaries who had -the honour of appearing before our readers in the last chapter—did -not only strike at literary men, but it hit out cruelly, bitterly and -mortally at public men. It began by the expulsion of Manuel from the -Chamber; it closed with the execution of Riégo. But I must confess I -was not so much occupied at that time with the quarrels of the Chamber, -or the Spanish War, or the fête that Madame de Cayla (who was very -kind to me later) gave to Saint-Ouen to celebrate the return of Louis -XVIII., or the death of Pope Pius VII.; there were two events which -were quite as important to my thinking: the first production of Lucien -Arnault's <i>Pierre de Portugal</i>, and that of the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, -by Casimir Delavigne. Although the dramatic statistics for the year -1823 showed a total production of 209 new plays and of 161 authors -acted, the best theatres, especially during the first nine months of -the year, presented but a sorry show, and were very far removed from -reaching the level of the preceding year.</p> - -<p>Thus, on 26 April, 1822, the Odéon had produced <i>Attila</i> by M. -Hippolyte Bis. On 5 June the Théâtre-Français played Lucien Arnault's -<i>Régulus.</i> On 14 June the Odéon played the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> <i>Macchabées</i> by M. Guiraud: -Frédérick Lemaître, who belonged to the Cirque, played one of the -brothers Macchabées. On 7 November the Théâtre-Français produced M. -Soumet's <i>Clytemnestre</i>, in which Talma gave a realistic representation -of the tragic and unhappy fate of Orestes. On 9 November the Odéon put -on its boards the same author's <i>Saül,</i> in which Joanny first began -to make his reputation. Finally, on 21 December, the Théâtre-Français -produced <i>Valérie</i>, by MM. Scribe and Mélesville. As against all these -new plays, the year 1823 only offered us the comedy of l'<i>Éducation -ou les Deux Cousines</i> by M. Casimir Bonjour, and <i>Comte Julien</i> by M. -Guiraud.</p> - -<p><i>L'Éducation ou les Deux Cousines</i> is M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy; -but M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy had the option of being a feeble -production, and it exercised that option.</p> - -<p>While <i>Comte Julien</i> was honest, careful work, as were all the -author's plays, its principal attraction was that the company acting -it contained Mademoiselle Georges, who made her reappearance in Paris -after an absence of four or five years. Mademoiselle Georges was -extremely beautiful at that period, and still had <i>all her diamonds.</i> -Those who knew Harel and the fantastic posters he invented know -the part which Mademoiselle Georges' diamonds played in the rôles -Mademoiselle Georges acted.</p> - -<p>I have told my readers that as celebrated characters appear in these -Memoirs I will describe them all as clearly as I can, in the light of -contemporary knowledge; some of them only shone for a very short time -and their light is now extinguished for ever. But what I have to say -about them will be all the more interesting on that account, for what -follows describes my first impressions of them, when they were in the -zenith of their popularity.</p> - -<p>We have remarked that the age of any living actress is not to be -known; but reckoning from the year when Mademoiselle Georges made -her début—that is to say, from 29 November 1802—she must have been -thirty-eight in 1823. Just a word to explain how Mademoiselle Georges -gained access to the theatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> and how she managed to remain on the -boards. Loved by Bonaparte, and retained in his favour when he became -Napoleon, Mademoiselle Georges, who begged to be allowed to accompany -Napoleon to Saint-Helena, is almost a historical personage.</p> - -<p>Towards the close of the year 1800 and the beginning of 1801 -Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was leading lady in tragedy at the -Théâtre-Français, went on tour in the provinces. This was at a time -when although Government had plenty to do, it was not ashamed to -concern itself with the arts in its spare moments. Mademoiselle -Raucourt had therefore received orders from the Government to look out -for any pupil during her tour whom she might think worth instruction, -and to bring her back to Paris. This young lady was to be considered -the pupil of the Government, and would receive a grant of 1200 francs.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt stopped at Amiens. There she discovered a -beautiful young girl of fifteen years of age who looked to be eighteen; -you might have thought that the Venus of Milo had descended from her -pedestal. Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was almost as classic in her -tastes as the Lesbian Sappho, admired statuesque beauty immensely. When -she saw the way this young girl walked—her gait that of the goddess, -to use Virgil's phrase—the actress made inquiries and found that her -name was Georges Weymer; that she was the daughter of a German musician -named Georges Weymer, manager of the theatre, and of Mademoiselle -Verteuil the actress who played the chambermaid parts.</p> - -<p>This young lady was destined for tragedy. Mademoiselle Raucourt -made her play Élise, with her, in <i>Didon</i>, and Aricie in <i>Phèdre.</i> -The experiment succeeded, and the very night of the performance of -<i>Phèdre,</i> Mademoiselle Raucourt asked the young tragédienne's parents' -leave to take her.</p> - -<p>The prospect of being a Government pupil, and, better still, the pupil -of Mademoiselle Raucourt, was, with the exception of some slight -drawbacks in the way of regulations to which the young girl had -perforce to agree, too tempting an offer in the eyes of her parents to -be refused. The request was granted, and Mademoiselle Georges departed, -followed by her mother.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> The lessons lasted eighteen months. During -these eighteen months the young pupil lived in a poor hotel in the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs, which, probably ironically, was named the -<i>hôtel du Pérou.</i></p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt lived at the end of the allée des Veuves, in a -magnificent house which had belonged to Madame Tallien and which, no -doubt also ironically, was called <i>The Cottage (la Chaumière).</i> We have -called Mademoiselle Georges' residence "a magnificent house": we should -also have said "a small house," for it was a perfect specimen of a -bijou villa in the style of Louis XV.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of the eighteenth century—that strange epoch when -people called things by their right names—Sapho-Raucourt enjoyed a -reputation the originality of which she took not the least pains to -hide.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt's attitude towards men was more than -indifference, it was hatred. The writer of these lines has in his -possession a memorandum signed by this famous actress which is a -regular war-cry against the masculine sex, and in which the modern -Queen of the Amazons calls upon every lovely warrior enrolled under her -orders to open rupture with men.</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more odd than the form and, above all, the -subject-matter of this manifesto. And yet, strange to relate, in -spite of this contempt towards us, Mademoiselle Raucourt, whenever -the costume of her sex was not indispensable to her, adopted that of -our sex. Thus, very often, in the morning, Mademoiselle Raucourt gave -lessons to her beautiful pupil in trousers, with a dressing-gown over -them,—just as M. Molé or M. Fleury would have done,—a pretty woman by -her side who addressed her as "dear fellow," and a charming child who -called her "papa."</p> - -<p>We did not know Mademoiselle Raucourt,—she died in 1814, and her -funeral created a great sensation,—but we knew her mother, who died -in 1832 or 1833; and we still know the <i>childy</i> who is to-day a man of -fifty-five.</p> - -<p>We were acquainted with an actor whose whole career<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> was blighted by -Mademoiselle Raucourt on account of some jealousy he had the misfortune -to arouse in the terrible Lesbian. Mademoiselle Raucourt appealed to -the Committee of the Théâtre-Français, reminded them of her rights of -possession and of priority in respect of the girl whom the impertinent -comedian wished to seduce from her, and, the priority and the -possession being recognised, the impudent comedian, who is still living -and is one of the most straightforward men imaginable, was hounded -out of the theatre, the members of the company believing that, as in -the case of Achilles, Mademoiselle Raucourt, because of this modern -Briseis, would retire in sulks.</p> - -<p>Let us return to the young girl, whose mother never left her a -single instant during the visits she paid to her teacher: three -times a week had she to traverse the long distance between the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs and the allée des Veuves in order to take -her lessons. Her first appearances were fixed to take place at the -end of November. They were to be in <i>Clytemnestre</i>, in <i>Émilie,</i> in -<i>Aménaïde</i>, in <i>Idamé</i>, in <i>Didon</i> and in <i>Sémiramis.</i></p> - -<p>A début at the Théâtre-Français in 1802 was a great affair both for -the artiste and for the public; it was a still greater matter to be -received into the company; for if one joined the troupe, it meant, -in the case of a man, becoming a colleague of Monvel, of Saint-Prix, -of Baptiste senior, of Talma, of Lafond, of Saint-Phal, of Molé, of -Fleury, of Armand, of Michot, of Grandménil, of Dugazon, of Dazincourt, -of Baptiste junior, of la Rochelle; in the case of a woman, one became -the companion of Mademoiselle Raucourt, of Mlle. Contat, of Mlle. -Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. -Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars.</p> - -<p>The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre -Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: -Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and -Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in -due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but -who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I -came to Paris.</p> - -<p>Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. He it was who, -when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance, was directing the -débuts of Mademoiselle Duchesnois with an almost fatherly affection; -he had produced the <i>Mort d'Abel</i> in 1793, a patriarchal tragedy which -owed its success, first to the talent of the author, secondly and more -especially, to its opposition to current events. It was played between -the execution of Louis XVI. and that of Marie-Antoinette, between the -September Massacres and the execution of the Girondists; it distracted -people's minds for the moment from the sight of the blood which flowed -down the gutters. When they had witnessed all day long bodies hanging -from the lamp-posts and heads carried on the ends of pikes, they were -not sorry to spend their evening with shepherds and shepherdesses. Nero -crowned himself with roses and sang Ionic verses after watching Rome -burn.</p> - -<p>In 1794 Legouvé had produced <i>Épicharis.</i> The last act contained a very -fine monologue, which he certainly had not created himself, but which -he had borrowed from a page of Mercier. This final act made the success -of the play. I heard Talma declaim the monologue in his pompous style.</p> - -<p>Finally, in 1799, Legouvé had produced <i>Étéocle. Étéocle</i> was a -failure, or nearly so; and, seeing this, instead of providing a fresh -tragedy for the Théâtre-Français, Legouvé introduced a new tragic -actress. Mademoiselle Duchesnois had just completed her exceedingly -successful début when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance.</p> - -<p>As I have promised to speak in due course of Lemercier, Alexandre Duval -and Picard, I will now finish what I have to say about Chénier and -Ducis, of whom I shall probably not have occasion to speak again.</p> - -<p>Marie-Joseph Chénier possessed singular conceit. I have a dozen of his -letters before me, written about <i>Charles IX.</i>; I will pick out one -which is a model of naïvete: it will show from what standpoint men whom -certain critics have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> audacity to call masters, and who probably -are masters in their eyes, look upon historic tragedy.</p> - -<p>The letter was addressed to French comedians: it was intended to -make them again take up <i>Charles IX.,</i> which those gentlemen refused -absolutely to play. Why did not French comedians want to play <i>Charles -IX.,</i> since <i>Charles IX.</i> made money? Ah! I must whisper the reason in -your ear, or rather, say it out loud: it was because Talma's part in it -was such an enormous success. Here is the letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Pressed on all sides, gentlemen, by the friends -of liberty, several of whom are of the number -of confederated deputies, to give at once a few -representations of <i>Charles IX.,</i> I ask you to announce -the thirty-fourth appearance of this tragedy on your -play-bills, for one day next week, independently of -another work that I have composed to celebrate the -anniversary of the Federation.</p> - -<p>You may like to know that I intend to add <i>several lines -applicable to this interesting event,</i> in the part of the -Chancellor of the Hospital, for I am always anxious to -pay my tribute as a citizen; and you, gentlemen, could -not show your patriotism on this occasion in a better -way than by playing the only <i>truly national</i> tragedy -which still exists in France, a tragedy philosophical in -subject, and worthy of the stage, even in the opinion of -M. de Voltaire, who, you will admit, knew what he was -talking about. In this tragedy I have made a point of -<i>sounding the praises of the citizen king</i> who governs us -to-day.—Accept my sincere regards," etc.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Can you imagine the Chancellor of the Hospital lauding the Fete of the -Federation, and Charles IX. singing the praises of Louis XVI.?</p> - -<p>Ah well!...</p> - -<p>Chénier had made his début in <i>Charles IX.,</i> which he wanted to have -reproduced, and its reproduction caused Danton and Camille Desmoulins -to be taken before the police magistrate, accused of having got up -conspiracies in the pit. <i>Henri VIII.</i> followed <i>Charles IX.</i> with -similar success. Two years after <i>Henri VIII., Calas</i> was produced. -Finally, on 9 January<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> 1793, at the height of Louis XVI.'s trial, and -some days before that poor king's death, Chénier produced <i>Fénélon,</i>, -a rose-water tragedy, of the same type as the <i>Mort d'Abel</i>, which had -that kind of success one's friends term a triumph, and one's enemies a -failure.</p> - -<p>Chénier counted on reviving his success by <i>Timoléon</i>. But Robespierre, -who had heard the work talked of, read it and stopped it. Listen, you -wielders of the Censorship! Robespierre trod in your footsteps; he -stopped <i>Timoléon</i> as your confrères, before him, had stopped <i>Tartufe</i> -to no purpose; <i>Mahomet</i>, to no purpose; <i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, to no -purpose; and so we come at last to you, who have stopped <i>Pinto</i> to no -purpose, <i>Marion Delorme</i> to no purpose, and <i>Antony</i> to no purpose.</p> - -<p>Robespierre, we repeat, stopped <i>Timoléon</i>, declaring that, as long as -he was alive, the piece should never be played. Yes, but Robespierre -proved himself ignorant of the temper of the age in which he and his -contemporaries lived; he counted without 9 Thermidor.... Robespierre -followed Danton to the scaffold, and <i>Timoléon</i> was played.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, two days before Robespierre, death claimed the -sweet-voiced swan whom men called André Chénier, a poet even as his -brother, though of a different make, and no writer of tragedies.</p> - -<p>How was it that Marie-Joseph Chénier found time to look after the -rehearsals of his tragedy, so soon after Thermidor, and immediately -upon the death of his brother?</p> - -<p>Ah! André was only his brother, and <i>Timoléon</i> was his child.</p> - -<p>But many-headed Nemesis was watching over the forgotten poet and -preparing a terrible vengeance. <i>Timoléon</i> killed his brother, and -Chénier was accused of not having saved his.</p> - -<p>Cries were raised for the name of the author.</p> - -<p>"No need!" cried a voice from the pit. "The author's name is <i>Cain</i>!"</p> - -<p>From that day Chénier renounced the theatre, although there were -rumours of two plays lying waiting to come forth some day from his -portfolio, called <i>Tibère</i> and <i>Philippe II.</i></p> - -<p>Ducis succeeded Chénier.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p> - -<p>After the death of Beaumarchais—who had written two charming comedies -of intrigue and three poor dramas—Ducis became the patriarch of -literature.</p> - -<p>There was in Rome, under all the popes down to the days of Gregory -XVI., who had them removed, a sign over certain surgeon's doors with -the inscription—</p> - -<p>"Ici on <i>perfectionne</i> les petits garçons."</p> - -<p>The reader will understand what that means: parents who desired that -their boys should remain beardless, and possess pretty voices, took -their children to these establishments, and by a twist of the hand they -were ... <i>perfectionnés</i>.</p> - -<p>Ducis did to Sophocles and to Shakespeare pretty much what Roman -surgeons did to small boys. Those who like smooth chins and sweet -voices may prefer the <i>Œdipe-roi, Œdipe à Colone, Hamlet, Macbeth, -Roméo and Juliet</i> and <i>Othello</i> of Ducis, to the <i>Œdipus</i> of -Sophocles and the <i>Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet</i> and <i>Othello</i> -of Shakespeare; but we must confess that we like Nature in all her -virility, that we think the stronger a man is, the more beautiful he -is and that we prefer entire dramas to castrated ones: this being -so, whether in the case of small boys or of tragedies, we hold all -<i>perfectionnement</i> to be sacrilege. But let us give Ducis his due. He -led the way to Sophocles by a poor road, to Shakespeare by a narrow -path; but, at all events, he left those guide-posts by the way, -which Voltaire had taken such pains to remove. When Voltaire made a -veil for Zaire out of Desdemona's handkerchief, he was very careful -to obliterate the mark on the linen he stole. This was more than -imitation—it was theft.</p> - -<p>In the period that elapsed between 1769 and 1795, Ducis produced -<i>Hamlet, Œdipe chez Admète, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello</i> and <i>Abufar.</i> -This was the condition of the Théâtre-Français, this was the state of -French literature, in the year of grace 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte -was First Consul, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were assistant consuls.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IId" id="CHAPTER_IId">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets—Luce de Lancival -—Baour-Lormian—<i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>—Lucien Bonaparte, the author—Début -of Mademoiselle Georges—The Abbé Geoffroy's critique—Prince -Zappia—Hermione at Saint-Cloud</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Let us here insert a word or two about Bonaparte's little Court. We are -writing memoirs now, and not novels; we must therefore replace fiction -by truth, plot by digressions and intrigue by desultory pages.</p> - -<p>Oh! if only some man had left us information about the sixteenth, -seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such as I have attempted to leave -about the nineteenth, how I should have blessed him, and what hard work -he would have spared me!</p> - -<p>A few words, therefore, as I have hinted, about Bonaparte and his -little Court.</p> - -<p>The début of Mademoiselle Georges had made a great sensation at Paris -and at la Malmaison. Formerly, one would have said at Paris and at -Versailles,—but Versailles was no more in 1802.</p> - -<p>The First Consul and his family were greatly interested in literature -at that time. Bonaparte's favourite poets were at the two extremes of -art, Corneille and Ossian: Corneille as representative of the powers of -the intellect, Ossian in the realms of imagination. So Corneille and -Ossian took the most prominent place among the poets who figured in the -catalogue of his Egyptian library. This partiality for the Scottish -bard was so well known that Bourrienne, when he organised the library, -guessed who was meant, though Bonaparte had written the word "<i>Océan</i>."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was not Bonaparte's fault if poets failed him, although he had -proscribed three of the greatest of his time: Chateaubriand, Madame -de Staël and Lemercier. Bonaparte demanded poets from the Chancellor -of the University, just as he demanded soldiers from his Minister for -War. Unhappily, it was easier for M. le Duc de Feltre to find 300,000 -conscripts than for M. de Fontanes to find a dozen poets. So Napoleon -was obliged to hang on to all he could find, to Lebrun, to Luce de -Lancival, to Baour-Lormian: they all had posts and incomes as though -they were true poets—in addition to compliments.</p> - -<p>"You have written a fine tragedy," Napoleon once said to Luce de -Lancival, about his <i>Hector</i>: "I will have it played in one of my -camps." And on the night of the representation he authorised a pension -of six thousand francs to be granted Luce de Lancival, with the -message, "seeing that poets are always in need of money," he should be -paid a year in advance. Read <i>Hector</i> and you will see that it was not -worth the first payment of six thousand francs. Napoleon also placed -Luce de Lancival's nephew, Harel, under Cambacérès, and made him a -sub-prefect in 1815.</p> - -<p>Baour-Lormian also received a pension of six thousand livres; but -according to the witty complaint he laid before the Bourbons concerning -the persecutions of the usurper, despotism had been pushed "to the -extreme of punishing him with a pension of two thousand crowns," which, -he adds, admitting his weakness, he had not dared to decline.</p> - -<p>One day—during the rumours of war that were spread abroad in the year -1809—an ode fell into Napoleon's hands which began with this strophe:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Suspends ici ton vol.... D'où viens-tu, Renommée?<br /> -Qu'annoncent tes cent voix à l'Europe alarmée?...<br /> -—Guerre!—Et quels, ennemis veulent être vaincus?<br /> -—Russe, Allemand, Suédois déjà lèvent la lance;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Ils menacent la France!</span><br /> -—Reprends ton vol, déesse, et dis qu'ils ne sont plus!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>This beginning struck him, and he asked—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Whose verses are these?"</p> - -<p>"M. Lebrun's, sire."</p> - -<p>"Has he a pension already?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sire."</p> - -<p>"Add a second pension of one hundred louis to that which he already -has."</p> - -<p>And they added one hundred louis to the pension already drawn by -Lebrun, who went by the name of <i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>, because he turned out -ten thousand lines of this kind of thing:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"La colline qui vers le pôle<br /> -Domine d'antiques marais,<a name="FNanchor_1_15" id="FNanchor_1_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_15" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /> -Occupe les enfants d'Éole<a name="FNanchor_2_16" id="FNanchor_2_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_16" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /> -A broyer les dons de Cérès;<a name="FNanchor_3_17" id="FNanchor_3_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_17" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /> -Vanvres, qu'habite Galatée,<a name="FNanchor_4_18" id="FNanchor_4_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_18" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /> -Du nectar d'Io, d'Amalthée,<br /> -Epaissit les flots écumeux;<br /> -Et Sèvres, de sa pure argile,<br /> -Nous pétrit l'albâtre fragile<br /> -Où Moka nous verse ses feux."<a name="FNanchor_5_19" id="FNanchor_5_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_19" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /> -</p> - -<p>But something happened that no one had foreseen: there lived another -poet called Pierre Lebrun—not Lebrun-Pindare. The ode was written -by Pierre Lebrun, not by Lebrun-Pindare. So it came to pass that -Lebrun-Pindare enjoyed for a long time the pension earned by Pierre -Lebrun. Thus we see that Napoleon did his utmost to discover poets, and -that it was not his fault if they were not found.</p> - -<p>When Casimir Delavigne published his first work in 1811, a dithyrambic -to the King of Rome, it began with this line:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Destin, qui m'as promis l'empire de la terre!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Napoleon scented a poet, and, although the lines smacked of the -schoolboy, he bestowed the academic prize and a post in the excise on -the author.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p> - -<p>Talma was poetry personified. So, since 1792, Napoleon had allied -himself with Talma. Where did he spend his evenings? In the wings -of the Théâtre-Français; and more than once, pointing out the man -who, twenty years later, was to send from Moscow his famous decree -concerning comedians, the porter asked Talma—</p> - -<p>"Who is that young officer?"</p> - -<p>"Napoleon Bonaparte."</p> - -<p>"His name is not down on the free list."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; he is one of my friends: he comes with me." "Oh, if he is -with you, that is another matter."</p> - -<p>Later, Talma had, in his turn, the run of the Tuileries, and more than -one ambassador, more than one prince, more than one king asked the -emperor—</p> - -<p>"Sire, who is that man?"</p> - -<p>And Napoleon would reply—</p> - -<p>"He is Talma, one of my friends."</p> - -<p>Once, when noticing the ease with which Talma draped himself in his -toga, Napoleon said, "That man will be able to teach me one day how to -wear the imperial mantle."</p> - -<p>It was not all joy to have a First Consul who liked Corneille and -Ossian; this First Consul had brothers who tried to become poets. -They did not succeed; but, at all events, they made the attempt. We -must give credit to good intentions. Lucien wrote poetry. The fierce -Republican—who refused kingships, and who ended by allowing himself -to be made a Roman prince: a prince of what? I ask you! Prince de -Petit-Chien (<i>Canino</i>),—wrote poetry. A poem of his, entitled -<i>Charlemagne</i>, remains to remind us of him, or rather, it does not -remain, for it is dead enough. Louis took up another line: he wrote -blank verse, finding it easier than to compose rhymed verse. He -travestied Molière's <i>l'Avare</i> in this fashion. Joséphine, the creole -coquette, with her nonchalant grace and her adaptable mind, welcomed -everyone, letting the world spin as it liked around her, like Hamlet -and, like Hamlet, praising everybody.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p> - -<p>Talma was a privileged guest in the little bourgeois Court. He talked -of the débutante, Mademoiselle Georges; he spoke of her beauty and -promising talent. Lucien became excited over her, and for all the -world like John the Baptist in the rôle of a precursor, he managed to -have a peep at the subject of the talk of the day, through a keyhole -somewhere, or mayhap through a wide open door, and he returned to -Malmaison, with a rather suspicious enthusiasm, to report that the -débutante's physical beauty was certainly below the praises sung -concerning it.</p> - -<p>The great day arrived—Monday, 8th Frimaire, year XI (29 November -1802). There had been a crowd waiting outside the Théâtre de la -République since eleven o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>Here, with the reader's permission, we will introduce Geoffroy's -account. Geoffroy was a worthless, shallow, unconscientious critic, who -had won his reputation at the time of the Terror, and who handed on his -pen to a wretch of his own kidney, to whom justice had several times -been dealt by the police courts;-a way of dealing with things which -seems to me to be a great improvement on the times of our forefathers. -We cannot possibly have degenerated in everything!</p> - -<p>Geoffroy did not spoil débutants, male or female, especially if they -were not wealthy. Hear what this sometime prince of critics had to say -about Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>There has always been a man called the prince of critics in France. -It is not the rank that is called in question, but the dignity of the -particular holder of it.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center"> - -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE</span><br /> -<i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i><br /> -Pour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymer<br /> -élève de Mademoiselle Raucourt<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Sufficient measures were not taken to control the -extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. -All the police were busily engaged at the box offices -during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors -were almost unprotected and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> sustained a terrific siege. -Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic -account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary -actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I -was acquainted with the danger.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi,<br /> -Et quorum pars magna fui!'<br /> -</p> - -<p>"The assailants were inspired with the desire to see -the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a -celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity -is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such -scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, -suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot -all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent -only on opening a passage at the expense of all who -surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than -such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and -philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among -a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have -better plays and better actors than the Athenians,—that -is not yet sufficiently established,—but it is certain -that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility -at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress -of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for -frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since -history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of -intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is -also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends -countenance to the theory that the plays most run after -must necessarily be the best...."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Would my readers have suspected that the famous Geoffroy could write in -such a style?—No?—Well, neither would I.</p> - -<p>Let us proceed. As we advance, its dulness ceases: it becomes almost -fanciful.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they -exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth -fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace -is more to be desired.'</p> - -<p>"And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be -wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order -to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible -for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> her to be more beautiful than she is, it would still -be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; -for spectators will be more severely critical in their -estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a -sight of her.</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly -extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does -not fall below expectation. Her features combine the -regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; -her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she -walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, -her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect -model for Guérin's chisel...."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Ah, Geoffroy, I do not know whether the critics of the time of Pericles -were better than those of the age of Bonaparte, first of that name; -but I do know that at least one or two of ours can write in a better -style....</p> - -<p>You think not?</p> - -<p>Well, then, here is a portrait of the same person, written by a critic -in 1835. Notice the progress in style made in the thirty-three years -between Geoffroy's time and that of Théophile Gautier.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"If I mistake not, Mademoiselle Georges is like a -medallion from Syracuse or an Isis from an Æginæan -bas-relief. The arch of her eyebrows, traced with -incomparable fineness and purity, extends over dark eyes -which are full of fire and flashes of tragic lightning. -Her nose is thin and straight, with obliquely cut -nostrils which dilate when she is passionately moved; her -whole profile is grand in its simple uniformity of line. -The mouth is strong, superbly haughty and sharp at its -corners, like the lips of an avenging Nemesis, who awaits -the hour to let loose her iron-clawed lion; yet over her -lips flickers a charming smile, full of regal grace; and -it would be impossible to believe, when she chooses to -express the tender passions, that she has hurled forth, -but a short while before, a classic imprecation or a -modern anathema. Her chin is full of character and of -determination; it is firmly set, and its majestic curves -relieve a profile that belongs rather to a goddess than -to a mortal. Mademoiselle Georges possesses, in common -with all the beautiful women of pagan ages, a broad -forehead, full at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> temples, but not high, very like -that of the Venus de Milo, a wilful, voluptuous, powerful -forehead. There is a remarkable peculiarity about her -neck: instead of rounding off inwardly from the nape, it -forms a full and unbroken curve and unites the shoulders -to the base of her head without the slightest flaw. The -set of her arms is somewhat formidable by reason of the -strength of the muscles and the firmness of contour; one -of her shoulder-straps would make a girdle for the waist -of a medium-sized woman; but they are very white, very -clear, and they end in a wrist of childlike fragility -and tiny dimpled hands—hands which are truly regal, -fashioned to hold the sceptre and to clasp the dagger's -hilt in the plays of Æschylus and Euripides."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Thank you, my dear Théophile, for allowing me to quote that splendid -passage, and pardon me for placing you in such bad company. Faugh!</p> - -<p>I now return to Geoffroy. He continues:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Talent responded to beauty. The theatre was packed -throughout and thoroughly excited; the First Consul -and all his family were in the box to the right of the -proscenium; he clapped his hands several times, but this -did not prevent some signs of opposition breaking out at -the line—</p></blockquote> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -'Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit.' ..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Excuse me! I must again interrupt myself, or rather, I must interrupt -Geoffroy.</p> - -<p>The reader knows that it was the custom for the audience to look -forward to the way in which debutantes delivered this line.</p> - -<p>Why so? the reader may inquire.</p> - -<p>Ah! truly, one does not know these things unless one is compelled to -know them.</p> - -<p>I will explain.</p> - -<p>Because that line is too simple, and unworthy of tragedy.</p> - -<p>You may not, perhaps, have been aware of that, monsieur? Perhaps it -is news to madame, who does me the honour to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> listen to me? But your -servant Geoffroy, who is obliged to read everything, knew it.</p> - -<p>Now, listen carefully; for we have not reached the end. This line -being, from its simplicity, unworthy of tragedy, the audience wanted to -see how the actress, correcting the poet, would treat it.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges did not pretend to possess greater genius than -Racine: she delivered the line simply, and with the most natural -intonation imaginable, since it was written with the simplicity of -passion. The audience dissented; she repeated it with the same accent; -again they demurred.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, Raucourt was present, in spite of an accident she had met -with; she had had herself carried to the theatre, and encouraged her -pupil from a little box, concealed behind a harlequin's cloak.</p> - -<p>"Be bold, Georgine! Stick to it!" she cried.</p> - -<p>And Georgine—it will appear odd to you, I imagine, that Mademoiselle -Georges should ever have been called <i>Georgine</i> repeated the line for -the third time in the same simple and natural accent. The audience -applauded. From that moment her success was assured, as they say in -theatrical parlance.</p> - -<p>"The only thing that marred the play (said Geoffroy) was <i>Talma's lack -of intelligence, proportion and nobility in the part of Achilles.</i>"</p> - -<p>I begin to think we must have been deceived in the matter of worthy M. -Geoffroy's impartiality and that he had received before the play a very -significant message from one of the members of the Bonaparte family who -was in the box of the First Consul.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges played the part of Clytemnestra three times -running. It was an immense success. Then she went on to the part of -Aménaïde,—<i>that maiden attacked with hysterical vapours</i>, as Geoffroy -said later,—and her popularity went on increasing. Then, after the -rôle of Aménaïde, she took the part of Idamé in <i>l'Orphelin de la -Chine.</i></p> - -<p>If men wondered how debutantes in the part of Clytemnestra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> would -deliver the famous line so unworthy of Racine—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit...."<br /> -</p> - -<p>women waited just as impatiently for the appearance of debutantes in -the part of Idamé to see how they would dress their hair.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges' hair was arranged very simply <i>à la -chinoise</i>—that is to say, with her locks arranged on the top of -her head and tied with a golden ribbon. This arrangement suited her -admirably, so I was told, not by Lucien but by his brother King Jérôme, -a keen appreciator of beauty in all its forms, who, like Raucourt, kept -the habit of calling Georges, <i>Georgine.</i></p> - -<p>The night that the <i>Orphelin de la Chine</i> was to be played, whilst -Georgine, about whom, at that hour, the whole of Paris was talking, -was partaking of a lentil supper at the <i>hôtel du Pérou</i>,—not -because, like Esau, she was fond of this fare, but because there was -nothing else in the house,—Prince Zappia was announced. Who might -Prince Zappia be? Was he, too, a prince among critics? Not so: he was -a real prince, one of those art-loving princes whose line died out -with the Prince de Ligne, a Prince Hénin, one of those princes who -frequented the lounge of the Comédie-Française, as Prince Pignatelli -did the lounge of the Opéra. The lounge of the Comédie-Française was, -apparently, a wonderful place in those days—I only saw the remains of -it.</p> - -<p>After each great representation—and every time such actors as Talma, -Raucourt, Contat, Monvel or Molé played was a great occasion—all the -noted people in the artistic, diplomatic or aristocratic circles went -to have a few minutes' chat in the box of the hero or of the heroine of -the evening; then they returned to the lounge and joined the general -company there.</p> - -<p>Bonaparte's budding Court, which made such efforts to establish -itself as a Court, was rarely as brilliant as the lounge of the -Théâtre-Français.</p> - -<p>We were privileged to witness the fading light of those brilliant days -when it shone on the box of Mademoiselle Mars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p> - -<p>All came to these assemblies in full dress. There were scarcely -any who had not their own footstools, chairs and lounges. These -were very formal occasions and, indeed, to be called a "<i>dame de la -Comédie-Française</i>" meant a great deal; people still remember the -occasion of the first attack upon this crusted etiquette.</p> - -<p>It was Mademoiselle Bourgoin who broke through it, by asking for some -cakes and a glass of Alicante. The old members of the company raised -their hands to Heaven in that day and cried out at such an abomination -of desolation. And their dismay was quite logical: a breach, if not -repaired, is ever apt to grow larger, especially in a theatre. And that -very infraction is responsible for the beer and fried eggs of to-day.</p> - -<p>Well, as Georgine was eating her lentils, Prince Zappia was announced -to her. What did Prince Zappia want at such an hour? He came to offer -the key of a suite of rooms in the rue des Colonnes, which he had -furnished since the previous evening at a cost of over fifty thousand -francs. He assured the fair Georgine, as he handed her this key, that -it was the one and only key that existed.</p> - -<p>An oath was needed to induce the débutante to leave the <i>hôtel du -Pérou.</i> This oath Prince Zappia took. On what did he swear? We don't -know. We inquired of Mademoiselle Georges herself; but she replied to -us, with the magnificent naïvete of a Lucrezia Borgia—</p> - -<p>"Why do you wish to know that, my dear fellow? Many people have sworn -oaths to me which they have not kept."</p> - -<p>Lucien was not at all pleased at this change of residence. Lucien was -not a prince at that time; Lucien was not wealthy; Lucien made love to -her as a scholar; Lucien laid claim to the position of lover, which is -always a rather difficult matter when one's apartments are dingy and -cupboards bare: he was present one evening, I repeat, when Hermione's -chambermaid came into her apartment, thoroughly scared, and told her -that the First Consul's valet de chambre had come.</p> - -<p>The First Consul's valet de chambre? he who had dressed him on the -morning of 18 Brumaire? No! quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> another person than Prince Zappia! -They showed the First Consul's valet de chambre in with as much -deference as they would have shown in 1750 to M. Lebel when he visited -Madame Dumesnil.</p> - -<p>The First Consul awaited Hermione at Saint-Cloud. Hermione was to come -as she was: she could change her clothes there. The invitation was -curt, but quite characteristic of the First Consul's manners.</p> - -<p>Antony, it will be remembered, bade Cleopatra join him in Cilicia. -Bonaparte might well beg Hermione to join him at Saint-Cloud. The -Grecian princess was not prouder than the Queen of Egypt; Hermione -was not less beautiful than Cleopatra, and ought to have been taken -down the Seine in a gilded galley, just as the Queen of Egypt ascended -the Cydnus. But that would have taken too long: the First Consul was -impatient to pay his addresses and, admitting the weakness artistes -have for flattery, the débutante was probably in no less hurry to -receive them.</p> - -<p>Hermione reached Saint-Cloud half an hour after midnight, and left -it at six in the morning. She came out victorious as Cleopatra: like -Cleopatra, she had had the conqueror of the world at her feet. But the -conqueror of the world, who thought it astonishing that a débutante, -whom his brother had told him lived in the <i>hôtel du Pérou</i>, drank -water and lived on lentils, should possess an English veil worth a -hundred louis and a cashmere shawl worth a thousand crowns, tore in -pieces, in a fit of jealousy, both the cashmere shawl and the English -veil.</p> - -<p>I have often argued with Georges that this was not done out of -jealousy, but simply for the fun of the thing. She always persisted it -was done out of jealousy, and I had not the desire to contradict her.</p> - -<p>Some days after Georgine's little nocturnal journey, the rumour of her -triumph leaked out; she was playing the part of Émilie, and when she -declaimed, in accents of true Roman pride, the line—</p> - -<p>"Si j'ai séduit Cinna, j'en séduirai bien d'autres...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> the whole -audience turned towards the First Consul's box and burst into applause.</p> - -<p>From that night there sprang up two dramatic, and almost political, -factions in the Théâtre-Français: the partisans of Mademoiselle -Georges, and the partisans of Mademoiselle Duchesnois—the <i>Georgians</i>, -and the <i>Carcassians.</i> The word <i>Carcassians</i> was doubtless substituted -for <i>Circassians</i> as being more expressive. But what is the meaning of -the word? Upon my word, I dare not say: I leave it to the investigation -of savants and the research of etymologists. Lucien Bonaparte, Madame -Bacciochi and Madame Lætitia were at the head of the <i>Georgians</i>; -Joséphine flung herself headlong into the <i>Carcassian</i> party; -Cambacérès remained neutral.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_15" id="Footnote_1_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_15"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Montmartre.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_16" id="Footnote_2_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_16"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Le vent.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_17" id="Footnote_3_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_17"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Le blé.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_18" id="Footnote_4_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_18"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Galatée ayant été nymphe, <i>Vauvres, qu'habite Galatée</i>, -signifie: Vauvres où il y a des bergers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_19" id="Footnote_5_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_19"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Façon poétique de dire qu'il y a une manufacture de -porcelaines à Sèvres.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIId" id="CHAPTER_IIId">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Imperial literature—The <i>Jeunesse de Henri IV</i>.—Mercier -and Alexandre Duval—The <i>Templiers</i> and their author—César -Delrieu—Perpignan—Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the -Théâtre-Français—Her flight to Russia—The galaxy of kings—The -tragédienne acts as ambassador</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français -under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at -a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were -practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour -that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of -Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that -this double result was attained.</p> - -<p>"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day.</p> - -<p>"He left me to become an emperor," she replied.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges -and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as -emperor.</p> - -<p>This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; -but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his -usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until -the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his -audience with him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course.</p> - -<p>In 1803, Hoffmann's <i>Roman d'une heure</i> was played. In 1804, -<i>Shakespeare amoureux</i> by Alexandre Duval, <i>Molière avec ses amis</i> -by Andrieux, and the <i>Jeune Femme colère</i> of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> Étienne were played. -In 1805, the <i>Tyran domestique</i> and the <i>Menuisier de Livonie</i> of -Alexandre Duval were played; Charon's <i>Tartufe de mœurs</i>, Bouilly's -<i>Madame de Sévigné</i> and the <i>Filles à marier</i> of Picard; and in 1806 -appeared Picard's <i>Marionnettes</i>, Alexandre Duval's <i>Jeunesse de Henri -V.</i> <i>Omasis</i> or <i>Joseph en Égypte</i> by Baour-Lormian and the <i>Templiers</i> -by Raynouard.</p> - -<p>The two greatest successes of this last period were the <i>Templiers</i> -and the <i>Jeunesse de Henri V.</i> The <i>Jeunesse de Henri V.</i> was borrowed -from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and -published but not played, was called <i>Charles II, dans un certain -lieu.</i> One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier -had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its -offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the -theatre of the rue de Richelieu.</p> - -<p>On the night of the representation of the <i>Jeunesse de Henri V</i>., -Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to -him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the -Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, -the idiots!"</p> - -<p>Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and -wrote nothing for two years.</p> - -<p>But the real success of the year, the literary success, was the -<i>Templiers.</i> This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic -work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous -success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at -one bound into the Academy.</p> - -<p>The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had -created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. -At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. -Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy of <i>Télémaque.</i> Who -ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out of <i>Télémaque</i>?</p> - -<p>A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in -danger of deluding myself. Was it <i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>? Was it Lebrun the -ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> future Academician, peer of France, -director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I -do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and -whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound -as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of -Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined -talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did the -<i>Cid d'Andalousie,</i> twenty years later, in spite of the combined -efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars.</p> - -<p>As we were present at the first representation of the <i>Cid -d'Andalousie</i>, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. -Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of the <i>Templiers.</i> He -continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts -from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the -University.</p> - -<p>He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. -Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on -Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more -than three tragedies: the <i>Templiers</i>, of which we have spoken; the -<i>États de Blois</i>, which was not so good as the <i>Templiers</i>; and <i>Caton -d'Utique</i>, which was not so good as the <i>États de Blois</i>. Napoleon -was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand -conscripts and his poet.</p> - -<p>In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and -M. Baour-Lormian, the author of the <i>Templiers</i> and the author of -<i>Omasis</i>. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of -fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad.</p> - -<p>We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the -Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets -of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who -counted only the dukes of his own creation.</p> - -<p>It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes -began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just -discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. -This poet's name was Luce de Lancival.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> We have already spoken of him, -when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy -M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions -called <i>Mucius Scævola</i> and ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten -the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall -had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store by <i>Hector.</i> He was -appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." -This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands.</p> - -<p>A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the -preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy of -<i>Artaxercès.</i> There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time -Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" -This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him -thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less -talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings -of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the -archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called -Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended -by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals -of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the -actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which -might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of -the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece -performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection -with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the -expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play -was called the <i>Oncle d'Amérique</i>, and by inscribing Perpignan upon -the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow -with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to -add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this -privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did -take advantage of it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> - -<p>One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase -that led to the lounge of the Odéon.</p> - -<p>"Good-evening, confrère," he said.</p> - -<p>"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu.</p> - -<p>"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded -Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable.</p> - -<p>When <i>Artaxercès</i> was again put on the stage, at the time when we saw -it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, -the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what -is called in theatrical parlance <i>a dead failure (un four complet).</i></p> - -<p>A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him—</p> - -<p>"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?"</p> - -<p>"With them? Never!"</p> - -<p>"What have they done to you now?"</p> - -<p>"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know -my <i>Artaxercès</i>, a chef-d'œuvre?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its -emptiest!"</p> - -<p>And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the -Comédie-Française.</p> - -<p>But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from -the revival of <i>Artaxercès</i> to its first performance, which will bring -us to 30 April 1808.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played -it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous -rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the -town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had -carried her off—His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias.</p> - -<p>The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than -ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk -much better French than we do.</p> - -<p>The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. -In tragedy queens alone it could boast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> Mademoiselle Raucourt, -Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should -lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz -and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The -business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian -diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand -Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, -to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. -Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were -busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of -Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français -fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever -been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the -news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection -the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful -Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not -stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; -but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred -himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, -in diplomatic terms, to a <i>casus belli</i>, and Mademoiselle Georges -received an invitation to continue her journey.</p> - -<p>If the reader does not know what a <i>casus belli</i> is, he can learn it -from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. -Thiers presented two or three <i>casus belli</i> to the Powers, to which the -Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to -him, quite fresh and unused.</p> - -<p>Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of -Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause -from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout -the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly -scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, -unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was -in St. Petersburg.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p> - -<p>When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before -his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning -empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded -by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in -St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. -Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might -carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his -poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on -those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great -poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic -poets.</p> - -<p>So <i>Mérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, Iphigénie</i> and <i>Andromaque</i> were played -in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. -Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, -kept to the front.</p> - -<p>Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree -concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother -Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his -brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of -Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he -deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded -her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful -strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever -a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his -footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden -behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave -birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose -fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, -Antony had offered to Cæsar.</p> - -<p>Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a -few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think -of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave -a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old -and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this -sumptuous entertainment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p> - -<p>Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings -and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, -princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the -rendezvous.</p> - -<p>On 28 September 1808, <i>Cinna</i> was performed before the Emperor -Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the -following day, the 29th, <i>Britannicus</i> was played. In that interval of -twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William -of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, -who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the -death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, -mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost -that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre called <i>the sceptre of -the world.</i></p> - -<p>On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to -present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned -(without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de -Grenelle) the name of the author of <i>Faust</i> is perhaps the only one -which will survive.</p> - -<p>On the 3rd, <i>Philoctète</i> was played. It was during this performance -that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>—the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want -of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to -Waterloo. During the second act of <i>Philoctète</i> the King of Wurtemberg -arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on -one of the seats reserved for kings.</p> - -<p>On 4 October, <i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i> was played. The King and the Queen -of Westphalia arrived during the piece.</p> - -<p>Next day, <i>Phèdre</i> was performed. The King of Bavaria and the -Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée.</p> - -<p>On the 6th, the <i>Mort de César</i> was represented. The crowned audience -was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one -queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes.</p> - -<p>After the play, the emperor said to Talma—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I -have made you play before an audience of kings."</p> - -<p>On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left -Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe.</p> - -<p>Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of -the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree -from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, -regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. -Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at -Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were -called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the -world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East -and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five -years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the -other on the shores of the Sea of Azov.</p> - -<p>The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news -of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's -capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which -they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges.</p> - -<p>A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the -head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time -being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his -fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in -Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. -They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. -On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly -staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be -utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from -Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. -This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know -how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. -Hermione hid the letter among the busks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> of her corset. The busk of a -woman's corset is the sheath of her sword.</p> - -<p>M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn -from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left -in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She -held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred -thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns -without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, -and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within -two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of -Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the -diamonds were such a source of fear!</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, -and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting -arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd -of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young -Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful -in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect -the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their -knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than -before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly -escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached -the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, -Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. -King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick.</p> - -<p>King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was -hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great -haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not -know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know -that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be -readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest -after such an adventurous journey.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVd" id="CHAPTER_IVd">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The Comédie-Française at Dresden—Georges returns to -the Théâtre-Français—The <i>Deux Gendres</i>—<i>Mahomet -II.</i>—<i>Tippo-Saëb</i>—1814—Fontainebleau—The allied armies enter -Paris—Lilies—Return from the isle of Elba—Violets—Asparagus -stalks—Georges returns to Paris</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges left for Dresden the day after her arrival -at Brunswick. The giant who had been confounded at Beresina had, -Anteus-like, recovered his strength as he neared Paris. Napoleon left -Saint-Cloud on 15 April 1813. He stopped on the 16th at Mayence, left -it on the 24th, and reached Erfürt the same day.</p> - -<p>Napoleon was still in command of forty-three millions of men at this -time, and had as his allies against Russia all the kings who had been -present at the theatrical entertainments recently mentioned by us. But -Napoleon had lost his prestige. The first bloom of his glory had been -smirched; the invincible one had been proved vulnerable. The snowy -campaign of 1812 had chilled all the friendships professed towards him. -Prussia set the example of defection.</p> - -<p>On 3 May—that is to say, eighteen days after his departure from -Paris—Napoleon despatched couriers to Constantinople, Vienna and Paris -from the battlefield of Lutzen, where slept twenty thousand Russians -and Prussians, to announce a fresh victory. Saxony had been won back in -a single battle. On 10 May, the emperor installed himself at Dresden, -in the Marcolini Palace. On the 12th, the King of Saxony, who had taken -refuge on the frontiers of Bohemia, returned to his capital. On the -18th, Napoleon proposed an armistice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span></p> - -<p>As it was ignored, he fought and won the battles of Bautzen and of -Lutzen on the 20th and 21st. On 10 June, the emperor returned to -Dresden, still in hopes of the desired armistice.</p> - -<p>On 16 June, MM. de Beausset and de Turenne were appointed to look after -the Comédie-Française. M. de Beausset's work was to see to the stage -management of the theatre, to obtain lodgings for the actors and to -arrange the repertory. M. de Turenne took upon him the invitations and -all matters connected with court etiquette. On 19 June, the company of -the Comédie-Française arrived. It consisted of the following actors and -actresses: MM. Fleury, Saint-Phal,</p> - -<p>Baptiste junior, Armand, Thénard, Vigny, Michot, Bartier; and Mesdames -Thénard, Émilie Contat, Mézeray, Mars and Bourgoin. We have followed -the observances of etiquette <i>à la</i> M. de Turenne, and placed these -gentlemen and ladies in the order of their seniority.</p> - -<p>All was ready to receive them by 15 June. Lodgings, carriages and -servants had all been hired in advance. An hour after their arrival, -the thirteen artistes were duly installed. At midnight, on the -following day, Mademoiselle Georges also arrived in Dresden. By one -o'clock the Duc de Vicence had taken up his residence with her. The -next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, she was received by the -emperor. That very day, a courier was sent off to command Talma -and Saint-Prix to set out for Dresden instantly, no matter in what -part of France they might be when the order reached them. The order -reached Saint-Prix in Paris, and found Talma in the provinces. Twelve -days after, Talma and Saint-Prix arrived, and the company of the -Comédie-Française was complete.</p> - -<p>A theatre had been arranged for comedy in the orangery belonging to the -palace occupied by the emperor.</p> - -<p>Tragedies, which require far more staging and much more scenery, were -to be performed in the town theatre. The first representation of comedy -took place on 22 June; it consisted of the <i>Gageure imprévue</i> and -the <i>Suites d'un bal masqué.</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> The first representation of tragedy -was <i>Phèdre</i>, played on the 24th. But these entertainments were very -different from those at Erfürt! A veil of sadness had crept over the -past; a cloud of fear hung over the future. People remembered Beresina; -they foresaw Leipzig. Talma looked in vain among the audience for the -kings who had applauded him at Erfürt. There was only the old and -faithful King of Saxony, the last of those crowned heads who remained -true to Napoleon.</p> - -<p>The performances lasted from 22 June until 10 August. The emperor -invited either Talma or Mademoiselle Mars or Mademoiselle Georges to -lunch with him most mornings. They talked of art. Art had always filled -an important place in Napoleon's mind. He was in this respect not -only the successor, but also the heir to Louis XIV. It was on these -occasions that he gave expression to those incisive appreciations -peculiar to himself, and to his opinions on men and on their works. -It must have been fine indeed to listen to Napoleon's appreciation of -Corneille and his criticism of Racine. And it should be remembered -that, to be able to speak of Corneille or of Racine, his powerful mind -had to put aside for the moment all thought of the material world -which was beginning to press heavily upon him. It is true that he was -continually being deluded by hopes of peace; but on the evening of 11 -August all hopes of that nature were dispelled.</p> - -<p>On the 12 th, at three o'clock in the morning, M. de Beausset received -the following letter from Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR BEAUSSET</span>,—The emperor commands me to tell you -that the French actors who are here must leave either -to-day or to-morrow morning at the latest, to return to -Paris. Have the goodness to inform them of this.—Yours, -etc.,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 75%; font-size: 0.8em;">"ALEXANDRE"</p></blockquote> - -<p>The actors left, and then the battle of Leipzig took place. The -Empire's dying struggle had begun. The actors meanwhile returned -to Paris. Mademoiselle Georges resumed her ascendency<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> at the -Comédie-Française, after an absence of five years. Raucourt, though -still alive, had practically abandoned her career. For a long time -past the theatrical life had weighed upon her; she only acted when -obliged, and remained almost all the year round in the country. When -Mademoiselle Georges was reinstalled, it was arranged that she should -become a full member of the company, and her absence was reckoned -as though she were present. She reappeared as Clytemnestre when she -was still only twenty-eight years of age. Her success was immense. -There had not been many changes during those last five years at the -Théâtre-Français. The important pieces played during the absence of -Mademoiselle Georges were, <i>Hector</i> and <i>Christophe Colombo</i> to which -we have referred; the <i>Deux Gendres,</i> by M. Étienne; <i>Mahomet II</i>., by -M. Baour-Lormian; and <i>Tippo-Saëb,</i> by M. de Jouy.</p> - -<p>The success of the <i>Deux Gendres</i> was not contested, and it could not -be contested. But since people must always contest some point or other -in the case of an author of any merit, the paternity of M. Étienne's -comedy was contested.</p> - -<p>A worm-eaten manuscript written by a forgotten Jesuit was dragged out -of some bookcase or other, and it was said that M. Étienne had robbed -this unlucky Jesuit. It should be stated that the plot of the <i>Deux -Gendres</i> was the same that Shakespeare had utilised two centuries -before, in <i>King Lear</i>, and that M. de Balzac made use of twenty-five -years later, in <i>Père Goriot.</i> All these polemical discussions greatly -annoyed M. Étienne, and probably hindered him from writing a sequel to -the <i>Deux Gendres. Mahomet II.</i> met with but indifferent success: the -play was lifeless and dull.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, M. Baour-Lormian was a meritorious writer: he left, or -rather he will leave, a few poems charged with melancholy feeling, all -the more striking as such a sentiment was entirely unknown during the -Empire, which can offer us, in this respect, nothing save the <i>Chute -des Feuilles</i> by Millevoie, and the <i>Feuille de Rose</i> by M. Arnault. -Besides, the <i>Chute des Feuilles</i> was written before, and the <i>Feuille -de Rose</i> after, the Empire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p> - -<p>Let me quote a few of M. Baour-Lormian's pleasant lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ainsi qu'une jeune beauté<br /> -Silencieuse et solitaire,<br /> -Du sein du nuage argente<br /> -La lune sort avec mystere....<br /> -Fille aimable du ciel, à pas lents et sans bruit,<br /> -Tu glisses dans les airs où brille ta couronne;<br /> -Et ton passage s'environne<br /> -Du cortège pompeux des soleils de la nuit....<br /> -Que fais-tu loin de nous, quand l'aube blanchissante<br /> -Efface, à nos yeux attristés,<br /> -Ton sourire charmant et tes molles clartés?<br /> -Vas-tu, comme Ossian, plaintive et gémissante,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dans l'asile de la douleur</span><br /> -Ensevelir ta beauté languissante?<br /> -Fille aimable du ciel, connais-tu le malheur?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>We must now return to Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges, as we have remarked, found, it seems, the -Théâtre-Français pretty much as she had left it. She resumed her old -repertory. Is it not curious that during the nine years she was at the -Théâtre-Français Mademoiselle Georges, who has created so many rôles -since, only created those of Calypso and of Mandane there?...</p> - -<p>All this time, the horizon in the North was growing darker and darker: -Prussia had betrayed us; Sweden had deserted us; Saxony had been -involved in the rout at Leipzig; Austria was recruiting her forces -against us. On 6 January 1814, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, signed -an armistice with England, the expiration of which had to be notified -three months in advance. On the 11th, he promised the Emperor of -Austria to go to war against France with thirty thousand men; in -exchange for which the Austrian monarch guaranteed the throne of Naples -to him and his heirs.</p> - -<p>Napoleon then began the marvellous campaign of 1814, that titanic -struggle in which a single man and one nation faced two emperors, four -kings and six nations of the first rank, including Russia, England, -Prussia and Spain.</p> - -<p>If we turn over the pages of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> -for the whole of the year 1814, the only new play we shall find is the -<i>Hôtel garni</i>, a comedy in one act, and in verse, by Désaugiers.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, at each fresh victory, Napoleon lost a province. Driven-to -bay at Fontainebleau, he abdicated. Three days later, the allied forces -marched into Paris, and Napoleon left for the isle of Elba. There were -still two factions at the Comédie-Française, as there had been during -the time of the Revolution. Talma, Mars and Georges remained loyally -faithful to the emperor. Raucourt, Mademoiselle Levert, Madame Volnais -espoused the Royalist cause. Raucourt was the first to tear down the -eagle which decorated the imperial box. Poor soul! she little knew that -those whom she helped to recall would refuse her Christian burial, one -year later!</p> - -<p>The same kings who had been present at the Erfürt representations, -as Napoleon's guests and friends, came as enemies and conquerors to -see the same plays in Paris. Everybody knows the terrible reaction -that took place at first against the Empire. The actors who remained -faithful to the emperor were not persecuted, but they were made to -exclaim as they came on the stage, "Vive le roi!"</p> - -<p>One day Mademoiselle Levert and Madame Volnais outdid even the -exacting demands of the public: they came on the stage, in the <i>Vieux -Célibataire</i>, with huge bouquets of lilies in their hands.</p> - -<p>So things went on until 6 March 1815. On that day a strange, -incredible, unheard-of rumour spread through Paris, and, from Paris, to -all the four quarters of the earth. Napoleon had landed. Many hearts -trembled at the news; but few were more agitated than those of the -faithful actors who had not forgotten that once, when he was master of -the world and emperor he had conversed upon art and poetry with them.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, nobody dared express his joy: hope was faint, the truth -of the rumour uncertain.</p> - -<p>According to the official newspapers, Napoleon was wandering, hunted -and beaten, among the mountains, where he could not avoid being -captured before long. Truth, like everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> that is real, makes -itself seen in the end. A persistent rumour came from Gap, from -Sisteron, from Grenoble; the fugitive of the <i>Journal des Débats</i> was -a conqueror round whom the people rallied in intoxicated delight. -Labédoyère and his regiment, Ney and his army corps rallied round him. -Lyons had opened its gates to him, and from the heights of Fourvières -the imperial eagle had started on the flight which, from tower to -tower, was to bring it at last to the towers of Nôtre Dame.</p> - -<p>On 19 March, the Tuileries was evacuated: a courier was sent to carry -this news to Napoleon, who was at Fontainebleau. People expected him -all day long on the 20th; they felt confident that he would make a -triumphal entry along the boulevards. Mars and Georges had taken a -window at Frascati's. They wore hats of white straw, with enormous -bunches of violets in them. They attracted much notice, for it was -known that they had been persecuted for a year at the Comédie-Française -on account of their attachment to the emperor.</p> - -<p>The bouquets of violets symbolised the month of March: the King of -Rome's birthday was in the month of March, and also the return of -Napoleon. From that day violets became a badge. People wore violets in -all sorts of fashions—in hats, hanging by their sides, as trimmings -to dresses. Some, more fanatic than others, wore a gold violet in -their buttonholes, as an order of chivalry. There was quite as great a -reaction against the Bourbons as there had been in their favour a year -before.</p> - -<p>When Talma, Mars and Georges appeared, they were overwhelmed with -applause. Georges saw the emperor again at the Tuileries. By dint of -his powerful character, Napoleon seemed to have put everything behind -him. One might have said he had not left the château of Catherine de -Médicis save, as had been his custom, to bring back news of a fresh -victory. The only thing that distressed him was that they had taken -away some of his favourite pieces of furniture.</p> - -<p>He missed greatly a little boudoir, hung with tapestry that had been -worked by Marie-Louise and the ladies of the Court.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Would you believe it, my dear," he said to Georges, "I found asparagus -stalks on the arm-chairs!" This was the worst with which he reproached -Louis XVIII.</p> - -<p>The return of the god was of as short duration as the apparition of a -ghost. Waterloo succeeded Leipzig; Saint-Helena, the isle of Elba. It -was a more terrible, a more melancholy counterpart! Leipzig was but a -wound, Waterloo was death; the isle of Elba was but exile, Saint-Helena -was the tomb!</p> - -<p>One might almost say that he carried everything away with him. We again -turn over the leaves of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français and we do -not find any play of importance produced throughout the year 1815. The -lilies reappeared and the poor violets were exiled;—with the violets, -Georges exiled herself. She went to the provinces, where she remained -for several years; she reappeared in 1823, more beautiful than she had -ever been. She was then thirty-eight.</p> - -<p>I will find an opportunity to pass in review the men of letters and -the literary works of the Empire, to which, on account of my callow -youth, I have scarcely referred, during the period in which these men -and their works flourished. Indeed, when Georges made her début, the -two men who were to add to her reputation by means of <i>Christine, -Bérengère</i> and <i>Marguerite de Bourgogne, Marie Tudor</i> and <i>Lucrèce -Borgia</i>, were still wailing at their mothers' breasts. Taken all round, -whatever people may say, these five rôles were Georges' greatest -successes. Meanwhile, on 12 April 1823, the great actress played in -<i>Comte Julien</i> at the Odéon.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vd" id="CHAPTER_Vd">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of a great -actor—Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de Portugal upon Talma declining -it—Lafond—His school—His sayings—Mademoiselle Duchesnois—Her -failings and her abilities—<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> succeeds</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The great day for the representation of <i>Pierre de Portugal</i> came at -last. Talma, preoccupied with his creation of the part of Danville in -the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, had declined to take the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal. Lafond had accepted it, and he and Mademoiselle Duchesnois -had to bear the brunt of the whole play. Herein lay the indisputable -test pointed out by Lassagne: could the play possibly succeed without -Talma? The great inconvenience of that <i>rara avis</i>, as Juvenal puts -it, or, in theatre parlance, the actor who brings in the receipts, is -that on days when he does not play the theatre loses heavily; plays in -which he does not figure are judged beforehand to be unworthy of public -notice, since they have not been honoured by the actor's concurrence.</p> - -<p>At the time to which we are referring the Théâtre-Français was better -off than it is now. One day it made money by Talma's tragic acting; the -next, it made money by Mademoiselle Mars in comedy. Casimir Delavigne -began its downfall by making the two eminent artistes appear together -in the same play and on the same day. As for Lafond and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois, neither apart nor together did they bring in sufficient -receipts.</p> - -<p>Lafond would be about forty then: he came out first in 1800, at the -Théâtre-Français, in the part of Achilles. Later, when supported by -Geoffroy, in <i>Tancrède</i>, in <i>Adélaïde Duguesclin</i> and in <i>Zaire</i>, he -became as successful as Talma. The scurvy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> race of sheep which we -have always with us, which takes its nutriment in the pastures of -poetry and which is too feeble to form its own opinion based on its -own mental capacity, adopts a judgment ready made wherever it can. It -bleated concerning Lafond, "Lafond is inimitable in the rôle of French -cavalier."</p> - -<p>There was always, at this period of the drama, a part called the -French cavalier. This part was invariably played by a person decorated -with a plumed toque, clad in a yellow tunic braided with black, -ornamented with representations of the sun, or of golden palms when -the cavalier was a prince, and wearing buff-leather boots. It was not -imperative that the hero should be French, or wear golden spurs, to -be a French cavalier: the rôle was designed on well defined lines, -and belonged to a particular school. Zamore was a French cavalier, -Orosmane was a French cavalier, Philoctètes was a French cavalier. -The only distinctions between them were as follows: Zamore played in -a cap decorated with peacock feathers, and in a cloak of parrot's -feathers, with a girdle of ostrich plumes. Orosmane played in a long -robe of white taffeta dropping with spangles and trimmed with minever, -in a turban opening out wide like a blunderbuss and decorated with a -crescent of Rhine stones, in red foulard trousers and yellow slippers. -Philoctètes played in a loose coat of red horse-hair, a cuirass of -velvet embroidered with gold, and was furnished with a warlike sword.</p> - -<p>Vanhove, in order to play Agamemnon, had a cuirass which cost him a -small fortune, two hundred louis, I believe; it was ornamented by two -trophies, hand-worked—a magnificent bit of work, representing cannons -and drums.</p> - -<p>I once said to Lafond—</p> - -<p>"M. Lafond, why do you play Zamore in such a shabby girdle? Your -feathers look like fish-bones; they are positively indecent!"</p> - -<p>"Young man," replied Lafond, "Zamore is not rich; Zamore is a slave; -Zamore could not afford to buy himself a new girdle every day; I am -true to history."</p> - -<p>What was perhaps less true to history was the expansive Stomach which -the girdle enclosed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p> - -<p>Lafond's triumphs in these cavalier parts made Talma nearly die of -envy. One day Geoffroy's articles exasperated him to such a degree -that, on meeting the critic in the wings, he flew at him and bit -him—at the risk of poisoning himself. But as the law of universal -stability decrees that every bullet shall find its billet, the -populace, by degrees, grew tired of Lafond's redundant declamation and -emphatic gestures, which, at the time of which we are speaking, being -used only by a few old-fashioned members of the school of Larive, drew -receipts no longer, even when they played the parts of <i>chevaliers -français.</i></p> - -<p>Lafond was an odd fellow in other ways besides. Thanks to his Gascon -accent and to his way of saying things, one never knew whether he were -talking nonsense or saying something witty.</p> - -<p>He once came into the lounge of the Théâtre-Français when Colson (an -indifferent actor who was often hissed) was blurting out his caricature -of Lafond's trick of over-acting. Colson pulled himself up; but it was -too late: Lafond had heard his voice in the corridor. He made straight -for Colson.</p> - -<p>"Eh! Colson, my friend," he said, in that Bordelais accent of which -none but those who have heard and followed it could form any idea, -"they tell me you have been taking me off?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! M. Lafond," Colson replied, trying to recover himself, "take you -off?... No, I swear I...."</p> - -<p>"All right! all right! that was what I was told.... Come, Colson, do me -a favour."</p> - -<p>"What is it, M. Lafond?"</p> - -<p>"Act my part before me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, M. Lafond...."</p> - -<p>"I beg you to do it; I shall really be extremely obliged to you."</p> - -<p>"The deuce!" said Colson. "If you really wish it...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do wish it."</p> - -<p>Colson yielded, and began Orosmane's tirade—</p> - -<p> -"Vertueuse Zaire, avant que l'hyménée...."<br /> -</p> - -<p>and declaimed it from the first line to the last, with such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> fidelity -of imitation that one might have thought Lafond himself were declaiming.</p> - -<p>Lafond listened to the end with the deepest attention, nodding his head -up and down and expressing his approbation by frequent and obvious -signs.</p> - -<p>Then, when Colson had finished, he said, "Well! why ever don't you act -like that, my dear fellow? The public would not hiss you if you did!"</p> - -<p>In the interval between the first and second acts of <i>Pierre de -Portugal</i>, Lucien Arnault was in the wings; during the second act, -Pierre de Portugal, disguised as a soldier of his army, insinuates -himself unrecognised into the house of Inès de Castro, who takes him -for a common soldier.</p> - -<p>Lucien saw Lafond advance in a costume resplendent with gold and jewels.</p> - -<p>He ran up to him. "Ah! my dear Lafond," he said, "your costume is all -wrong!"</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say against my costume?"</p> - -<p>"Rather, I should just think so."</p> - -<p>"But it is blatantly new."</p> - -<p>"That is precisely what I take exception to: you have put on the garb -of a prince, not that of a common soldier."</p> - -<p>"Lucien," replied Lafond, "listen to this: I would rather arouse envy -than pity." Then, turning haughtily on his heels, no doubt in order -to show the back of his costume to Lucien, since he had shown him the -front, he said, "They can ring: Pierre de Portugal is ready."</p> - -<p>When, five years later, I read <i>Christine</i> before the Théâtre-Français, -whether or not Lafond was a member of the committee, or whether he -did not care to trouble himself to listen to the work of a beginner, -I had the misfortune to read it in his absence. Although, as we shall -see in its proper place, the play was rejected, the reading excited -some interest, and it was thought that a drama might be made out of it -sooner or later.</p> - -<p>One day I saw the door of my humble office open and M. Lafond was -announced. I raised my head, greatly surprised,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> unable to imagine -why I should be favoured by a visit from the viceroy of the tragic -stage: it was indeed he! I offered him a chair; but he refused it -with a nod of the head, and stopping close to the door, with his -right foot forward and his left hand resting on his hips, he said, -"Monsieur Dumas, do you happen to have, by any chance, in your play, -a well-set-up gallant who would say to that queer queen Christine, -'Madame, your majesty has no right to kill that poor devil of a -Monaldeschi, for this, that, or any other reason'?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, no! I have no such gallant in my play."</p> - -<p>"You are quite sure you haven't?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In that case I have nothing to say to you.... Good-day, M. Dumas." -And, turning on his heel, he went out as he had entered. He had come -to ask me for the part of this well-set-up gallant, as he called it. -Unfortunately, as I had been compelled to acknowledge, I had no such -part in my play.</p> - -<p>In the heyday of his popularity M. Lafond never spoke of Talma, or of -M. Talma: he said, <i>the other person</i>.</p> - -<p>The Comte de Lauraguais, who had been Sophie Arnould's lover, and who, -like the Marquis de Zimènes, was one of the most constant visitors to -the actors' green-room, said one day to M. Lafond, "M. Lafond, I think -you are too often <i>the one</i> and not often enough <i>the other?</i>"</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Duchesnois was quite different from Lafond: she was really -kind-hearted, and her great successes never made her vain. She was -born in 1777, one year before Mademoiselle Mars, at Saint-Saulve, near -Valenciennes, and she changed her name, after her début in <i>Phèdre</i>, -in 1802, from Joséphine Ruffin to Duchesnois. We have said that she -was Mile. Georges' rival in everything: her rival on the stage, her -rival in love. Harel was the handsome Paris who was the object of this -rivalry. Harel, who was in turn manager of the theatre de l'Odéon and -of the théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, will play a great part in -these Memoirs—the part that a clever man, be it known, has the right -to play everywhere.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Duchesnois had had to struggle all her life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> against -her plain looks: she was like one of those china lions one sees -on balustrades; she had a particularly big nose which she blew -stentoriously, as befitted its size. Lassagne did not dare to go -into the orchestra on days when she acted; he was afraid of being -blown away. On the other hand, she had a marvellous figure, and her -body could have rivalled that of the Venus de Milo. She doted on the -part of Alzire, which allowed her and Lafond to appear almost naked. -She possessed a certain simplicity of mind which her detractors -called stupidity. One day—in 1824—people were busy talking about -the inundation of St. Petersburg, and of the various more or less -picturesque accidents that had occurred through this inundation.</p> - -<p>I was in the wings, behind Talma and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, to whom -an actress, who had just arrived from the first, or rather from the -second, capital of the Russian Empire, was relating how one of her -friends, overtaken by the flood, had only had time to climb up on a -crane.</p> - -<p>"What! on a crane?" said Mademoiselle Duchesnois, in great -astonishment. "Is it possible, Talma?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! my dear," replied the actor questioned so oddly, "no one ought to -know better than yourself that it is done every day."</p> - -<p>But, in spite of her ugliness, in spite of her simplicity, in spite of -her hiccough, in spite of her nose-blowing, Mademoiselle Duchesnois -possessed the most profoundly tender inflections in her voice, and -could express such pathetic sorrow, that most of those who saw her in -<i>Marie Stuart</i> prefer her to-day to Mademoiselle Rachel. Especially did -her qualities shine when she played with Talma. Talma was too great an -artiste, too superb an actor to fear being outbidden. Talma gave her -excellent advice, which her fine artistic nature utilised, if not with -remarkable intelligence, at least with easy assimilation.</p> - -<p>The poor creature retired from the stage in 1830, after having -struggled as long as she could against the pitiless indifference of the -public, and the cruel hints from other actors which generally embitter -the later years of dramatic artistes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> She reappeared once again before -her death in 1835, in <i>Athalie</i> at the Opera, I believe.</p> - -<p>It was very sad to see her: it inevitably brought to mind the line from -<i>Pierre de Portugal</i>—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Inès, vivante ou non, tu seras couronnée!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Alas! poor Duchesnois was crowned when she was more than half dead. She -had a son, a good honest lad. After the Revolution of July, Bixio and I -got him a sub-lieutenancy; but he was killed, I believe, in Algeria.</p> - -<p>The tragedy of <i>Pierre de Portugal</i> was a success; it was even a great -success; but it only ran fifteen or eighteen nights, and did not bring -in any money.</p> - -<p>Lassagne was right.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VId" id="CHAPTER_VId">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>General Riégo—His attempted insurrection—His escape and flight—He is -betrayed by the brothers Lara—His trial—His execution</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>We have mentioned that the <i>École des Vieillards</i> ought to have come -after <i>Pierre de Portugal</i>, but between the comedy and tragedy two -terrible dramas took place in Madrid and Paris. In Madrid they made a -martyr; in Paris they executed a criminal. The martyr's name was Riégo: -the guilty criminal's Castaing.</p> - -<p>Riégo was born, in 1783, in the Asturias, so he would be about forty: -he was of a noble but poor family and, since the invasion of 1808, he -had enlisted as a volunteer. He became an officer in the same regiment -in which he had enlisted; he was taken prisoner and led away to France. -Sent back to Spain, when peace was declared, he attained the rank of -lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment, and, leading this regiment -into insurrection, seduced by him, it proclaimed the constitution of -1812 at las Cabesas-de-San-Juan. It will be seen later that it was -desired that his head should be exposed, in order that his mute lips -and the eyes closed by death might bear witness to the fact that -royalty can be cruel for more than a day's span, and common people -ungrateful. On 27 September he was arrested at Cadiz. Let us say a few -words concerning his arrest and death,—the latter especially, for, -alas I it belongs almost to French history. After his last defeat, -General Riégo wandered in the mountains with a score of his comrades, -all of whom belonged, like himself, to the Liberal party. Fifteen of -these fugitives were officers. They were all exhausted by fatigue and -hunger, and did not know either where to look for shelter or from whom -to beg food, when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> caught sight of two men. They made straight for -them. These two men were the hermit of the district of Pédrogil and a -native of Valez named Lopez Lara. The general took them aside.</p> - -<p>"My friends," he said to them, "you have a chance to win a fortune for -yourselves and your families."</p> - -<p>"What must we do to gain it?" the two men asked.</p> - -<p>"Conduct me safe and sound to Carolina, to Carboneras and to Novas de -Tolosa."</p> - -<p>"And there...?"</p> - -<p>"There I shall find friends who will take me on to Estremadura, where I -have business to transact."</p> - -<p>Whether the journey appeared to them too long, or whether they fancied -they had to deal with outlaws, the hermit and his companion declined. -So Riégo arrested them, put them on a couple of mules, and told them -that, whether willingly or under compulsion, they would have to act as -guides to his band. The party waited until nightfall and then set forth.</p> - -<p>During the march in the darkness, Riégo talked with his comrades -concerning various events that had recently occurred, from which the -hermit and Lopez Lara soon guessed that they were in the company of -the notorious Riégo. From that moment Lopez Lara's whole thoughts were -filled with the idea of handing Riégo over to the Royalist authorities. -When daytime came, they had to stop. They were near the farm of -Baquevisones: Riégo announced that he meant to ask for shelter there, -so he ordered Lara to knock at the door. Lara obeyed. By chance, his -own brother Matéo opened it. Lara perceived that chance had brought him -the assistance he needed. Riégo, realising that too large an escort -might betray him, would only allow three of his comrades to go in with -him. One of these companions was an Englishman, even more daring than -Riégo. He at once locked the door of the farm behind him and put the -key in his pocket. When they had given the horses fodder, they rested -in the stable, each with his naked sword by his side. Three slept, -while the fourth mounted guard. When Riégo awaked, he discovered -that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> horse was unshod. He ordered Lopez Lara to shoe the horse -immediately.</p> - -<p>"All right," replied he; "but I must take him to Arguillos to get him -shod."</p> - -<p>"No," returned Riégo; "you shall stay here and Matéo shall have him -shod. But the farrier shall come here; the horse shall not go to him."</p> - -<p>Lopez appeared to conform with indifference to this order; but, as he -transmitted it to his brother, he managed to say—</p> - -<p>"The man who owns the horse is General Riégo."</p> - -<p>"So ho!" said Matéo; "arrange for him to be at breakfast by the time I -return; do not leave the place where they are or let them out of your -sight."</p> - -<p>Matéo returned, and made a sign to his brother that the commission was -executed. Then to Riégo he said—</p> - -<p>"Señor, as the farrier will be here in five minutes, you had better -breakfast, if you wish to proceed on your journey directly your horse -is shod."</p> - -<p>Riégo went to breakfast without making any objection. But not so the -Englishman.</p> - -<p>The Englishman searched the high road with his field-glasses from a -window as far as he could see. Suddenly a score of armed men came into -sight, headed by an <i>alcade</i> (magistrate).</p> - -<p>"General," he exclaimed, "we have been betrayed! There are soldiers -coming."</p> - -<p>"To arms!" cried Riégo, rising. He had time to utter this cry, but not -to accomplish its fulfilment. Lopez and Matéo seized their guns and -covered the outlaws with them.</p> - -<p>"The first man who moves is dead!" cried Lopez.</p> - -<p>"All right," said Riégo, "I surrender; but warn the soldiers who are -coming not to harm us, since we are your prisoners."</p> - -<p>The soldiers entered, led by the alcade.</p> - -<p>"Shake hands, brother, and do us no harm," said Riégo to the alcade.</p> - -<p>After some objection, the alcade greeted Riégo. But, in spite of this, -he told him he must bind his hands. Whereupon, Riégo took out of his -pocket all the money he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> had with him and distributed it among the -soldiers, asking them to treat him mercifully. The alcade, however, -forbade the soldiers to accept anything. A quarter of an hour later, -the civil commandant arrived from Arguillos with a guard, and they took -the prisoners to Andujar.</p> - -<p>When the captives entered that town, the people wanted to tear them -limb from limb. Riégo was accompanied by a French officer. When he -arrived in front of the same balcony from which, a year ago, he had -harangued the people, he pointed to the crowd which surrounded him -howling and shaking their fists and knives at him, and in a tone of -profound sadness he said to the officer, "These people whom you see -so relentless towards me, these people who if I had not been under -the protection of your escort would have butchered me long since, -these people carried me here in triumph only last year; the town was -illuminated the whole night through, and the very same individuals whom -I recognise surrounding me here, who then deafened me with cries of -'Vive Riégo!' now shout 'Death to Riégo!'"</p> - -<p>He was taken to the seminary of nobles; his trial lasted over a month. -A decree dated 1 October, the very day on which he was freed from -prison and reached the port of Sainte-Marie, degraded the general of -all his honours; consequently, he was tried by a civil court. The King -of Spain gained a twofold advantage by depriving the general of a -military court martial.</p> - -<p>First he knew that the civil court would condemn Riégo to death. -Second, if the sentence were pronounced by a civil court, the death -would be ignominious. Vengeance is such a sweet mouthful that it must -not be permitted to lose any of its flavour.</p> - -<p>On 4 November they led Riégo from the seminary of nobles to the -prison of la Tour. The court had not obtained all it demanded. The -attorney-general requisitioned that Riégo should be condemned to -the gallows; that his estate should be confiscated and given to the -Commune; that his head should be exposed at las Cabesas de San-Juan; -that his body should be quartered and one quarter sent to Seville, -another to the isle of Leon, the third to Malaga and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> fourth -exposed in Madrid, in the usual places for such exhibitions,—"these -towns being," the attorney-general added, "the principal places where -the traitor Riégo scattered the sparks of revolt."</p> - -<p>The alcades decided that the mode of death should be by hanging and -that the goods should be confiscated; but they refused the request -concerning the four quarters.</p> - -<p>Once, towards the end of the fifteenth century, the inhabitants of -Imola, a small town in the Romagna, found, on waking up, the four -quarters of a man hanging each by a hook at the four corners of -the square. They recognised the man cut into four quarters for a -Florentine, and wrote to the worshipful Republic to advise them of -the unforeseen accident that had overtaken one of its citizens. The -Republic learnt of this by means of Machiavelli, its ambassador to -the Legations. Machiavelli's only reply was as follows: "Noble lords, -I have but one thing to say to you apropos of the corpse of Ramiro -d'Orco, which was found cut up into four quarters in the square of -Imola, and it is this: the illustrious Cæsar Borgia is the prince who -best knows how to deal with men according to their deserts."</p> - -<p>It riled the King of Spain not to be able to deal with Riégo as Borgia -had dealt with Ramiro d'Orco; but he had to content himself with the -prisoner being borne to the gibbet on hurdles and with the confiscation -of his property. Even that would be quite a pretty spectacle.</p> - -<p>On 5 November at noon Riégo's sentence was read to him: he listened -to it very calmly. This calmness disturbed the judges for it would -set a bad example if Riégo died bravely. They took him to the chapel, -and under pretence that fasting induced penitence sooner than -anything else, they gave him nothing to eat from that time. Two monks -accompanied him to his cell and never left him. At the prison door, -in the street, he could see a table with a crucifix thereon, and -passers-by placed their alms on the table. These alms were destined to -pay the expenses of his mass and funeral.</p> - -<p>On the 7th, at nine in the morning, the prison was besieged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> by over -thirty thousand curious spectators; a much greater number than that -lined the whole of the route, and formed a double line from the prison -square to the square where the execution was to take place.</p> - -<p>Riégo had asked that only Spanish troops should be present during his -last moments. This favour was granted him, because France did not wish -to dip one corner of its white flag in the blood of the unlucky Riégo.</p> - -<p>At half-past twelve, after fifty hours of fasting, the general was -led forth to the prison door. He was pale and weak. They had stripped -him of his uniform and they had clothed him in a dressing-gown with -a girdle fastened round his waist; his hands and feet were likewise -bound. He was laid on a hurdle, with a pillow under his head. Monks -walked on both sides of this hurdle to administer spiritual consolation -to him. An ass drew the hurdle, led by the executioner. The victim was -preceded and followed by a corps of cavalry.</p> - -<p>It was difficult to get a good sight of the general, so great was the -curiosity of the crowd: his head fell forward on his breast, and he had -only sufficient strength to raise it two or three times to reply to the -exhortations of the priests.</p> - -<p>The cortège took nearly an hour to get from the prison to the place of -execution. When the foot of the gallows was reached, the general was -raised from the hurdle, covered with dust, and placed on the first step -of the scaffold. There he made his last confession. Then they dragged -him up the ladder; for, his feet being bound, he could not mount it -himself. All the while a priest kept beseeching God to forgive him his -sins, as he forgave those who had trespassed against him. When they -had hauled him a certain height, those who raised the condemned man -stopped. The act of faith was begun and, at the last word, the general -was hurled from the top of the ladder. At the very instant that the -priest pronounced the word <i>Jésus-Christ</i>, which was the signal, the -executioner leapt on the shoulders of the martyr, while two men hung -from his legs, completing the hideous group. Twice the shout of "Vive -le roi!" went up, first from the rows of spectators near by; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> -second time from a few individuals alone. Then a man leapt from out the -crowd, stepped towards the scaffold, and struck Riégo's body a blow -with his stick. That night they carried the corpse into the nearest -church, and it was interred in the Campo-Santo by the Brothers of -Charity.</p> - -<p>Nothing is known of Riégo's last moments, as no one was allowed to come -near him; the monks, his bitterest enemies, being desirous of throwing -all possible odium on his dying moments.</p> - -<p>"The last of the Gracchi," according to Mirabeau, "in the act of death, -threw dust steeped in his own blood into the air. Thence was born -Marius."</p> - -<p>Riégo left a song; from that song was born a revolution, and from that -revolution the Republic.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIId" id="CHAPTER_VIId">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The inn of the <i>Tête-Noire</i>—Auguste Ballet—Castaing—His trial—His -attitude towards the audience and his words to the jury—His execution</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The second drama which happened in Paris, and which was to have its -denouement on the place de Grève, on the same day that the <i>École des -Vieillards</i> was played, was the poisoning of Auguste Ballet.</p> - -<p>We have spoken of the death of poor little Fleuriet, who was as -pretty, fresh and flower-like as her name, and who was carried off in -twenty-four hours without any apparent reason for her death. May I be -forgiven the accusation implied in this statement, for it may be a -calumny; but when the facts cited below are considered, the cause of -her death may be guessed.</p> - -<p>On 29 May, two young people arrived in what at that period was -called "une petite voiture," and drew up at the <i>Tête-Noire</i> inn, at -Saint-Cloud. They had set off without leaving word where they were -going. Towards nine o'clock in the evening they were installed in a -double-bedded chamber. One of the couple paid a deposit of five francs. -The two friends walked about together the whole of the next day, -Friday, the 30th; they only appeared at the hotel at dinner-time, and -went out again immediately after their repast for another walk. It was -nine o'clock at night before they returned for the second time. When -going upstairs, one of them asked for a half-bottle of mulled wine, -adding that it need not be sugared, as they had brought sugar with -them. The wine was taken up a few minutes after nine, sugared with -the sugar that they had brought, and made tasty with lemons bought in -Saint-Cloud. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> same young man who made the five francs deposit for -the room, who ordered the dinner, and forbade the sugar to be brought -upstairs, mixed the sugar and lemon juice in the bowl of warmed wine.</p> - -<p>One of the two seemed to be a doctor; for, having heard that one of -the servants of the house was ill, he went upstairs to see him, before -tasting the prepared wine, and felt his pulse. However, he did not -prescribe anything for him, and returned to his friend's room after an -absence of a quarter of an hour. The said friend had found the wine -very nasty, and had only drunk about a tablespoonful of it. He had -stopped short because of the bitter flavour of the beverage. In the -midst of all this, the chambermaid entered. "I must have put too much -lemon in this wine," said the young man, holding the bowl towards her: -"it is so bitter I cannot drink it." The servant tasted it; but she -spat it out as soon as she had had a mouthful of it, exclaiming, "Oh -yes!... rather, you have made it bitter!" Upon which she left the room. -The two friends went to bed.</p> - -<p>Throughout the night the young man who had tasted the wine was seized -with violent spasms of nervous shivering, which did not give him a -moment's rest; he complained to his companion several times that he -could not keep himself still. Towards two o'clock, he had fits of -colic and, at daybreak, about half-past three in the morning, he -said he did not think he would be able to get up, that his feet were -on fire and that he could not possibly put on his boots. The other -young man said he would take a turn in the park, and recommended his -friend to try and sleep in the meantime. But, instead of going for a -walk in the park, the young man whose visit to the sick servant led -people to suppose him a doctor, took a carriage, returned to Paris, -bought twelve grains of acetate of morphine from M. Robin, rue de la -Feuillade, and one drachm from M. Chevalier, another chemist, obtaining -them readily in the capacity of a medical man. He returned to the inn -of the <i>Tête-Noire</i> at eight o'clock, after four hours' absence, and -asked for some cold milk for his friend. The sick man felt no better; -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> drank the cup of milk prepared by the young doctor, and almost -immediately he was taken with fits of vomiting which rapidly succeeded -each other. Soon he was seized by colic. Strange to say, in spite of -the attack becoming worse, the doctor again left the patient alone, -without leaving any instructions and without appearing to be uneasy -at a condition of things which was arousing the anxiety of strangers. -While he was absent, the hostess of the hotel and the chambermaid went -up to the sick man and did what they could for him. He was in great -agony. The young doctor returned in about half an hour's time. He found -the patient in an alarming condition; he was asking for a doctor, -insisting that one should be fetched from Saint-Cloud, and he opposed -his friend's suggestion that one should be fetched from Paris. He felt -so ill, he said, that he could not wait.</p> - -<p>So they ran for the nearest available; but nevertheless it was not -until eleven o'clock in the morning that the doctor whom they went to -seek arrived. His name was M. Pigache.</p> - -<p>The sick man was a little easier by that time. M. Pigache asked to -see the evacuations, but he was told that they had been thrown away. -He ordered emollients, but the emollients were not applied. He came -back an hour later and prescribed a soothing draught. The young doctor -administered it himself to the invalid; but the effect it produced -was prompt and terrible: five minutes after, the patient was seized -by frightful convulsions. In the midst of these convulsions he lost -consciousness, and from that moment never regained it.</p> - -<p>Towards eleven o'clock at night, the young doctor, weeping bitterly, -informed a servant that his friend could not survive the night. The -servant ran for M. Pigache, who decided, in spite of the short time he -had attended him, to pay the dying man one more visit. He found the -unhappy youth lying on his back, his neck rigidly strained, his head -uncovered, hardly able to breathe; he could neither hear nor feel; -his pulse was slow, his skin burning; his limbs were stiff and rigid, -his mouth clenched; his whole body was running with a cold sweat and -marked with bluish spots. M. Pigache decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> he must at once bleed -the patient freely, and he bled him twice—with leeches and with the -lancet. It made the sick man a little easier. M. Pigache pointed this -out to his young confrère, saying that the condition of the dying -man was desperate and that, as the good effect produced by the two -bleedings was so noticeable, he did not hesitate to propose a third. -But this the young doctor opposed, saying that the responsibility was -too great, and that, if the third bleeding ended badly, the whole of -the responsibility for the ending would rest on M. Pigache. Upon this, -the latter peremptorily demanded that a doctor should be sent for from -Paris.</p> - -<p>This course would have been quite easy, for, during that very day, -as the result of a letter despatched by the young doctor couched in -the following terms, "M. Ballet being ill at Saint-Cloud, Jean must -come to him at once, in the gig, with the grey horse; neither he nor -mother Buvet must speak a word of this to a single soul; if anybody -makes inquiry, they must say he is going into the country by order of -M. Ballet," Jean, who was a negro servant, arrived with the grey horse -and the gig. In spite of this facility of communication, the young -doctor made out that it was too late to send for a doctor from Paris. -They waited, therefore, until three o'clock, and at three o'clock Jean -started off with two letters from M. Pigache to two of his medical -friends.</p> - -<p>M. Pigache left the house, and as the young doctor accompanied him, -he said, "Monsieur, I think no time should be lost in sending for -the priest of Saint-Cloud; your friend is a Catholic and I think so -badly of his condition that you ought to have the last sacraments -administered to him without delay."</p> - -<p>The young man recognised the urgency of the advice, and, going himself -to the house of the curé, he brought him back with the sacristan.</p> - -<p>The priest found the dying man in the same unconscious condition. "What -is the matter with your unfortunate friend, monsieur?" asked the priest.</p> - -<p>"Brain fever," replied the young man.</p> - -<p>Then, as the curé was preparing to administer extreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> unction, the -young doctor knelt down, and remained in that position, with clasped -hands, praying to God with such fervour that the sacristan could not -refrain from remarking when they had both left, "What a very pious -young man that was!" The young doctor went out after the priest, and -remained away for nearly two hours.</p> - -<p>Towards three o'clock, one of the two doctors that had been sent for -arrived from Paris. It was Doctor Pelletan junior. M. Pigache, informed -of his arrival, came and joined his confrère at the bedside of the sick -man. But, after a rapid examination, both concluded that the patient -was beyond human aid.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, they tried various remedies, but without success. All -this time the young doctor appeared to be overcome with the most -poignant grief—a grief that expressed itself in tears and sobs. These -demonstrations of despair impressed M. Pigache all the more because, in -course of conversation, the young doctor had said to him, "I am all the -more unhappy as I am my unfortunate friend's legatee."</p> - -<p>Thereupon M. Pelletan, addressing the weeping young man, said to him, -"Have you reflected, monsieur, on the peril of your position?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Well, listen! You come, with your friend, for a couple of days to -Saint-Cloud; you are a doctor; you are, anyway, his legatee...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur, I am his residuary legatee."</p> - -<p>"Very well: the man who has bequeathed you his entire fortune is dying; -the symptoms of his illness are extremely peculiar and, if he dies, as -is probable, you will find yourself in a very awkward position...."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed the young man. "You think I shall be suspected?"</p> - -<p>"I think that, at any rate," replied M. Pelletan, "all imaginable -precautions will be taken to ascertain the cause of death. As far as M. -Pigache and myself are concerned, we have decided that there ought to -be a post-mortem examination."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! monsieur," cried the young man, "you could not do me a greater -service; insist upon it, demand a post-mortem examination, and you will -play the part of a father to me if you do."</p> - -<p>"Very well, monsieur," replied Doctor Pelletan, seeing him so much -excited; "do not be troubled. Not only shall the matter be carried -through, but it shall be carried through as delicately as possible, and -we will pay our utmost attention to it."</p> - -<p>Between noon and one o'clock—that is to say, within thirty or forty -minutes of this conversation—the dying man expired.</p> - -<p>The reader will already have recognised the two principal actors in -this drama by the designation of the place where it happened, and by -the details of the victim's agony.</p> - -<p>The dead man was Claude-Auguste Ballet, lawyer, aged twenty-five, son -of a rich Paris solicitor. His friend was Edme-Samuel Castaing, who in -a few days' time would be twenty-seven, doctor of medicine, born at -Alençon, living in Paris, No. 31 rue d'Enfer. His father, an honourable -and universally respected man, was Inspector-General of Forests, and -Chevalier of the <i>Légion d'honneur.</i></p> - -<p>One hour after the death of Auguste Ballet, M. Martignon, his -brother-in-law, warned by a letter from Castaing that Auguste Ballet -could not live through the day, hurried to Saint-Cloud, where he found -the sick man already dead.</p> - -<p>While they were proceeding to search every object in the inn that might -possibly throw some light on the cause of death, Castaing, still at -large, absented himself for nearly two hours. No one knew what he did -in his second absence. He pretended he wanted fresh air, and stated -that he was going for a walk in the bois de Boulogne.</p> - -<p>M. Pelletan returned at ten o'clock next morning to make the -post-mortem examination.</p> - -<p>He had left Castaing in full possession of his liberty, but when he -returned he found him under the surveillance of two policemen. Castaing -appeared very uneasy at the results to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> which a post-mortem examination -might lead; but he seemed to feel sure that if the body did not present -any trace of poison, he would be set at liberty immediately.</p> - -<p>The examination took place and an extremely circumstantial official -report was drawn up; but nowhere, either in tongue, or in stomach or in -intestines, could they detect the presence of any poisonous substance. -As a matter of fact, acetate of morphine, like brucine and strychnine, -leaves no more trace than is left by congestion of the brain or a bad -seizure of apoplexy. It was because of this, a fact which Castaing -knew well, that when the priest had asked him from what his friend was -suffering, he had replied, "He has brain fever."</p> - -<p>When the post-mortem was finished, without having revealed any material -proof against the suspected person, M. Pelletan asked the <i>procureur du -roi</i> if he had any objection to Castaing being informed of the result.</p> - -<p>"No," replied <i>the procureur du roi</i>; "simply communicate the result to -him in general terms, without making him think it is going to be either -in his favour or to his detriment."</p> - -<p>M. Pelletan found Castaing waiting for him upon the staircase.</p> - -<p>"Well," he asked the doctor eagerly, "have you concluded and come to -release me?"</p> - -<p>"I am unaware," replied M. Pelletan, "whether they mean to release you -or to detain you; but the truth is we can find no trace of violent -death in the body of Auguste Ballet."</p> - -<p>In spite of the temporary absence of material proof, Castaing was kept -a prisoner. The preliminary investigation began: it lasted from the -month of June to the end of September.</p> - -<p>On 10 November, Castaing appeared at the prisoner's bar. The affair -had created a great sensation even before it was made public; and the -Assize Court presented the appearance usual when an important case is -on—that is to say, so many lovely women and fashionably dressed men -put in an appearance that one might have thought it the first night -of a new play which had been announced with great pomp. The accused -was brought in. An indefinable movement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> of interest agitated the -spectators: they bent forward and oscillated with curiosity, looking -like a field of corn tossed about by the wind. He was a handsome young -man, well set up, with a pleasant face, although there was something -rather odd in his expression as he looked at you. Without being -elegantly attired, he was dressed with care.</p> - -<p>Alas! the preliminary investigation had revealed terrible facts. -Auguste Ballet's death had caused judicial attention to be bestowed -upon this unlucky family, and it was discovered that, since Castaing -had known the family, the father, the mother, the uncle had all -disappeared, struck down mortally within five months of each other, -leaving the two brothers Hippolyte and Auguste a very considerable -fortune; and, finally, Hippolyte died in his turn in Castaing's arms, -without either his brother Auguste or his sister Madame Martignon being -able to get to him. All these deaths had successively concentrated -pretty nearly the whole of the family fortune on the head of Auguste -Ballet.</p> - -<p>On 1 December 1822, Auguste Ballet, aged twenty-four, in health of -mind and body at the time, made a will, constituting Castaing, without -any motive, his residuary legatee, with no reservations beyond a few -small bequests to two friends and three servants. Auguste Ballet died -in his turn on 1 June, seven months after his brother. Now this is -what the proceedings had elicited concerning the two points which in -similar cases are specially investigated by those in charge of the -case—namely, Castaing's intellectual and his physical life. With -regard to his intellectual life, Castaing was a hard worker, urged -on by ambition, burning with the desire to become rich; his mother -revealed horrible things concerning him, if a letter that was seized -at her house was to be believed; his father reproached him with his -licentious life and the sorrow with which he overwhelmed both his -parents. In the midst of all this, he worked on perseveringly: he -passed his examinations; he became a doctor.</p> - -<p>Anatomy, botany and chemistry were the subjects to which he devoted -most time. Especially chemistry. His note-books<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> were produced, full -of observations, extracts, erasures. They attested the determination -shown in his researches and the profound study he had made of poisons, -of their various kinds, of their effects, of the palpable traces some -leave on different bodily organs, whilst some, quite as deadly and more -insidious, kill without leaving any vestiges perceptible to the eyes of -the most learned and experienced anatomist.</p> - -<p>These poisons are all vegetable poisons: brucine, derived from false -angostura; strychnine from Saint-Ignatius nut; morphine from pure -opium, which is extracted from the Indian poppy. Now, it was a strange -and terrible coincidence that on 18 September 1822, seventeen days -before the death of Hippolyte Ballet, Castaing bought ten grains of -acetate of morphine. Twelve days later, Hippolyte, suffering from a -serious pulmonary disease, but not yet in danger, was seized with a -deadly attack and died, as we have said, far from his sister and his -brother, after five days' illness! He died in Castaing's arms.</p> - -<p>Then Castaing's fortunes changed: he who had been very hard up -heretofore lent his mother thirty thousand francs and invested under -assumed names or in bearer stock the sum of seventy thousand francs. -The matter was further complicated by matters arising out of the will -of Hippolyte Ballet, questions which will never be properly cleared up, -even in the law courts, and which seemed to imply that Auguste Ballet -became Castaing's accomplice. Hence Auguste's weakness for Castaing; -hence that will in his favour; hence the intimacy between these two -men, who never separated from one another; all these things were -explained, from the moment when, instead of the ordinary bond of pure -and simple friendship, the link between them was supposed to be the -indestructible chain of mutual complicity.</p> - -<p>For—and this is the time to return to his outward life, that we have -put to one side in order to speak of the intellectual life—Castaing -was not wealthy: he lived on a moderate income allowed him by his -mother; his own efforts barely produced him five or six hundred francs -per annum; he had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> mistress, also very poor, a widow with three -children; he had two other children by her, so the young doctor had to -keep a family of six persons whilst as yet he had no practice. It seems -that he adored his family, especially his children. Letters were found -showing warm fatherly affection in a heart that was consumed, even -more on behalf of others than on his own account, with that thirst of -ambition and that craving for riches which brought him to the scaffold.</p> - -<p>We have seen that Castaing's finances suddenly became easier, that he -lent his mother thirty thousand francs and that he invested seventy -thousand francs in assumed names or in bearer bonds.</p> - -<p>Then, next, we saw that on 29 May he arrived at Saint-Cloud with -Auguste Ballet, and that, on 1 June, Auguste Ballet died, leaving him -residuary legatee. Castaing was in Paris on the evening he was absent -under pretence of taking a walk: he bought twelve grains from one -chemist and one drachm from a second, of acetate of morphine, or, in -other words, of that vegetable poison which leaves no traces and of -which he had already bought ten grains, seventeen days before the death -of Hippolyte Ballet.</p> - -<p>The above is a résumé of the accumulated evidence brought against -Castaing, who had to face the jury under the weight of fifteen charges -relative to the poisoning of Hippolyte Ballet, of thirty-four connected -with the business of the will and of seventy-six relative to the -poisoning of Auguste Ballet. People will remember the different phases -gone through during that long and terrible trial; the steady denials of -the prisoner, and his bearing on receipt of the sentence condemning him -to death; a sentence decided by the turn of only one vote—that is to -say, by seven against five.</p> - -<p>The criminal stood, with bared head, and listened with frigid -resignation to the sentence, his hands clasped together, silent, his -eyes and hands raised to Heaven.</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say why sentence should not be carried out?" -asked the judge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span></p> - -<p>Castaing sadly shook his head, the head so soon to feel the chilly grip -of death.</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur," he said in a deep but gentle voice,—"no, I have -nothing to say against the carrying out of the sentence decreed against -me. I shall know how to die, although it is a great misfortune to die, -hurried to the grave by such a dire fate as has overtaken me. I am -accused of having basely murdered my two friends, and I am innocent.... -Oh! indeed, I repeat it, I am innocent! But there is a Providence: that -which is immortal in me will go forth to find you, Auguste, Hippolyte. -Oh yes, my friends" (and here the condemned man stretched out both his -arms to heaven most impressively),—"oh yes, my friends, yes, I shall -meet you again, and to me it will be a happy fate to rejoin you. After -the accusation brought against me, nothing human can affect me. Now I -look no longer for human pity, I look only for Heaven's mercy; I shall -mount the scaffold courageously, cheered by the thought of seeing you -again! Oh! my friends, this thought will rejoice my soul even when I -feel.... Alas!" continued the accused, passing his hand across his -neck, "alas! it is easier to understand what I feel than to express -what I dare not utter...." Then, in a lower tone, "You have decided -on my death, messieurs; behold, I am ready to die." Then, turning -to his counsel, Maître Roussel, he said, "Look, look, Roussel, turn -round, come here and look at me.... You believed in my innocence, and -you defended me believing in that innocence; well, it is even so, I -am innocent; take my farewell greetings to my father, my brothers, my -mother, my daughter!" Then, without any pause, he went on, addressing -the amazed spectators: "And you, young people, you who have been -present at my trial; you, my contemporaries, will be present also at my -execution; you will see me there animated with the same courage as now, -and if the shedding of my blood be deemed necessary to society, well, I -shall not regret that it has to flow!"</p> - -<p>Why have I related the details of this terrible trial in such fulness? -Is it in order to awake gloomy memories of the past in the hearts of -the members of those two unhappy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> families who may still be alive? -No! It was because, by reason of the reports connecting poor Fleuriet -with Castaing, I was present at the final tragedy; I begged a day's -holiday from M. Oudard in order to see the end; I was present among the -number of those young people whom the condemned man, in a moment of -exaltation, of delirium, perhaps, invited to his execution; and when -I saw that man so exuberantly young, so full of life, so eager after -knowledge, condemned to death, bidding farewell to his father, his -mother, his brothers, his children, society, creation, light, in those -poignant tones and miserable accents, I said to myself in inexpressible -anguish of heart, "O my God! my God! suppose this man should be another -Lesurques, another Labarre, another Calas!... O my God! my God! suppose -this man be not guilty!"</p> - -<p>And, then and there, before the tribunal which had just condemned a man -to death, I vowed that, no matter to what position I might attain, I -would never look upon it as justifiable to punish a sentient, suffering -human being like myself by the deprivation of life.</p> - -<p>No, I was not present at the execution; for, I must admit, I could not -possibly have borne such a spectacle; and now twenty-eight years have -flown by between Castaing's execution and Lafourcade's, and they have -been full of such cases, in spite of the penalty of death, which is -meant to be a deterrent and does not deter! Alas! how many wretched -criminals have passed along the route that led from the Conciergerie to -the place de Grève, and now leads from la Roquette to the barrière de -Saint-Jacques, during those twenty-eight years!</p> - -<p>On 6 December, at half-past seven in the morning, Castaing was led from -Bicêtre to la Conciergerie. A moment later, the gaoler entered his cell -and told him of the rejection of his petition. Behind the gaoler came -the abbé Montes.</p> - -<p>Castaing then turned his attention to his prayers, praying long and -earnestly. He did not utter a single word during the whole of the -time he spent in the vestibule of the Conciergerie, while they were -preparing him for his execution.</p> - -<p>When he looked round at the vast crowd that awaited his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> appearance as -he mounted into the cart, his cheeks grew suddenly purple, and then -gradually subsided to a deathly paleness. He only lifted his head at -the foot of the scaffold; it had remained sunk on his breast during the -journey; then, glancing at the crowd again as he had done on coming -out of the Conciergerie, he knelt at the foot of the ladder and, after -he had kissed the crucifix and embraced the worthy ecclesiastic who -offered it him, he climbed the scaffold, held up by the executioner's -two assistants. He raised his eyes twice quite noticeably to Heaven -while they pinioned him on the fatal block; then, at fifteen minutes -past two, as the quarter chimed, his head fell.</p> - -<p>Castaing had experienced the sensation of death that he had not dared -more clearly to define to the audience when he drew his hand across his -neck—Castaing had passed before his Creator—if guilty, to receive -forgiveness, if innocent, to denounce the real criminal.</p> - -<p>He had asked to see his father, to receive his benediction <i>in -extremis</i>; the favour was refused him. He next asked for this -benediction to be sent him in writing. It was sent to him thus, but was -first passed through vinegar before being handed to him. They feared -the paternal benediction might hide some poison by the aid of which -Castaing might find means to cheat the scaffold of its due.</p> - -<p>All was ended by half-past two, and those who wished to have comedy -after tragedy still had time to go from the place de Grève to take -their stand in the queue outside the Théâtre-Français. On that day, 6 -December 1823, the <i>École des Vieillards</i> was played.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIId" id="CHAPTER_VIIId">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Casimir Delavigne—An appreciation of the man and of the poet—The -origin of the hatred of the old school of literature for the new—Some -reflections upon <i>Marino Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard</i>—Why -Casimir Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic poet—Where he -found the ideas for his chief plays</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The first representation of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> played by Talma -and Mademoiselle Mars was a great occasion. It was the first time -indeed that these two great actors had appeared together in the same -play.</p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne had laid down his own conditions. Expelled from the -Théâtre-Français under pretext that <i>his work was badly put together</i>, -he had profited by the proscription. His <i>Messéniennes,</i> his <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i>, his <i>Comédiens</i> and the <i>Paria,</i> and perhaps even more -than all these, the need felt by the Opposition party for a Liberal -poet to set against Lamartine and Hugo, the Royalist poets of the -period, had made the author of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> so popular -that, with this popularity, all difficulties were cleared away, perhaps -even too smoothly; for, like Richelieu in his litter, Casimir Delavigne -returned to the Théâtre-Français not through the door, but by means of -a gap.</p> - -<p>I knew Casimir Delavigne very well as a man, I studied him very much as -a poet: I never could get up much admiration for Casimir Delavigne as -a poet, but I have always had the greatest respect for him as a man. -As an individual, in addition to his uncontested and incontestable -literary probity, Casimir Delavigne was a man of pleasant, polite, even -affable demeanour. The first sight of him gave one the disagreeable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> -impression that his head was much too big for his small body; but his -fine forehead, his intelligent eyes, his good-natured mouth, very soon -made one forget this first impression. Although a man of great talent, -he was of the number of those who display it only when pen in hand. His -conversation, pleasant and affectionate, was colourless and insipid; -as he lacked dignity of expression and strength of intonation, so he -lacked strength and dignity of actual words. He attracted no notice at -a salon: people needed to have Casimir Delavigne pointed out before -they paid any attention to him. There are men who bear the stamp of -their kingly dignity about with them: wherever these people go they -instantly command attention; at the end of an hour's intercourse -they reign. Casimir Delavigne was not one of them: he would have -declined the power of commanding attention, had it been offered him; -had sovereignty been thrust upon him, he would have abdicated. All -burdens, even the weight of a crown, were embarrassing in his eyes. He -had received an excellent education: he knew everything that could be -taught when he left college; but since he left college he had learnt -very little by himself, had thought but little, had reflected but -little.</p> - -<p>One of the chief features of Casimir Delavigne's character—and, in -our opinion, one of his most unlucky attributes—was his submission -to other people's ideas, a submission that could only arise from -want of confidence in his own ideas. Oddly enough, he had created -among his friends and in his family a kind of censorship, a sort of -committee of repression, commissioned to watch over his imagination -and to prevent it from wandering; this was all the more futile since -Casimir Delavigne's imagination, enclosed in decidedly narrow limits, -needed stimulating much more than restraining. The result was that -this Areopagitica, inferior as it was in feeling and, above all, in -style to Casimir Delavigne himself, played sad havoc with what little -picturesqueness of style and imagination in plot he possessed. This -depreciatory cenacle often reminded him that Icarus fell because -he flew too near the sun; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> I am sure he did not even dream of -replying, that if the sun melted Icarus's wings, it must have been -because Icarus had false wings fastened on with wax, and that the -eagle, which disappears in the flood of fiery rays sent forth by the -god of day, never falls back on the earth as the victim of a similar -accident.</p> - -<p>The result of this abdication of his own will was that just when -Casimir Delavigne's talent was at its best and his reputation was -at its height, he dared not do anything by himself, or on his own -initiative. The ideas that arose in his brain were submitted to this -committee before they were worked into proper shape; the plot decided -upon, he would again put himself in the hands of this commission, -which commented upon it, discussed it, corrected it and returned it -to the poet signed <i>examined and found correct.</i> Then, when the plot -became a play and was read before (of course) the same assembly, one -would take a pencil, another a pair of scissors, a third a compass, a -fourth a rule, and set to work to cut all vitality out of the play; to -such purpose that, during the sitting, the comedy, drama or tragedy -was lopped, trimmed and cut about not according to the notions of the -author but as MM. So and So, So and So, So and So thought fit, all -conscientious gentlemen after their own fashion, all talented men in -their own line, wise professors, worthy savants, able philologists, but -indifferent poets who, instead of elevating their friend's efforts by -a powerful breath of inspiration, only thought instead of keeping him -down on the ground for fear he should soar above them to realms where -their short-sighted glance could not follow him.</p> - -<p>This habit of Casimir Delavigne, of submitting his will to that of -others, gave him, without his being aware of it himself, a false -modesty, an assumed humility, that embarrassed his enemies and disarmed -those who were jealous of him. How indeed could anyone begrudge a man -his success who seemed to be asking everybody's leave to succeed and -who appeared surprised when he did succeed; or be envious of a poor -poet who, if they would but believe it, had only succeeded through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> -the addition to his feeble intelligence of abilities superior to his -own; or be vexed with such a quaking victor, who implored people, in -the moment of his triumph, not to desert him, as beseechingly as a -vanquished man might pray them to remain true to him under defeat? -And people were faithful to Casimir Delavigne even to the verge of -fanaticism: they extended hands of flattering devotion in homage to his -renown, the diverging rays of which, like the flame of the Holy Spirit, -became divided into as many tongues of fire as the Casimirian cult -could muster apostles.</p> - -<p>We have mentioned the drawbacks, now let us point out the advantages, -of his popularity. His plays were praised abroad before they were -finished, spoken highly of before they were received, in the three -classes of society to which Casimir Delavigne belonged by birth, and -I will even go so far as to say above all by his talent. Thus his -clientèle comprised: through Fortune Delavigne, who was an advocate, -all the law students in Paris; through Gustave de Wailly, professor, -all the students of the Latin quarter; through Jules de Wailly, chief -clerk in the Home Office, all the Government officials.</p> - -<p>This sort of family clientèle was extremely useful for the purpose of -doing battle with theatrical managers and publishers.</p> - -<p>It knew Casimir and did not allow him to undertake any business -arrangements: he was so modest that he would have unconditionally given -his plays to the comedians, his manuscripts to the publishers without -any agreements. Casimir was aware of his failing in this direction: he -referred publishers and managers to his brother Germain, his brother -Germain referred them to his brother Fortune, and his brother Fortune -managed the affair on a business footing.</p> - -<p>And I would point out that all this was done simply, guilelessly, in -kindly fashion, out of the admiration and devotion everybody felt -towards Casimir; without intrigue, for this assistance never prejudiced -anyone who rendered it; and I might even say without there being any -coterie; for, in my opinion, where there is conviction coteries do not -exist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, every friend of Casimir Delavigne was absolutely and perfectly -convinced that Casimir Delavigne was the first lyric poet of his -time, the first dramatic poet of his century. People who never came -in touch with him, and those who were stopped by the vigilant cordon -which surrounded him, acted for and praised him, might well believe -that these opinions emanated from himself, as from the centre to the -circumference; but if they did get to close quarters with him, they -were soon persuaded of the simplicity, the sincerity and the kindliness -of that talented man.</p> - -<p>I believe Casimir Delavigne never hated but one of his confrères. But -him he hated well. That man was Victor Hugo. When the author of <i>Odes -et Ballades</i>, of <i>Marion Delorme</i> and of <i>Nôtre-Dame de Paris</i> was -taken with the strange fancy of becoming the colleague of M. Droz, of -M. Briffaut and of M. Viennet, I took upon myself to go personally on -his account to ask for Casimir Delavigne's vote. I thought that such an -intelligent person as the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i> would regard it -as the duty of one in his position to help as much as was in his power -in providing a seat for his illustrious rival, a candidate who had done -the Academy the honour of applying for a seat therein.</p> - -<p>I was quite wrong: Casimir Delavigne obstinately declined to give his -vote to Victor Hugo, and that with such vehemence and tenacity as I -should have dreamt him incapable of feeling, especially towards me, -of whom he was extremely fond. Neither entreaty nor supplication nor -argument could, I will not say convince, but even persuade him to -agree. And yet Casimir Delavigne knew well enough that he was rejecting -one of the eminent men of his time. I never found out the reason for -this antipathy. It was certainly not on account of their different -schools: I was most decidedly not of the school of Casimir Delavigne, -and he offered me the vote he withheld from Victor Hugo.</p> - -<p>The poor Academicians were in a sorry fix in my case; for, if I had put -myself up, I believe they would have elected me! They nominated Dupaty.</p> - -<p>Hugo comforted himself by one of the wittiest sayings he ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> made. -"I believed," he said, "that one could enter the Academy <i>par le pont -des Arts</i>; I was mistaken, for it appears it is by the Pont Neuf that -entrance is effected."</p> - -<p>And now that I have criticised the man, perhaps it may be thought that -it will be a much more difficult matter still for me his confrère, his -rival, at times his antagonist, to criticise his poetry. No! my readers -are labouring under a misapprehension: nothing is difficult to whoso -speaks the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Moreover, -I have never written anything about a man that I was not ready to tell -him to his face.</p> - -<p>In order to judge Casimir Delavigne fairly, we must glance over the -period at which he was born and in which he lived. We must speak of the -imperial era. What occasioned the burst of hatred that made itself felt -after the appearance of <i>Henri III</i>., of <i>Marion Delorme</i> and of the -<i>Maréchale d'Ancre</i>, between the new and the old school of poetry and -their representatives?</p> - -<p>People have stated the fact without inquiring into its causes: I can -tell you them.</p> - -<p>Because, during all the years that Napoleon was levying his toll of -300,000 conscripts, he did not perceive that the poets he looked for, -and looked for so vainly, had been compelled to change their calling, -and that they were in camp, sword, musket or sabre in hand, instead of -pen in hand in their studies. And this state of things lasted from 1796 -to 1815—a period of nineteen years.</p> - -<p>For nineteen years the enemy's cannon swept down the generation of men -from fifteen to thirty-six years of age. So it came about that when the -poets of the end of the eighteenth century and those of the beginning -of the nineteenth confronted one another, they found themselves hemmed -in on each side by an immense ravine which had been hollowed out by the -grapeshot of five coalitions: at the bottom of this ravine a million of -men were stretched, and among this million of men, snatched away before -they had added to the population, were those twelve poets that Napoleon -had so insistently demanded of M. de Fontanes, without being able to -obtain them from him.</p> - -<p>Those who escaped were consumptive poets, considered too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> feeble to -undertake soldiers' duties, who died young, like Casimir Delavigne and -Soumet. These were bridges thrown across the ravine of which we have -just spoken, but quite unequal to the task allotted them.</p> - -<p>Napoleon, with his eighteen years of warfare and his ten years' reign, -the re-constructor of religion, the re-builder of society, he who -established legislation on a firm basis, was foiled in the matter of -poetry. Had it not been for the two men whom we have named—Soumet and -Casimir Delavigne—the thread of continuity would have been broken.</p> - -<p>So it came about that Casimir Delavigne, the connecting link between -the old and the new schools, showed always in his poetry a little of -that anæmic quality which was evident in his person; in any work by -Casimir (which never exceeded the limits of one, three or five acts -ordained by the old theatrical régime) there was always something -sickly and airless; his plays lacked breath, as did the man; his work -was as consumptive as the poet.</p> - -<p>No one ever made three acts out of his one; no one ever made five acts -out of his three; no one ever made ten acts out of his five. But it was -a simple task to reduce five of his acts to three; three of his acts to -one.</p> - -<p>When imagination failed him, and he appealed to Byron or Shakespeare, -he could never attain their sublime heights; he was obliged to stop -short a third of the way up, midway at the very utmost, like a child -who climbs a tree to gather apples and finds he cannot reach the -ripest, which always grow on the highest branches, and are the most -beautiful because they are nearest the sun, save at the risk of -breaking his neck—a risk he is wise enough not to venture to take.</p> - -<p>We will make our meaning clearer by a couple of instances: <i>Marino -Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard.</i></p> - -<p>In Byron's <i>Marino Faliero</i>, the doge plots to revenge himself on the -youthful satirist, who has insulted him by writing on his chair "Marin -Falier, the husband of the fair wife; others kiss her, but he keeps -her." This was a calumny: the fair Angiolina is as pure as her name -implies, in spite of being but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> eighteen and her husband eighty. It is -therefore to defend a spotless wife, and not to avenge the husband's -outraged honour, that Byron's Marino Faliero conspires, and we hardly -need say that the play gains in distinction by the passage across it of -a sweet and lofty figure, inflamed with devotion, rather than suffused -with repentance.</p> - -<p>Now, in Casimir Delavigne's imitation, on the contrary, the wife is -guilty. Héléna (for the poet, in degrading her, has not ventured to -keep her heavenly name) deceives her husband, an old man! She deceives -him, or rather she has deceived him, before the rising of the curtain. -The first lines of the tragedy are concerned with a scarf that she is -embroidering for her lover—a serious blunder in our opinion; for there -could be only one means of making Héléna interesting, if she were to -be made guilty, and that would be to show the struggle in her between -passion and virtue, between love and duty; in short, to have done, only -more successfully, what we did in <i>Antony.</i></p> - -<p>But we reiterate that it was far better to make the wife innocent, as -Byron does; far better to put a faithful wife alongside the old man -than an adulterous one; far better in the fifth act, where the wife -seeks out her husband, to let him find devotion and not repentance -when his prison doors are opened. When Christ was bowed down under His -bloody agony, God chose the purest of His angels, not a fallen one, to -carry Him the cup of bitterness!</p> - -<p>We will pass over the conspiracy which takes place in Venice at -midnight, in the middle of the square of Saint Mark, where fifty -conspirators cry in eager emulation, "Down with the Republic!" In -Venice and at midnight! in Venice, the city of the Council of Ten! in -Venice, the city that never really sleeps, where at least half the -populace is awake while the other half sleeps!</p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne did not venture to borrow anything from Shakespeare's -<i>Richard III.</i> but the death of the two princes: instead of that -magnificent historical play by the Elizabethan poet, he substituted -an insignificant little drama, replete with infantine babblings and -maternal tears; of the great figure of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> Richard III., of the marvellous -scene between the murderer and the wife of the murdered man and of the -assassination of Buckingham, of the duel with Richmond and Richard's -remorse, nothing is left.</p> - -<p>The gigantic statue, the Colossus of Rhodes, between whose legs the -tallest galleys can pass, has become a bronze ornament suitable for the -top of a timepiece.</p> - -<p>Did Casimir Delavigne even take as much of the subject of the <i>children -of Edward</i> as he might have taken? Has he not turned aside from his -model, Shakespeare, with regard to the dignified way in which the -characters of the heir to the throne and his gentle brother the Duke of -York are treated? We will adduce one example to demonstrate this.</p> - -<p>In Casimir Delavigne, when the young Richard takes refuge in -Westminster Abbey, the church possessing the right to offer sanctuary, -the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, in order to compel the young prince -to come out of the church, causes a letter to be written, apparently -from his brother, inviting him to come back to him at the palace. The -poor fugitive, although surprised at receiving it, puts reliance on -this letter, and comes out of his place of safety. When he reaches the -palace, Richard III. immediately arrests him.</p> - -<p>In Shakespeare, the young prince also seeks this refuge. What does -Richard III. do? He sends for the archbishop and says to him, "Has the -crown prince sought refuge in your church?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"You must give him up to me."</p> - -<p>"Impossible, monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"Why so?"</p> - -<p>"Because the church is a place of sanctuary."</p> - -<p>"For guilty men, idiot!" replies Richard, "but not for innocent -ones...."</p> - -<p>How small, to my thinking, is Mézence, that scoffer at men and at -gods, by the side of Richard III., who kills his innocent enemies -just as another would kill his guilty enemies. It will be understood -that, since Casimir Delavigne was devoid both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> of picturesqueness and -dignity, he succeeded much better in comedy than in tragedy; and we -think his two best productions were the two comedies, <i>Les Comédiens</i> -and the <i>École des Vieillards.</i> It should be clearly understood that -all we have to say is said from the point of view of a rigid standard -of criticism, and it does not therefore follow that Casimir Delavigne -was not gifted with very genuine qualities. These good qualities were: -a facile aptitude for versification which only occasionally rises to -poetic expression, it is true, but which on the other hand never quite -descends to flabbiness and slackness; and, indeed, from the beginning -to the end of his work, from the first line to the last, whatever -else his work may be, it is careful, presentable and particularly -honest; and please note that we have used the word "honest" as the most -suitable word we could choose; for Casimir Delavigne was never the kind -of man to try and rob his public by stinting the work he had in hand -in order to use similar material in his next piece. No; in the case of -Casimir Delavigne, <i>one got one's money's worth</i>, as the saying is: -he gave all he possessed, to the last farthing. The spectators at the -first production of each of his new plays had everything he had at that -time to give them. When midnight arrived, and, amidst the cheering of -the audience, his signature was honoured—that is to say, what he had -promised he had performed—he was a ruined man. But what mattered it to -be reduced to beggary! He had owed a tragedy, a drama, a comedy, he had -paid to the uttermost farthing; true, it might perhaps mean his being -compelled to make daily economies of mind, spirit and imagination, -for one year, two years, three years, before he could achieve another -work; but he would achieve it, cost what it might, at the expense of -sleepless nights, of his health, of his life, until the day came when -he died worn out at fifty-two years of age, before he had completed his -last tragedy.</p> - -<p>Well, there was no need for the poet of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, the -author of the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, of <i>Louis XI.</i> and of <i>Don -Juan</i> to commiserate himself. He who does all he can does all that -can be expected of him. Nevertheless, we shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> always maintain that -Casimir Delavigne would have done better still without his restraining -body-guard; and we need not seek through his long-winded works for -proof of what we assert; we will take, instead, one of the shorter -poems, which the poet wrote under stress of sadness—a similar effort -to M. Arnault's admirable <i>Feuille</i>—M. Arnault, who was not only far -less of a poet but still less of a versifier than Casimir Delavigne.</p> - -<p>Well, we will hunt up a little ballad which Delavigne relegated to -notes, as unworthy of any other place and which we, on the contrary, -consider a little masterpiece.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"La brigantine</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Qui va tourner,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roule et s'incline</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pour m'entraîner ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Provence, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mon pauvre père</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Verra son vent</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pâlir ma mère</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Au bruit du vent ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mon père, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">La vieille Hélène</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Se confira</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dans sa neuvaine,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et dormira ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hélène, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma sœur se lève,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et dit déjà:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'J'ai fait un rêve,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Il reviendra!'</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma sœur, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De mon Isaure</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Le mouchoir blanc</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">S'agite encore</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">En m'appelant ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Isaure, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brise ennemie,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pourquoi souffler,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quand mon amie</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Veut me parler?</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Vierge Marie!</span><br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bonheur, adieu!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Scudo, the author of that delightful melody, <i>Fil de la Vierge</i>, -once asked Casimir Delavigne for some lines to put to music. Casimir -seized his pen and dashed off <i>Néra.</i> Perhaps you do not know <i>Néra</i>? -Quite so: it is not a poem, only a simple song: the <i>Brigantine</i> was -relegated to the notes; <i>Néra</i> was excluded from his works.</p> - -<p>A day will come—indeed, we believe that day has already come—when the -<i>Messéniennes</i> and <i>Néra</i> will be weighed in the same balance and we -shall see which will turn the scale.</p> - -<p>This is <i>Néra</i>:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ah! ah!... de la montagne<br /> -Reviens, Néra, reviens!<br /> -Réponds-moi, ma compagne,<br /> -Ma vache, mon seul bien.<br /> -La voix d'un si bon maître,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Peux-tu la méconnaître?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Reviens, reviens; c'est l'heure<br /> -Où le loup sort des bois.<br /> -Ma chienne, qui te pleure,<br /> -Répond seule à ma voix.<br /> -Hors l'ami qui t'appelle,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Qui t'aimera comme elle?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Dis-moi si dans la crêche,<br /> -Où tu léchais ma main,<br /> -Tu manquas d'herbe fraîche,<br /> -Quand je manquais de pain?<br /> -Nous n'en avions qu'à peine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Et ta crêche était pleine!<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Hélas! c'est bien sans cause<br /> -Que tu m'as délaissé.<br /> -T'ai-je dit quelque chose,<br /> -Hors un mot, l'an passé?<br /> -Oui, quand mourut ma femme,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -J'avais la mort dans l'âme,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -De ta mamelle avide,<br /> -Mon pauvre enfant crira;<br /> -S'il voit l'étable vide,<br /> -Qui le consolera?<br /> -Toi, sa mère nourrice,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Veux-tu donc qu'il périsse?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Lorsque avec la pervenche<br /> -Pâques refleurira,<br /> -Des rameaux du dimanche<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span>Qui te couronnera?<br /> -Toi, si bonne chrétienne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Deviendras-tu païenne?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Quand les miens, en famille,<br /> -Tiraient les Rois entre eux,<br /> -Je te disais: 'Ma fille,<br /> -Ma part est à nous deux!'<br /> -A la fête prochaine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Tu ne seras plus reine.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Ingrate! quand la fièvre<br /> -Glaçait mes doigts roidis,<br /> -Otant mon poil de chèvre,<br /> -Sur vous je l'étendis ...<br /> -Faut-il que le froid vienne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Pour qu'il vous en souvienne<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Adieu! sous mon vieux hêtre<br /> -Je m'en reviens sans vous;<br /> -Allez chercher pour maître<br /> -Un plus riche que nous ...<br /> -Allez! mon cœur se brise,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!...</span><br /> -Pourtant, Dieu te conduise<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Je n'ai pas le courage<br /> -De te vouloir du mal;<br /> -Sur nos monts crains l'orage<br /> -Crains l'ombre dans le val.<br /> -Pais longtemps l'herbe verte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -Nous mourrons de ta perte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Un soir, à ma fenêtre,<br /> -Néra, pour t'abriter,<br /> -De ta come peut-être<br /> -Tu reviendras heurter;<br /> -Si la famille est morte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Qui t'ouvrira la porte?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXd" id="CHAPTER_IXd">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Talma in the <i>École des Vieillards</i>—One of his letters—Origin of his -name and of his family<i>—Tamerlan</i> at the pension Verdier—Talma's -début—Dugazon's advice—More advice from Shakespeare—Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant—Talma's passion for his art</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The <i>École des Vieillards</i> was very successful. A fatal Dud, which had -recently taken place under pretty nearly similar conditions to those -that operated between Danville and the duke, gave the piece just that -appropriate touch which captivated the Parisian public. We ought also -to add that Talma had perhaps never looked finer; the play of emotions -in the part of the old and betrayed lover could not have been rendered -in more moving accents. It was a part that interested the audience from -an entirely different point of view than that of the part of Marino -Faliero, who shares with Danville the lot of a betrayed lover.</p> - -<p>Oh! what an inestimable gift a good voice is to the actor who knows -how to use it! How tender were Talma's tones in the first act, how -impatient in the second, uneasy in the third, threatening in the -fourth, dejected in the fifth! The part is gracious, noble, pleasing -and harmoniously consistent throughout. How the old man's heart goes -out to Hortense partly from paternal feeling, partly as a lover! And, -while complaining of the wife who allows herself to be snared, like a -foolish lark, by the mirror of youth and the babblings of coquetry, how -he despises the man who has in some inexplicable way managed to catch -her fancy! Alas! there is in every maiden's heart one vulnerable place, -open to unscrupulous attack.</p> - -<p>The wife's part is very much below that of the man. Does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> Hortense love -the duke or does she not? Is she a flirt or is she not? It is a serious -flaw that the situation is not more clearly defined, and the following -passage shows it: in the fourth act, while Hortense is conversing -with the duke in a salon at one o'clock in the morning, she hears her -husband's footsteps, and hides the duke.</p> - -<p>Now, I appeal to all wives: would any wife hide a man whom she did not -love when surprised by her husband, no matter at what hour of the day -or night it might be?</p> - -<p>Hortense must love the duke, since she hid him. If Hortense loves the -duke, she cannot escape from an accusation of ingratitude; for it is -impossible to comprehend how an honourable wife, who had a good and -thoughtful husband, young-hearted in spite of his white hairs, could -for one moment fall in love with such a colourless creature as the Duke -Delmas.</p> - -<p>With what moving accents does Talma utter the words</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je ne l'aurais pas cru! C'est bien mal! C'est affreux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>as he gets up and traverses the stage in despair. No human anguish was -ever more clearly revealed than in this sob.</p> - -<p>Vulgar amateurs and second-rate critics praised exceedingly the -character of one of Danville's college chums, in this comedy by Casimir -Delavigne, played with much humour by an actor called Vigny. It is the -part of an old bachelor, who, after remaining in single blessedness -for sixty years, decides to marry on the strength of the description -Danville draws of conjugal happiness, and comes to tell his friend of -his decision at the very moment when he is racked with jealous pangs.</p> - -<p>No, indeed, a hundred times no, it is not here where the real beauty -of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> lies. No, it is not that scene wherein -Danville repeats incessantly: "<i>Mais moi, c'est autre chose!"</i> that -should be applauded. No, the matter to be applauded is the presentation -of the deep and agonising torture of a broken heart; what should be -applauded is the situation that gives scope for Talma to display both -dignity and simplicity at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> same time, and that shows how much -suffering that creature, born of woman, cradled in grief and brought up -to grief, whom we call <i>man</i>, is capable of enduring.</p> - -<p>Talma's friends blamed him for playing the part in a frock-coat; he -told them he had been sacrificed to Mademoiselle Mars. They asked him -why he had so easily allowed himself to be made the footstool of an -actress placed above him, the pedestal for one whose renown rivalled -his own: Talma let them say.</p> - -<p>He knew well enough that in spite of all Mademoiselle Mars' talent, -all her winsomeness, all her ease of manner on the stage, all the -pretty things she said in her charming voice, everything was eclipsed, -effaced, annihilated, by a single utterance, a sob, a sigh of his. It -must have been a proud moment for the poet when he saw his work thus -finely interpreted by Talma; but it must have been quite a different -matter to Talma, for he felt that the limits of art could be extended -farther, or rather that art has no boundaries. For Talma had been -educated in the spacious school of Shakespeare, which intermingles -laughter with tears, the trivial with the sublime, as they are -intermingled in the pitiful struggle which we call life. He knew what -the drama should aim at: he had played tragedy all his life and had -never ventured to attempt comedy. We will briefly relate how he came to -be the man we knew.</p> - -<p>Talma was born in Paris, in the rue des Ménétriers, on 15 January 1766. -When I became acquainted with him he would be about fifty-seven. He -received from his godfather and godmother the names François-Joseph -and from his father that of Talma. In a letter from Talma which I have -by me, it is stated that the name of Talma, which became celebrated by -the deeds of the great artiste, was several times made the subject of -investigation by etymologists.</p> - -<p>This autograph letter by Talma is the copy of one in which he replies -in 1822 to a savant of Gruningen, named Arétius Sibrandus Talma, who, -after giving details of his ancestry, asks the modern Roscius if he -cannot lay claim to the honour of relationship with him. This is -Talma's reply:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"I do not know, monsieur, and it would be a difficult -matter for me to find out, whether you and I are of the -same family. When I was in Holland, more than fifteen -years ago, I learnt that there were many people bearing -the same name as myself in the land of Ruyter and of Jan -de Witt My family mainly inhabited a little strip of -country six leagues from Cambrai, in French Flanders. -This is not the first time, monsieur, that my name has -given rise to discussion with regard to my origin, on the -part of foreigners. About forty or fifty years ago, a son -of the Emperor of Morocco staying in Paris and hearing -mention of my father's name came and asked him if it were -not of Arabian derivation—a question that my father was -unable to answer. Later, an Arab merchant whom I met in -Paris in my youth put the same question to me: I could -not answer him more explicitly than could my father, the -son of His Majesty of Morocco.</p> - -<p>"M. Langlais, a distinguished savant, who had made a very -profound study of Oriental languages, told me, at that -time that the word Talma, in the Arabic tongue, meant -<i>intrepid</i>, and that it was a very customary name among -the descendants of Ishmael, to distinguish the different -branches of the same family. You may be sure, monsieur, -that such an interpretation ought to make me very proud, -and I have ever done my utmost not to fall short of it. -I have consequently given rein to my imagination and -conjecture that a Moorish family remained in Spain, -embraced Christianity and wandered from that kingdom to -the Netherlands, which were formerly under allegiance to -the Spaniards, and that by degrees members of this family -wandered into French Flanders, where they settled. But, -on the other hand, I have been informed that our name has -a Dutch ending and that it was once very common in one of -the provinces of Holland. This new version has completely -upset my castle in Spain, and conveyed me from the -African deserts to the marshes of the United Netherlands. -Now, monsieur, you ought to be able to decide better than -anyone, certainly better than I, since you speak Dutch, -whether we really came from the North or from the South, -whether our ancestors wore turbans or hats, whether they -offered their prayers to Mahomed or to the God of the -Christians.</p> - -<p>"I have omitted to give you another piece of information, -which is not without its relevancy—namely, that the -Count de Mouradgea d'Olisson, who lived in the East -for some years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span> and who has brought out a work on the -religious systems of Oriental peoples, quotes a passage -from one of their authors which tells us that the king, -or rather the pharaoh, who drove the Israelites out of -Egypt, was called Talma. I have to admit that that king -was a great scoundrel, if the account given of him by -Moses (surely a reliable authority) be correct; but we -must not look too closely into the matter if we wish to -claim so illustrious an origin.</p> - -<p>"You see, monsieur, there is not a single German baron -who boasts his sixteen quarterings, not even a king, -throughout the four quarters of the globe, were he -even of the house of Austria, that oldest of all royal -families, who can boast such a lofty descent as mine. -However it may be, monsieur, believe me, I hold it a -much greater honour to be related to so distinguished -a savant as yourself than to be the descendant of a -crowned head. Such men as you work only for the good of -men, whilst others—and by others I mean kings, pharaohs -and emperors—think only of driving them mad. I trust, -monsieur, that, since you seem to have made up your -mind on this matter, you would be so good as to inform -me whether the name we bear is Dutch or Arabian. In any -case, I congratulate myself, monsieur, upon bearing the -name that you have made celebrated.—Believe me, etc. etc.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"TALMA"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter serves to give us both positive information concerning -Talma's family and a good idea of his way of looking at things.</p> - -<p>Talma often told me that his remotest recollections carried him back to -the time when he lived in a house in the rue Mauconseil, the windows of -which looked towards the old Comédie-Italienne theatre. He had three -sisters and one brother; also a cousin whom his father, who was a -dentist by profession, had adopted.</p> - -<p>One day, Lord Harcourt came to Talma's father to have a troublesome -tooth extracted, and he was so pleased with the way the operation was -performed that he urged Talma's father to go and live in London, where -he promised to procure him an aristocratic clientèle. Talma's father -yielded to Lord Harcourt's pressure, crossed the Channel and set up -in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> Cavendish Square. Lord Harcourt kept his promises: he brought the -French dentist such good customers that he soon became the fashionable -dentist, and included the Prince of Wales,—afterwards the elegant -George IV.,—among his clients.</p> - -<p>The whole family followed its head; but Talma's father, considering a -French education better than any other, sent his son back to Paris in -the course of the year 1775. He was then nine years old and, thanks -to having spent three years in England at the age when languages are -quickly picked up, he could speak English when he reached Paris as -well as he could speak French. His father chose M. Verdier's school -for him. A year after he joined the school, great news began to leak -out. M. Verdier, the head of the school, had composed a tragedy -called <i>Tamerlan.</i> This tragedy was to be played on Prize Day. Talma -was hardly ten at that time, so it was probable that he would not be -allotted a leading part, even if he were allowed to take any part in it -at all. The assumption is incorrect. M. Verdier gave him the part of -a confidential friend. It was like all such parts,—a score of lines -strewn throughout the play and a monologue at the end.</p> - -<p>In this peroration the bosom-friend expatiates on the death of his -friend, who was condemned to death, like Titus, by an inexorable -father. The beginning of this recitation went like a charm; the bulk -of it was successfully delivered also; but, towards the end, the -child's emotion grew to such a pitch that he burst into tears, and -fainted away. This fainting fit marked his destiny, for the child was -an artiste! Ten years later, on 21 November 1787, Talma made his first -appearance at the Théâtre-Français, in the part of Séide.</p> - -<p>On the previous day, he paid a visit to Dugazon, and Dugazon gave him -a paper containing the following advice. I copy it from the original, -which is now in my possession.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Aim at greatness, from your first entry, or at any -rate at something above the common. You must try to -leave your mark and to make an appeal to the spirit of -curiosity. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> it may be better to hit straight than -to strike hard; but amateurs are legion and connoisseurs -are scarce. However, if you can unite both truth and -strength, you will have the suffrages of all. Do not -be carried away by applause; nor allow yourself to be -discouraged by hissing. Only fools allow themselves to -be disconcerted by cat-calls; none but idiots are made -dizzy by applause. When applause is lavished without -discrimination, it injures talent at the very outset of -its career. Some artistes have failed, instead of having -passed through their careers with distinction, because of -faults which genuine criticism might have pointed out or -hissing punished.</p> - -<p>"Lekain, Peville, Fleury were all hissed and they are -immortal. A. and B. and C. have succumbed beneath the -hail of too much applause. What has become of them?</p> - -<p>"Fewer means and more study, less indulgence and more -discipline, are all pledges of success; if not immediate -and striking, at least permanent and substantial. Do -you want to captivate women and young people? Begin in -the <i>genre sensible.</i> 'Tout le monde aime,' as Voltaire -says, 'et personne ne conspire.' At the same time, what -may have been good advice in his day may not be worth -very much in ours. If you want chiefly to delight the -multitude, which feels much and reasons but little, adopt -either a magnificent or an awe-inspiring style: they will -instantly take effect. How is it possible to sustain the -dignified part of Mahomed, the condescension of Augustus, -the remorse of Orestes? The impression to be made by -such parts as Ladislas, Orosmane and Bajazet should be -carefully prepared and it will then be ineffaceable.</p> - -<p>"True talent, well supported, and a fortunate début are -a guarantee of immediate popularity; but the artiste -should strive to perpetuate them; he must compel the -public to go on appreciating. After having applauded -from conviction, people should be made to continue their -applause from habit. That collective body of people whom -we call the public has its caprices like any ordinary -individual; it must be coaxed; and (may I go so far as -to say that) if it be won over by good qualities, it is -not impossible to keep its favour by faults; you may -use defects, then, to that end! Nevertheless, you must -be careful that they are those with which your judges -will be in sympathy. Should the case be otherwise, you -may still have defects; but they will be poor relations -dogging the footsteps of your talent and welcomed only -by reason of its greater<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> authority. Molé stammered and -slurred, Fleury staggered and I have been reproached with -over-acting; but Molé had indescribable charms, Fleury an -alluring delivery, and I make people laugh so heartily -that the critic who tries to be solemn at my expense is -never given a hearing.</p> - -<p>"There are débutants who shoot up like rockets, shine for -a few months and fall back into utter darkness. There are -several causes for such disasters: their talents were -either forced, or without range, or immature; as the -English say, a few exhibitions have used them up; one or -two efforts have exhausted them. Perhaps, too, deviating -from the path trodden by the masters, they have entered -the crooked labyrinths of innovation, wherein only genius -can lead temerity aright. Perhaps also, and this is more -hopeless still, they have been bad copies of excellent -originals. And the public, seeing that they have aped -defects rather than copied excellences, has taken them -for parodists and called their efforts caricatures. When -a comedian has reached this point, the best thing for -him to do is to escape out of it by the prompters side -door, and fly to Pan to amuse the Basques, or to Riom to -entertain the Auvergnats. But Paris lays claim to you, my -dear Talma, Paris will cleave to you, Paris will possess -you; and the land of Voltaire and of Molière, of which -you will become the worthy interpreter, will not be long -in giving you letters of naturalisation.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"DUGAZON</p> - -<p>"20 <i>November</i> 1787"</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is interesting to read the advice that Shakespeare gave two -centuries before, through the mouth of Hamlet, to the players of his -time. It was as follows:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to -you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as -many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier -spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with -your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very -torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your -passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that -may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to -hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion -to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the -groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of -nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would -have such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it -out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.</p> - -<p>"Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be -your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the -action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep -not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is -from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first -and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up -to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her -own image, and the very age and body of the time his -form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, -though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the -judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in -your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, -there be players that I have seen play, and heard others -praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that -neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of -Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, -that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made -men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so -abominably.</p> - -<p>"And let those that play your clowns speak no more than -is set down for them; for there be of them that will -themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren -spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, some -necessary question of the play be then to be considered: -that's villanous, and shows' a most pitiful ambition in -the fool that uses it."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Let the successors of Lekain and of Garrick, of Molé and of Kemble, of -Talma and of Kean, compare this last advice with the first, and profit -by both!</p> - -<p>Talma succeeded, but there was nothing extraordinary about his success. -The débutant was marked out rather by amateurs than by the general -public. It was agreed that his acting was simple and natural. The -account books of the Comédie-Française show that the receipts at -Talma's first appearance amounted to three thousand four hundred and -three francs, eight sous.</p> - -<p>Now shall we hear the opinion of the critics on Talma's début? The -<i>Journal de Paris</i> wrote thus: "The young man who has just made his -début in the character of Séide gives promise of most pleasing talents; -he possesses, besides, every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span> natural advantage that it is possible to -desire, in the rôle of a <i>jeune premier</i>,—figure, grace, voice,—and -the public were justified in their applause."</p> - -<p>We will next see what Bachaumont had to say about him. "The débutant -possesses besides his natural gifts, a pleasing face, and a sonorous -and expressive voice, a pure and distinct pronunciation; he both feels -and can express the rhythm of his lines. His deportment is simple, his -movements are natural; moreover, his taste is always good and he has no -affectation; he does not imitate any other actor, but plays according -to his own ideas and abilities."</p> - -<p>Two months later, <i>Le Mercure</i> said, apropos of the revival of Ducis' -<i>Hamlet</i>: "We mean soon to speak of a young actor, M. Talma, who has -caught the fancy of playgoers; but we will wait until he has played -more important parts. His taste lies in the direction of tragedy."</p> - -<p>It will readily be understood that the appearance of Mademoiselle -Rachel met with a very different reception from these mild -approbations. And the explanation is not far to seek. Mademoiselle -Rachel was a kind of fixed star, which had been discovered in the -high heavens, where she dwelt unmoved, shining brilliantly. Talma, -on the contrary, was a star destined to shine during a definite -period, to describe the gigantic arc that separates one horizon from -another horizon, to have his rising, his zenith, his setting—a -setting equivalent to that of the sun in mid-August, more fiery, more -magnificent, more splendid in his setting than during the noontide of -his brightness. And indeed what a triumphant progress his was! from -Séide to Charles IX., from Charles IX. to Falkland, from Falkland -to Pinto, from Pinto to Leicester, from Leicester to Danville, from -Danville to Charles VI.!</p> - -<p>But in spite of the brilliant career that was Talma's lot, he always -regretted that he did not see the full dawn of the modern drama. I -spoke to him of my own hopes several times. "Make haste," he would say -to me, "and try to succeed in my time."</p> - -<p>Well, I saw Talma play what very few people outside his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> intimate -circle were privileged to see him play—the <i>Misanthrope</i>, which he -never dared to put upon the boards of the Théâtre-Français, though he -was anxious to do so; a part of <i>Hamlet</i> in English, particularly the -monologue; also some farcical scenes got up at the Saint-Antoine for M. -Arnault's fête.</p> - -<p>Art was Talma's only care, his only thought, throughout his life. -Without possessing a brilliant mind, he possessed fine feeling, much -knowledge and profound discernment. When he was about to create a new -part, he spared no pains in investigating what history or archæology -might have to offer him in the way of assistance; every gift, good -or indifferent, that he possessed, qualities as well as defects, -was utilised by him. A fortnight before his death, when he rallied -a little, and the rally gave rise to the hope that he might again -reappear at the Théâtre-Français, Adolphe and I went to see him.</p> - -<p>Talma was having a bath; he was studying Lucien Arnault's <i>Tibère</i>, in -which he hoped to make his reappearance. Condemned by a disease of the -bowels to die literally of starvation, he was terribly thin; but he -seemed to find consolation even in his emaciated state and to derive -hope of a success from it.</p> - -<p>"Well, my boys," he said to us, as he pressed his hanging cheeks -between his hands, "won't these be just right for the part of old -Tiberius?"</p> - -<p>Oh! how great and glorious a thing art is! It shows more devotion than -a friend, is more faithful than a mistress, more consoling than a -confessor!</p> - -<h4>END OF VOL. II</h4> - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50113 *** </div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/50113-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/50113-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0e0d969..0000000 --- a/old/50113-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/50113-h/images/img_front.jpg b/old/50113-h/images/img_front.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 090e2e6..0000000 --- a/old/50113-h/images/img_front.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/50113-0.txt b/old/old/50113-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7a95065..0000000 --- a/old/old/50113-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19858 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Memoirs, Vol. II (of 6), by Alexandre Dumas - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: My Memoirs, Vol. II (of 6) - 1822 to 1825 - -Author: Alexandre Dumas - -Translator: E. M. Waller - -Release Date: October 2, 2015 [EBook #50113] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MEMOIRS, VOL. II (OF 6) *** - - - - -Produced by Laura Natal Rodriguez & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -MY MEMOIRS - -ALEXANDRE DUMAS - -TRANSLATED BY - -E. M. WALLER - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - -ANDREW LANG. - -VOL. II - -1822 TO 1825 - -WITH A FRONTISPIECE - -METHUEN & CO. - -36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - -LONDON - - - - - CONTENTS - - - - BOOK I - - CHAPTER I - - An unpublished chapter from the _Diable boiteux_--History - of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza - - CHAPTER II - - The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians - had done me--The young girls of Villers-Cotterets--My - three friends-- First love affairs - - CHAPTER III - - Adolphe de Leuven--His family--Unpublished details - concerning the death of Gustavus III.--The Count de - Ribbing--The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon - - CHAPTER IV - - Adolphe's quatrain--The water-hen and King William--Lunch - in the wood--The irritant powder, the frogs and the - cock--The doctor's spectre--De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy - and I are exiled from the drawing-room--Unfortunate - result of a geographical error--M. Paroisse - - CHAPTER V - - Amédée de la Ponce--He teaches me what work is--M. - Arnault and his two sons--A journey by diligence--A - gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him - with my fists--I learn the danger from which I escaped - - CHAPTER VI - - First dramatic impressions--The _Hamlet of Ducis_--_The - Bourbons en 1815_--Quotations from it - - CHAPTER VII - - The events of 1814 again--Marmont, Duc de Raguse, - Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's--The - _Journal des Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_--Lyrics - of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons--End - of the Maubreuil affair--Plot against the life of the - Emperor--The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money - and jewels 63 - - CHAPTER VIII - - Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction - of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de - Maubreuil--Chamber of the Court of Appeal--The sitting of - 17 April, 1817 - - BOOK II - - CHAPTER I - - The last shot of Waterloo--Temper of the provinces in - 1817, 1818 and 1819--The _Messéniennes_--The _Vêpres - siciliennes--Louis IX._--Appreciation of these two - tragedies--A phrase of Terence--My claim to a similar - sentiment--Three o'clock in the morning--The course of - love-making--_Valeat res ludrica_ - - CHAPTER II - - Return of Adolphe de Leuven--He shows me a corner of the - artistic and literary world--The death of Holbein and the - death of Orcagna--Entrance into the green-rooms--Bürger's - _Lénore_ --First thoughts of my vocation - - CHAPTER III - - The Cerberus of the rue de Largny--I tame it--The - ambush-- Madame Lebègue--A confession - - CHAPTER IV - - De Leuven makes me his collaborator--The _Major de - Strasbourg_-- My first _couplet-Chauvin_--The _Dîner - d'amis_--The _Abencérages_ - - CHAPTER V - - Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the - Duc de Berry. - - CHAPTER VI - - Carbonarism 132 - - CHAPTER VII - - My hopes--Disappointment--M. Deviolaine is appointed - forest-ranger to the Duc d'Orléans--His coldness - towards me--Half promises--First cloud on my - love-affairs--I go to spend three months with my - brother-in-law at Dreux--The news waiting for - me on my return--Muphti--Walls and hedges--The - summer-house--Tennis--Why I gave up playing it--The - wedding party in the wood - - CHAPTER VIII - - I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third - clerk at Crespy--M. Lefèvre--His character--My - journeys to Villers-Cotterets-- The _Pélerinage - d'Ermenonville_--Athénaïs--New matter sent to Adolphe--An - uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris-- How - this desire was accomplished--The journey--Hôtel des - Vieux-Augustins--Adolphe--_Sylla_--Talma - - CHAPTER IX - - The theatre ticket--The _Café du Roi_--Auguste - Lafarge--Théaulon--Rochefort--Ferdinand Langlé--People - who dine and people who don't--Canaris--First sight of - Talma--Appreciation of Mars and Rachel--Why Talma has no - successor_--Sylla_ and the Censorship--Talma's box--A - cab-drive after midnight-- The return to Crespy--M. - Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, - needs all its wheels--I hand in my resignation as his - third clerk - - BOOK III - - CHAPTER I - - I return to my mother's--The excuse I give concerning my - return-- The calfs lights--Pyramus and Cartouche--The - intelligence of the fox more developed than that of the - dog--Death of Cartouche--Pyramus's various gluttonous - habits - - CHAPTER II - - Hope in Laffitte--A false hope--New projects--M. - Lecomier--How and on what conditions I clothe myself - anew--Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du Helder--Bamps at - Villers-Cotterets--I visit our estate along with - him--Pyramus follows a butcher lad--An Englishman who - loved gluttonous dogs--I sell Pyramus--My first hundred - francs--The use to which they are put--Bamps departs for - Paris--Open credit - - CHAPTER III - - My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house--The - residu-- The Piranèses--An architect at twelve hundred - francs salary--I discount my first bill--Gondon--How - I was nearly killed at his house--The fifty - francs--Cartier--The game of billiards--How six hundred - small glasses of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to - Paris - - CHAPTER IV - - How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy--M. Danré - of Vouty advises my mother to let me go to Paris--My - good-byes--Laffitte and Perregaux--The three things - which Maître Mennesson asks me not to forget--The Abbé - Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him--I leave - Villers-Cotterets - - CHAPTER V - - I find Adolphe again--The pastoral drama--First - steps--The Duc de Bellune--General Sébastiani--His - secretaries and his snuff-boxes--The fourth floor, small - door to the left--The general who painted battles - - CHAPTER VI - - _Régulus_--Talma and the play--General Foy--The letter of - recommendation and the interview--The Duc de Bellune's - reply--I obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc - d'Orléans--Journey to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother - the good news--No. 9--I gain a prize in a lottery - - CHAPTER VII - - I find lodgings--Hiraux's son--Journals and journalists - in 1823--By being saved the expense of a dinner I am - enabled to go to the play at the Porte-Saint-Martin--My - entry into the pit--Sensation caused by my hair--I am - turned out--How I am obliged to pay for three places in - order to have one--A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs - - CHAPTER VIII - - My neighbour--His portrait--The _Pastissier françois_--A - course in bibliomania--Madame Méchin and the governor of - Soissons--Cannons and Elzevirs - - CHAPTER IX - - Prologue of the _Vampire_--The style offends my - neighbour's ear-- First act--Idealogy--The rotifer--What - the animal is--Its conformation, its life, its death and - its resurrection - - CHAPTER X - - Second act of the _Vampire_--Analysis--My neighbour - again objects--He has seen a vampire--Where and - how--A statement which records the existence of - vampires--Nero--Why he established the race of hired - applauders--My neighbour leaves the orchestra - - CHAPTER XI - - A parenthesis_--Hariadan Barberousse_ at - Villers-Cotterets--I play the rôle of Don Ramire as an - amateur--My costume--The third act of the _Vampire_--My - friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical - moment--He is expelled from the theatre--Madame - Allan-Dorval--Her family and her childhood--Philippe--His - death and his funeral - - BOOK IV - - CHAPTER I - - My beginning at the office--Ernest Basset--Lassagne--M. - Oudard--I see M. Deviolaine--M. le Chevalier de - Broval--His portrait--Folded letters and oblong - letters--How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing - letters--I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac - and whistler - - CHAPTER II - - Illustrious contemporaries--The sentence written on my - foundation stone--My reply--I settle down in the place - des Italiens-- M. de Leuven's table--M. Louis-Bonaparte's - witty saying--Lassagne gives me my first lesson in - literature and history - - CHAPTER III - - Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase--M. - Dormeuil--_Kenilworth Castle_--M. Warez and - Soulié--Mademoiselle Lévesque--The Arnault family--The - _Feuille--Marius à Minturnes_--Danton's epigram--The - reversed passport--Three fables--_Germanicus_ - --Inscriptions and epigrams--Ramponneau--The young - man and the tilbury_--Extra ecclesiam nulla est - salus_--Madame Arnault - - CHAPTER IV - - Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent--Choruses - of the various plays, sung as prologues and - epilogues--Transformation of the vaudeville--The Gymnase - and M. Scribe--The _Folie de Waterloo_ - - CHAPTER V - - The Duc d'Orléans--My first interview with - him--Maria-Stella-Chiappini--Her attempts to - gain rank--Her history--The statement of the Duc - d'Orléans--Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of - Faenza--Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of - birth - - CHAPTER VI - - The "year of trials"--The case of Potier and the - director of the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin--Trial - and condemnation of Magallon--The anonymous - journalist--Beaumarchais sent to Saint-Lazare--A few - words on censorships in general--Trial of Benjamin - Constant--Trial of M. de Jouy--A few words concerning - the author of _Sylla_--Three letters extracted from the - _Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_--Louis XVIII. as author - - CHAPTER VII - - The house in the rue Chaillot--Four poets and a - doctor--Corneille and the Censorship--Things M. Faucher - does not know--Things the President of the Republic ought - to know - - BOOK V - - CHAPTER I - - Chronology of the drama--Mademoiselle Georges - Weymer--Mademoiselle Raucourt--Legouvé and his - works--Marie-Joseph Chénier--His letter to the - company of the Comédie-Française--Young boys - _perfectionnés_--Ducis--His work - - CHAPTER II - - Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets--Luce de - Lancival--Baour-Lormian--_Lebrun-Pindare_--Lucien - Bonaparte, the author--Début of Mademoiselle Georges--The - Abbé Geoffroy's critique--Prince Zappia--Hermione at - Saint-Cloud - - CHAPTER III - - Imperial literature--The _Jeunesse de Henri IV_--Mercier - and Alexandre Duval--The _Templiers_ and their - author--César Delrieu--Perpignan--Mademoiselle Georges' - rupture with the Théâtre-Français--Her flight to - Russia--The galaxy of kings--The tragédienne acts as - ambassador - - CHAPTER IV - - The Comédie-Française at Dresden--Georges returns - to the Théâtre-Français--The _Deux Gendres--Mahomet - II._--_Tippo-Saëb_-- 1814--Fontainebleau--The allied - armies enter Paris--Lilies--Return from the isle of - Elba--Violets--Asparagus stalks--Georges returns to Paris - - CHAPTER V - - The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of - a great actor--Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de - Portugal upon Talma declining it--Lafond--His school--His - sayings--Mademoiselle Duchesnois--Her failings and her - abilities-_Pierre de Portugal_ succeeds - - CHAPTER VI - - General Riégo--His attempted insurrection--His escape - and flight--He is betrayed by the brothers Lara--His - trial--His execution - - CHAPTER VII - - The inn of the _Tête-Noire_--Auguste - Ballet--Castaing--His trial--His attitude towards the - audience and his words to the jury--His execution - - CHAPTER VIII - - Casimir Delavigne--An appreciation of the man and of the - poet-- The origin of the hatred of the old school of - literature for the new--Some reflections upon _Marino - Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard_--Why Casimir - Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic - poet--Where he found the ideas for his chief plays - - CHAPTER IX - - Talma in the _École des Vieillards_--One of his - letters--Origin of his name and of his family--_Tamerlan_ - at the pension Verdier--Talma's début--Dugazon's - advice--More advice from Shakespeare--Opinions of the - critics of the day upon the débutant--Talma's passion for - his art - - - - -THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS - - - - - -BOOK I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -An unpublished chapter from the _Diable boiteux_--History of Samud and -the beautiful Doña Lorenza - - -About a fortnight after that wonderful night, during which I had -experienced such new and unknown emotions, I was busy in Maître -Mennesson's office,--as Niguet was absent seeing after a marriage -settlement at Pisseleu, and Ronsin had gone to collect debts at -Haramont,--sadly engrossing a copy of a deed of sale, when M. Lebègue, -a colleague of my patron, entered the office and, after gazing at -me with an amused expression on his face, went into the next room, -which was the private office, and took a seat by the side of Maître -Mennesson. The cause of my sadness shall be discovered presently. - -Maître Mennesson's door, which separated the two offices, I was -generally left open, so that he could answer our questions, save when -a client closed it to discuss private matters with him; and when this -door was left open, we could hear in our office everything that was -said in M. Mennesson's room, as he could hear in his office all that -went on in ours. - -This M. Lebègue, some months before, had married one of M. Deviolaine's -daughters by his first marriage: her name was Éléonore. The eldest -daughter, Léontine, had been married to a tax collector named Cornu -some time before her sister's wedding. The singularity of the name -had not prevented the marriage from coming off. The sharp-tongued -young girl feared to be jeered at in her turn, and the wittier she -became, the more she dreaded even the appearance of being ridiculous. -But Cornu was such a good-natured, honest-hearted fellow, everybody -was so used to the name, which had been borne by several families -in Villers-Cotterets, he was so used to it himself, he responded so -naïvely and triumphantly to the remarks of his _fiancée,_ that the -matter was settled. - -When she was married to him she made up her mind to raise the -unfortunate name which fate had given her above even the suspicion of -any banter naturally connected with it: she was the most chaste of -wives, the tenderest of mothers I have ever known, and her husband, a -happy man himself, made her happy too. - -But it was not so with her sister, Madame Lebègue, who was three -or four years younger, prettier, and far more of a flirt than she -was. Her flirtations were innocent enough, I have no doubt, but they -were as a rule looked upon maliciously by the gossips of the little -town--a matter to which Madame Lebègue in her innocence paid little -heed; concerning which, in her indifference to such calumnies, she -simply teased her husband. He was a stout, rotund fellow, pockmarked, -rather ugly, with a somewhat common-looking face, but a good fellow at -heart--although I have been told since that he ruined himself, not from -having lent at too low interest, but from an entirely opposite reason. -I am wholly ignorant as to the truth of this accusation: I take it to -be a calumny similar to the more pleasing and certainly more human -accusation levelled against the wife. - -It was this man who had just come in, who sat down by M. Mennesson -and who was at that moment holding a whispered conversation with him, -interspersed with guffaws of laughter. Thanks to the extremely delicate -hearing with which I was gifted by nature, and which I had cultivated -during hunting, I thought I could distinguish my own name; but I -supposed I had not heard correctly, not flattering myself that two -such grave personages could be doing me the honour of talking about -me. Unluckily for my pride,--and I have indicated to what a pitch this -feeling was developed in me, a height that would have been absurd if -it had not been painful,--unluckily for my pride, then, I was not kept -long in doubt that the discussion was about me. - -I have said that M. Mennesson was very fond of a joke and very witty; -wherever he could find a joke he would fasten upon it, no matter -whether it happened to concern a woman's virtue or a man's reputation. -When the frenzy of joking seized him he gave himself up to it -unreservedly, heart and soul. Finding nothing, probably, on this day, -better to chew, he set upon me; the pasture was poor, but it was far -better to crack my sorry bones than to chew at nothing or gulp only -the air. After several of those whispered remarks, then, and bursts -of stifled laughter, which had disturbed my equanimity, M. Mennesson -raised his voice. - -"My dear friend," he said, "it is a chapter out of the _Diable boiteux_ -re-discovered and still unpublished, which I mean to have printed the -next time I go to Paris, to complete Lesage's work." - -"Ah! tell it me," Lebègue replied; "I will tell it to my wife, who will -pass it on to her sisters, who will tell it to everybody; then our -publication will be disposed of in advance." - -M. Mennesson began:-- - -"There was once upon a time at Salamanca a scholar who was descended -from a race of Arabs and who was called Samud.[1] He was still so young -that if anyone had pulled his nose, milk would most certainly have come -out: this did not prevent him from being absurd enough to fancy himself -a man; perhaps also--for, to be fair, we must say all there is to -say--this ridiculous fancy would not have entered his head had not that -happened which we are about to relate." - -It may be imagined that I was listening attentively. I had recognised -from the very first words that I was undoubtedly the person in -question, and I wondered uneasily where the story was going to lead -after this beginning--a beginning which, so far as I was concerned, I -found more impertinent than graphic. - -M. Mennesson went on, and I listened with my ears open, my pen idle in -my hand. - -"On the day of the feast of Whitsuntide in the year ... I cannot -say the exact date of the year, but, any way, it was on the day of -the feast of Whitsuntide, which is also the town's feast-time, two -beautiful senoras arrived from Madrid and put up at the house of a -worthy canon who was the uncle of one of these ladies. It chanced that -this canon was the same with whom Samud had learnt the bit of Latin he -knew, and as the two lovely Madrid ladies wanted a cavalier who would -not put their virtue to the blush, the canon cast his eyes on his -pupil, and requested him to place both his arms at the disposal of the -new arrivals, to show them the park of Salamanca, which is very wide, -very beautiful, and belongs to the Duke of Rodelnas.[2] I will not -dwell on the adventures of the first day, beyond just briefly touching -upon two events: the first was the meeting between our scholar and -an elegant senor from Madrid, who was noticed at once by the Sefiora -Lorenza, with whom our scholar was walking arm in arm, dressed, as -people of the provinces often are, about a decade behind the fashions -of the capital. This young gallant was called Audim. The second was a -most serious accident, which happened to the scholar's breeches, just -when, in order to give the fair Lorenza a proof of his agility, he had -leaped across a ditch fourteen feet wide." - -It can be imagined what I suffered as I listened to this secondhand -recital of my lovelorn tribulations, which, according to his method of -procedure, would not stop short at the two misadventures of the first -day. M. Mennesson continued:-- - -"The beautiful Lorenza was specially impressed by the young gallant's -get-up. In complete contrast to the scholar, who was muffled up in a -Gothic costume borrowed from the wardrobe of his ancestors, Señor Audim -was dressed in the latest fashion, in tight-fitting breeches, ending -in charming little heart-shaped shoes, and a dark-coloured doublet -turned out by one of the best tailors in Madrid. The scholar had not -been unconscious of the particular notice his companion had paid to the -handsome Audim's attire, and as it began to dawn on him what influence -a coat of a certain cut or trousers of a special shade of colour might -have upon a woman, he decided during the night following the fête -to please Lorenza no matter at what price, and to have a suit made -exactly like the one worn by the young man who seemed destined by fate -to become his rival. The most vital part of the costume, and moreover -the most expensive, was in the matter of the boots. So he turned his -attention to them first of all. On the opposite side of the square -where Samud's mother lived, a square called the place de la Fontaine, -was the best boot-maker in the town: he had always shod the scholar, -but hitherto he had only made shoes for him, the lad's tender years not -having put the idea into anyone's head, not even into his own, that -he could wear any other covering for his feet than shoes or sandals -without risking a too close resemblance to Perrault's venerable Puss in -Boots. Great therefore was M. Landereau's[3] surprise when his customer -came and boldly asked the price of a pair of boots. He stared at Samud. - -'A pair of boots?' he asked. 'For whom?' - -'Why, for myself,' the scholar proudly replied. - -'Has your mother given you leave to order boots?' 'Yes.' - -"The bootmaker shook his head dubiously: he knew Samud's mother was not -well off and that it would be foolish of her to allow such extravagance -in her son. - -'Boots are dear,' he said. - -'That does not matter. How much are they?' - -'They would cost you exactly four dollars.' - -'Good.... Take my measure.' - -'I have told you I can do nothing without leave from your mother.' - -'I will see you have it.' - -"Returning home, the scholar ventured to ask for a pair of boots. -The request struck Samud's mother as so extraordinary that she made -him repeat his inquiry twice. It was all the more strange as it was -the first time the scholar had troubled about his dress. When he was -ten they had the greatest difficulty in the world to get him to give -up a long pinafore of figured cotton, which he considered far more -comfortable than all the breeches and all the doublets on earth; -then, from the age of ten to the age of fifteen, he had worn with -indifference any garments his mother had thought good to put him in, -always preferring dirty and old ones to clean and new, because in them -he was allowed to go out in all weathers and to roll about in all kinds -of places. So the demand for a pair of boots seemed to his poor mother -altogether most unprecedented, and she was alarmed for her son's reason. - -'A pair of boots!' she repeated. 'What will you wear them with?' - -'A pair of tight-fitting breeches, mother.' - -'A pair of tight-fitting breeches! But you must know your legs are as -spindle-shaped as a cock's.' - -"'Excuse me, mother,' the schoolboy replied, with some show of logic; -'if I have good enough calves to wear short breeches, they are good -enough to wear tight-fitting breeches.' - -"The mother admired her son's wit, and, half conquered by the repartee, -she said,'We might perhaps manage to find the tight-fitting trousers in -the clothes-press; but the boots ... where will you find the boots?' - -'Why, at Landereau's!' - -'But boots would be expensive, my child,' said the poor lady, -sighing,'and you know we are not rich.' - -'Bah! mamma, Landereau will allow you credit.' - -'It is all very fine taking credit, my boy; you know one has to pay -some day, and that the longer one puts off paying the more it costs.' - -'Oh, mother, please do let me!' - -'How much will the boots cost?' - -'Four dollars, mother.' - -'That is six months' school-money at the rate good Canon Gregorio -charges me.' - -'You can pay for it in four months' time, mother,' the schoolboy -pleaded. - -'Still ... tell me what advantage you think this pair of boots and the -tight-fitting trousers will bring you?' - -'I shall be able to please Doña Lorenza, the canon's niece.' 'How is -that?' - -'She raves over boots and tight-fitting trousers ... it seems they are -the very latest thing in Madrid.' - -'But what does it matter to you what the niece of Don Gregorio raves or -does not rave over, I want to know?' - -'It matters a great deal to me, mother.' - -'Why?' - -"The schoolboy looked supremely foolish. - -'Because I am paying her attentions,' he said." - -This dialogue was word for word what had passed between my mother and -myself after I returned from Landereau's shop, so I grew hot with anger. - -"At the words _Because I am paying her attentions_," continued the -narrator, "Samud's mother was overcome with intense astonishment: her -son, whom she still pictured as running about the streets in his long -print pinafore, or renewing his baptismal vows taper in hand; her son -paying attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza!--why, it was one of -those absurd things she had never even imagined. And her son, seeing -she was unconvinced, drew his hand out of his breast pocket and showed -her a bracelet of hair with a mosaic clasp. But he took care to keep it -to himself that he had taken this bracelet from Doña Lorenza; she had -not given it him, and she was very much distressed at not knowing what -had become of it." - -Although this account was not very creditable to my honesty, it was -dreadfully accurate. I had had that bracelet in my possession for three -days; during those three days I had, if not exactly shown it, at least -let it be seen by several people, and, among others, by my mother and -my cousins the Deviolaines, before whom I posed as a gallant youth; but -at length I had been moved by Laure's distress, as she had thought it -lost. I gave it back to her, humbly confessing my fault; she forgave -me, in consideration, no doubt, of her delight in recovering her -trinket, but she would not have let me off so easily had she known my -indiscretions. - -So the perspiration which had beaded my brow at the beginning of the -story, ran down over my face in big drops; yet wishing to learn how -far M. Mennesson had been coached in the matter of my sentimental -escapades, I had the courage to stay where I was--or rather, I had not -the strength to fly. M. Mennesson went on:-- - -"At this juncture Samud's mother raised her hands and eyes to heaven, -and as the poor woman never could refuse her son, she said to him, with -a sigh-- - -'Very well, be it so; if a pair of boots will make you happy, go and -order the boots.' - -"The schoolboy leapt at one bound from his house to the bootmaker's; -he arranged the price at three and a half dollars, to be paid for in -four months' time. Next they paid a visit to the clothes-press: they -extracted a pair of bright blue trousers striped with gold; they sold -the gold lace to a goldsmith for a dollar and a half, which dollar and -a half were given to the scholar for pocket-money, his mother guessing -that his budding love affairs would naturally bring extra expenses -in their train. They decided that the suit he had worn at his first -communion should be altered to a more up-to-date cut, on fashionable -lines. - -"While all these preparations for courtship were going on, the -schoolboy continued, in the phrase he had used to his mother, to pay -attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza; but although he was brave -in words and very clever in theory behind her back, he was extremely -timid in practice and very awkward when actually before her face. While -apparently filled with impatience to be near her, he dreaded nothing -so much as being left alone with her; at such times he would lose his -wits completely, become dumb instead of talkative, and be still when -he should have been active: the most favourable opportunities were -given him, and he let them escape. In vain did the impatient lady from -Madrid give him to understand that he was wasting time, and that time -wasted is never regained; he agreed with her from the very depths of -his soul; he was furious with himself every night when he returned -home, and in going over the opportunities of the day he vowed not to -let these opportunities slip by on the morrow if they occurred again. -Then he would read a chapter of _Faublas_ to warm his blood: he would -sleep on it, and dream dreams in which he would be astonishingly bold. -When day broke, he would vow to himself to carry out his dreams of -the previous night. Then, while he was waiting for the boots and the -tight-fitting suit, which were being fashioned with a truly provincial -slowness, he returned to his short breeches, his bombazin vest, his -bottle-blue coat, and resumed his fruitless walk in the forest. He -looked with a melancholy eye on the mossy carpet under their feet, not -even venturing to suggest to his companion that they should sit down -upon it; he gazed sadly on the beautiful green heights above them, -under which she delighted to hide herself with him. He would get as far -as trembling and sighing, even to pressing her hand, but these were the -extreme limits of his boldness. Once only did he kiss the hand of Doña -Lorenza,--on the night before he was to introduce himself to her in his -suit of conquest,--but it cost him such a tremendous effort to perform -this bold act that he felt quite ill after its accomplishment. - -"It was on this day that the lovely Doña Lorenza arrived at the -conclusion that she must give up all hope of seeing the boy develop -into a man, and without saying a word to her clumsy admirer, she took -a decisive step. They parted as usual after having spent the evening -playing at those innocent games which Madame de Longueville detested -so greatly. The next day, as we have said, was to be the vital one. -The tailor and the bootmaker kept their word. The young people usually -met between noon and one o'clock, and then went for a walk: Senora -Vittoria with a young bachelor, from whom I have gathered most of my -information; and the schoolboy with Senora Lorenza. Unluckily, the -tight-fitting trousers were so tight that they had to have a piece put -in at the calf of the leg: this addition took time, and Samud was not -quite ready before one o'clock. He knew he was late; he flew hurriedly -along to Canon Gregorio's house, where the daily rendezvous took place. -His new toilette produced an excellent effect as he passed through the -streets: people ran to their doors; they leant out of their windows, -and he bowed to them, saying to himself-- - -'Yes, it is all right, it is I! What is there wonderful in this, pray? -Did you think no one else could have boots, tight-fitting trousers and -a fashionably collared coat like M. Audim? You are much deceived if you -thought anything of the kind!' - -"And he went on his way, holding his head higher and higher, persuaded -he was nearing a sensational triumph. But, as we have said, the unlucky -alteration at the calves had made him nearly an hour late, and when the -scholar reached the canon's house both the senoras had gone out! This -was but a slight misfortune: the schoolboy had been brought up in the -forest of Salamanca, as Osmin in the seraglio of Bajazet, and he knew -its every turn and twist. He was therefore just going to rush out in -pursuit of the lady of his thoughts, when the canon's sister handed him -a letter which Doña Lorenza had left for him when she went out. Samud -never doubted that this letter would enjoin upon him to hurry on with -all diligence. And it was the first he had received: he felt the honour -most keenly; he kissed the letter tenderly, broke the seal, and with -panting breath and bounding heart he read the following:-- - - 'MY DEAR BOY,--I have been blaming myself during the past - fortnight for imposing upon your good-nature by letting - you fulfil the obligation you had most injudiciously - promised my uncle in undertaking to be my cavalier. - In spite of your efforts to hide the boredom that an - occupation beyond your years caused you, I have seen - that I have much interfered with your usual habits, and - I blame myself for it. Go back to your young playmates, - who are waiting for you to play at prisoners' base and - quoits. Let your mind be quite at ease on my account; - for I have accepted M. Audim's services for the short - time longer I remain with my uncle. Please accept my best - thanks, my dear child, for your kindness, and believe me, - yours very gratefully, LORENZA.' - -"If a thunderbolt had fallen at our schoolboy's feet he could not have -been more crushed than he was on receiving this letter. On the first -reading he realised nothing beyond the shock; he re-read it two or -three times, and felt the smart. Then it dawned on him that, since he -had taken no pains to prove to the lovely Lorenza that he was not a -child, it now remained to him to prove that he was a man, by provoking -Audim to fight a Dud with him; and forthwith, upon my word, our -outraged schoolboy sent this letter to his rival:-- - - "'SIR,--I need not tell you upon what provocation I wish - to meet you in any of the forest avenues, accompanied by - two seconds: you know as well as I do. As you may pretend - that you have not insulted me and that it is I who have - provoked you, I leave the choice of weapons to you.--I - have the honour to remain,' etc. - - "'_P.S._---As you will probably not return home till - late to-night, I will not demand my answer this evening, - but I wish to receive it as early as possible to-morrow - morning.' - -"Next morning, on waking, he received a birch rod with Don Audim's -card. That was the weapon selected by his rival." - -The reader can judge the effect the conclusion of this story had upon -me. Alas! it was an exact account of all that had happened to me. Thus -had terminated my first love affair, and so had ended my first duel! I -uttered a shriek of rage, and dashing out of the office, I ran home to -my mother, who cried out aloud when she saw the state I was in. - -Ten minutes later I was lying in a well-warmed bed and Doctor Lécosse -had been sent for: he pronounced that I was in for brain fever, but -as it was taken in time it would not have any serious consequences. I -purposely prolonged my convalescence, be it known, so as not to go out -until the two Parisians had left Villers-Cotterets. I have never seen -either of them since. - - -[1] hardly need point out that "Samud" is the anagram of "Dumas." - -[2] "Rodelnas" is the anagram of "d'Orléans," as "Samud" is the anagram -of "Dumas," and as "Audim," to be used shortly, is that of "Miaud." - -[3] The narrator did not trouble to give an anagram for the name this -time. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians had done me--The -young girls of Villers-Cotterets--My three friends--First love affairs - - -Still, like François I. after the battle of Pavia, I had not lost -everything by my defeat. First there remained to me my boots and my -tight-fitting trousers, those two dearly coveted articles, which -became the envy and admiration of those young companions upon whom -the lovely Laure had so cruelly thrown me. Besides, in the fortnight -spent in the company of those two smart girls, I had learnt the first -lesson that only the society of women can give. This lesson had taught -me to realise the need for that care of my personal appearance which -had hitherto never presented itself to my mind as a thing to be daily -attended to. Beneath the ridiculous if vanity in changing my mode of -dress, underneath the unlucky attempt that I, a poor country lad, had -made to attain to the elegant style of a Parisian, there appeared the -first dawnings of true elegance--that is to say, of neatness. - -I had rather good hands, my nails were well shaped, my teeth were large -but white, and my feet were singularly small considering my size. I had -been ignorant of all these possessions until they had been pointed out -to me by the two Parisian girls, who gave me advice as to how I could -enhance the value of my natural gifts. And I continued to follow their -advice for my own personal satisfaction, after at first following it to -please them, to such purpose that by the time they left I had really -stepped across the boundary which separated childhood from youth. The -crossing had certainly been a rough one, and I had accomplished it -with tears in my eyes, coquetry holding one of my hands and chagrin -the other. Then--as jaded travellers, when they enter a fresh country, -suck bitter fruits, which, however much they set the teeth on edge, -leave behind them an irresistible desire to suck other fruits,--when -my lips had touched the apple of Eve that men call love, I yearned to -make another attempt, even though it should be more painful than the -first, and so far as its young girls were concerned, few towns could -boast themselves as well favoured as Villers-Cotterets. Never was -there such a large park as ours, not even at Versailles; no lawns were -greener, not even those at Brighton; nor were any studded with more -exquisite flowers than the park of Villers-Cotterets, with its lawns -and flower-beds. Three very distinct classes disputed among themselves -for the crown of beauty--the aristocracy, the middle classes, and a -third class for which I cannot find a name, a pleasant intermediary -between the middle class and the people, which belongs to neither, and -to which class the dressmakers, seamstresses, and women-shopkeepers of -a town belong. - -The first class was represented by the Collard family, to whom I have -already alluded in connection with my childhood. Of the three madcap -young girls who roamed the forest of Villers-Cotterets as free as the -butterflies and swallows, two had become wives: one, Caroline, had -married the Baron Capelle; the other, Hermine, had married the Baron -de Martens; Louise, the third, who was but fifteen, was the most -captivating little maiden imaginable. Their mother--whose birth and -history as the daughter of Madame de Genlis and the Duc d'Orléans I -have related--and her three children were the aristocratic centre round -which the young men and maidens of the neighbouring castles revolved; -and among the former of these were some of the best blood in the -country--the Montbretons, the Courvals, and the Mornays. None of these -families lived in Villers-Cotterets itself: they lived in the castles -around. Only on great occasions did the hives swarm and then we saw -these golden-winged bees flying about the streets of the town and down -the avenues of the park. - -The second class was represented by the Deviolaine family. Two out -of the five daughters of M. Deviolaine were married, as I have -said--namely, Léontine and Éléonore; three remained, Cécile, Augustine -and Louise. Cécile was twenty years of age, Augustine sixteen; Louise -was still a mere child. Cécile had preserved her whimsical and -capricious spirits, the same mocking and animated features; her actions -were more masculine than feminine; her complexion was tanned by the -sun, as she never took the trouble to protect herself from its rays. -Augustine, on the contrary, had a skin as white as milk, large tranquil -blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, forming an admirable framework round -her face, sloping shoulders charmingly moulded, and a figure that was -not too slender; unlike her sister Cécile, she was gracefully feminine -in all her ways. Raphael would have been puzzled to choose between her -and Louise Collard for a model for his Madonna, and like the Greek -sculptor, he would have selected beautiful points from them both to -reach that perfect standard to which Art everywhere attains when it -surpasses Nature. - -The other young girls of the middle class grouped themselves round the -Deviolaine family. The two Troisvallet girls, Henriette and Clementine: -Clementine, dark with beautiful black hair, strangely attractive eyes, -a Roman complexion, of the type of Velletri or Subiaco, and a head like -one of Augustine Carrachi's. Henriette was tall, fair, rosy, slender, -gracious, and as pliant in her gentle youthfulness as a rose, as a -blade of corn, as a willow tree: she had that type of face which is -half sad, half merry; the transition between angel and woman, showing -all the common needs of earth, yet full of heavenly aspirations too. -Then the two charming girls Sophie and Pélagie Perrot; Louise Moreau, -a sweet young girl, who has since become the admirable mother of a -family; Éléonore Picot, of whom I have spoken--an excellent woman, -saddened by the death of her brother Stanislas, and the shameful charge -that had weighed for a short time upon her brother Auguste. Then there -were others, too, whose names I have forgotten, but whose fresh faces -still appear in my mind's eye like the phantoms of a dream or like the -apparitions which glide out of German streams or are reflected in the -lochs of Scotland as they pursue their nocturnal rounds. - -Lastly, after the middle classes, came, as I have said, the group of -young girls which I cannot class in the social hierarchy, but which -held the same place in that small world of ours shut in by the green -girdle of its beautiful forest, that lilies of the valley, Easter -daisies, cornflowers, hyacinths and pompon roses hold among flowers. -Oh! but it was a pretty sight to see them on Sunday, in their summer -dresses, with pink and blue sashes, their tiny bonnets trimmed by their -own hands and put on in a hundred varieties of coquettish ways--for -in those days not one of them dare wear a hat; it was a delight to -see them free of all constraint, ignorant of any etiquette, playing, -racing, lacing and interlacing their charming round bare arms in long -chains. What exquisite creatures they were! What delightful young -things! It is of little interest to my readers, I am well aware, to -know their names; but I knew them, I loved them, I spent my earliest -years among them, those gentle opening days in the morning of life; I -wish to tell their names, I wish to paint their portraits, I wish to -describe their different charms, and then I hope they will pardon my -indiscretions for my very indiscretions' sake. - -I must mention first and foremost two charmingly romantic and -coquettish damsels--Joséphine and Manette Thierry: Joséphine dark, -rosy, with an ample figure and regular features, a perfect creature, -whose beautiful teeth completed a ravishing whole. Manette, a dessert -apple, a girl who was always singing to make herself heard, always -laughing to show off her teeth, ever running to let her feet, her -ankles, even the calves of her legs, be seen; Virgil's Galatea, whose -very name she was ignorant of, flying to be pursued, hiding so as to be -seen before she hid. - -What has become of them? I have seen them since, looking very -miserable: one was at Versailles, the other in Paris--the fallen, faded -fruits of that rosary on which I spelled out the first phrases of -love. They were the daughters of an old tailor, and lived close to the -church, which was only separated from them by the town hall. Louise -Brézette lived nearly opposite them; I have already mentioned her. -She was the niece of my dancing-master; a sturdy flower of fifteen, -whom I had in my mind while I wrote my fictitious history of that -_Tulipe noire_, the masterpiece of horticulture vainly sought after, -vainly pursued, vainly expected by Dutch amateur gardeners. The hair -of beautiful Madame Ronconi, which inspired one of Théophile Gautier's -most wonderful articles, and which made coal look grey and the wings -of a crow pale, when placed side by side with it, was not more black, -more blue, more shiny than Louise Brézette's hair when it reflected -the sun's rays from its dark and sombre depths as from the heart of -polished metal. Oh! what a lovely blooming brunette she was, with her -flesh as firm and bright as a nectarine's; her pearly teeth lighting -up her face from under the faint ebony down on her coral lips! One -could feel life and love bubbling up beneath, needing only the first -passion to make everything burst forth into flame! This luxuriant young -girl was religious, and, as such an organisation as hers must love -something, she loved God. - -If you took a few steps towards the square, a little farther up the -rue de Soissons, bearing to the left, there was a door and a window, -comprising the whole frontage of a tiny house. In the window hung hats, -collars, bonnets, lace, gloves, mittens, ribbons--the whole arsenal, -in short, of womanly vanity; behind the door floated certain curtains, -intended to prevent inquisitive glances from looking into the shop, but -which, whether by some strange mischance, or from the obstinacy of the -rod upon which they slid, or from the caprices of the wind, always left -on one side or the other some impertinent aperture through which the -passer-by could see into the shop and at the same time allowed those -inside the shop to see out into the street. Above this door and this -window the following inscription was painted in large letters:-- - -_Mesdemoiselles Rigolot, Milliners_ - -Truly those who stopped in front of the opening which I have indicated, -and who managed to cast a glance inside the shop, did not lose their -time nor regret their pains. What we mean by this has no sort of -connection with the two proprietors of the establishment, who were -both old maids, having long since passed their fortieth year, and, I -presume, having lost all pretension to inspire any other sentiment than -respect. - -No, what we have in view concerns two of the most adorable faces you -can imagine, placed side by side as though to set one another off: one -was a blonde, and the other a brunette. The brunette was Albine Hardi; -the blonde was Adèle Dalvin. The brown head,--do you know the lovely -Marie Duplessis, that charming courtesan full of queenly grace, upon -whom my son wrote his romance _la Dame aux camélias_?--well, she was -Albine. If you do not know her, I will describe Albine to you. She was -a young girl of seventeen, with a dead brown complexion, large brown -velvety eyes, and eyebrows so black that they seemed as though they -had been drawn with a pencil, the curve was so firm and so regular. -She was a duchess, she was a queen; better still than either, if you -will, she was after the fashion of a nymph of Diana's train: slight, -slender, straight and finely built, a huntress whom it would have -been a splendid sight to see with a plumed helmet on her head, an -Amazon flying before the wind, leading a troop of clamorous pikemen, -guiding a baying hound. Upon the stage her appearance would have -been magnificent, almost supernatural. In ordinary life, people were -tempted to think her too beautiful, and for some time nobody dared to -make love to her, it seemed so likely that their love would be wasted -and that she would not make any response to it. The other, Adèle, was -fair and pink-complexioned. I have never seen prettier golden hair, -sweeter eyes, a more winning smile; she was more inclined to be gay -than melancholy, short rather than tall, plump rather than thin: she -was something like one of Murillo's cherubs who kiss the feet of his -Virgins--half veiled in clouds; she was neither a Watteau shepherdess, -nor one of Greuze's peasant girls, but something between the two. One -felt it would be a sweet and easy thing to love her, although it might -not be so easy to be loved by her. Her father and her mother were -worthy old farmer folk, thoroughly honest but vulgar, and it was all -the more surprising that so fresh and sweet-scented a flower should -have sprung from such a stock. But this is always the case when folks -are young: it is youth that lends distinction, as it is spring which -lends freshness to the rose. - -Round these young people whom I have just described, smiled and pouted -a bevy of young girls, the smallest being mere infants, whom I have -since seen succeed the youthful generation in which I lived. I have -sought in vain to find in these later children the virtues I found in -those who preceded them. - -Until the arrival of the two strangers in Villers-Cotterets I had not -even noticed the springtide crown of stars and flowers to which all -ranks of society contribute. When the two strangers had left, the -bandage that had sealed my eyes fell off, and I could say not merely "I -see" but "I live." I found myself placed by my years exactly between -the children who still played at prisoners' base and at quoits--as -the abba's niece had aptly put it--and youths beginning to turn into -men. Instead of returning to the former, as my beautiful Parisian had -advised me, I attached myself to the latter, and drew myself up to my -full height to prove my sixteen years. And when anyone asked my age, I -told them I was seventeen. - -The three youths with whom I was most intimate were, first, Fourcade, -director of the school of self-improvement, sent from Paris to -Villers-Cotterets; he was my _vis-à-vis_ in my début as a dancing man. -He was a thoroughly well-bred, well-educated young fellow, son of a man -very honourably known in foreign affairs; his father had lived in the -East for many years and had been Consul at Salonica. His affections -were fixed upon Joséphine Thierry, and he spent with her all the time -he could spare from his teaching. My second companion was Saunier; -he had been a fellow-pupil with me under the Abbé Grégoire; he was -second clerk of M. Perrot the lawyer; his father and grandfather were -blacksmiths, and in the idle period of my early youth I spent a large -portion of my time in their forge, notching their files and making -fireworks out of iron filings. Saunier divided his leisure-time between -two passions--one, which I verily believe came before the other, was -for the clarionette; the other was for Manette Thierry. The third of -my intimate friends was called Chollet; he served as a link, in the -matter of age, between Fourcade and Saunier. He lived with one of my -cousins, called Roussy, the father of the child of whom I had been -godfather, when nine months old, along with Augustine Deviolaine. He -was studying the cultivation of forest-land. I know nothing about his -relations; they were probably wealthy, for whenever I called on him -there were five-franc pieces scattered about on the mantelpiece and -two or three gold pieces always shone out ostentatiously from the -midst of them, dazzling my eyes and impressing me profoundly with his -riches. But my admiration was entirely devoid of envy--I have never -envied either a man's money or his possessions. I know not whether this -arose from pride or from simpleness of mind. I might have taken for my -motto _Video nec invideo._ Chollet had had no education at all, but -he was not wanting in a certain natural quick-wittedness, and he was -a fine-looking young fellow, his magnificent eyes and splendid teeth -redeeming an otherwise common-looking face, pitted with smallpox. He -did his best to make Louise Brézette change her love for the Creator -into love for the creature. - -These were my three most intimate friends. The upshot was, that when -it became necessary for me in my turn to make a choice, although I -had been brought up half with M. Deviolaine's family and half with M. -Collard's, it was neither in aristocratic society nor in middle-class -circles, which would have made fun of me, that I sought my initiation -in the delightful mystery of life we call falling in love, but in -that society to which my three friends almost exclusively addressed -themselves. And I had no difficulty in understanding their preference. -I do not hesitate to state fully and freely that they were very wise in -their choice. There was but one step to take to follow in their path. I -needed only someone upon whom to fasten my affections: the wish to love -was not wanting. Every one of the young girls I have mentioned had -some love affair on hand of a more or less serious character. They all -enjoyed most delightful liberty, the result no doubt of the confidence -their parents placed in their good sense; but for some reason or other -we had quite an English custom in Villers-Cotterets--a free and easy -association between young people of both sexes, which I have never seen -in any other French town; a liberty all the more surprising, since -all the parents of these maidens were perfectly respectable people -and had a profound conviction in the depths of their hearts that all -the barques launched upon the flood of the Tender Passion were decked -with white sails and crowned with orange blossoms. And what was more -singular still, it was true in the case of the majority of the ten or -twelve couples of lovers which formed our circle. - -I waited patiently for one of these knots to be untied or severed. -While I waited, I went to every party and took part in all the -walks and all the dances; it was an excellent apprenticeship, which -familiarised me beforehand with that monster whom Psyche touched -without seeing and whom I, on the contrary, had seen but not touched. -Chance favoured me, after six weeks or two months of playing second -fiddle. One of these engagements was hardly made before it was broken: -a farmer's son, named Richou, wished to marry his neighbour, Adèle -Dalvin. The parents of the young man, who were better off than those -of the young girl, opposed these budding loves, and the fair one was -released. - -I had learnt much during those six weeks by watching others; besides, -this time, I was not entangled with a sarcastic and exacting Parisian -girl, who knew the world so much better than I did. No, my love affair -was with a young girl more shy than myself, who mistook my pretended -courage for genuine, and who, like the frog in the fable that jumped -in the pond when a frightened hare passed by it, was good enough to -fear me and to prove to me that it was possible to come across someone -even more timid than myself. It can be seen how such a change in the -position of things gave me assurance. The rôles were now completely -reversed. This time I was the attacking party and someone else was on -the defensive, and this someone was making such an obstinate resistance -that I soon realised my attack was useless and that I should only -succeed in breaking down the serious resistance offered me after, -maybe, a long and patient wooing: the citadel was not to be stormed. -Then began for me those first days, the reflection of which has lasted -throughout the whole of my life: that delicious struggle of love, which -asks unceasingly and is not discouraged by an eternity of refusal; the -obtaining of favour after favour, each of which, when gained, fills the -soul with ecstasy; the early fleeting dawn of life which hovers above -the earth, shaking down handfuls of flowers upon the heads of mortals, -and then, under the influence of the rising sun, adds consciousness to -its joy and is soon enveloped in the ardent heat of passion. - -Indeed, it was a happy time for me. In the morning, when I awoke, my -mother's smile greeted me and her lingering kisses hung on my lips; -from nine to four o'clock came my work--work, it is true, which would -have been tiresome if I had been obliged to understand what I wrote, -but which was easy and welcome, for while my hands and eyes were -copying, my mind was free to commune with my own happy thoughts; then, -from four till eight o'clock, I was with my mother; and after eight, -joy, love, life, hope, happiness! - -At eight in summer evenings, at six in winter, our young friends, also -free when I was, came to join us at some convenient meeting-place; -held out their faces or their cheeks to be kissed, pressed our hands, -without taking pains, out of mistaken coquetry or hypocritical -make-belief, to conceal their delight at meeting us once more; then, -if it were summertime, and fine weather, the park invited us with its -mossy sward, its dusky avenues, the breeze trembling among the leaves, -and on moonlight nights there were wide spaces of alternate light -and darkness; at these times a solitary passer-by could have seen -five or six couples walking, at duly specified distances, to ensure -isolation without loneliness, heads inclined towards one another, hands -clasped in hands, talking in low tones, modulating their words to -sweet intonations, or preserving a dangerous silence; for during such -silences the eyes often spoke what the lips did not dare to utter. If -it were winter or bad weather, we all met at Louise Brézette's: her -mother and her aunt nearly always withdrew to the back room, giving up -to us the two front ones, which we seized upon for ourselves; then, -lit by a single lamp in the third room, near which Louise's mother -would sew while her aunt read the _Imitation of Christ_ or _The Perfect -Christian_ we chatted, squeezed against one another, generally two on -one chair, repeating the same story we had said the night before, but -finding what we had to say ever new. - -At ten o'clock our _soirées_ broke up. Each boy took his particular -girl home. When they reached the house door, she granted her cavalier -another half-hour, sometimes an hour, as sweet to her as to him, as -they sat together on the bench outside the door, or stood in the garden -path which led to the maternal parlour, from the interior of which from -time to time a grumbling voice might be heard calling--a voice that -was answered ten times before being obeyed, "I am coming, mamma." On -Sundays we met at three o'clock, after vespers; and we walked, danced, -waltzed, not going home until midnight. - -Then there were fêtes in the neighbouring villages, less grand, -less aristocratic, less fashionable, certainly, than those of -Villers-Cotterets, to which we went in happy bands, and from which we -returned in silent separate pairs. - -It was at one of these fêtes that I met a young man a year younger than -myself. I must ask permission to speak of him fully, for he had an -immense influence over my life. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Adolphe de Leuven--His family--Unpublished details concerning the death -of Gustavus III.--The Count de Ribbing--The shoemakers of the château -de Villers-Hellon - - -I first met Leuven at a fête in the beautiful village of Corey, a -league's distance from Villers-Cotterets--a village buried in the -centre of great woods, like a nest among high branches. I had left my -companions for an instant in the course of the dance, and I had gone to -some distance to pay a visit to an old friend of my father, a farmer, -whose farm was nearly a quarter of a league from the village. I took a -pretty path at the foot of a hill to get there, hedged on both sides -by hawthorn in full blossom, and studded with daisies, their golden -centres fringed by pink-tipped petals. - -Suddenly, at a bend in the path, I saw three people coming towards me, -in a ray of sunlight which bathed them in light; two were well known to -me, but the third was a complete stranger. The two I knew were Caroline -Collard, who, as previously related, had become Baroness Capelle. The -other was her daughter, Marie Capelle, then only three years old, who -to her misfortune was to become Madame Lafarge. The third person, the -stranger, looked at first sight like a German student; he was a youth -of between sixteen and seventeen, and was dressed in a grey jacket, an -oilskin cap, a waistcoat of chamois leather and bright blue trousers, -almost as tight-fitting as mine, but with this difference, that while -my topboots covered up my breeches, his, on the contrary, were covered -up by his trousers. This young man was tall, dark and gaunt, his black -hair cut as short as bristles; he had good eyes and a strikingly -defined nose; his teeth were as white as pearls, and he had a -carelessly aristocratic bearing; he was the Viscount Adolphe Ribbing de -Leuven, future author of _Vert-Vert_ and of _Postilion de Long-jumeau_ -son of Count Adolphe-Louis Ribbing de Leuven, one of the three Swedish -noblemen who were inculpated in the murder of Gustavus III., King of -Sweden. - -These Counts Ribbing de Leuven were of an old and noble family, used -to carrying on royal intrigues and to treat on equal terms with the -powerful ones of earth. It was a Ribbing who rose in 1520 against the -tyrant Christiern who had caused his two children to be murdered. -There was a sad and melancholy legend in the family, connected with -the beheading of these two children, the one aged twelve and the other -only three. The executioner had cut off the head of the eldest and had -seized hold of the second to execute him too, when the poor mite said -in childish accents, "Oh, please do not soil my collar as you have -soiled my brother Axel's, for mamma would scold me." The executioner -had two children of his own just the same ages as these. Moved by the -words, he flung down his sword and ran off, overwhelmed with remorse. -Christiern sent soldiers after him and he was killed. - -Adolphe's father, with whom I have since become very friendly and -who loves me like a father, was then a man of fifty; extremely -distinguished in appearance, with a charming nature, although -perhaps a little too sarcastic, and of indomitable courage. He had -been educated at the Military School in Berlin, and had come to -France when quite young as a captain in one of Louis XVI.'s foreign -mercenary regiments--those regiments which did him far more harm than -any good their loyal services rendered him. He had been presented -to Marie-Antoinette by the Count de Fersen and, under the patronage -of that illustrious favourite, the queen gave him a most favourable -reception. He remembered poor. Marie-Antoinette with most respectful -veneration, and thirty years after her death I often heard him speak of -her with a voice full of tears. He was recalled to Sweden towards the -close of the year 1791. He was betrothed to one of his cousins, whom -he worshipped, and, intending to marry her on his return, he learnt on -his arrival at Stockholm that, by the order of King Gustave III., her -hand had been disposed of and she was the wife of the Count d'Essen. -In his first transport of despair, Count Ribbing provoked a quarrel -with her husband. A duel ensued, and the Count d'Essen fell with a -sword-wound through his chest which kept him chained for six months to -his bed. - -Sweden was greatly disturbed at this period: the king insisted upon -enforcing his Diet to accept the deed of union and of security, and at -Geft the _coup d'état_ took place which invested the king with sole -power in the making of peace and war. A tremendous strife had been -waged for a long period between the regal power and the nobility. -Though the king was married in 1766 to Sophie-Madeleine of Denmark, -he had no heir to his crown even in 1776. And the Swedish nobility -attributed the queen's sterility to the same cause as that of Louise de -Vaudemont, Henri III.'s wife. As in the case of the last of the house -of Valois, Gustavus had his favourites, and their familiarity with him -led to their making the most extraordinary suggestions to their prince. -After a time, the courtiers made up their minds to remonstrate with the -king about the queen's barrenness and to tell him he ought to try to -remedy this deficiency by every means in his power. Gustavus promised -to see what could be done in the matter. Then, so folks said, a curious -thing happened. The evening of the day on which he had pledged his word -to the Swedish lords, he took his equerry Monck to the queen's chamber -and, in the presence of the confused and blushing queen, he explained -to the equerry the service he required of him; then he withdrew and -shut the door of the royal chamber upon the pair. Some time later the -queen's pregnancy was proclaimed, and she gave birth to a prince, who -after his father's death reigned under the title of Gustavus IV., until -the Swedish Parliament proclaimed his deposition in 1809. I knew his -son very well in Italy, where he travelled under the name of the Count -de Wasa. - -In 1770, Gustavus III., then twenty-four years of age, came to France -as the Count de Haga. He had an interview with a kind of sorceress -who predicted future events in her hypnotic trances; she had scarcely -touched his hand before she told him to beware of the year 1792, as -he would incur danger of death from firearms during the course of it. -Gustavus was a brave man; he had often exposed himself to danger. He -several times repeated the prediction laughingly, but it never troubled -him. - -Inconsequence of the Diet of 1792, by which the nobles had lost the -rest of their privileges, there arose a conspiracy. The principal -ringleaders were Ankarström, Count de Ribbing, Count de Horn, Baron -d'Erenswaerd and Colonel Lilienhorn. Ankarström and Ribbing had private -reasons for hatred against the king, besides the general grievances -which embittered the aristocracy against the sovereign. Through the -king's intervention Ankarström had lost a lawsuit which had deprived -him of half his fortune. Count de Ribbing, as we have seen, owed a -grudge against the king for a far more grievous loss than that of a -lawsuit, namely, the loss of his lady-love. In the case of the other -nobles the projected murder of Gustavus was simply an incident in the -life of a clan. They decided to perpetrate the murder at a masked ball, -which was to take place in the Opera House, on the night of 15 and 16 -March 1792. On the night before, the king received an anonymous letter, -warning him of the plot and telling him that he was to be assassinated -on the following night. - -"Ah yes," said Gustavus, "the very same thing was predicted twenty-two -years ago to the Count de Haga; but he put no more faith in the -prophecy than the King of Sweden does to-day;" and, shrugging his -shoulders, he crumpled the note between his hands and threw it into the -fireplace. Nevertheless, people averred that Gustavus went disguised -on the night of the 14-15 to consult the famous sibyl Arfredson, -who confirmed the French somnambulist's prediction and the warning -contained in the anonymous letter, telling him he would be murdered -before three days had gone by. Whether from actual courage or from -incredulity, Gustavus would not change any of his previously arranged -plans nor take any precaution: at eleven o'clock that night he went to -the masked ball. Lots had been drawn the night before to settle which -of the conspirators should kill the king, and Gustavus was so greatly -detested by his nobles that each one was eager to have the dangerous -honour of firing the fatal shot. The lot was drawn by Ankarström. - -It is said that one of the conspirators offered to give him all the -wealth he then possessed, as well as all that which he was to inherit -at a future date, if he would change places with him; but Ankarström -refused. When the time came, Ankarström suddenly bethought him that he -might mistake one of the nobles for the king, as several of them were -dressed in similar costumes. But the Count de Horn reassured him. "Fire -boldly," said he, "at the one to whom I shall say, '_Good-day, handsome -masquerader_.' He will be the king." - -At two in the morning Gustavus was strolling about, leaning on the arm -of the Count d'Essen, whom he had married to de Ribbing's _fiancée_, -when the Count de Horn approached him and said, "_Good-day, handsome -masquerader_." - -The next moment a dull report was heard, and Gustavus tottered, crying -out-- - -"I am killed!" - -Except those who were round about the king no one had perceived what -had happened. The pistol was concealed in a muff; the report had -been drowned amidst the buzz of conversation and the strains of the -orchestra, and the smoke remained buried in the muff. But at the king's -exclamation, and on seeing him fall back fainting in the arms of -d'Essen, everyone ran up; in the commotion that followed it was quite -easy for Ankarström to put himself at a distance from the king and even -to leave the hall; but in his flight he dropped one of his pistols. The -pistol was picked up, hot and still smoking. Next day every gun-seller -in Stockholm was questioned, and one of them recognised the pistol as -one he had sold to Ankarström. An hour later, Ankarström was arrested -at his own house, and a special commission was appointed to try him. -He confessed to, but gloried in, his crime. As to his accomplices, he -declined under any conditions whatever to reveal their names. The trial -dragged on slowly; it was hoped against hope that Ankarström would give -away the conspirators; finally, on 29 April 1792, forty-four days after -the murder, he was condemned. The sentence was that he was to be beaten -with rods for three days, then beheaded. In spite of the length and -the ignominy of the punishment, Ankarström remained firm to the very -end. While being taken in the cart to his execution, he looked with -perfect equanimity upon the thousands of spectators who thronged round -the scaffold. When he mounted the scaffold he asked for a few minutes -in which to make his peace with God. It was granted him. He knelt down, -prayed and then gave himself up to the executioners. He was not quite -thirty-three years of age. - -Ribbing, who had been arrested at the same time as Ankarström, was but -twenty-one: it was intended to condemn him to death like Ankarström, -and the Duke of Sudermania, regent over the kingdom during the minority -of Gustavus IV., was urging forward the trial, when a mystic, a -disciple of Swedenborg, sought him out and told him that the _master_ -had appeared to him, and had declared that not only was Ribbing -innocent, but that every hair which fell from his head would cost a -day of the life of the Duke of Sudermania. The duke, a Swedenborgian -himself, was terrified at this warning, and Ribbing, instead of sharing -Ankarström's fate, was condemned to perpetual exile. And as less -could not be done for the Count de Horn and for Lilienhorn than was -done in the case of Ribbing, they both obtained the same favour. The -confiscation of their property followed upon the sentence of exile. -Fortunately, in the case of the Count de Ribbing, the confiscation of -property could not be put into execution until after the death of his -mother: she enjoyed the property in her own right, during her lifetime, -and she was still quite young. - -The count left for France, where the Revolution was then at its height, -and he arrived in time to witness the events of 2 and 3 September -and 21 January. His adoration for the queen made him loud in his -denunciation of the events of those dreadful days. He was arrested and, -although already a regicide, was on the point of being delivered up to -the revolutionary tribunal as too sympathetic with royal misfortunes, -when Chaumette set him free, gave him a passport and helped him to -escape from Paris. The count then went to Switzerland; he was so -young and so good-looking that he went by the name of "the beautiful -regicide." He was introduced to Madame de Staël, who took him much into -her confidence. The letters (some two or three hundred) which the Count -de Ribbing received from Madame de Staël during the lifetime of the -illustrious authoress of _Corinne_, proved that this friendship was not -of a temporary nature. Madame de Staël was surrounded by a circle of -friends, several of whom already knew the Count de Ribbing. This little -court was half political and half literary; its chief purpose at that -time was to rescue, hide and protect emigrants against the persecutions -of the magistrates in the Swiss cantons whose hands were continually -being forced by the demands of the Revolutionary Government of Paris. - -After 9 thermidor, the Count de Ribbing could return to France, where -he bought three or four châteaux and two or three abbeys at a very low -price. Among these châteaux were Villers-Hellon, Brunoy and Quincy. The -count had acquired all these properties simply on the recommendations -either of friends or of his solicitor. Villers-Hellon was, among -others, quite unknown to him. One day he made up his mind to pay a -visit to the lovely estate people had praised so much. Unluckily, the -time was ill-chosen for seeing all its charms: the communal authorities -of Villers-Hellon had handed over the château to an association of -shoemakers who made shoes for the army, consequently the worthy -disciples of St. Crépin had taken possession of the domain, had set -up their workrooms in the salons and in the bedrooms and, the better -to communicate with one another, they had made openings through the -ceilings. When they had any oral communication to make, they made it -by means of these peep-holes without having to leave their seats; if -they had to come up or downstairs to see one another, they put ladders -through these holes and so saved the turns and twists of the proper -staircase. One can imagine how greatly such tenants would detract from -the appearance of the château the count had just bought. The sights, -and above all the smells, about the place so disgusted him that he -fled precipitately back to Paris. Some days later he recounted his -misadventure in his own witty way to M. Collard, then connected with -the commissariat department of the army. M. Collard was more accustomed -to the value of material goods than the noble exile, and he then and -there offered to take over his purchase. M. de Ribbing consented, and -Villers-Hellon became from that moment the property of M. Collard. -Happily, the Count de Ribbing had still two or three other châteaux -where he could reside instead of in the one he had just sold. He -chose Brunoy, which later he gave up to his friend Talma, as he had -Villers-Hellon to his friend Collard, and then he established himself -in the château of Quincy. - -During the whole of Napoleon's reign the Count de Ribbing lived very -quietly, spending his winters in Paris and his summers in the country, -devoting himself to agriculture and to fishing in his ponds, in -which, once, he caught such an enormous pike that when it was put in -the scales with Adolphe at the other end, the pike was actually the -heavier. Napoleon offered M. de Ribbing military positions more than -once--offers which he I declined, on account of the Conqueror's love of -invasion, fearing he might one day be compelled to carry arms against -Sweden. - -On the second return of the Bourbons to power, their revenge for past -political events pursued M. de Ribbing to his private retreat. He -was obliged to exile himself again, crossed the frontier, and under -an assumed name went to live in Brussels with his wife and son. But -the incognito of the Count de Ribbing was soon to betray him under -circumstances that will give some idea of his character. In Brussels, -the count found himself at the same table with some foreign officers -who, inflated with pride at the victory of Waterloo, abused France -and Frenchmen right and left. One colonel, who was covered with -decorations, especially distinguished himself by his exaggerated -attacks. The conversation was carried on in German, but as the Count -de Ribbing had been brought up in Berlin, German was almost like -his mother tongue; he did not therefore lose a single word of the -conversation, although he pretended he was not taking any notice. -Suddenly he rose, and, advancing with his usual coolness to the -colonel, he slapped him right and left across the face, accompanying -the blows with a statement of his name and titles, and then he quietly -returned to his seat. Cauchois-Lemaire, then only a young man, was at -the same table, so was the poet Arnault, who was already an old man; -both, at great risk to themselves, offered their services to the Count -de Ribbing as seconds. Happily these services were not required: the -colonel would not fight. - -The roll of _the Thirty Eight_ enriched Brussels at the expense -of France,--Arnault, Excelmans, Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angély, -Cambacérès, Harel, Cauchois-Lemaire were all exiled. M. de Ribbing -attached himself to them, and, with them, founded _le Nain Jaune_--a -journal that soon earned itself a European reputation. - -Following upon an article published by the count in this journal, the -Prussian Government demanded that the author of it should be handed -over to them. This meant nothing less than imprisonment for life in a -castle--Prussia is still, as one knows, the land of castles, and it -has long been the land of imprisonments. However, King William left -the Count de Ribbing the choice of being delivered over to Prussia or -to France--somewhat after the fashion of the cook who gives a fowl its -choice between being boiled or roasted. M. de Ribbing chose France. He -was taken prisoner, flung into a post-chaise with his son, and driven -to the borders of Condé. There he looked about him, to discover from -which of his old friends he could ask hospitality. The nearest happened -to be M. Collard, so he took his way towards Villers-Hellon. - -It need hardly be said that he was received with open arms. He had been -living but three days in that lovely place--changed so greatly since -the days of the bootmakers that it was almost beyond recognition--when -I met his son, Adolphe de Leuven, with Madame Capelle on his arm, and -holding little Marie by the hand. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Adolphe's quatrain--The water-hen and King William--Lunch in the -wood--The irritant powder, the frogs and the cock--The doctor's -spectre--De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy and I are exiled from the -drawing-room--Unfortunate result of a geographical error--M. Paroisse - - -I had not come across any members of the Collard family for a long -time. Madame Capelle I adored, as she took pity on my youthfulness -when people made fun of my peculiarities--peculiarities which I will -not hide from myself I possessed to a certain extent. She introduced -me to de Leuven as a young friend of hers and asked me to lunch with -them next day in the forest to improve our acquaintance; it was also -arranged that, following upon the lunch, I should spend two or three -days at the château of Villers-Hellon. Of course I accepted the -invitation. The fête of Corey was on the way, with its delightful -entertainments of dancing and merriment. I can think of nothing more -delightful than returning home, at ten or eleven o'clock at night, -under the dense moving vault of the tall trees: in the solemn stillness -of the night it seemed like some ancient Elysium, with mute shades -walking under in the darkness; for the shades that pace our terrestrial -Elysiums speak so low, so very low, that we swear they are dumb. I had -been obliged to return to Villers-Cotterets to take back Ad&le, and to -make her understand, without hurting her feelings, how important it was -that I should maintain friendly intercourse with the Collard family. -She was such an excellent, good-hearted, straightforward girl, that she -soon understood, and although feeling a little jealous at lending me -to that group of aristocratic and beautiful young girls, who were fine -enough to inspire jealousy in the heart of a princess, she gave me up -for three days. - -I set off at nine next morning to reach the arranged meeting-place by -ten o'clock. Everybody had spent the night at Corey, at M. Leroy's -house, and I also should have done the same had I not been urgently -recalled to Villers-Cotterets by the necessity above stated. But what -was a distance like that? I had strong legs and boots which could defy -those of Tom Thumb's giant himself. In less than three-quarters of an -hour, I caught sight of the first houses in the village, and the pond -as it lay quiet and shining like a mirror at the foot of the valley. -Adolphe de Leuven was walking on its banks. I did not expect that -anyone would be up at the farm so early, and I joined Adolphe. He had -a pencil and tablets in his hand, and he who was usually so phlegmatic -was gesticulating in such a fashion that I should have trembled for his -reason, had I not imagined he was practising a fencing exercise. When -he saw me he stopped and blushed slightly. - -"What are you doing there?" I asked. - -"Why, I am composing poetry," he said, with some confusion. I looked -him in the face as though I could hardly believe my ears. - -"Poetry!... do you really write poetry?" - -"Why, yes, sometimes," he answered, laughing. - -"To whom are you writing verses?" - -"To Louise." - -"What! Louise Collard?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, I never!" - -The notion of composing poetry to Louise Collard, charming though she -was, had never come into my head. Louise seemed to me still the same -pretty child in short frocks with lace-trimmed drawers--nothing more. - -"Ah! so you are making verses to Louise, are you: what for?" I went on. - -"You know she is going to be married." - -"Louise? No, I did not know that. To whom?" - -"To a Russian. Therefore the marriage must be prevented." "Prevented?" - -"Yes; such a delightful girl must not be allowed to leave France." - -"True, true; I shall be very sorry if she leaves France. I am very fond -of her; aren't you?" - -"I? I have only known her three days." - -"It would be a good thing to hinder her from leaving France; but how -shall we do it?" - -"I have written my verses; you write some too." - -"I!" - -"Yes, you. You have been brought up with her, and it will please her." - -"But I do not know how to write poetry. I have never done anything but -crambo with the Abbé Grégoire and he always told me I did badly." - -"Oh, nonsense! when you are in love it comes of itself." - -"But I am in love and it hasn't come; so let me see your verses." - -"Oh, it is just a quatrain." - -"Well, let me see it." - -Adolphe drew his tablets forth and read me these four lines:-- - - "Pourquoi dans _la froide Ibérie_, - Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits? - Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie, - Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!" - -I stood astounded. This was real poetry--poetry after the style of -Demoustier. So a poet stood before me: I felt as though I ought to bow -down before him. - -"How do you like my quatrain?" asked de Leuven. - -"Heavens! it is beautiful." - -"Good!" - -"And you are going to give it to Louise?" - -"Oh no; I dare not do that. I shall write it in her album without -saying anything to her, and when she turns over the leaves she will -come across my lines." - -"Bravo!" - -"Now what shall you do?" - -"What about?" - -"About this marriage." - -"Oh, well, as I am quite unable to make a quatrain as good as yours, -I shall say to her, 'Are you really going to marry a Russian, my poor -Louise? I tell you, you are making a great mistake.'" - -"I do not fancy that will have so much effect as my quatrain," said -Adolphe. - -"Neither do I; but what else can I do? One can only use one's own -weapons. Now, if the Russian would meet me in a pistol Dud, I am quite -sure he would never marry Louise!" - -"You are a sportsman, then?" - -"Rather. How could you imagine one would not be, surrounded by such a -forest? Oh, stop! there is a water-hen!" - -I pointed it out to him with my finger, flushing it with my stick as it -swam among the reeds of the pond. - -"Shoo!" - -"Is that a water-hen?" - -"Of course it is. Where do you come from not to know a water-hen?" - -"I come from Brussels." - -"I thought you were a Parisian." - -"I was indeed born in Paris; but in 1815 we left Paris, and we lived in -Brussels until three years ago, when my father and I were compelled to -leave." - -"Who compelled you to go?" - -"Why, William!" - -"Who is William?" - -"William? He is King of the Netherlands. Didn't you know that the King -of the Netherlands was called William?" - -"Not I." - -"Well, then, it oughtn't to seem so odd to you now that I do not know a -water-hen." - -Indeed, as it appeared, we were both ignorant on some points; and my -ignorance was more culpable than de Leuven's. - -He grew another cubit taller in my estimation. Not only was he a poet, -but he was of sufficient importance in the world for this King William -to be uneasy about him and his father, to the extent of banishing them -both from his realms. - -"And now you are living at Villers-Hellon?" said I. - -"Yes. M. Collard is an old friend of my father." - -"How long shall you live here?" - -"As long as the Bourbons will allow us to remain in France." - -"Ah! then you have fallen out with the Bourbons too?" - -"We have quarrelled with most kings," said Adolphe, with a laugh. - -This phrase, uttered with magnificent indifference, quite finished -me off. Luckily, at that moment, our fair companions appeared on the -threshold of the farm, a bevy of pink and white damsels. Two or three -_chars-à-bancs_ were in readiness to take them to the appointed place. -The gentlemen were to go on foot. The rendezvous was barely a quarter -of a league's distance from the village. A long table of thirty covers -was laid under a leafy canopy, ten paces off a limpid, clear purling -spring called the _Fontaine-aux-Princes._ All these young folks, -maidens, mothers, children, seemed like so many woodland flowers -opening to the sweet-breathed breeze: some pale, that sought for shade -and solitude; others of brilliant hues, seeking light and stir and the -sunshine of admiration. - -Oh! those glorious woods, those shady depths, the haunts of my -cherished moods of solitude, I have revisited you since; but no shade -glides now beneath your green vaults and in your dark alleys.... What -have you done with all that delightful world which vanished with my -youth? Why have not other generations come in their turn, pale or rosy, -lively or careless, noisy or silent like ours? Has that ephemeral -efflorescence disappeared for ever? Is it really wanting, or is it that -my eyes have lost the power of seeing? - -We returned that night to Villers-Hellon. Everything was so beautifully -arranged in that luxurious little château that each of us had a -separate room and bed, and sometimes there were as many as thirty or -forty of us there. - -I have related what nocturnal persecutions poor Hiraux was made a -victim of when he came to see us at les Fossés. It was now our turn to -undergo the like. Our rooms were prepared beforehand for the pantomime -that followed. The family doctor, Manceau, was the stage manager. He -had replaced an old doctor from Soissons named M. Paroisse. I will -explain presently why this change took place. The assistant stage -managers were Louise, Cécile and Augustine. The appointed victims were -Hippolyte Leroy, de Leuven and myself. Hippolyte Leroy was at this -period a young man of between twenty-five and twenty-six. He was a -cousin of M. Leroy de Corey. He had been one of the body-guard, and was -now Secretary to the Inspection at Villers-Cotterets. Later, he became -my cousin, by his marriage with Augustine Deviolaine. Our three rooms -communicated with one another. We retired to our rooms about half-past -twelve. De Leuven was the first to get into bed. He had scarcely lain -down before he began to complain of a most intolerable tickling: his -bed was sprinkled with the stuff charlatans sell which they call -scratching powder. Those unacquainted with this powder should recall -the famous scene in _Robert Macaire_, where the two heroes of the book -find a trunk, and in that trunk a quantity of tiny packets, containing -some unknown substance, whose property was revealed when they touched -it. In about five minutes' time Adolphe de Leuven began to scratch -himself like both Robert Macaire and Bertrand put together. We offered -de Leuven our sincere sympathy. We advised him to rub it off as best he -could, to wrap himself in his bed-curtain and to sleep on a couch. Then -we went to our own beds, quite convinced that we should find them like -Adolphe's. But we searched them in vain: they seemed perfectly free -from any preparation of the like nature. We lay down. In five minutes' -time Hippolyte Leroy uttered a sharp cry. In stretching himself, he -felt a piece of string at the foot of the bed; he pulled this thread, -and in doing so, he untied a bag full of frogs. The frogs, gaining -their liberty, hastened to disport themselves about the bed, and it was -the contact of his human flesh with their animal hide which produced -Hippolyte's yell above mentioned. He flung off the bed-clothes and -leapt out of bed. The frogs leaped out after him. He had been given -good measure; there were quite two dozen of them. - -I was beginning to think I was the only one spared, when I thought I -heard a great stirring inside a cupboard against which the head of my -bed had been put. I looked at the lock. It was keyless. However, I -felt no doubt that some sort of animal was shut up in that cupboard. -Only, what sort of an animal was it? I was not kept long in suspense: -as one o'clock struck a cock crowed at the head of my bed, and renewed -his crowing every hour till day came. I did not deny Christ, like St. -Peter, but I confess I took His name in vain. We fell asleep by seven -o'clock,--de Leuven in spite of his itching powder, Hippolyte Leroy in -spite of his frogs, and I in spite of my cock,--when Manceau entered -our rooms and woke us by telling us that as he had heard in roundabout -ways we had spent a bad night, he had come to offer us his professional -services: Manceau denounced his own handiwork! - -We had slept so badly, through that horrible night, that, with terrible -imprecations, we had consigned our persecutor, whoever he might be, -to the infernal regions. Manceau, as I have said, denounced himself: -expiation must follow the crime; our sworn oath must be fulfilled. At -a sign, de Leuven shut the door: I fell upon Manceau, Hippolyte gagged -him; we stripped him naked, we wrapped him in a sheet off Adolphe's -bed, we tied him up like a sausage, we took him down a disused -staircase and we deposited him in the most unfrequented part of the -park, in the very middle of the little river, at a place where he could -stand, but where, entangled as he was, he ran great risk of losing his -foothold at the first step he took. We then quietly returned to our -beds, and resumed our interrupted sleep. - -We went down to the morning meal at ten o'clock. Our arrival was -eagerly expected. Everybody burst out laughing when we came within -view. The young ladies each played a part: some pretended to scratch, -others imitated in a low voice the croaking of frogs, and others -simulated the crowing of a cock. We were quite imperturbable: we merely -asked carelessly where Manceau was. Nobody had seen him. We sat down -to table. The fowl was tough, Cécile remarked; one would have said it -was an old cock which had crowed all the night. Augustine asked where -the frogs were that she had seen, she said, in the kitchen the night -before. Had they been moved?... Were the frogs lost?... The frogs -must be found again. Louise asked Adolphe if he was not attacked by a -contagious affection; for since he had offered her his arm to lead her -into the dining-room, her skin had felt fearfully irritable. - -"If Manceau were here," I said to Louise, "you could ask him for a -prescription to allay it." - -"But, joking apart, where is Manceau?" asked Madame Collard. - -Silence again, as at the first inquiry. Matters were becoming serious, -and folks began to be uneasy about the dear doctor: it was not his -custom to absent himself at meal-times. They sent to ask the porter if -Manceau had gone out to attend some sick person in the village. The -porter had not seen Manceau. - -"I believe he is drowned!" I said.... "Poor fellow!" - -"Why should he be?" asked Madame Collard. - -"Because yesterday evening he proposed a bathing party to us; but we -slept so well we missed meeting him in his room as arranged. As we did -not turn up, he must have gone alone to bathe." - -"Oh, good gracious!" exclaimed Madame Collard, "the poor doctor! he -cannot swim." - -A chorus of lamentations went up from the ladies at these words, by the -side of which the wailing of the Israelites in exile was a trifle. It -was settled that Manceau should be searched for immediately after the -meal was over. - -"Good!" said de Leuven in a whisper to me,--"I will take the -opportunity while everybody is out to write my verses in Louise's -album." - -"And I," I replied, "I will stand sentinel at the door to prevent your -being disturbed." - -Everything happened as had been arranged. The whole beehive of the -castle swarmed into the garden. The older men--M. de Leuven the -father, M. Collard, M. Méchin--stayed in the drawing-room to read the -newspapers. Hippolyte played billiards with Maurice. De Leuven and I -went upstairs to Louise's room, which was next to M. Collard's, and -whilst I watched on the landing, he wrote his four lines in the album. - -He had scarcely finished the last, when we heard loud shouts, and upon -going to look out of the window, we saw Louise and Augustine running -towards the castle. Cécile, who was braver, had remained stoutly where -she was, and had looked towards the river with more curiosity than -alarm. - -"Bravo!" said I to Adolphe, "Manceau has made his appearance." - -We quickly went down. - -"A ghost! a ghost!" cried Louise and Augustine; "there is a ghost in -the river!" - -"Oh! my God," said de Leuven--"can it be that the spirit of poor -Manceau is already borne down below?" - -It was not his spirit, but his body. By dint of struggling with his -cords, Manceau had freed one arm, then both; his two arms freed, he -had taken the handkerchief off his mouth: when ungagged, he had called -out for help; unfortunately, the gardener was at the opposite end of -the garden. He had tried hard to untie the cords which bound his legs, -as he had done those binding his hands; but, to do so, he would have -to put his head under the water; and, as Madame Capelle had said, -the unlucky doctor did not know how to swim, and was restrained from -any such attempt by the fear of being suffocated. At last his cries -attracted the attention of the young girls; but at sight of the figure -wrapped in a sheet and making despairing gesticulations, fear had taken -possession of them, and not having the least notion that Manceau would -be discovered in the middle of the river, shrouded in such a garment, -they had shrieked at the apparition and had flown away. They sent to -the unhappy Manceau the gardener for whom he had called so loudly. He -clamoured vehemently for his clothes. He had been in the river from -seven in the morning until noon, and although it was towards the end of -July, the bath was infinitely too protracted, and had made him somewhat -chilly. He was put to bed with a hot bottle. From that moment Manceau -was the object of general pity, and we of universal execration. For, -God be merciful to him a sinner, Manceau had been cowardly enough to -denounce us. It was in vain for de Leuven to show his hands as red as -crabs and to offer to show the rest of his body, which was as red as -his hands; in vain did Hippolyte collect the frogs scattered about his -room and bring them into the drawing-room; in vain did I fetch the -cock, with which I had held discourse all the night, from the barnyard: -nothing moved our judges; we were banished from society, for deliberate -attempted homicide in the matter of Doctor Manceau. So we promised -ourselves to drown him out and out the first chance we got. - -Banished from the society of the ladies, I took refuge in the -billiard-room, where Maurice gave me my first lesson in billiards. -We shall see that this lesson stood me in good stead, and that, four -years later, at a solemn occasion in my life, I practised the art of -cannoning, wherein I had made some progress. Our punishment lasted -throughout that evening, which the young ladies spent in Louise's room, -as it was raining. De Leuven made several attempts to get into that -chamber, but was repulsed each time. A great change had come over him -since four o'clock in the afternoon, after a conversation he had had -with his father, in which the elder man had seemed to me to sneer at -him strangely. - -Adolphe grew very restless, almost gloomy, and although he was -determinedly kept out of Louise's room--where she was holding a -gathering of her girl-friends, as I have mentioned--he went back -persistently again and again. "Ah! I see," I said to myself, after a -moment's reflection, "he wants to obtain news of his quatrain and to -know how it has succeeded." And, satisfied with my reasoning, I did -not look any farther for the cause of de Leuven's insistence. But I -regretted I had not the means with which partial nature had endowed -Adolphe, to cause my shortcomings to be forgiven. I was pursued by this -regret when in Hippolyte's room, where we withdrew, questioning each -other what had become of de Leuven, who had not been seen for an hour, -when suddenly we heard a great noise in the midst of which we could -make out the words, "_Stop thief!_" echoing through the castle. As we -were still dressed, we dashed out of our room and quickly descended -the staircase. At the foot of the staircase was M. Collard in his -nightshirt, holding Adolphe by his coat collar. It was an extraordinary -sight. M. Collard looked furious and Adolphe exceedingly penitent. In -the meantime, M. de Leuven, who had not yet gone to bed, arrived on the -scene, as imperturbable as ever, his hands in his trousers pockets, -chewing a toothpick, after his usual fashion. This toothpick was an -indispensable item in M. de Leuven's life. - -"Well, well! What is the matter now, Collard? What have you against my -boy?" - -"What have I? what have I?" shrieked M. Collard, growing more and more -exasperated. "I have something that cannot be overlooked." - -"Ah! what has he done, then?" - -"What has he done?... I'll tell you what he has done!----" - -"Forgive me, father," said Adolphe, trying to get in a word or two of -justification,--"forgive me, father, but M. Collard is mistaken.... He -believes----" - -"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel!" yelled M. Collard, kicking him. - -Then, turning to the Count de Ribbing, he said-- - -"Listen, my dear de Leuven, and I will tell you where I have found this -son of yours." - -"But I must protest, dear M. Collard, it was solely and simply to----" - -"Be quiet!" interrupted M. Collard. "Come with us: you shall clear -yourself if you can." - -"Oh," said Adolphe, "that will not be difficult." - -"We shall see!" - -Pushing the youth before him, he signed to the count to go inside his -room, and, following himself, shut the door and double-locked it. - -We withdrew in silence, Hippolyte, myself and the other spectators -of that curious scene. Adolphe returned at the end of a quarter of -an hour. He looked so crestfallen that we dared not question him -for details. We went to bed in ignorance of the cause of all the -disturbance. - -But after Hippolyte had fallen asleep de Leuven came to me and told me -the whole story. This was what had happened. - -As I have said above, Adolphe had written the wonderful quatrain in -Louise's album that morning. When it was finished he left the young -lady's room as fast as possible. Towards four o'clock, Adolphe, who had -not been able to contain the news, drew his father aside and repeated -his quatrain to him. - -M. de Ribbing listened gravely until the last syllable of the fourth -line, and then he said-- - -"Say it over again, please." - -Adolphe repeated it obediently:-- - - "Pourquoi dans la froide Ibérie, - Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits? - Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie, - Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!" - -"There is but one slip," then said M. de Ribbing. - -"What?" asked Adolphe. - -"Oh, nothing much ... you have mistaken the South for the North--Spain -for Russia." - -"Oh!" cried Adolphe, aghast, "upon my word, so I have! ... I have put -Ibérie for _Sibérie_." - -"I understand," said the count, "it makes a better rhyme, but is less -accurate." And, shrugging his shoulders, he went off humming a little -air and chewing his toothpick. - -Adolphe stood dumbfounded. He had signed his unlucky quatrain with -his full name. If the album were opened and the quatrain were read -he would be disgraced! This sword of Damocles, hung over the unlucky -poet's head, had distracted him all the evening. It was to get hold of -Louise's album that he had made the obstinate efforts to enter her room -I have detailed. But, as we have seen, his attempts had been fruitless. - -When night came, Adolphe took a desperate resolve: he would go into -Louise's room when she was asleep, seize her album and destroy the -tell-tale page. - -This resolution he put into execution about eleven o'clock. The door -opened without creaking too much, and Adolphe, who squeezed himself -through as softly as possible on tiptoe, with but the one end, one -hope and one desire of reaching the album, had thus invaded his young -friend's maiden chamber. All went well as far as the album. It was -on the table and Adolphe took it, put it in his vest, determined to -regain possession by hook or by crook of the four lines which had made -their author so unhappy, when suddenly he ran against a little table, -which fell and in falling awakened Louise. Louise, startled, cried out, -"Thief, thief!" At the cry of "Thief, thief!" M. Collard, whose room -adjoined his daughter's, rushed out of bed in his nightshirt, flung -himself on de Leuven on the landing, collared him, and, as we have -seen, suspecting poor innocent Adolphe of quite another crime, dragged -him into his chamber. His father followed them and closed the door -behind him. There, everything was explained, thanks to the album, which -Adolphe had been careful not to let go. M. Collard was convinced _de -visu_ of the geographical error Adolphe had committed; he thoroughly -understood the importance of that error, and, reassured in the matter -of motive, he was soon satisfied about the deed. So neither Louise's -reputation nor Adolphe's suffered any blemish from this occurrence. - -As they continued to punish Hippolyte and me next day, for Manceau's -little adventure, we left Villers-Hellon without saying a word to -anyone, and took the road to Villers-Cotterets. Strange to say, I have -never re-entered Villers-Hellon since. The young girls' ostracism -lasted thirty years. Only once have I since seen Hermine, and that -was at the rehearsal of _Caligula_, when she was Madame la Baronne de -Martens. Only once have I since seen Louise, and that was at a dinner -given at the Bank, when she was Madame Garat. Only once have I since -seen Marie Capelle, a month before she became Madame Lafarge. I never -saw either Madame Collard or Madame Capelle again. Both are now dead. -But when I close my eyes, in spite of those thirty years of absence, I -can still see them all, the dead and the living. - -I promised to tell the story of the old doctor who was Manceau's -predecessor, and it would be unfair to my readers to break my word. M. -Paroisse lived at Soissons. A thinly scattered practice allowed him to -dine once a week at Villers-Hellon, where he was always made heartily -welcome. This lasted for ten years. One day M. Collard received a -large manuscript signed by the worthy doctor. It was the bill for his -visits. He had charged twenty francs for each visit, and the sum total -was something alarming. M. Collard paid him, but told M. Paroisse from -henceforth not to come to Villers-Hellon unless he were specially sent -for. It was in consequence of this incident that Manceau was installed -in the castle as the regular medical attendant to the family. I forget -what became of Manceau ... I fancy the poor devil is dead. Happily, -this was not in consequence of the enforced bath we gave him. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Amédée de la Ponce--He teaches me what work is--M. Arnault and his two -sons--A journey by diligence--A gentleman fights me with cough lozenges -and I fight him with my fists--I learn the danger from which I escaped - - -After the unjust sentence that was passed upon us in Villers-Hellon, I -returned to Villers-Cotterets, and, disgusted with my sojourn in the -aristocratic regions whence I had just been cast forth, I returned -with delight to the world I preferred to theirs, wherein I could find -complete satisfaction for all my heart-longings and all my proud -cravings. Adèle at first received me back very coldly, and I had to -endure a fit of the sulks for some hours. At the end of that time, -little by little her pretty face cleared, and she ended by smiling upon -me with the freshness and sweetness of an opening flower. One might -have said of this lovely child that her smile itself was like a rose. -While these youthful love affairs were in progress--all of them, alas! -of the ephemeral character of love at sixteen--there were friendships -taking root in my heart that were to last the whole of my life. - -I have already spoken of Adolphe de Leuven, who suddenly took a -prominent place in my life, apart from my childish friendships. Here -let me also be allowed to say a word about another friend, who was -to finish in certain other directions the work of opening out future -vistas before me that had been begun by the son of Count de Ribbing. -One day we saw a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven go along -the streets of Villers-Cotterets, wearing the uniform of an officer -of Hussars with an unusually stately grace. No one could possibly -have been handsomer or more distinguished in appearance than this -young man. His face perhaps might have been criticised as a trifle -too feminine-looking, if it had not been for a fine sword-cut which, -without spoiling in any way the regularity of his features, began -at the left side of his forehead and ended at the right corner of -his upper lip, adding a touch of manliness and courage to his gentle -features. His name was Amédée de la Ponce. I do not know what chance -or whim or necessity led him to Villers-Cotterets. Had he come as an -idle tourist, to spend his income of five or six thousand livres in our -town? I do not know.... It is probable. He liked the country, he stayed -among us and, at the end of a year of residence, he became the husband -of a charmingly pretty young girl, Louise Moreau, a friend of my -sister. They had a beautiful fair-haired child, whom I should much like -to see to-day: we nicknamed it _Mouton_, on account of its gentleness, -the whiteness of its skin and its flaxen hair. - -I lost sight of you such a long while ago, my dear de la Ponce! -Whatever part of the world you may be in, if you read these pages, you -will find therein a testimony of my ever living, sincere and lasting -friendship for you. For, my friend, you did a great deal for me. You -said to me: "Believe me, my dear boy, there are other things in life -besides pleasure and love, hunting and dancing, and the silly ambitions -of youth! There is work. Learn to work ... that is the true way to be -happy." And you were right, dear friend. Apart from the death of my -father, the death of my mother and the death of the Duc d'Orléans, -how is it I have never experienced a sorrow that I have not crushed -beneath my feet or a disappointment that I have not overcome? It is -because you introduced me to the only friend who can give comfort by -day and by night, who is ever near, who hastens to console at the first -sigh, who lends healing balm at the first tear: you made me acquainted -with _work._ O dear and most excellent Work,--thou who bearest in thy -strong arms that heavy burden of humanity which we call sorrow! Thou -divinity, with hand ever stretched open and with face ever smiling!... -Oh! dear and most excellent Work, thou hast never cast the shadow of -deception on me ... my blessings upon thee, O Work! - -De la Ponce spoke Italian and German as fluently as his own language; -he offered to teach them to me in my leisure moments--and God knows I -had plenty of spare moments at that time. - -We started with Italian. It was the easiest language--the honey of -which Horace speaks, the gilding that clothes the outside of the cup -of bitter drink given to a sick child. One of the books out of which -I learnt Italian was Ugo Foscolo's fine novel, which I have since -translated under the title of the _Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis._ -That book gave me an idea of, an insight into and a feeling for -romantic literature of which previously I had been totally ignorant. -In two months' time I could talk Italian fairly correctly, and I -began to translate poetry. I much preferred this to my sales and my -marriage contracts and the drawing up of bonds and transfers at Maître -Mennesson's. Furthermore, a change took place in the office greatly to -the advantage of my literary education, but not to my legal education. -Niguet, that precious head clerk who had told tales to M. Mennesson -of my love-disappointments, had bought in a neighbouring village a -lawyer's practice, which I believe Lafarge had been obliged to sell -as he had not been able to find the wherewithal to take it up; and -Paillet, a friend of mine, who was six or eight years my senior, had -succeeded Niguet as head clerk over me. Paillet was well-to-do; he had -a delightful property two leagues from Villers-Cotterets; his tastes -were luxurious; consequently, he let me off more readily than Niguet -(who was an old Basochian[1] without any fun in him and entirely -wrapped up in his business) to pursue the simple luxuries I could -indulge in, namely, shooting, flirting and dancing. - -So it came about that instead of encouraging me in treading the narrow -and difficult path of a provincial solicitor, Paillet allowed me to -cast my eyes abroad, instinctively understanding, doubtless, that -the work they had put me to was not what I was cut out for. It can -easily be seen that Paillet exercised material influence over my future -destiny, apart from the moral influence exercised by de la Ponce and -de Leuven. I was then perfectly happy in the love of my mother, and in -a younger and sweeter love growing up side by side with hers without -injuring it, and in the friendship of de la Ponce and of de Paillet, -when de Leuven came to complete my happiness: I lacked nothing save -that golden mean of which Horace speaks; had I had that too, I should -have had scarcely aught to wish for. - -Suddenly we heard that M. Deviolaine was going to retire with -his family to his estate of Saint-Remy, and let his house at -Villers-Cotterets to the Count de Ribbing. So the house wherein I had -been brought up, the house peopled for me with a host of memories, -was to pass from the hands of a relative into the hands of a friend -The beautiful garden had taken M. de Leuven's special fancy; he hoped -to give vent in it to his hobby for gardening interrupted by the -successive sales of Brunoy and Quincy. Furthermore, the count had not -met with any more persecution, and whether it was because Louis XVIII. -did not know of his being in France, or whether the king closed his -eyes to the fact, he was left in undisturbed peacefulness. - -De Leuven and his father settled, then, in Villers-Cotterets, where -Madame de Leuven joined them in a fortnight's time. As for de la -Ponce, he rented a house at the end of the rue de Largny, the first -house on the left as you come from Paris: it had a large garden and -a fine courtyard. My time was soon divided into three portions--one -was devoted to my friendships, another to love-makings, and the third -to my legal work. The reader may suggest that my mother was perhaps a -little neglected in all this. Is a mother ever forgotten? Is she not -always there, whether present or absent? Did I not go in and out of -my home ten or twenty times a day? Did I not kiss my mother each time -I went in? Every day de Leuven, de la Ponce and I managed to meet. -Generally it was at de la Ponce's house: we transformed the courtyard -which I have mentioned into a shooting range, and every day we used -up twenty or thirty balls. De Leuven had excellent German pistols -(_Kukenreiter_). These pistols were marvellously true, and we soon -were able to shoot with such precision, all three of us, that when -anyone doubted our powers, we would take it in turn to hold the piece -of cardboard which served as a target, whilst the others fired. And -we never any of us received a single graze! I remember one day after -heavy rain we found I do not know how many frogs in that gloomy, damp -courtyard. Here was novel game for us to pot at, and we exterminated -every frog with our pistols. Every little while de Leuven read us a -fable or an elegy of his own composition; but he was cured of making -geographical errors by the nocturnal misadventure at Villers-Hellon -and no longer mistook the South for the North, or Spain for Siberia. -One morning great news spread through the town. Three strangers had -just come to stay with M. de Leuven: M. Arnault and his two sons, -Telleville and Louis Arnault. M. Arnault, the author of _Germanicus_ -and of _Marius à Minturnes_, was at that time a splendid-looking old -man of sixty, still full of life in spite of his curling white locks, -which were as fine as silk. He had a most superabundant flow of spirits -and excelled at repartee; he could strike as rapidly at his object -as the most accomplished fencing-master could parry a blow or deal a -right-handed stroke. The only fault one could find with this wit was -its keen, biting edge; but, like bites made by healthy teeth, the -poet's bites never left poison behind them. M. Arnault had made the -acquaintance of the Count de Ribbing at that famous _table d'hôte_ -where the latter had struck the foreign colonel in the face. Since -that day, M. de Leuven, Frenchman at heart, and M. Arnault, Frenchman -in mind, had struck up a friendship which though broken by death was -continued between their children. Telleville Arnault was a handsome -young officer of a charming disposition and of tested valour. He had -fought a Dud over _Germanicus_ with Martainville which had made a great -sensation in the literary world. Louis was still a young lad of about -my own age. - -I prudently kept from visiting Adolphe all the time M. Arnault and his -sons were staying with his father; but M. Deviolaine having invited -them to a rabbit shooting in the Tillet woods, I was present, and the -acquaintance which began by chance during the walks in the park was -sealed gun in hand. Telleville had a little gun made by Prélat, with -which he did wonders. This gun had a barrel not fourteen inches long, -which filled me with wonder, for I still believed in length of barrel -and hunted with siege-guns. - -When M. Arnault left Villers-Cotterets, he took de Leuven with -him. It was heart-breaking to me to see Adolphe depart. I had two -memories of visits to Paris, one in 1806, the other in 1814. These two -recollections sufficed to make me passionately envious of the lot of -every favoured being who was going to Paris. I remained behind with de -la Ponce, and I redoubled my devotion to the study of Italian. I was -soon sufficiently far advanced in the language of Dante and of Ariosto -to be able to pass on to that of Schiller and of Goethe; but this was -quite a different matter. After three or four months' work, de la -Ponce put one of Auguste Lafontaine's novels in my way: the task was -too difficult, I soon had enough of it. German was dropped, and I have -never had the courage to take it up again. My first serious dramatic -impression dates from this period. Some nabob who had done business -through M. Mennesson, out of unheard-of generosity, left a hundred and -fifty francs to be divided among the lads in the office. M. Mennesson -distributed it in the following way: thirty-seven francs fifty cents -each to Ronsin and myself, seventy-five francs to Paillet. It was the -first time I had found myself possessed of so much money. I wondered -what I should do with it. - -One of the four great fêtes of the year was approaching, when we should -have Sunday and Monday as holidays. Paillet proposed we should both -club our thirty-seven francs fifty cents to his seventy-five francs, -and that we should go and sink this fabulous sum of fifty crowns in -the delights that Soissons, the seat of the _sous-prefecture_, could -offer us. The suggestion was hailed with joy. Paillet was deputed -cashier, and we boldly took seats on the diligence for Paris, which -passes through Villers-Cotterets at half-past three in the morning, -and arrives at Soissons at six o'clock. Paillet and Ronsin each took -a place in the coupé, where one was already taken, and I went inside, -where there were four other passengers, three of whom got out at la -Vertefeuille, a post three leagues away from Villers-Cotterets, the -fourth continuing his journey to Soissons. From la Vertefeuille to -Soissons, therefore, I was left alone with this person, who was a man -of forty years or thereabouts, very thin of body, pale of face, with -auburn hair and well groomed. He had laid great stress on my sitting -near him, and, in order to leave me as much room as possible, squeezed -himself as closely into a corner of the coach as he could. I was much -touched by this attention, and felt sensibly drawn to the gentleman, -who had condescended to treat me with so much consideration. - -I slept well and anywhere in those days. So, as soon as we got out of -the town I fell asleep, only to wake when the horses were changed, -and I should most certainly not have waked up then if the three -passengers who left us had not trodden on my toes as they got out, with -the habitual heavy-footed tread travellers indulge in at the expense -of those who remain behind. When the passenger saw I was awake, he -began to talk to me, and asked me, in a kindly, interested way, my -age, my name and my occupation. I made haste to supply him with full -particulars, and he seemed much interested therein. I told him the -object of our journey to Soissons; and, as I coughed while I related -my tale, he good-naturedly offered me two different sorts of cough -lozenges. I accepted both, and in order to get the full benefit of -them I put them both in my mouth together; then, although I found the -gentleman's conversation agreeable and his manners fascinating, there -was something even more seductive and pleasing than that conversation -and those manners, namely sleep, so I wished him a good-night, and, -with plenty of room to dispose myself in, I settled down in the corner -parallel with his, with my back upon one seat and my feet on the -other. I do not know how long I had slept when I felt myself awakened -in the oddest fashion in the world. My sleeping fellow-traveller had -apparently passed from mere interest to a more lively expression of -his sentiments, and was embracing me. I imagined he had a nightmare, -and I tried to awake him; but as I saw that the more soundly he slept, -the worse his gesticulations became, I began to strike him hard, and -as my blows had no effect, I cried aloud with all my might. Unluckily, -they were descending the hill of Vaubuin and they could not stop -the coach; the struggle therefore lasted ten minutes or more, and -without in the least knowing what danger I was combating, I was just -about to succeed in getting the better of my enemy, by turning him -over under my knee, when the door opened and the conductor came to -my rescue. Paillet and Ronsin were sleeping as I should have slept -if my travelling-companion had not waked me up by his overpowering -friendliness. I told the conductor what had happened and blamed him -for having put me along with a somnambulist or a madman, begging him -to put me in any other corner of the coach convenient to him, when, -to my intense astonishment, whilst the traveller was readjusting his -toilet, which had been considerably damaged by my struggle with him, -without uttering any sort of complaint against me, the conductor began -apostrophising him in the severest terms, made him get down out of the -coach, and told him that, as there only remained three-quarters of a -league from where we were to the _hôtel des Trois-Pucelles_, where -the coach stopped, he must have the goodness to do it on foot, unless -he would consent to mount up on the roof, where he could not disturb -anybody else. The gentleman of the auburn locks hoisted himself on -the roof, without opening his lips, and the diligence started off -again. Although I was now alone once more and consequently more at -my ease inside the coach, I was too much excited by the struggle I -had just gone through, to think of going to sleep again. I could hear -the conductor, in the cabriolet, relate my story to my two fellow -travelling-companions, and apparently he presented it to them under -a gayer light than that in which I had looked at it myself, for they -roared with laughter. I did not know what there could be to laugh at in -an interchange of fisticuffs with a somnambulist or a maniac. A quarter -of an hour after the gentleman had been installed on the imperial, and -I reinstated in the carriage, I heard by the heavy sound of the coach -wheels that we were crossing under the drawbridge. We had reached our -destination. - -Five minutes after we had left the coach, Paillet and Ronsin told me -why they had laughed, and it sounded so ridiculous that I rushed off -in search of my gentleman of the cough lozenges almost before they -had finished; but I searched the imperial in vain in every corner and -cranny:--he had disappeared. - -This nocturnal struggle upset me so greatly that I felt dazed the whole -of the day. - - -[1] Translator's note.--Member of the Society of Law Clerks. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -First dramatic impressions--The _Hamlet_ of Ducis_--The Bourbons en -1815_--Quotations from it - - -Among the pleasures we had promised ourselves in the second capital -of the department of Aisne we had put the theatre in the first rank. -A company of pupils from the Conservatoire, who were touring in the -provinces, were that night to give a special performance of Ducis's -_Hamlet._ I had absolutely no idea who _Hamlet_ was; I will go farther -and admit that I was completely ignorant who was Ducis. No one could -have been more ignorant than I was. My poor mother had tried to induce -me to read Corneille's and Racine's tragedies; but, I confess it to my -shame, the reading of them had bored me inexpressibly. I had no notion -at that time what was meant by style or form or structure; I was a -child of nature in the fullest acceptance of the term: what amused me I -thought good, what wearied me--bad. So I read the word _tragedy_ on the -placard with some misgivings. - -But, after all, as this tragedy was the best that Soissons had to offer -us to pass away the evening, we put ourselves in the queue waiting -outside; in good time, and in spite of the great crowd, we succeeded in -getting into the pit. - -Something like thirty-two years have rolled by since that night, but -such an impression did it make upon my mind that I can still remember -every little detail connected with it. The young fellow who took the -part of Hamlet was a tall, pale, sallow youth called Cudot; he had fine -eyes, and a strong voice, and he imitated Talma so closely, that when I -saw Talma act the same part, I almost thought he imitated Cudot. - -As I have said, the subject of literature was completely unknown to -me. I did not even know that there had ever existed an author named -Shakespeare, and when, on my return, I was instructed by Paillet that -_Hamlet_ was only an imitation, I pronounced, before my sister, who -knew English, the name of the author of _Romeo_ and of _Macbeth_ as -I had seen it written, and it cost me one of those prolonged jokings -my sister never' spared me when occasion offered. Of course on this -occasion I delighted her. Now, as the _Hamlet_ of Ducis could not lose -in my estimation by comparison, since I had never heard Shakespeare's -spoken of, the play seemed to me, with Hamlet's grotesque entrance, -the ghost, visible only to himself, his struggle against his mother, -his urn, his monologue, the gloomy questionings concerning the fear of -death, to be a masterpiece, and produced an immense effect upon me. -So, when I returned to Villers-Cotterets, the first thing I did was to -collect together the few francs left over from the trip to Soissons and -to write to Fourcade (who had given up his place to Camusat, of whom I -spoke in connection with old Hiraux, and who had returned to Paris) to -send me the tragedy of _Hamlet._ - -For some reason or other Fourcade delayed sending it to me for five -or six days: so great was my impatience that I wrote him a second -letter, filled with the keenest reproaches at his negligence and want -of friendliness. Fourcade, who would never have believed anyone could -accuse a man of being a poor friend because he did not hurry over -sending _Hamlet_, sent me a charming letter the gist of which I did -not appreciate until I had studied more deeply the question of what -was good and what was bad, and was able to place Ducis's work in its -due rank. In the meantime I became demented. I asked everybody, "Do -you know _Hamlet_? do you know Ducis?" The tragedy arrived from Paris. -At the end of three days I knew the part of Hamlet by heart and, worse -still, I have such an excellent memory that I have never been able to -forget it. So it came to pass that _Hamlet_ was the first dramatic work -which produced an impression upon me--a profound impression, composed -of inexplicable sensations, aimless longings, mysterious rays of light -which only made my darkness more visible. Later, in Paris, I again -saw poor Cudot, who had played Hamlet. Alas! the grand talent that -had carried me away had not obtained him the smallest foothold, and -I believe he has long since given up hope--that daughter of pride so -hard to kill in the artist's soul--the hope of making a position on the -stage. - -Now--as if the spirit of poetry, when wakened in me, had sworn never to -go to sleep again and used every means to that end, by even succeeding -in making Maître Mennesson himself his accomplice--scarcely had I -returned from Soissons, when, instead of giving me a deed of sale to -copy out or a bond to engross, or sending me out on business, Maître -Mennesson gave me a piece of poetry of which he wanted three copies -made. This piece of poetry was entitled _Les Bourbons en 1815._ - -M. Mennesson, as I have said, was a Republican; I found him a -Republican in 1830, and when I saw him again in 1848 he was still a -Republican. And to do him justice, he had the courage of his opinions -through all times and under all regimes; so freely did he express -his opinions that his friends were frightened by them and made their -observations thereon with bated breath. He only shrugged his shoulders. - -"What the devil will they do to me?" he would exclaim. "My office is -paid for, my clientèle flourishing; I defy them to find a flaw in any -of my contracts; and that being the case, one can afford to mock at -kings and parsons." - -Maître Mennesson was right, too; for, in spite of all these -demonstrations, all these accusations of imprudence made by timid -souls, his practice was the best in Villers-Cotterets and improved -daily. At this very moment he was in the seventh heaven of delight. -He had got hold of a piece of poetry, in manuscript, against the -Bourbons--I do not know how. He had read it to everybody in the town, -and then after reading it to everybody, when I came back from Soissons, -he, as I have said, ordered me to make two or three copies of it, for -those of his friends who, like himself, were anxious to possess this -poetical pamphlet. I have never seen it in print, I have never read it -since the day I copied it out three times, but such is my memory that -I can repeat it from beginning to end. But lest I alarm my readers, I -will content myself with quoting a few lines of it. - -This was how it began:-- - - "Où suis-je? qu'ai je vu? Les voilà donc ces princes - Qu'un sénat insensé rendit à nos provinces; - Qui devaient, abjurant les prejugés des rois, - Citoyens couronnés, régner au nom des lois; - Qui venaient, disaient-ils, désarmant la victoire, - Consoler les Français de vingt-cinq ans de gloire! - Ils entrent! avec eux, la vengeance de l'orgueil. - Ont du Louvre indigné franchi l'antique seuil! - Ce n'est plus le sénat, c'est Dieu, c'est leur naissance, - C'est le glaive étranger qui leur soumet la France; - Ils nous osent d'un roi reprocher l'_échafaud_: - Ah! si ce roi, sortant de la nuit du _tombeau_, - Armé d'un fer vengeur venait punir le crime, - Nous les verrions pâlir aux yeux de leur victime!" - -Then the author exclaims--in those days authors all -exclaimed--abandoning general considerations for the detailed drawing -of individuals, and passing the royal family in review:-- - - "C'est d'Artois, des galants imbécile doyen, - Incapable de mal, incapable de bien; - Au pied des saints autels abjurant ses faiblesses, - Et par des favoris remplaçant ses maîtresses; - D'Artois, dont rien n'a pu réveiller la vertu, - Qui fuit a Quiberon sans avoir combattu, - Et qui, s'il était roi, monterait à la France - Des enfants de Clovis la stupide indolence! - C'est Berry, que l'armée appelait à grands cris, - Et qui lui prodigua l'insulte et le mépris; - Qui, des ces jeunes ans, puisa dans les tavernes - Ces mœurs, ce ton grossier, qu'ignorent nos casernes. - C'est son frère, avec art sous un masque imposteur, - Cachant de ses projets l'ambitieuse horreur! - Qui, nourri par son oncle aux discordes civiles, - En rallume les feux en parcourant nos villes; - Ce Thersite royal, qui ne sut, à propos, - Ni combattre ni fuir, et se croit un héros! - C'est, plus perfide encor, son épouse hautaine, - Cette femme qui vit de vengeance et de haine, - Qui pleure, non des siens le funeste trépas, - Mais le sang qu'à grands flots elle ne verse pas! - Ce sont ces courtisans, ces nobles et ces prêtres, - Qui, tour à tour flatteurs et tyrans de leur maîtres, - Voudraient nous ramener au temps où nos aieux - Ne voyaient, ne pensaient, n'agissaient que par eux!" - -Then the author ends off his discourse with a peroration worthy of the -subject and exclaims once more in his liberal enthusiasm:-- - - "Ne balonçons done plus, levons-nous! et semblables - Au fleuve impétueux qui rejette les sables, - La fange et le limon qui fatiguaient sous cours, - De notre sol sacré rejetons pour toujours - Ces tyrans sans vertu, ces courtisans perfides, - Ces chevaliers sans gloire et ces prêtres avides, - Qui, jusqu'à nos exploits ne pouvant se hausser, - Jusques à leur néant voudraient nous abaisser!" - -Twelve years later the Bourbons were hounded out of France. It is -not only revolutionary bullets which overturn thrones; it is not -only the guillotine that kills kings: bullets and the guillotine are -but passive instruments in the hands of principles. It is the deadly -hatred, it is the undercurrent of rebellion, which, so long as it is -but the expression of the desires of the few, miscarries and spends -its fury; but which, the moment it becomes the expression of general -requirements, swallows up thrones and nations, kings and royal families. - -It is easy to understand how the _Messéniennes_ of Casimir Delavigne, -which appeared in print the same time as these manuscript pamphlets, -seemed pale and colourless. Casimir Delavigne was one of those men who -celebrate in song revolutions that were accomplished facts, but who do -not help revolutions in the making. The Maubreuil trial was the outcome -of the piece of poetry from which I have just quoted these brief -extracts--a most mysterious and ill-omened business, in which names, -if not the most illustrious in Europe, yet at least the best known -at that time, were mixed up with acts of thievery and premeditated -assassination. - -Probably I am the only person in France who now thinks of the -"affaire Maubreuil." Perhaps also I am the only person who has kept a -shorthand account of the sittings of that terrible trial, during which -the horrors of the dungeon and secret torture were employed in the -endeavour to drive a man mad whom they dare not kill outright, to whom -they could not succeed in giving the lie. I made a copy at the time -from a manuscript in a strange and unknown hand, which gave an account -of the sittings. Later, I read the account the illustrious Princess of -Wurtemberg took down in her own writing, first for her husband, Marshal -Jérôme Bonaparte, and then intended to be included in her Memoirs, -which are in the hands of her family, and are still unpublished. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The events of 1814 again--Marmont, Duc de Raguse, Maubreuil and -Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's--The _Journal des Débats_ and the -_Journal de Paris_--Lyrics of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the -Bourbons--End of the Maubreuil affair--Plot against the life of the -Emperor--The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money and jewels - - -Let us now try to clear away the litter left by the events of the -year 1814. When the Almighty prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, -He said to Ezekiel, "I will make thee eat thy bread prepared with -cow-dung" (Ezek. iv. 15). Oh! my God, my God! Thou hast served us more -hardly than Thou didst the prophet, and hast made us eat far worse than -that at times! - -Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, the empress at Blois; a Provisional -Government, occult and unknown, carried on its operations on the ground -floor of a house in the rue Saint-Florentin. Is it necessary that I -should add that the house in the rue Saint-Florentin belonged to M. de -Talleyrand? On 16 March Napoleon had written from Rheims:-- - - "DEAR BROTHER,--In accordance with the verbal - instructions I gave you, and the wishes expressed in all - my letters, you must on no account allow the Empress and - the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy. You - will not have any news from me for several days. If the - enemy advances upon Paris in such force that you decide - any resistance to be useless, send away my son and the - regent, the grand dignitaries, ministers, officers of the - Senate, presidents of the State Council, chief officers - of the Crown, Baron de la Bouillerie and the treasure, - towards the Loire. Do not desert my son, and remember - that I would rather know that he was in the Seine than - that he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of - France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner of the Greeks, has - always seemed to me the unhappiest in history. - - "NAPOLEON" - -This letter was addressed to Joseph. The treasure referred to by -Napoleon was, be it understood, his own private possessions. On 28 -March the departure of the empress was discussed. MM. de Talleyrand, -Boulay (de la Meurthe), the Duc de Cadore and M. de Fermon were of -opinion that the empress should remain. Joseph, with the emperor's -letter in his hand, insisted upon her departure. It was decided -that she should leave on the following day, at nine o'clock in the -morning. Afterwards M. de Talleyrand was blamed for having urged that -Marie-Louise should stay in Paris. A pale and cold smile flitted over -the vast chasm which served the diplomatist for a mouth. - -"I knew that the empress would defy me," he said, "and that, if I -advised her going, she would stay. I urged that she should stay to -further her departure." - -O monseigneur, Bishop of Autun! you put into the mouth of Harel, in -_le Nain Jaune_, the famous epigram, "Speech was given to man to -conceal his thoughts." And, monseigneur, you were eminently capable of -exemplifying the truth of the saying yourself. - -On the morning of 29 March, through the uncurtained windows of the -Tuileries, the empress's women could have been seen in the dubious -light of the growing dawn, by the still more dubious light of lamps -and dying candles, running about, pale with fatigue and fear, after a -whole night spent in preparing for the journey. The departure, as we -have said, was fixed for nine o'clock. At ten o'clock the empress had -not yet left her apartments. She was hoping to the last that a counter -order would arrive either from the emperor or from Joseph. At half-past -ten the King of Rome clung to the curtains of the palais des Tuileries -in tears; for he too, poor child, did not want to go. - -Alas! at a distance of seventeen years between, three children, all -suffering through the mistakes of their fathers, clung in vain to -those same curtains: for sixty years the Tuileries was little more -than a royal hostelry wherein the fleeting dynasties put up in turn. -By a quarter to eleven, the empress, clad like an amazon in brown, -stepped into a carriage with the King of Rome, surrounded by a strong -detachment of the Imperial Guard. On the same day and at the same hour, -the emperor set off from Troyes for Paris with his flying squadrons. -It is well known that the emperor was arrested at Fromenteau, but what -follows is not known, or but imperfectly known. - -When time and occasion serve--_apropos_ of the July Revolution, -probably--we shall revert to one of the men whom fate, for some unknown -reason, branded with a fatal seal. We refer to Marmont. We will show -what he was, rather than what he did: he was superb, during that -retreat, in which he left neither gun nor prisoner in the hands of -the enemy; superb when--like a lion at bay against the walls of the -customhouse at Paris, surrounded by Russians and Prussians, in the -main street of _Belleville_, his right arm still in a sling, after the -battle of Arapiles, holding his sword in his left hand, mutilated at -Leipzig, his clothes riddled with bullets, wedged in between the dead -and the wounded who fell all round him, with only forty grenadiers -behind him--he forced his way to the barrier where he abandoned, -pierced with wounds, the fifth horse that had been killed under him -since the beginning of the campaign! Alas! why did he not cross Paris -from the barrier of Belleville to the barrier of Fontainebleau? Why -did he stop at his house in the rue Paradis-Poissonnière? Why did he -not go to Napoleon, with his coat in shreds and his face blackened -with powder? How determinedly fate seemed to oppose him! How different -would have been the verdict of the future! But we, who are now a part -of that future, and well-nigh disinterested spectators of all those -great events, we who by nature are without private hatreds, and by -position have nothing to do with political animosities, it is for us to -enlighten posterity, for we are poised between the worlds aristocratic -and democratic, the one in its decadence and the other in its -adolescence: it is ours to seek for truth wherever it may be buried, -and to exalt it wherever it may be found. - -And now, having defined our position, let us return to Napoleon and -Marie-Louise. Let us pass over several days and say naught of great -betrayals and shameful dishonour; even so we are not, unhappily, at -the end of these things. From 29 March to 7 April the following events -happened:-- - -On 30 March, Paris capitulated. On the 31st, the Allied armies entered -the capital. On I April, the Senate appointed a Provisional Government. -On the 2nd, the Senate declared Napoleon to have forfeited the throne. -On the 3rd, the Legislative Body confirmed the forfeiture. On the -4th, Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son. On the 5th, Marmont -treated with the enemy. On the 6th, the Senate drew up a scheme for -a constitution. On the 7 th, the troops of the Duc de Raguse rose in -insurrection and refused to obey his orders. Also, Napoleon made his -plans for withdrawing across the Loire. - -It will be seen that the Government of the rue Saint-Florentin had been -quick about its work. The empress remained at Blois, where she learnt -in rapid succession the declaration of dethronement by the Senate, the -emperor's first abdication and the defection of the Duc de Raguse. On -the 7th, she learned in the morning of the recall of the Bourbons. - -Until that moment, as a cloud hid the future from sight, the -self-seekers watching and waiting had not yet ventured to show their -hands in her presence. But at the news of the return of the Bourbons -everyone sought to make his peace with the new power. The same thing -that happened to Napoleon happened to Marie-Louise. It was a race as to -who could most openly and with the greatest speed desert her; it was a -race of ingratitude, it was a steeplechase of treason. - -She had left Paris a week before, the daughter of an emperor, the wife -of an emperor, the mother of a king! Orléans had saluted her, as she -passed through, with the pealing of its bells and the firing of its -artillery. She had a court around her, a treasure in her arms; two -peoples, those of France and Italy, some forty millions of souls, were -her subjects. In a week she lost rank, power, inheritance, kingdom; -in an hour she found herself left alone with a poor deserted child, -and treasure that was speedily taken away from her. God forbid that I -should pity the lot of this woman! But those who betrayed her, those -who deserted her, those who immediately robbed her could not plead the -excuse of an unknown future still hid from them. - -On the 7th, as we have said, the whole court fled. On the morning of -the 8th, the two kings, Jérôme and Joseph, also left. On the evening of -the 8th, General Schouwaloff arrived with orders from the sovereigns -to take her from Blois to Orléans and from Orléans to Rambouillet. -Finally, on the morning of the 9th, this announcement appeared in the -_Moniteur_:-- - - "The Provisional Government having been informed that by - order of the sovereign whose dethronement was solemnly - pronounced on 3 April, considerable funds were taken away - from Paris, during the days which preceded the occupation - of that city by the allied troops: - - It is decreed-- - - "That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, - in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be - deposited immediately in the nearest bank." - -This order was elastic: it did not make any distinction between the -public treasure of the nation and the emperor's private property. -Moreover, they confided the execution of this order to a man whose -hatred for the fallen house would naturally incline him to the most -violent measures. They chose M. Dudon. I am happily too young to be -able to say who this M. Dudon was; I have therefore asked the Duc -de Rovigo, whose accuracy is well known. Here is his reply to my -questions:-- - -"M. Dudon was imprisoned at Vincennes, for having deserted his post, -for having left the army of Spain and, full of cowardly fears himself, -for having communicated them to whomsoever he met." - -Nevertheless, M. Dudon hesitated; he looked about for an intermediary; -he did not dare to put his hand directly upon this wealth, which was so -much needed to pay for past treacheries and defections to come. - -Again, what has M. le Duc de Rovigo to say? Let him be unto us the -bronze mouthpiece of truth: I write under his dictation. - -"An officer of the special police corps, M. Janin de Chambéry, who is -now a general officer, was made use of. He had been charged to escort -the money. This young man, seeing the way to make his fortune, gave -himself up to M. Dudon. He collected his regiment, carried off, with -a very high hand, the coffers which contained the Emperor Napoleon's -treasure (for they had not yet been unloaded) and set off for Paris, -which he reached without striking a blow." - -But even all this did not satisfy them: they had robbed the empress, -they would now kill the emperor. "Only the dead do not return," said -the man who was felicitously styled the "Anacreon of the guillotine." - -So many sayings have been attributed to M. de Talleyrand that we -may well borrow one from Barère for a change. Moreover, it must be -acknowledged that the question what to do with Napoleon, on 31 March, -was a very awkward one. We must not be too angry with the people who -wished to rid themselves of him. Who were these people? Maubreuil -himself shall name them. A conference was being held in the house in -the rue Saint-Florentin. - -"Yes," said the president to someone who had not yet opened his -lips,--"yes, you are right; we must rid ourselves of this man." - -"We must!" cried the other members in concert. - -"Well, then, that is decided: we will get rid of him." - -"Only one other thing is lacking," said one of the members of the -conventicle. - -"What is that?" - -"The principal thing: the man who will deal the blow." - -"I know the man," said a voice. - -"A trustworthy man?" - -"A ruined man, an ambitious man--one who has fallen from a high -position and would do anything for money and a position." - -"What is his name?" - -"Maubreuil." - -This took place on the evening of 31 March. That same day, Marie-Armand -de Guerry, Count de Maubreuil, Marquis d'Orvault, had fastened the -cross of the Legion of Honour, which he had won bravely in Spain, to -his horse's tail, and showed himself thus in the boulevards and on the -place Louis XV. He even did better than this in the place Vendôme. He -tied a rope round the neck of the emperor's statue, and, with a dozen -other worthy men of his kidney, pulled with might and main; then, -seeing that his forces were not strong enough, he attached the rope to -his horse. Even that was not enough. They then asked for a relay of -horses from the Grand-duke Constantin, who refused, saying, "_It is no -business of mine."_ - -Now, who went to seek this relay? Who made himself Maubreuil's -emissary? A very great lord, upon my word, a most excellent name, -renowned in history! True, this most puissant seigneur, the bearer of -this honourable name, had to forget a slight obstacle--namely, that he -owed everything to the emperor. You ask his name. Ah! indeed, search -for it as I have done. Maubreuil had indeed fallen from a high rank, as -his patron Roux-Laborie had said. There! I see I have named his patron, -though I did not mean to name anyone. Never mind! let us continue. - -Maubreuil, who was of an excellent family, had fallen indeed. His -father, who had married, for his second wife, a sister of M. de la -Roche-jaquelein, was killed in the Vendéean Wars, together with thirty -other members of his family. M. Roux-Laborie, then Secretary to the -Provisional Government, answered for Maubreuil. He did more: he said -to M. de Talleyrand, "Come, come! here I am tearing off another mask -without thinking what I am doing; upon my word, so much the worse! -Since that pale face is unmasked, let it remain!" He did much more: -he said to M. de Talleyrand, "I will bring him to you." But M. de -Talleyrand, who was always cautious, exclaimed, "What are you thinking -of, my dear sir? Bring M. de Maubreuil to me! Why so? He must be -conducted to Anglès, he must go to Anglès! You know quite well it is -Anglès who is attending to all this." "Very well, be it so; I will -take him there," replied the Secretary to the Provisional Government. -"When?" "This very evening." "My dear fellow, you are beyond price." -"Take back that word, monseigneur." And Roux-Laborie bowed, went out -and ran to Maubreuil's house. Maubreuil was not at home. - -When Maubreuil was not at home, everyone knew where he was. He was -gaming. What game was it? There are so many gambling hells in Paris! - -Roux-Laborie ran about all night without finding him, returned to -Maubreuil's house and, as Maubreuil had still not returned, he left -word with his servant that he would expect Maubreuil at his house the -next day, 1 April. He waited for him the whole day. Evening came and -still no Maubreuil. - -It is distracting to a man of honour to fail in his word. What would M. -de Talleyrand think of a man who had promised so much and performed so -little? Twice during the day he wrote to Maubreuil: his second note was -as pressing as time was. This is what he said-- - -"Why have you not come? I have expected you all day. You are driving me -to desperation!" - -Maubreuil returned to change his dress at six o'clock that evening. He -found the note: he ran off to Roux-Laborie. - -"What is it?" - -"You can make your fortune." - -"I am your man, then!" - -"Come with me." - -They entered a carriage and went to M. Anglès'. M. Anglès was at the -house in the rue Saint-Florentin. They rushed to the house in the rue -Saint-Florentin; M. Anglès had just gone out. They asked to see the -prince. - -"Impossible! the prince is very busy: he is in the act of betraying. -True, he is betraying in good company,--he is betraying along with the -Senate." The Senate was next day going to declare that the emperor had -forfeited his throne. - -Be it remembered that it was this same Senate--_Sénat -conservateur_--which, on the return from the disastrous Russian -campaign, fifteen months earlier, had said to the emperor-- - -"Sire, the Senate is established for the purpose of preserving the -fourth dynasty; France and posterity will find it faithful to this -_sacred duty_, and every one of its members will be ever ready to -perish in defence of this _palladium_ of the national prosperity." - -We must admit that it was drawn up in very bad French. It is also true -that it was drawn up by very poor specimens of Frenchmen. - -The next day, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie returned. The prince was -no more visible than on the previous evening; the prince was at the -Luxembourg. But it did not matter: they could be introduced into his -cabinet presently, which was occupied at the moment. Besides, perhaps -he might return. "We will wait," said Roux-Laborie. - -And they waited a short while in the green salon,--that green salon -which became so famous, you will remember, in history,--they waited, -reading the papers. The newspapers were very amusing. The _Journal des -Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_ above all vied with each other in -being facetious and witty. - -"To-day," said the old _Journal de l'Empire_, which since the previous -evening had donned a new cassock and now called itself the _Journal des -Débats_,--"to-day _His Majesty_ passed in front of the colonne Vendôme -..." - -Forgive me if I pause a moment: I am anxious that there should not be -any confusion. _His Majesty_! You would imagine that this meant the -Emperor Napoleon, to whom a week before the _Journal de l'Empire_ had -published these beautiful lines:-- - - I - - "'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière! - Disait AJAX, et combats contre nous!' - Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux, - De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière: - Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats; - Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! - Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.' - - II - - Il a parlé, le monarque, le père; - Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix? - Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois, - Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière. - Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats, - Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats! - Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de Victoire. - - III - - Napoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle, - Tu veux borner la course de ton char; - Tu nous montras _Alexandre_ et _César;_ - Oui, nous verrons _Trajan_ et _Marc-Aurèle_! - Nous sommes tous _tes enfants, tes soldats_, - Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats, - Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire, - La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire." - -For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days -before his abdication and a _monarch_ and a _father_ whom one has just -addresssed as _Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius._ -Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; -as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or -rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return -from the isle of Elba. After having been a _monarch,_ a _father, -Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan_ and _Marcus Aurelius_, he has become -TEUTATÈS. Ah! what a villainous fall was there! - -Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in -getting over this word _Majesty_ than Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon. - -"To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, -and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded -him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So -philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius." - -Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is -it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus -Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are -like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will -relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked -so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his -tricoloured skin for a white skin and the _Journal de l'Empire_ became -the _Journal des Débats_. It has to be admitted, however, that during -the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin -which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up. - -Now let us pass on to the _Journal de Paris_. "It is a good thing to -know," quoth the _Journal de Paris_, "that Bonaparte's name is not -_Napoleon_, but _Nicolas_." - -Really, Mr. Editor, what an excessively sublime apotheosis you make of -yesterday's poor emperor! Instead of showing base ingratitude, like -your contemporary, you flatter outrageously. Bonaparte did no more -than presume to call himself _Napoléon_,--that is, the _lion of the -desert_,--and here you make him Nicolas, which means _Conqueror of the -peoples_. Ah! my dear Mr. Editor, if your _Journal de Paris_ had been -a literary paper, like the _Journal des Débats_, you would have known -Greek like your _confrère_--that is to say, like an inhabitant, and -you would not have made such blunders. But you did not know Greek. Let -us see if you are better acquainted with French. We will complete the -quotation. - -"It is a good thing to know that Bonaparte's name is not _Napoléon_, -but _Nicolas_; not Bonaparte, but Buonaparte; he cut out the U in order -to connect himself with a distinguished family of that name." - -"You know that the Balzacs of Entraigues make out that you do not -belong to their family," said someone once to M. Honoré de Balzac, the -author of _Père Goriot_ and of _les Parents pauvres._ - -"If I do not belong to their family," retorted M. Honoré de Balzac, "so -much the worse for them!" - -We will return to the _Journal de Paris_, and let it have its say:-- - -"Many people have amused themselves by making different anagrams from -the name of _Buonaparte_ by taking away the U. The following seems to -us to depict that personage the best: NABOT PARÉ."[1] - -What a misfortune, Mr. Editor, that in order to arrive at such a -delightful conclusion you have been obliged to sacrifice your U, like -the tyrant himself! - -Now, as a sequel to the verses in the _Journal des Débats_, we must -quote some lines from the _Journal de Paris_; they only amount to a -single strophe, but it alone, in the eyes of all lovers of poetry, is -fully equal to three. Besides, these lines are of great importance: M. -de Maubreuil actually waxes prophetic in the last line. - - TESTAMENT DE BONAPARTE - - "Je lègue aux enfers mon génie, - Mes exploits aux aventuriers, - A mes partisans l'infamie, - Le grand-livre à mes créanciers, - Aux Français l'horreur de mes crimes, - Mon exemple à tous les tyrans, - La France à ses rois légitimes, - _Et l'hôpital à mes parents_." - -Finally, to conclude our series of quotations, we promised to return -once more to the _Journal des Débats._ There shall be no cause for -complaint: we will return to it twice. We will place a double-columned -account, with its _Doit_ and its _Avoir_, before our readers' eyes. -There was only an interval of fourteen days between the two articles, -as can be seen from the dates. - - -"JOURNAL DES DÉBATS "JOURNAL DE L'EMPIRE - PARIS, 7 _mars_ 1815 PARIS, 21 _mars_ 1815 - (PEAU BLANCHE) (PEAU TRICOLORE) - -DOIT AVOIR - -Buonaparte s'est evade de l'île La famille des Bourbons est partie -d'Elbe, où l'imprudente magnanimité cette nuit; on ignore encore en -des souverains alliés lui avait route qu'elle a prise. Paris offre -donne une souveraineté, pour prix l'aspect _de la sécurité et de la joie_; -de la désolation qu'il avait portée les boulevards sont couverts d'une -dans leurs États. foule immense, impatiente de voir - l'armée et LE HÉROS _qui lui est -Cet homme, qui, en abdiquant le rendu._ Le petit nombre de troupes -pouvoir, n'a jamais abdiqué son qu'on avait eu l'espoir _insensé_ de -ambition et ses fureurs, cet homme, lui opposer s'est rallié _aux aigles_, -_tout couvert du sang des générations,_ et toute la milice française, devenue -vient, au bout d'un an, essayer de nationale, marche sous les drapeaux -disputer, au nom de l'usurpation, la _de la gloire et de la patrie._ SA -légitime autorité du roi de France; MAJESTÉ L'EMPEREUR a traversé -à la tête de quelques centaines deux cents lieues de pays avec la -d'ltaliens et de Polonais, _il ose rapidité de l'éclair, au milieu d'une -mettre le pied sur une terre qui le population _saisie d'admiration_ et de -repoussa pour jamais._ respect, pleine du bonheur présent - et de la certitude du bonheur à -Quelques pratiques ténébreuses, venir. -quelques manœuvres dans l'ltalie, -excitée par son aveugle beau-frère, _Ici, des propriétaires se félicitant -ont enflé l'orgueil du LACHE GUERRIER de la garantie réelle que leur assure -de Fontainebleau. Il s'expose ce retour miraculeux;_ là, des -à mourir de la mort des héros: Dieu hommes bénissant l'evènement inespéré -permettra qu'il meure de la mort qui fixe irrévocablement la -des traîtres. La terre de France liberté des cultes; plus loin, de -l'a rejeté. Il y revient, la terre de braves militaires pleurant de joie de -France le dévorera. revoir leur ancien général; des - plébéiens, convaincus que l'honneur -Ah! toutes les classes le repoussent, et les vertus seront redevenus le -tous les Français le repoussent premier titre de la noblesse, et -avec horreur, et se réfugient dans le qu'on acquerra, dans toutes les -sein d'un roi qui nous a apporté la carrières, la splendeur et la gloire -miséricorde, l'amour et l'oubli du pour les services rendus à la patrie. -passé. - Tel est le tableau qu'offrait cette -Cet _insensé_ ne pouvait donc trouver marche ou plutôt cette course triomphale, -en France de partisans que parmi les dans laquelle L'EMPEREUR n'a trouvé -artisans éternels de troubles et de d'autre ennemi que le _misérables -révolutions. libelles_ qu'on s'est vainement - plu à répandre sur son passage, -Mais nous ne voulons ni de troubles contraste bien étrange avec les -ni de révolutions. Ils désigneront sentiments d'enthousiasme qui -vainement des victimes pour leur éclataient à son approche. Ces sentiments, -TEUTATÈS; un seul cri sera le cri justifiés par la lassitude des -de toute la France: onze mois qui viennent de s'écouler, - ne le sont pas moins par les garanties -MORT AU TYRAN! VIVE LE ROI! que donnent à tous les rangs les - proclamations de SA MAJESTÉ, et -Cet homme, qui débarqua à Fréjus qui sont lues avec une extrême -contre tout espoir, nous semblait avidité. Elles respirent la modération -alors appelé de Dieu pour rétablir qui accompagne aujourd'hui la -en France la monarchie légitime; force, et qui est toujours inséparable -cet homme, entrant par sa _noire de la véritable grandeur. -destinée_, et comme pour mettre le -dernier sceau à la Restauration, _P.S._--Huit heures du soir -revient aujourd'hui pour peser -comme un rebelle sur cette même L'empereur est arrive ce soir au -terre où il fut reçu, il y a quinze palais des Tuileries, _au milieu des -ans, par un peuple abusé, et détrompé plus vives acclamations._ Au moment -depuis par douze ans de où nous écrivons, les rues, les -tyrannie." places, les boulevards, les quais, - sont couverts d'une foule immense, - et les cris de VIVE L'EMPEREUR! - retentissent de toutes parts, depuis - Fontainebleau jusqu'à Paris. Toute - la population des campagnes, ivre - de joie, s'est portée sur la route de - Sa Majesté, que cet empressement - a forcée d'aller au pas." - - -M. de Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie had no need to feel bored with such -entertainment as the above before their eyes! Therefore, although they -were in the green salon nearly an hour, they thought they had hardly -been in it ten minutes when the door of the cabinet of the Prince de -Talleyrand opened. They entered. - -Now do not fancy we are writing a romance: it is history, the record, -not of fair and pleasant events, but of sad and ugly ones. If you -doubt it, consult the report drawn up by MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, deputies of the _procureur impérial_, in the month of June -1815, about this affair, and laid before one of the Chambers of the -Court of First Instance of the Seine. If Napoleon had returned but -to restore unto us this official paper, it would have been almost -sufficient to justify his return. - -M. de Maubreuil was taken inside M. de Talleyrand's study. Roux-Laborie -made him sit down in the prince's own armchair, and said to him-- - -"You are anxious to recover your position, to retrieve your broken -fortunes; it depends upon yourself whether you obtain far more than -even that which you desire." - -"What must I do?" asked Maubreuil. - -"You have courage, resolution: rid us of the emperor. If he were dead, -France, the army, everything would be ours, and you would receive an -income of 200,000 livres; you would be made a duke, lieutenant-general -and governor of a province."[2] - -"I do not quite see how I could accomplish it." - -"Nothing easier." - -"Tell me how." - -"Listen." - -"I am listening." - -"It is not unlikely that there may be a great battle fought near here -in a couple of days. Take a hundred determined men, whom you can clothe -in the uniform of the Guards, mingle with the troops at Fontainebleau, -and it will be quite easy, either before or during or after the battle, -to render us the service I am commissioned to ask of you." - -Maubreuil shook his head. - -"Do you refuse?" asked Roux-Laborie quickly. - -"Not so. I am only thinking that a hundred men would be difficult -to find: luckily one would not need a hundred; a dozen would be -sufficient. I shall perhaps be able to find them in the army, but I -must have power to advance them two or three ranks, and to give them -pecuniary recompense, in proportion to the service they will have to -undertake." - -"You shall have whatever you want. What do ten or a dozen colonels, -more or less, matter to us?" - -"That's all right." - -"You therefore accept?" - -"Probably ... but I ask until to-morrow to think it over." - -And Maubreuil went out, followed by Roux-Laborie, who was very uneasy -because of the delay requested. However, Maubreuil reassured him, -promising to give him a definite answer next day. We can understand -Maubreuil's hesitation: he had been introduced into the prince's study, -he had sat in the prince's chair, but, after all, he had not seen the -prince. Now, when one stakes one's head at another's bidding, one -prefers to see the person who holds the cards. - -Next day they returned to the house. Maubreuil accepted. Roux-Laborie -breathed again. - -"But," added Maubreuil, "on one condition." - -"What is that?" - -"I do not look upon your word alone as sufficient authority. I want -solid security for your promises. I wish to see M. de Talleyrand -himself and to receive my commission from him." - -"But, my dear Maubreuil, can't you see how difficult that would be?..." - -"I can quite see that; but it must be thus or not at all." - -"Then you wish to see M. de Talleyrand?" - -"I wish to see M. de Talleyrand and to receive my orders _direct_ from -him." - -"Oh! oh!" said the lawyer, striking his friend on the chest, "one might -think you were afraid!" - -"I am not afraid, but I wish to see M. de Talleyrand." - -"Very well, so be it," said Roux-Laborie: "you shall see him, and since -you demand his guarantee, you shall be satisfied. Wait a few minutes in -this salon." - -And he went in to M. de Talleyrand. A moment later, he came out. - -"M. de Talleyrand is going out; M. de Talleyrand will make you a sign -with his hand; M. de Talleyrand will smile upon you. Will that satisfy -you?" - -"Hum!" returned Maubreuil; "never mind! we will see." - -M. de Talleyrand passed out, made the prearranged gesture, and smiled -graciously upon Maubreuil. - -It is Maubreuil, be it understood, who relates all this. - -The gesture seduced Maubreuil, the smile carried him away; but -Maubreuil wanted something else--he wanted 200,000 francs. They -hesitated, they chaffered, they had not the money--there were so many -betrayals to pay for! But, thanks to the decree of the 9th, they made -a haul of 13 millions--the private moneys of Napoleon. They did it -conscientiously, not leaving anything to Marie-Louise, either money or -jewellery: she was reduced to the point of being obliged to borrow a -little china and silver from the bishop, with whom she stayed. So they -had 13 millions--without reckoning the 10 millions in bullion deposited -in the cellars of the Tuileries, on which they had already laid violent -hands. This made 23 millions they had already borrowed of Napoleon. -What the deuce did it matter? They were quite justified in taking two -hundred thousand francs from this sum in order to assassinate him! So -they took two hundred thousand francs, and they gave them to Maubreuil. - -Maubreuil rushed off to a gambling-house and lost a hundred thousand -francs that night. Was he going to assassinate Napoleon for a hundred -thousand francs? Not he, indeed!... It was not enough. He had recourse -to M. A----. M. A---- was a man of imagination. An idea came into his -head. - -"The Queen of Westphalia is following in Napoleon's wake ...?" - -"Yes." - -"We may suppose that the Queen of Westphalia carries the crown jewels -with her?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then, seize what she has and you will have a good catch." - -"Yes, but I want authority to do that." - -"Authority? What do you mean?" - -"A written order." - -"Signed by whom?" - -"Signed by you." - -"Oh, if that is all, here goes!" - -And M. A---- took a pen and signed the following order. - -"Pardon me, you say, who is M. A----?" - -Good gracious! you have but to read, the signature is at the foot of -the order:-- - - "OFFICE OF THE POLICE - - "It is ordered that all officials under orders of the - police générale of France, prefects, superintendents and - officers, of whatsoever grade, _shall obey the commands_ - that M. de Maubreuil shall give them; _they shall carry - out his orders and fulfil his wishes without a moments - delay_, M. de Maubreuil _being charged with a secret - mission of the highest importance._ - - "ANGLÈS" - -This was not enough. Maubreuil wanted another order, a similar one, -signed by the Minister of War: he had settled with the civil power, it -remained to put himself right with the military. He went to look up -the Minister of War. He obtained a similar order to the one we have -just given. The Minister of War was General Dupont. There are some very -ill-fated signatures! On 22 July 1808 this signature was at the foot of -the capitulation treaty of Baylen. On 16 April 1814 it was at the foot -of Maubreuil's commission! The one handed over to the enemy, without -striking a blow, the liberty of fourteen thousand men; the other gave -up the life and the gold of a queen to a thief and an assassin! - -In the face of such _errors_ one is proud to be able to boast that one -has never put one's name save in the forefront of a play, be it good or -bad, save at the end of a book, be it bad or good! - -Besides these two orders, Maubreuil possessed himself of three others -in the same terms: one from Bourrienne, Provisional Director of the -Posting Arrangements ... de Bourrienne, do you understand?--But this -was not the Bourrienne who was the emperor's secretary?... Excuse -me, even the same ... where would have been the infamy of the thing, -had it not been so? He placed the posts at the disposition of M. de -Maubreuil: one from General Sacken, Governor of Paris; one from General -Brokenhausen. Thanks to these two last orders, Maubreuil, who had the -police already at his disposal through Anglès' order, the army through -Dupont's, the posts through Bourrienne's, got possession also of the -allied troops under command of the Russian and Prussian generals. - -True, on 3 April, the day following that on which the _Journal des -Débats_ and the _Journal de Paris_ issued those clever articles with -which the reader is already acquainted, two charming verses, which we -propose to bring before your notice, were sung at the Opera, by Laïs, -to the tune of _Vive Henri IV.,_ national air though it was:-- - - Vive Alexandre! - Vive ce roi des rois! - Sans rien prétendre, - Sans nous dicter des lois, - Ce prince auguste - A le triple renom, - De héros, de juste, - De nous rendre un Bourbon. - - Vive Guillaume! - Et ses guerriers vaillants! - De ce royaume, - Il sauva les enfants; - Par sa victoire, - Il nous donne la paix, - Et compte sa gloire - Par ses nombreux bienfaits. - -Really, it gives one a certain amount of pleasure to see that these -lines are almost as poor as the prose of the _Journal des Débats_ and -of the _Journal de Paris_! - -So Maubreuil had his five orders all correct, in his pocket. Armed with -these, he could act, not against Napoleon direct,--that was too risky -a business,--but against the Queen of Westphalia. And, on the whole, -was it not a good stroke of business to have made them pay the price of -assassinating Napoleon, and then not to assassinate him? - -This is what Maubreuil proposed to do. First of all, he allied himself -with a person called d'Asies, who, in virtue of his plenary powers, he -appointed _Commissioner Royal._ Next, he put himself on the watch at -the corner of the rue du Mont-Blanc and the rue Saint-Lazare. The Queen -of Westphalia was lodging at Cardinal Fesch's house. Her departure -was fixed for the 18th. The orders were signed on the 16th and 17th. -Maubreuil was well informed of the Princess Catherine de Wurtemberg's -movements. On the 18th, at three o'clock in the morning, the ex-Queen -of Westphalia entered her coach and started off _en route_ for Orléans. -Princess Catherine was cousin of the Emperor of Russia, and travelled -with a passport signed by him and by the Emperor of Austria. Two great -names, were they not? Alexander and Francis! Maubreuil had gone on in -advance. He learnt from the post-master at Pithiviers (now you see -how useful was M. de Bourrienne's authorisation) that the princess -would take the road which ran by the Bourgogne. Then he hid himself at -Fossard, the posting-house a half-league from Montereau. There was not -the slightest danger that Maubreuil would make any mistake, he knew the -princess too well for that--he had been her equerry. On the 21 st, at -seven o'clock in the morning, the princess's carriage came into sight -on the road. Maubreuil rushed out, at the head of a dozen cavaliers, -stopped the carriage, obliged the ex-queen to enter a kind of stable, -into which all her luggage was removed, piecemeal. There were eleven -boxes, and cases: Maubreuil demanded the keys of them. The princess -had no means of resistance: she gave him them without appearing to -recognise him in any way, without deigning to address a word to him. -Maubreuil saw this, but took no notice: he sat down quietly to his -breakfast, with d'Asies, in a room on the ground floor of the inn, -waiting for a detachment of troops which, taking advantage of his -powers, he had requisitioned from Fontainebleau. - -Let us, however, be just to Maubreuil. As the weather was bad, as it -rained, as it was very cold, he invited his past sovereign to come -into the inn; but as she would have been compelled to share the same -room with him, she preferred to remain in the courtyard. A woman who -had compassion on her fellow-woman brought her a chair, and she sat -down. Maubreuil finished his breakfast, and a lieutenant arrived from -Montereau, with a dozen men, Mamelukes and infantry. Some sort of -explanation had to be given to this officer and to these soldiers; -callous though Maubreuil was, it was not to be supposed that he would -say, "You see me for what I am--a robber." - -No, it was Princess Catherine who was a thief. Princess Catherine -had been stopped by Maubreuil because she was carrying off the crown -jewels. Four sentries were posted to prevent any travellers coming -near--unless such travellers came in a carriage; in which case, willy -nilly, the carriage must be requisitioned. Some merchants came from -Sens leading a stage-waggon. The stage-waggon and the two horses -harnessed thereto were confiscated by Maubreuil. They loaded this -stage-waggon with the princess's trunks. Only then did she deign to -address a word to Maubreuil, who had been apologising to her for _his -mission._ - -"For shame, monsieur!" she said; "when a man has shared bread with -another, he should not undertake such a mission to their detriment.... -You are doing an abominable act!" - -"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I am but the commander of the armed -force. Speak to the commissioner: I will do whatever he orders." - -The commissioner, as we know, was d'Asies. It was a case of Robert -Macaire and Bertrand. But the poor princess did not know this, and took -d'Asies for a real commissioner. - -"Monsieur," she said, "you are robbing me of all I possess. The king -has never given any such orders.... I swear to you, on my honour and -by my faith as a queen, I have nothing that belongs to the Crown of -France." - -D'Asies drew himself up. - -"Do you take us for thieves, madame?" he said. "Let me tell you that we -are acting as ordered. All those boxes must be taken." - -As he said that, d'Asies caught sight of a small square box tied round -with tape. He put his hand under it. The little case was very heavy. - -"So ho!" he said. - -"That little chest, monsieur," said the princess, "contains my gold." - -D'Asies and Maubreuil exchanged glances which said as well as words -could say, "Your gold, princess; that is exactly what we are looking -for." - -They withdrew and made a pretence of deliberating. Then, after this -cogitation, they came up, and gave orders to the commander of the -Mamelukes to take this box away with the others. The princess still -disbelieved her eyes and ears. - -"But," she cried, "you cannot possibly be taking my private jewels and -money! You will leave me and my suite stranded on the highway!" - -Then her courage failed this noble creature, the daughter of a king, -the wife of a king, the cousin of an emperor. Tears came into her eyes: -she asked to be allowed to speak to Maubreuil. Maubreuil came to her. - -"What is to become of me, monsieur?" she said. "At least give me back -this money: I need it to continue my journey." - -"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I do but carry out the orders of the -Government: I must give up your luggage in Paris intact. I can only -give you the hundred napoleons in my own purse." - -Acting upon the Count de Furstenstein's advice, the princess accepted -this offer, thinking it a last token of devotion from a man who had -been in her service. Besides, she thought he would give her leave -to return to Paris, where she would regain possession of her money. -But this was not to be: they made her re-enter her carriage, and the -princess continued her journey to Villeneuve-la-Guyare, under the -escort of two soldiers, while her boxes, her gold, her jewels, piled on -the post-waggon, were sent back to Paris. Had the princess resisted, -the two infantry men were ordered to use violence in compelling her to -continue her journey. She then asked at least to be allowed to send one -of her own servants along with her boxes, as escort. But as the demand -was considered outrageous, it was refused. - -So the princess's carriage went forward to Villeneuve-la-Guyare. -Maubreuil's and d'Asies' consciences were quite easy:--had not the -princess a hundred napoleons wherewith to provide her needs? At the -next post-house Maubreuil's purse was opened to pay. They found it -contained only forty-four napoleons. They left the purse and the -forty-four napoleons there and then in the hands of the justice of the -peace at Pont-sur-Yonne. When Maubreuil left Fossard, he forbade the -post-master to supply horses to anyone before three o'clock. - -So far so good. Now they could give their attention to the second part -of their mission--the least important to Maubreuil--that of killing the -emperor. - -It was the 21st of April. On the 19th, the emperor, deserted by -everyone, was alone save for a single valet. It was an opportune -moment: unluckily, they let it slip. They were lying in wait for the -princess in the rue Saint-Lazare; they could not be everywhere at the -same time. On the 20th, the day after, the emperor bade farewell to his -Guards. It was not in the midst of that pack of brigands that he could -be attacked. On the 21 st, as we have seen, they were busily engaged. -And it was just at that moment that the emperor left for Fontainebleau, -with the commissioners of the four Powers. - -Bah! even if they had not killed the emperor, what mattered it? Since -they had robbed the Queen of Westphalia, and taken her gold and her -jewels, it was just as good. The emperor was not killed. - -They returned to Paris, where they spent the night in gambling, losing -part of the princess's eighty-four thousand francs. The little chest -had contained eighty-four thousand francs in gold. Next day, Maubreuil -presented himself at M. Anglès'. He was in despair--first at having -lost part of his gold, then for having missed Napoleon. M. Anglès was -not in despair: he was furious--furious because the Emperor Alexander -knew everything, and the Emperor Alexander was furious. The Emperor -Alexander swore that he would avenge his cousin. - -The _Journal de Paris_ did not know that _Nicolas_ means _Conqueror of -peoples_; but M. Anglès, Minister of the Police, knew well enough that -Alexander spells he _who grinds men down._ M. Anglès had no wish to be -ground down. He therefore advised Maubreuil to fly. - -"Fly!" said Maubreuil. "What of the police?" - -"Bah! Am I not responsible for them?" - -This assurance did not in the least set Maubreuil's mind at ease. -He rushed off to the house of M. de Talleyrand: M. de Talleyrand -slammed the door in his face. Is it likely that M. de Talleyrand would -recognise a highway robber? Nonsense! - -Maubreuil fled. He had not got three leagues before he was apprehended -(_empoigné_, as they called it under the Restoration), and thrown -into a dungeon, from which he was released on the emperor's return -and to which he returned on the accession of Louis XVIII. After two -fresh releases and two fresh arrests, Maubreuil, who never believed -they would dare to try him, appeared at length before the Royal Court -of Douai, the Chamber of the Court of Appeal. The affair created a -tremendous scandal, as can very well be imagined. M. de Talleyrand -denied, M. Anglès denied, Roux-Laborie denied; everybody denied, -except Maubreuil. Maubreuil not only confessed the whole thing, but, -from being the accused, he turned accuser. Of course the papers were -expressly forbidden to report the proceedings. But Maître Mennesson -had a friend who was present at the trial. This friend, no doubt a -shorthand writer, took down, transcribed, verified and forwarded him -his report. I made two or three copies of this account and distributed -them by order of our zealous, faithful and loyal Republican notary. And -I kept a copy of the proceedings myself. I do not know that this report -has appeared in any history. It is a curiosity, and I give it here. - - -[1] A dressed-up dwarf. - -[2] When one writes of such matters as these, two authorities are -better than one. Besides the report of MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, see Vaulabelle's _Histoire des deux Restaurations_, vol. ii. -p. 15. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction of the jewels of -the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de Maubreuil--Chamber of the Court -of Appeal--The sitting of 17 April, 1817 - - -Enter the Sieur de Maubreuil. Placed at the prisoner's bar, he looked -fixedly at M. de Vatimesnil, the king's counsel, and spoke to him as -follows:-- - -"_M. le procureur du roi_," he said, "you have called me an -appropriator of treasure, it is false. I have never been an -appropriator of treasure. The journalists have made use of your last -speech to spread an odious interpretation on my trial; but I am above -their reproaches." - -They endeavoured to silence the Sieur de Maubreuil, but he went on with -renewed pertinacity:-- - -"I appeal to all Frenchmen here present, I place my honour in your safe -keeping. To-morrow I may be poisoned or assassinated." - -The warders laid hands on M. de Maubreuil; but he shook himself free of -them, and went on:-- - -"Yes, I quite expect it. They may shoot me in my cell; the police may -carry me off and make away with me, as happened to my cousin, M. de -Brosse, who, in the month of February, presented a petition to the -Chamber in my favour; but I place my honour in the custody of the -Frenchmen who are here present. Hear what I have to say to you." - -Here the prisoner raised his voice. - -"I accepted the commission to murder the emperor, but I accepted it -only in order to save him and his family. Yes, my countrymen, I am not -a miserable thief, as they are trying to make out. Frenchmen! I call -you all to my aid. No, I am not a thief! No, lam not an assassin! On -the contrary, I accepted a commission to save Napoleon and his family. -It is true that, during the first outburst of my royalist enthusiasm, -I did, along with several other people, attach a rope to the neck of -Napoleon's statue, on the 31st of March, to pull it down from its -pedestal in the place Vendôme; but I here acknowledge publicly that I -served a thankless cause. Though I did insult Napoleon's statue, I have -done good to him in the flesh. No, I am not an assassin! Frenchmen, my -honour is in your hands. You will not be deaf to my entreaties." - -Again they tried to stop M. de Maubreuil's mouth, but the harder they -tried to silence him the louder he spoke. - -"I accepted," he continued, "a commission to save Napoleon, his son -and his family; I admit that, bribed, deluded and entangled by the -Provisional Government to do it, I was foolish enough to tie the cross -of the Legion of Honour to my horse's tail; I bitterly repent of doing -so. I have donned that cross of heroes again now: see, here it is on my -breast; I won it in Spain in fair fight." - -Here the Sieur de Maubreuil succumbed to the efforts they made to drown -his voice. The whole time he had been speaking, the president and the -judges had been fruitlessly endeavouring to enforce silence. In vain -did the president shout, "Warders, take him away, take him away! Do -your duty, warders!" Maubreuil writhed, clutching hold of the bar, and, -nearly strangled by the warders, he still went on:-- - -"_M. le président_, my respect for you is unbounded, but your acts and -words are useless: they wished to assassinate the emperor, and I only -accepted the commission which has brought me here in order to save him." - -There was a tremendous noise, an uproar and shouts among the audience. -Many Vendéens were present, relatives and friends of the prisoner, who -was related to the family of la Roche-jaquelein. Before the prisoner -was brought in, these had tried to influence public opinion in his -favour, by talking of the mystery which enshrouded his mission, and -by pointing out his unblemished devotion to the royal cause. Picture -to yourself, then, their dismay when they saw the line of defence -he adopted; their confusion when they heard their client speak so -diametrically opposite to their expectations; their astonishment -when they heard the name of Napoleon pronounced with respect by the -prisoner, at a time when the conqueror of the Pyramids and of Marengo -was only spoken of as Buonaparte; at the title of Emperor given to a -man whom King Louis XVIII., dating the beginning of his reign from -1795, declared never to have reigned! - -Me. Couture, M. de Maubreuil's counsel, was then allowed to speak. -We will not report his speech, which was very long. He pleaded more -on a legal technicality than on the matter of the charge. He spoke -in the first instance of the injustice of Maubreuil being the only -one arraigned, while d'Asies, Cotteville, and others who had acted -in concert with him, were in full enjoyment of their liberty. He -added that the trunks having been deposited without verification at -M. de Vanteaux's, it could not be established who had abstracted the -eighty-four thousand francs in gold. He referred to the marvellous -manner in which some of the jewels that had been thrown by an unknown -hand into the Seine had been recovered by a man named Huet, an -ex-employé of the police, who, when fishing, had drawn up two diamond -combs caught in his hooked line. Me. Couture went on to assert that -the prisoner, to whom a mission of the gravest importance had been -entrusted, ought not to be tried by an ordinary Court, and to prove his -point, Me. Couture read the five different orders which had authorised -M. de Maubreuil to call into requisition all the officials of the -kingdom. The tenor of these orders was as follows:-- - -The first, signed by General Dupont, War Minister, authorised M. de -Maubreuil to make use of the army, which was to obey all his demands, -and commanded the authorities to furnish him with all the troops -he might require, as he was charged with a mission of the highest -importance. The second, signed by Anglès, Minister of Police, ordered -all the police force throughout the kingdom of France to lend -assistance to M. de Maubreuil to the same end. The third, signed by -Bourrienne, Director-General of the Posts, ordered all post-masters -to supply him with whatever horses he should require, and to consider -themselves personally responsible for the least delay they might -occasion him. The fourth, signed by General Sacken, Governor of Paris, -enjoined the Allied troops to assist M. de Maubreuil. Finally, the -fifth, which was in Russian, was addressed to those officers who did -not understand French and who could not therefore have obeyed the -preceding orders. From these documents Me. Couture argued that the -king's council alone must have had cognisance of M. de Maubreuil's -mission, and alone ought to decide the case. - -After having replied to Me. Couture's pleading, the king's procurator -set forth his reasons for regarding the _tribunal correctionnel_ as -incompetent in the present case, since the charges brought against the -Sieur de Maubreuil constituted a crime, and were not those of a simple -misdemeanour; that it was a question of a robbery under arms committed -on the highway, and not merely a case of breach of confidence. For it -was vain, he said, to try to allege the unlimited power with which the -prisoner was vested; no power could authorise a citizen to run counter -to existing laws; for if such a contention could be maintained it could -be pursued to its logical conclusion and, in that case, it might be -excusable to commit a murder or burn down a village. "As a matter of -fact," continued M. de Vatimesnil, "we are advised that Maubreuil, -acting as a Government agent, was endowed on that very count with a far -graver responsibility, and the law ought to be set in force against him -with the greater severity. No mission could excuse a man for having -ill-treated a person travelling on the highways with a passport, and -his crime assumed still graver proportions when that person happened to -be an august princess, sprung from an illustrious house, allied to all -the crowned heads of Europe, and travelling under the protection of a -passport from her illustrious cousin, the Emperor of Russia, a princess -who was entitled to double respect, both from her rank and because of -the reverses of fortune she had recently experienced." "And," exclaimed -the king's counsel, "with what indignation ought we to be seized, -when we hear the accused uttering such libellous fables to avoid the -course of justice! Who are those Frenchmen he addresses, whom he -invokes to his aid? What faith could be put in such an unlikely story, -as that he had received a mission against a person travelling under -the safeguard of the most solemn treaties, signed by all the allied -sovereigns? and if he did accept such a mission, was it not doubly mean -to have accepted money for carrying it out, and then to have deceived -those whom he pretended had given it him? Should he not be regarded -henceforth as one of those hateful creatures known of all men, who, -under pressure of an accusation, hatches conspiracies, and denounces -unknown fellow-citizens, to the sole end of arresting or diverting -justice?" - -The Sieur de Maubreuil had listened to all this tirade with fiery -impatience, and his solicitor had only been able to pacify him -by allowing him the pen and paper which he demanded. When M. de -Vatimesnil's speech was over, Maubreuil passed what he had just written -to the president, then rose and said:--"_M. le président_, as a man -who expects to be assassinated at any moment, I place this political -deposition in your hands. Frenchmen, it is my honour I am bequeathing -to all you who are here present. As a man on the brink of appearing -before God, I swear that it was M. de Talleyrand who, by means of M. -Laborie, sent me; that the prince forced me to sit down in his own -arm-chair; that he offered me two hundred thousand livres income and -the title of duke, if I accomplished my mission satisfactorily;[1] -furthermore, the Emperor Alexander offered me his own horses; but, I -repeat, if I accepted the mission I am blamed for, it was to save the -emperor and his family." - -Here they again compelled Maubreuil to stop speaking, and the warders, -taking hold of him by his shoulders, forced him down into his seat. - -Then his lawyer, Me. Couture, rose, addressed the king's counsel once -more, and begged for pity's sake that no notice should be taken of his -client's mad words. - -"Alas!" he cried, "the man whom you see before you, monsieur, is no -longer M. de Maubreuil, but only the remains, the shade of M. de -Maubreuil. A detention of _three years,_ three hundred and ninety days -of which has been spent in solitary confinement without communication -with a soul, _without even seeing his own counsel_, has deranged his -reason. He is now nothing but the ruins of a man. For the love of -humanity, do not take account of a speech which can only tell against -him!" The judges, greatly embarrassed by what they had just heard, -although their business was but to decide on the simple question of the -competence or incompetence of their tribunal, deferred sentence until -the following Tuesday, 22 April. - -Probably the delay was arranged, so those in court thought, in order to -receive instructions from the château, and to act in accordance with -those instructions. - -THE SITTING OF 22 APRIL - -Maubreuil was led in. He had scarcely entered the prisoner's dock -before he violently pushed away the guard and cried out, "You have no -right to maltreat me like this, warders; you have made me suffer quite -enough the three years I have been in prison. It is a dastardly wicked -thing! We are here before justice and not before the police! Let me -rather be shot immediately than delivered over longer to the tortures -of which I have been the victim for three years! No, never was greater -cruelty exercised in the Prussian fortresses, in the dungeons of the -Inquisition under the foundations of Venice! I am cut off from the -world; my complaints are hushed up; my lawyer is forbidden to print and -distribute my defence. I here express before all, my gratitude for his -zeal and his devotion; but I am in despair that he has not based his -defence on the information I have given him: he has not dared to do so." - -Here silence was again imposed on the prisoner. The president then read -the sentence, pronouncing that the _tribunal de police correctionnelle_ -declared its incompetence, and sent the prisoner to the assizes, on the -ground that if the facts which had been laid bare were proved, they -constituted a crime, and not a simple misdemeanour. - -When the prisoner heard the sentence of incompetence to deal with the -case pronounced he sighed deeply, and his face, changed by a long -captivity, expressed dejection and despair. But he rallied his strength -and cried-- - -"The blood of twenty-nine of my relations was shed for the Bourbons in -Vendée and at Quiberon! I too am to be sacrificed to them in my turn! -They wish to destroy me, my groans are to be stifled. I am to be made -out a madman! It is a diabolical plot! No, I am not mad; no, I was -not mad when my services were required by them! Frenchmen, I repeat -to you what I told you at the last sitting: they asked me to take -the life of Napoleon! Write to Vienna, to Munich, to St. Petersburg. -Yes, yes,"--pushing away the warders, who sought to impose silence -upon him,--"yes, they demanded of me the blood of Napoleon.... _M. le -président_, they have handled me with violence! _M. le président_, they -will maltreat me! _M. le président_, they will put my feet in irons! -But, come what may, to the last moment I will proclaim it: they asked -me to take Napoleon's life! the Bourbons are assassins!..." - -These last words were pronounced by the accused as he struggled with -the police, while they led him away by force. - -Here the shorthand report concludes: I have not altered a word of the -statement, a certified copy of which is under my eyes. - -On the 18th of the following December, Maubreuil was arraigned to -appear before the Court of Assizes at Douai, and succeeded in escaping -before the trial. On 6 May 1818, judgment was issued, condemning him -to five years' imprisonment by default and to pay five hundred francs -fine, for being a dishonest trustee. - -Maubreuil, having taken refuge in England, returned on purpose to deal -M. de Talleyrand the terrible blow which struck him down, on the steps -of the church of Saint-Denis, during the funeral procession of Louis -XVIII. - -"Oh! what a cuff!" exclaimed the prince, as he picked himself up. - -How can people deny M. de Talleyrand's presence of mind after that! M. -Dupin could not have done better. - -This obscure, strange, mysterious Maubreuil affair did the Bourbons -of the Restoration the greatest possible harm. To the Count d'Artois -and M. de Talleyrand it was what the affair of the necklace was to -Marie-Antoinette and the Cardinal de Rohan--that is to say, one of -those hidden springs from which revolutions derive power for the -future; one of those weapons the more dangerous and terrible and deadly -for being dipped so long in the poison of calumny. - - -[1] We see by this that, according to Maubreuil, it was M. de -Talleyrand himself with whom he had had to deal. We have not wished to -endorse the accusation blindly and, in our account, we have accepted -the intermediate agency of Roux-Laborie. - - - - -BOOK II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The last shot of Waterloo--Temper of the provinces in 1817, 1818 -and 1819--The _Messéniennes_--The _Vêpres siciliennes--Louis -IX._--Appreciation of these two tragedies--A phrase of Terence--My -claim to a similar sentiment--Three o'clock in the morning--The course -of love-making--_Valeat res ludrica_ - - -I am not sure who said--perhaps I said it myself--that the Revolution -of 1830 was the last shot of Waterloo. It is very true. Setting aside -those whose family interest, position or fortune attached them to the -Bourbon dynasty, it is impossible to conceive any idea of the ever -growing feeling of opposition which spread throughout the provinces; it -got to such a pitch that, without knowing why, in spite of every reason -that my mother and I had to curse Napoleon, we hated the Bourbons far -more, though they had never done anything to us, or had even done us -good rather than harm. - -Everything tended to the unpopularity of the reigning house: the -invasion of French territory by the enemy; the disgraceful treaties -of 1815; the three years' occupation which had followed the second -restoration of the Bourbons; the reactionary movements in the South; -the assassination of Ramel at Toulouse, and the Brune assassination at -Avignon; Murat, who was always popular, in spite of his stupidity and -his treachery, shot at Pizzo: the proscriptions of 1816; defections, -disgraceful deeds, shameful bargains, came to light daily; the verses -of Émile Debraux, the songs of Béranger, the _Messéniennes_ of Casimir -Delavigne and the _tabatières à la charte_, the Voltaire-Touquets and -Rousseaus of all kinds, unpublished rhymes of the type I have quoted; -anecdotes, true or false, attributed to the Duc de Berry, in which the -ancient glories of the Empire were always sacrificed to some youthful -aristocratic ambition; all, down to the king with his black gaiters, -his blue coat with gilt buttons, his general's epaulettes and the -little tail of his wig,--all tended, I say, to depreciate the ruling -power--or rather, worse still, to make it absurd. - -_Vêpres siciliennes_ was played at the Odéon on 23 November 1819 -with overwhelming success. It would be difficult to explain why, -to anyone who has read the piece dispassionately. Why did a crowd -wait outside the doors of the Odéon from three o'clock? Why was that -splendid building crowded to suffocation, instead of there being, as -usual, plenty of room for everyone? Just to hear four lines thought to -contain an allusion to the political encroachments in which the king's -favourite minister was said to indulge. These are the four lines. They -seemed innocent enough on the face of them:-- - - "De quel droit un ministre, avec impunity, - Ose-t-il attenter à notre liberté? - Se reposant sur vous des droits du diadème, - Le roi vous a-t-il fait plus roi qu'il n'est lui-même?" - -All the same, these four lines roused thunders of applause and rounds -of cheering. And then one heard on every side the concert of admiration -which all the Liberal papers sounded in praise of the patriotic young -poet. The whole party petted him, praised him, exalted him. - -Some time after the _Vêpres siciliennes_ had been played at the Odéon, -the Théâtre-Français, on 5 November 1819, put _Louis IX._ on the stage. -This was the Royalist reply which the leading theatre gave to the -Nationalist tragedy at the Odéon. - -At that period Ancelot and Casimir Delavigne were about equally -celebrated and, in the eyes of impartial critics, _Louis IX._ was as -good as _Vêpres siciliennes._ But all the popularity, all the applause, -all the triumph went to the Liberal poet. It was as though the nation -were breathing again, after its suspension of animation from '93 -onward, as though it were urging the public spirit to take the path of -liberty. - -I recollect that because of the noise these two controversial plays -made throughout the whole of the literary world, I, who was just -beginning to feel the first breath of poetry stir within me, was -anxious to read them. I wrote to de Leuven, who sent me both the -Liberal and the Royalist work. The Liberal work was the most praised, -and, with that in my hand, I ran to announce to our young friends, -Adèle, Albine and Louise, the good fortune which had befallen us -from Paris. It was decided that the same evening we should read the -masterpiece aloud, and, as I was the owner of the work, I was naturally -promoted to the office of reader. - -Alas! we were but simple children, without knowledge of either side of -the case, artless young folk, who wanted to amuse ourselves by clapping -our hands and to be stirred to the heart by admiration. We were greatly -surprised at the end of the first act, more surprised still by the end -of the second, that so much fuss and noise should have been aroused -by, and so much praise bestowed upon, a work, estimable, no doubt, -in its way, but one which did not cause a single thrill of sentiment -or passion, or rouse an echoing memory. We did not yet understand -that a political passion is the most prejudiced of all passions, and -that it vibrates to the innermost feeling of a disturbed country. Our -reading was interrupted at the second act, and the tragedy of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ was never finished, at any rate as a joint reading. Our -audience had naïvely confessed that Montfort, Lorédan and Procida bored -them to death, and that they much preferred Tom Thumb, Puss in Boots -and other fairy tales of like nature. But this attempt did not satisfy -me. When I went home to my mother, I read not only the whole of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ but also _Louis IX._ - -Well, it is with feelings of great satisfaction that I date from -that time the impartial appreciation for contemporary works which -I possess--an appreciation borrowed far more from my feelings than -from my judgment; an appreciation which neither political opinion nor -literary hatred has ever been able to influence: my critical faculty, -when considering the work of my _confrères,_ asks not whether it be the -work of a friend or of an enemy, whether of one intimately known to -me or of a stranger. However, I need hardly say that neither _Vêpres -siciliennes_ nor _Louis IX._ belong to that order of literature which I -was to be called upon later to feel and to understand, whose beauties -I endeavoured to reproduce. I remained perfectly unmoved by these two -tragedies, although I slightly preferred _Louis IX._ I have never read -them again since, and probably I shall never re-read them; but I feel -convinced that if I were to re-read them, my opinion upon them would -be just the same to-day that' it was then. What a difference there was -between the tame and monotonous feeling I then experienced and the -glowing emotion _Hamlet_ roused in me, though it was the curtailed, -bloodless, nerveless _Hamlet_ of Ducis! I had an innate instinct for -truth and hatred of conventional standards; Terence's line has always -seemed to me one of the finest lines ever written: "I am a man, and -nothing that is human is alien unto me." And I was fast laying claim to -my share in that line. I was growing more manly every day; my mother -was the only person who continued to look upon me as though I were -still a child. She was therefore greatly astonished when one evening -I did not return at my usual time of coming home--and when at last I -did come in, towards three in the morning, my heart leaping joyfully, -I slipped into my room, which for the last three months I had obtained -leave to have to myself, apart from my mother, foreseeing what was -going to take place. I found my mother in tears, seated by my window, -where she had been watching for my return, ready to give me the lecture -such a late, or rather, early, return deserved! - -After more than a year of attentions, signs, loving-making, little -favours granted, refused, snatched by force, the inexorable door which -shut me out at eleven o'clock would be softly reopened at half-past -eleven, and behind that door I found two trembling lips, two caressing -arms, a heart beating against my heart, burning sighs and lingering -tears. Adèle too had managed to get a room to herself, apart from her -mother, just as I had. This room was better than an ordinary room: it -was a tiny summer-house which projected into a long garden enclosed -only by hedges. A passage between the room occupied by her brother and -the room occupied by her mother led to the garden, and consequently -to the summer-house, which was only separated from the passage by a -staircase leading to the first storey. It was the door of this passage, -opening on one side into the street, and on the other, as I have said, -into the garden, which was reopened to me at half-past eleven at night -and was not closed behind me until three in the morning, on that night -when my mother stood anxiously waiting, all in tears, at the window of -my room, just ready to go and seek for me in the six hundred houses -of the town. But what plagued my mother still more was--as I quickly -discovered--that though she had not the least doubt as to the reason -for my misconduct, she could not guess who was the young lady at the -bottom of it. She had not seen me come back the way she had expected. -The reason for that was simple enough. The little girl who had given -her heart to me, after more than a year's struggle, was so pure, so -innocent, so modest, that although my love and pride were ready to -reveal everything, my conscience told me that honour and every fine -feeling I had demanded that the secret be kept with the utmost care. -Therefore, so that no one should see me at such an hour, either in the -neighbourhood of her house, or in the street leading to it, when at -three in the morning I came out of the blest passage that had served -me in good stead, I made my exit by a little by-street, and gained -the fields. From the fields I entered the park, leaping a ditch like -the one over which I had given proofs of my agility to Mademoiselle -Laurence, under such different circumstances, at Whitsuntide. Finally, -from the park I reached what was called with us the "_manège_," and I -re-entered the town by the rue du Château. It so happened, therefore, -that my mother, who was watching in an entirely opposite direction, -did not see me return, and, not guessing the ruse I had made use of -to foil the cruel and ready slander little towns are so prone to set -going, should matters so turn out, she puzzled her wits in despair to -know where I had come from. My mother's ignorance and the suspicions -that grew up in her mind later in connection with another girl had a -sufficiently serious influence upon my future life for me to dwell on -the subject for a moment: these details are not so trivial as they -may appear at first sight. Is it not the case that some minds regard -everything as trivial, whilst others (and I am much inclined to think -that these latter, without wishing to speak evil of the former class of -people, are the true thinkers and the true philosophers), who try to -follow the thread Providence holds in His hands, with which He guides -men from birth to death, from the unknown to the unknown, look upon -every detail as of importance, because the slightest has its part in -the great mass of details which we call life? Well, I was well scolded -by my mother, who did not scold me long, - -I however, for I kissed her the whole time she scolded me; besides, -her uneasiness was somewhat allayed, and with the eye of a mother -and perhaps even more with the insight of a woman, which sees to the -very heart of things, she saw I was profoundly happy. Joy is as much -a mystery as sorrow; excessive joy approaches so nearly the border of -pain, that, like suffering, it too has its measure of tears. My mother -left me to go to bed, not because she was tired out, poor mother! but -because she felt I wanted to be alone with myself, with my recent -memories, which I clasped as closely to my throbbing heart as one holds -to one's breast a young nestling which is trying to fly away. - -Oh! but Maître Mennesson's office was deserted that day! How beautiful -the park looked to me! The tall trees with their whispering leaves, -the birds singing above my head, and the frightened roebuck on the -skyline--all seemed to make a frame which could scarce contain my -smiling thoughts, my thoughts which danced like a joyous nymph! -Love--first love--the welling-up of the sap, opens out life to us! -It flows through the most secret recesses of our being; it gives life -to the most remote of our senses; it is a vast realm wherein every man -imprisoned in this world imprisons in turn the whole world in himself. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Return of Adolphe de Leuven--He shows me a corner of the artistic and -literary world--The death of Holbein and the death of Orcagna--Entrance -into the green-rooms--Bürger's _Lénore_--First thoughts of my vocation - - -In the meantime, de Leuven returned to Villers-Cotterets, after five -or six months' absence. His return was to open out new fields for my -ambitions--ambitions, however, which I believed were capable of being -fulfilled. If you throw a stone into a lake, however large the lake may -be, the first circle it will make round it, after its fall, will go on -growing and multiplying itself, even as do our days and our desires, -until the last one touches the bank--that is to say, eternity. - -Adolphe returned and brought Lafarge back with him. Poor Lafarge! Do -you remember the brilliant head clerk, who returned to his native -place in an elegant carriage, drawn by a mettlesome steed? Well, he -had bought a practice, but there the progress of his rising fortune -had stopped. By some inconceivable fatality, although he was young, -good-looking, clever, perhaps even because he possessed all these -gifts, which are perfectly useless to a lawyer, he had not found a wife -to pay for the practice, so he had been obliged to sell it again, and, -disgusted with the law, he had taken to literature. De Leuven, who had -taken notice of him in Villers-Cotterets, found him out in Paris and -returned with him. Some of his ancient splendour still stuck to the -poor fellow, but you might seek in vain for any real stability at the -base of his fresh plans for the future; those fleeting clouds hardly -got beyond the stage of hopes. During his stay in Paris a great change -had come over Adolphe's character--a change which was to react on me. - -At M. Arnault's house, in which he had been a guest, Adolphe had -had a closer view of the literary world than he had previously -caught glimpses of in the house of Talma. He had there made the -acquaintance of Scribe, who was already at the zenith of his fame. He -met Mademoiselle Duchesnois there, who at that time was Telleville's -mistress, and who recited _Marie Stuart._ There he became acquainted -with M. de Jouy, who had finished his _Sylla;_ Lucien Arnault, who had -begun his _Régulus_; Pichat, who, while composing his _Brennus_ and -thinking out his _Léonidas_ and _William Tell_, was facing a future in -which, his first wreath on his head and his first palm in his hand, -Death lurked, waiting for him. He had then dropped from these lofty -heights in the regions of art to inferior places, where he became -acquainted with Soulié, who was publishing poems in the _Mercure_; with -Rousseau, that Pylades of Romieu whom Orestes had left one day at the -turning of the road which led to his sub-prefecture; with Ferdinand -Langlé, the fickle lover of poor little Fleuriet, upon whom, it is -said, a notorious poisoner tried the deadly powder with which he was -later to kill his friend; with Théaulon, that delightful person and -indefatigable worker, who worked only in the hope that some day he -would be able to be idle, but who never had time to be idle, who was -cradled for a brief time in the arms of Love, but who was never really -to rest until he lay on the bosom of Death. This poor Epicurean, who by -dint of imagination saw his life in rosy garb, although for him it was -clothed in black, wrote these four lines on the door of his study: they -express at once his easy carelessness and his gentle philosophy-- - - Loin du sot, du fat et du traître, - Ici ma constance attendra: - Et l'amour qui viendra peut-être, - Et la mort qui du moins viendra! - -Death came, poor Théaulon! Came all too soon, for thee as for Pichat, -for Soulié, for Balzac; for there are two Deaths charged by Providence -with the task of hurling men into eternity: the one inexorable, icy, -impassive, obeying the sad laws of destruction; the Death of Holbein, -the Death in the cemetery of Bâle, the Death which is ever intermingled -with life, hiding its skeleton face under the most capricious of masks, -veiling its bony body beneath the king's mantle, in the gilded dress -of the courtesan, under the filthy rags of the beggar, walking side -by side with us; an invisible but ever present spectre; a lugubrious -guest, a sepulchral comrade, the supreme friend who receives us in -its arms when we fall over the edge of life, and who gently lays us -to rest for ever under the cold damp stones of the tomb;--the other, -sister of the above, daughter too of Erebus and of Night, unexpected, -spiteful, lies in ambush at a turning-point of happiness or prosperity, -ready like a vulture or a panther to pounce or spring out upon its -prey; this is the Death of Orcagna, the Death of the Campo-Santo in -Pisa; Death in life, envious, with cadaverous hue, hair flying wildly -in the wind, eyes flashing like those of a lynx, the Death which took -Petrarch in the midst of his triumph, Raphael in the midst of his love -affairs; before whom all joy and glory and riches pale; that power -which, passing rapidly, heedlessly and inexorably over the unfortunate -victims who appeal to it, strikes down in the midst of their flowers, -their wine and their perfumes, the handsome youth crowned with myrtle, -the lovely maiden rose-crowned, the laurel-wreathed poet, and drags -them brutally to the grave, their eyes open, their hearts yet beating, -their arms stretched out towards the light, the day and the sunshine! -Orcagna! Orcagna, great sculptor, great painter and, above all, great -poet! how many times have I trembled as I touched the hand of a beloved -child, or kissed the face of a mistress who had made me happy! for I -had an inward vision of that Death of the Campo-Santo at Pisa, passing -in the distance, dark, threatening like a sailing cloud; then, the next -day, I heard the words, "He is dead!" or "She is dead!" and it was -almost always a young genius whose light had gone out, a young soul -that had gone to its Maker. - -This then, was the world de Leuven had seen during his stay in Paris, -and he brought a reflection of its unknown brilliance to me, the poor -provincial lad, buried in the depths of a little town. De Leuven had -done more than look into it: he had entered the tabernacle, he had -touched the ark! He had been permitted the honour of having some of his -work read before M. Poirson, the high priest of the Gymnase, and before -his sacristan, M. Dormeuil. Of course the work was declined after it -had been read; but--like the pebble which lies near the rose and shares -the scent of the queen of flowers--there remained to de Leuven, from -his declined work, an entry into the green-rooms. Oh! that entree to -the green-rooms, what a weariness it is to those who have attained it, -whilst by those who have not attained it, it is regarded as the most -coveted thing on earth! Adolphe, however, had been in it for such a -short time that _ennui_ had not yet had time to spring up, and so the -dazzling glow of the honour still remained with him. It was the spirit -of this enchantment which he transferred to me. At that time, Perlet -was at his best, Fleuriet in the heyday of her beauty, Léontine Fay at -the height of her popularity. The latter, poor child, at the age of -eight or nine, had been forced to learn a craft in which a grown-up -woman might have succumbed; but what did that matter? They had consoled -themselves in advance for everything, even for her death; for they had -already made so much money out of her, that, in the event of her death, -they could afford to go to her burial in fine style. - -Adolphe's return, then, was a great event to me; like Don Cléophas, -I hung on the cloak of my fine _diable boiteux_, and he, telling me -what he had seen in the theatres, made me see also. What long walks we -took together! How many times did I stop him, as he passed from one -artiste to another, saying, after he had exhausted all the celebrities -of the Gymnase, "And Talma? And Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois?" And he good-naturedly held forth upon the genius and -talent and good-fellowship of those eminent artistes, playing upon the -unknown notes of the keyboard of my imagination, causing ambitious and -sonorous chords to vibrate within me that had hitherto lain dormant, -the possession of which astonished me greatly when I began to realise -their existence. Then poor Adolphe little by little conceived a -singular idea, which was to make me share, on my own behalf, the hopes -he had indulged in for himself; to rouse in me the ambition to become, -if not a Scribe, an Alexandre Duval, an Ancelot, a Jouy, an Arnault or -a Casimir Delavigne, at least a Fulgence, a Mazère or a Vulpian. And -it must be admitted the notion was ambitious indeed; for, I repeat, I -had never received any proper education, I knew nothing, and it was not -until very much later, in 1833 or 1834, on the publication of the first -edition of my _Impressions de Voyage_, that people began to perceive I -had genius. In 1820 I must confess I had not a shadow of it. - -A week before Adolphe's return had brought to me the first vivifying -gleam of light from the outside world 3 the hemmed-in and restricted -life of a provincial town had seemed to me the limit of my ambition, a -salary of say fifteen or eighteen hundred francs 3 for I never dreamt -of becoming a solicitor: first because I had no vocation for it; for -although I had spent three years in copying deeds of sale, bonds and -marriage contracts, at Maître Mennesson's, I was no more learned in -the law than I was in music, after three years of solfeggio with old -Hiraux. It was evident, therefore, that the law was no more my vocation -than music, and that I should never expound the Code any better than I -played on the violin. This distressed my mother dreadfully, and all her -kind friends said to her-- - -"My dear, just listen to what I say: your son is a born idler, who will -never do anything." - -And my mother would heave a sigh, and say, as she kissed me, "Is it -true, my dear boy, what they tell me?" - -And I would answer naïvely, "I don't know, mother!" - -What else could I reply? I could see nothing beyond the last houses in -my natal town, and even though I might find something that responded -to my heart inside the city boundary, I searched in vain therein for -anything that could satisfy my mind and imagination. - -De Leuven made a gap in the wall which closed me in, and through that -gap I began to perceive something to aim at as yet undefined on the -infinite horizon beyond. - -De la Ponce also influenced me at this period. As before related, -I had translated with him the beautiful Italian romance--or rather -diatribe--of _Ugo Foscolo_, that imitation of Goethe's _Werther_ -which the author of the poem called _Sépulcres_ contrived, by dint -of patriotic feeling and talent, to develop into a national epic. -Moreover, de la Ponce, who wished to make me regret that I had -abandoned the study of the German language, translated for my benefit -Bürger's beautiful ballad _Lénore._ The reading of this work, which -belonged to a type of literature of which I was completely ignorant, -produced a deep impression on my mind; it was like one of those -landscapes one sees in dreams, in which one dares not enter, so -different is it from everyday surroundings. The terrible refrain which -the sinister horseman repeats over and over again to the trembling -betrothed whom he carries off on his spectre-steed, - - "Hourra!--fantôme, les morts vont vite!" - -bears so little resemblance to the conceits of Demoustier, to Parny's -amorous rhymes or to the elegies of the Chevalier Bertin, that the -reading of the tragic German ballad made a complete revolution in my -soul. That very night, I tried to put it into verse; but, as may well -be understood, the task was beyond my powers. I broke the wings of my -poor fledgeling Muse, and I began my literary career as I had begun my -first love-making, by a defeat none the less terrible because it was a -secret one, but quite as incontestable in my own estimation. - -What mattered it? These were indubitably my first steps towards the -future God had destined, untried totterings like the steps of a child -just learning to walk, who stumbles and falls as soon as he tears -himself away from his nurse's leading-strings, but who picks himself up -again and, aching after every fall, continues to advance, urged forward -by hope, which whispers in his ear, "Walk, child, walk! it is by means -of suffering that you become a man, by perseverance that you become -great!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -The Cerberus of the rue de Largny--I tame it--The ambush--Madame -Lebègue--A confession - - -Six months passed by between my first love-makings and my first -attempts at work. Besides our meetings at Louise Brézette's every -night, Adèle and I used to see each other two or three times a week, in -the summer-house, which, to our great delight, her mother had allowed -her to have as her new chamber. It was necessary for Adèle to open the -door of the passage-way for me, and for me to pass in front of her -mother's bedroom door: these two courses were fraught with so many -dangers that I had for a long time been contemplating some other means -of access to my lady-love. After much pondering, I settled upon a way. -I carefully examined the topography of the surrounding district and -discovered, three doors off Adèle's house, a door, which led through a -kind of passage into a small garden. One wall and two hedges separated -this garden from Adèle's. I carefully studied the position all round, -from Adèle's garden, to which I had free entree during the daytime, -and I saw that all difficulties would be overcome if I could open the -street door, cross the passage, enter the garden, scale the wall and -stride over the two hedges. Then I had only to knock on the outside -shutter, Adèle would open to me, and the thing would be done. But, as I -had noticed, the door had to be opened and the passage crossed. - -The door was locked, and the passage was guarded at night by a dog -who was less a match from his size and from the fight he might make, -than from the noise he could set up. It took me a week to make my -investigations. One night I ascertained, Muphti (that was the dog's -name) barking loudly all the time, that the lock only turned once, and -that I could open the door with my knife-blade; the remaining seven -nights I cultivated Muphti's acquaintance, seducing him little by -little, by poking bits of bread and chicken bones under the door. The -last two or three nights, Muphti, grown used to the windfalls I brought -him, impatient for my arrival, expecting me long before I appeared, -heard me come when I was twenty paces off, and, at my approach, -scratched with both paws at the door and whined gently at the obstacle -that separated us. On the eighth day, or rather the eighth night, -feeling sure that Muphti was now no longer an enemy but an ally, I -opened the door, and, according to my expectations, Muphti leapt upon -me in the greatest friendliness, delighted to find himself in direct -communication with a man who brought him such dainty scraps: I had only -one fault to find with his greeting, namely, that it was expressed in -rather too noisy a fashion. However, as all enthusiasm calms down in -time, Muphti's enthusiasm died down, and, passing into expressions of a -gentler affection, allowed me to venture farther. I chose, for my first -attempt at housebreaking, a dark, moonless autumn night: I stepped -very lightly, with my ears on the alert; I advanced without making a -single grain of sand crunch beneath my feet. I thought I heard a door -open behind me; I hastened my steps; I reached a large patch of beans -growing up on sticks, into which I flung myself as did Gulliver in his -wheat-field, with Muphti hidden between my legs, his neck held between -both my hands, ready to be able to intercept the slightest sound he -might wish to make--and there I waited. It was indeed one of the -inhabitants to whom the passage belonged: he had heard the noise. In -order to find out what caused it, he took a turn in the garden, passed -within a couple of steps of me, without seeing me, coughed as though -he were beginning with a cold, and went indoors again. I let Muphti -go; I made for the palings; I leapt to the other side of the wall; I -straddled over the two hedges, and I ran to the shutters. But I did not -need to knock. Before I reached them, I heard someone breathing, I saw -a shadow, I felt two trembling arms stretch out to enfold me and drag -me inside the summer-house, and the door shut behind us. - -Oh! had I only been a poet in those days, what ravishing lines I could -have made in honour of those first flowers which flourished in the -garden of our love! But, alas! I was not a poet then, and I had to be -satisfied with repeating to Adèle Parny's and Bertin's elegies, which I -believe only bored her. I have already remarked, _apropos_ of _Vêpres -siciliennes_ what good taste this little girl possessed. - -I left her, as usual, towards two or three in the morning. As usual, -also, I returned by the park, and reached home by a roundabout way. I -have explained the way I took, and how I had to leap a wide ditch so as -to reach the park from the open country. In order to avoid making the -same jump three or four times a week, which was a very perilous feat -on dark nights, I made a very big heap of stones in one corner of the -ditch, so that I had only to make for this particular corner and then -make my jump in two leaps. - -On this particular night, as I leapt into the ditch, I noticed a -shadow four paces off me, that looked slightly less caressing than -that which had awaited me in the garden, and drawn me inside the -summer-house. This shadow held an actual, stout stick--not the shade -of one--in all its knotty reality. Directly I attained to manhood's -estate, and whenever danger faced me, whether by night or by day, I may -proudly record that I always marched straight on towards that danger. -I walked right up to the man with the stick. The stick rose, and I -clutched it in my hand. Then followed, in that dark ditch, one of the -severest tussles I have ever had in my life. I was indeed the person -he was lying in wait for, the person he wished to meet. The man who -was waiting for me had blackened his face; consequently I could not -recognise him; but without recognising him I guessed who he was. He was -a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five; I was scarcely eighteen, -but I was well broken in to all physical exercises, especially to -wrestling. I succeeded in taking hold of him round the body and -twisting him under me. His head struck on a stone with a heavy sound. -No word passed on either side; but he must have been hurt. I felt him -fumbling in his pocket, and I knew he was hunting for his knife. I -seized his hand above the wrist, and managed to twist him so that his -fingers opened, and the knife dropped. Then, by a quick move, I got -hold of the knife. For one second a terrible temptation assailed me, to -do what was indeed my right, namely, to open the knife and to plunge it -into my antagonist's breast. That moment a man's life hung by a thread: -had my anger broken that thread, the man would have been killed! I had -sufficient control over myself to get up. I still held the knife in -one hand, I took the stick by the other, and, fortified by these two -weapons, I allowed my adversary to rise too. He took a step backwards, -and stooped to pick up the stone against which he had hurt his head; -but just as he was lifting himself up, I hit him with the end of the -stick on the chest and he fell back ten paces. This time he seemed to -lose consciousness completely, for he did not get up again. I climbed -the embankment from the ditch and got away from the place as fast as I -could: this unexpected attack had revealed such a spirit of hatred that -I feared treachery might follow. No one else put in an appearance, and -I reached home very much upset, I must confess, by this incident. I -had certainly escaped from one of the most serious dangers I had ever -incurred in my life. - -This event brought very serious consequences to a person who had had -nothing to do with the affair, and led me to commit the only evil -action I have to reproach myself with during the course of my life. -The blame attaching to this evil deed is all the greater as it was -committed against a woman. I can only say that it was committed without -any premeditation. I reached home, as I have said, very glad to have -escaped with nothing worse than a few bruises, and very proud at the -end of the fray to have overthrown my enemy. - -Next morning I went to de la Ponce. As such an attack might be renewed -under more disadvantageous circumstances than those from which I had -just escaped, I wanted to borrow from him the pocket-pistols I had seen -in his rooms. It was difficult to borrow them from him without telling -him why I wanted them. I told him. But as it would have revealed, or -almost revealed, the house I came away from, if I had told him the -true locality of the struggle, I indicated another place altogether. -I selected, hap-hazard, a spot near the _manège_, in a little narrow -street, where three houses had their entrances. The first of these -three houses was inhabited by Hippolyte Leroy, the ex-body-guardsman of -whom I have already spoken in connection with our misadventures at M. -Collard's, and who was soon to become my cousin by marrying Augustine; -the second by the de Leuven family; and the third by the lawyer to whom -Maître Mennesson had related the misadventures of my early love-making -and who, as I have already mentioned, had married Éléonore, the second -daughter of M. Deviolaine by his first marriage. I have related also, -when speaking of M. Lebègue, how the charming nature and sociable -spirit of his wife had roused suspicion and dislike in a little town, -where superiority of any kind is a reason for jealousy. Now I had told -others besides de la Ponce of the nocturnal attack of which I had very -nearly been a victim; and to others also, as well as to de la Ponce, in -order to divert suspicions, I had mentioned the same locality by the -_manège_ of which I have just spoken. Where could I have been coming -from, at two in the morning, when I was attacked near the _manage!_ -It could not have been from Hippolyte Leroy's; it could not have been -from Adolphe de Leuven's. It must then have been from M. Lebègue's--or -rather, from Madame Lebègue's. This wicked suggestion, entirely -incorrect as it was, could only be supported by some semblance of a -foundation. - -I was a very easy prey to being teased, perhaps because I laid myself -open to it by my defenceless condition, and neither Madame Lebègue nor -her sisters spared me. Madame Lebègue was pretty, witty and a flirt: -she waved the most charming and gracious gestures imaginable to her -friends at a distance; whilst at closer quarters she allowed them -to look at, admire and even kiss her hand, with that aristocratic -indifference assumed by women who are the possessors of pretty hands. -It was her only sin, poor woman. The crime was great, but the hand was -pretty. I was exceedingly fond of Madame Lebègue; I liked her, I can -confess to-day, with a feeling that might even have got beyond the -bounds of friendly affection, if she had consented to more; but she had -never given me the least encouragement, and whenever I was near her, -her superior wit, her woman-of-the-world manners, her fine-lady airs, -would send me into the deepest depths of that shyness of which I had -given such glaring proofs during my earliest love-makings. - -One day, without knowing whence this rumour had sprung, without -suspecting the cause that had given rise to it, I heard it whispered -that I was Madame Lebègue's lover. I ought at once to have quenched -this rumour with indignant denials; I ought to have treated the -calumny with the justice it deserved. I was wicked enough to refute it -half-heartedly, and in such a fashion that my vain denial bore every -appearance of a confession. And of course the ill-natured rumour served -my own purposes to perfection. Poor silly fool that I was! I had a -momentary delight, an hour's pride, in this rumour, which ought to -have made me blush with shame, for I had allowed an untrue statement -to be believed. I soon suffered for my mean action. First of all, the -rumour set me at variance with the person herself whom it concerned: -Madame Lebègue thought me more guilty than I was; she accused me of -having started the scandal. She was mistaken there: I had allowed it -to live, allowed it to grow, that was all. True, that was bad enough. -She forbade me her house, the house my mother and I both loved, and -it became hostile to us both ever after. Madame Lebègue never forgave -me. On two or three occasions during my life I have felt the prick of -the needle of the vengeance she vowed against me. I never attempted -to return the injuries received; I felt, in my heart of hearts, I had -deserved them. Whenever since I have met Madame Lebègue, I have turned -away my head and lowered my eyes before her glance. The guilty one -tacitly confessed his crime. To-day he openly avows it. But now the -confession has been made, I can boldly face the rest of the world of -men or women and say, "You may look me in the face and try to make me -blush, if you can!" - -The day after my struggle I had the curiosity to visit the scene of -battle. I had not been mistaken: the stone on which my enemy's head had -crashed was stained with blood at its sharpest end, and the colour of -a few hairs, stuck to the bloody stone, confirmed my suspicions--which -now became a definite certainty when furnished with this last proof. -That night I saw Adèle: she was still ignorant of what had happened to -me. I told her everything; I told her whom I suspected: she refused to -believe it. - -Just at that moment, a surgeon, named Raynal, went past; I had seen -him that morning come from the direction which led to the house of my -wounded enemy. I went up to him. - -"What is the matter?" I asked him. "Why have you been sent for this -morning?" - -"What is the matter, boy?" he replied in his Provençal accent. - -"Yes." - -"Why, he cannot have seen plainly last night, and, hurrying home, he -gave himself a knock in the chest against a carriage pole. It was such -a violent blow that he fell on his back and split his head open in -falling." - -"When shall you pay him a second visit?" - -"To-morrow, at the same time as to-day." - -"Very well, doctor; tell him from me that, last night, passing by the -same place where he fell, after him, I found his knife, and I send it -back to him. Tell him, doctor, that it is a good weapon, but that, -nevertheless, a man who has no other arms but this with him is unwise -to attack a man who possesses two such pistols as these...." - -I fancy the doctor understood. - -"Oh yes; very good," he said. "I'll tell him, never fear." - -I presume that the man who owned the knife also understood, for I never -heard the matter spoken of again, although, fifteen days later, I -danced _vis-à-vis_ with him at the park ball. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -De Leuven makes me his collaborator--The _Major de Strasbourg_--My -first _couplet-Chauvin_--The _Dîner d'amis_--The _Abencérages_ - - -I had naïvely told de Leuven of my failure to translate Bürger's -beautiful ballad; but as he had made up his mind to make me a dramatic -author, he consoled me by telling me it was his father's opinion that -some German works were absolutely untranslatable, and that the ballad -of _Lénore_ was first among these. Seeing that de Leuven did not lose -hope, I gradually regained mine. I may even venture to say that, a few -days after this, I achieved a success. - -Lafarge had laughed hugely at de Leuven's idea of making me his -collaborator. For, indeed, what notice would the Parisian stage take -of an uneducated child; a poor provincial lad, buried away in a -small town in the Ile-de-France; ignorant both of French and foreign -literatures; hardly acquainted with the names of the great; feeling -only a tepid sympathy with their most highly praised masterpieces, his -lack of artistic education having veiled their style from him; setting -to work without knowing the theory of constructing a plot, an action, -a catastrophe, a _dénoûment_; having never read to the end of _Gil -Blas_, or _Don Quixote_, or _le Diable boiteux_--books which are held -by all teachers to be worthy of universal admiration, and in which, I -confess to my shame, the man who has succeeded to the child does not -even to-day feel a very lively interest; reading, instead, all that -is bad in Voltaire, who was then regarded as the very antithesis of -politics and religion; having never opened a volume of Walter Scott -or of Cooper, those two great romance-writers, one of whom understood -men thoroughly, the other of whom divined God's workings marvellously; -whilst, on the contrary, he had devoured all the naughty books of -Pigault-Lebrun, raving over them, _le Citateur_ in particular; ignorant -of the name of Goethe, or Schiller, or Uhland, or André Chénier; -having heard Shakespeare mentioned, but only as a barbarian from whose -dunghill Ducis had collected those pearls called _Othello_, _Hamlet_ -and _Romeo and Juliet_, but knowing by heart his Bertin, his Parny, his -Legouvé, his Demoustier. - -Lafarge was unquestionably in the right, and Adolphe must have had -plenty of time to waste to undertake such a task, the hopelessness -of which alone could take away from its ridiculousness. But Adolphe, -with that Anglo-German stolidness of his, manfully persevered in the -work undertaken, and we sketched out a scheme of a comedy in one act, -entitled the _Major de Strasbourg_: it was neither good nor bad. -Why the Major of Strasbourg, any more than the Major of Rochelle or -of Perpignan? I am sure I cannot tell. And I have also completely -forgotten the plot or development of that embryonic dramatic work. - -But there was one incident I have not forgotten, for it procured me -the first gratification my _amour-propre_ received. It was the epoch -of patriotic pieces; a great internal reaction had set in against our -reverses of 1814 and our defeat of 1815. The national couplet and -Chauvinism were all the rage: provided you made _Français_ rhyme with -_succès_ at the end of a couplet, and _lauriers_ with _guerriers,_ -you were sure of applause. So, of course, de Leuven and I were quite -content not to strike out any fresh line, but to follow and worship -in the footsteps of MM. Francis and Dumersan. Therefore our _Major de -Strasbourg_ was of the family of those worthy retreating officers whose -patriotism continued to fight the enemy in couplets consecrated to the -supreme glory of France, and to the avenging of Leipzig and Waterloo on -the battlefields of the Gymnase and the Varies. Now, our major, having -become a common labourer, was discovered by a father and son, who -arrived on the scene, I know not why, at the moment when, instead of -digging his furrows, he was deserting his plough, in order to devote -himself to the reading of a book which gradually absorbed him to such -an extent that he did not see the entrance of this father and son--a -most fortunate circumstance, since the brave officer's preoccupation -procured the public the following couplet:-- - - JULIEN (apercevant le major) - - N'approchez pas, demeurez où vous etes: - Il lit ... - - LE COMTE - - Sans doute un récit de combats, - Ce livre? - - JULIEN (regardant par-dessus l'épaule du major, et revenant à son père) - - C'est _Victoires et Conquêtes._ - - LE COMTE - - Tu vois, enfant, je ne me trompais pas: - Son cœur revole aux champs de l'Allemagne! - Il croit encor voir les Français vainqueurs.... - - JULIEN - - Mon père, il lit la dernière campagne, - Car de ses yeux je vois couler des pleurs. - -When my part of the work was done, I handed it over to de Leuven, who, -I ought to mention, was very indulgent to me; but this time, when he -came to the couplet I am about to quote, his indulgence ascended into -enthusiasm: he sang the couplet out loud-- - - - "Dis-moi, soldat, dis-moi, t'en souviens-tu?" - - -He sang it over twice, four times, ten times, interrupting himself to -say-- - -"Oh! oh! that couplet will be done to death if the Censorship lets it -pass." - -For, from that time, the honourable institution called the Censorship -was in full vigour, and it has gone on increasing and prospering ever -since. - -I confess I was very proud of myself; I did not think such a -masterpiece was in me. Adolphe ran off to sing the couplet to his -father, who, as he chewed his toothpick, asked-- - -"Did you make it?" - -"No, father; Dumas did." - -"Hum! So you are writing a comic opera with Dumas?" - -"Yes." - -"Why not make room in it for your _froide Ibérie_? It would be just the -place for it." - -Adolphe turned on his heels and went off to sing my couplet to Lafarge. - -Lafarge listened to it, winking his eyes. - -"Ah! ah! ah!" he cried, "did Dumas compose that?" - -"Yes, he made it." - -"Are you sure he did not crib it from somewhere?" - -Then, with touching confidence, Adolphe replied-- - -"I am quite certain of it: I know every patriotic couplet that has been -sung in every theatre in Paris, and I tell you this one has never yet -been sung." - -"Then it is a fluke, and he will soon be undeceived." - -De la Ponce read the couplet too; it tickled his soldierly taste, -remainding him of 1814, and he took an early opportunity to compliment -me on it. - -Alas! poor couplet, but indifferently good though thou wert, accept -nevertheless thy due meed of praise, at any rate from me. Whether gold -or copper, thou wert, at all events, the first piece of literary coin -I threw into the dramatic world! Thou wert the lucky coin one puts -in a bag to breed more treasure therein! To-day the sack is full to -overflowing: I wonder if the treasure that came and covered thee up was -much better than thyself? The future alone will decide--that future -which to poets assumes the superb form of a goddess and the proud name -of Posterity! - -The reader knows what an amount of vanity I possessed. My pride did not -need to be encouraged to come out of the vase in which it was enclosed -and swell like the giant in the _Arabian Nights:_ I began to believe -I had written a masterpiece. From that day I thought of nothing else -but dramatic literature, and, as Adolphe was some day to return to -Paris, we set ourselves to work, so that he could carry away with him -a regular cargo of works of the style of the _Major de Strasbourg._ We -never doubted that such distinguished works would meet with the success -they deserved, from the enlightened public of Paris, and open out to -me in the capital of European genius a path strewn with crowns and -pieces of gold. What would the well-disposed people say then, who had -declared to my mother that I was an idle lad and that I should never do -anything? Go spin, you future Schiller! Spin, you future Walter Scott! -spin!... From this time a great force awoke in my heart, which held its -place against all comers: determination--a great virtue, which although -certainly not genius, is a good substitute for it--and perseverance. - -Unluckily, Adolphe was not a very sure guide; he, like myself, was -groping blindly. Our choice of subjects revealed that truth. Our second -opera was borrowed from the venerable M. Bouilly's _Contes à ma fille._ -It was entitled le _Dîner d'amis._ Our first drama was borrowed from -Florian's _Gonzalve de Cordoue_: it was entitled _les Abencérages._ - -O dear Abencérages! O treacherous Zégris! with what crimes of like -nature you have to reproach yourselves! O Gonzalve de Cordoue! what -young poets you have led astray into the path upon which we entered so -full of hope, from which we returned shattered and broken. - -Poor lisa Mercœur! I saw her die hugging to her heart that Oriental -chimera; only she stuck fast to it, like a drowning man to a floating -plank; while we, feeling how little it was to be relied on, had the -courage to abandon it and to let it float where it would on that dark -ocean where she encountered it and stuck to it. - -But then we did not know what might be the future of these children, -wandering on the highways, whom we sought to seduce from their lawful -parents, and whom we saw die of inanition, one after the other, in our -arms. - -These labours took up a whole year, from 1820 to 1821. During that year -two great events came about, which passed unnoticed by us, so bent on -our work were we, and so preoccupied by it: the assassination of the -Duc de Berry, 13 February 1820; the death of Napoleon, 5 May 1821. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the Duc de Berry - - -The assassination of the Duc de Berry hastened the down-fall of M. -Decazes. A singular anecdote was circulated at the time. I took it down -in writing at the house of my lawyer, who was a collector of historical -documents. As well as I can remember, it was as follows. Three days -before the Duc de Berry's assassination, King Louis XVIII. received a -letter couched in these words:-- - - "SIRE,--Will your Majesty condescend to receive a person - at eight o'clock to-morrow night, who has important - revelations to make specially affecting your Majesty's - family? - - "If your Majesty deigns to receive this person, let a - messenger be sent at once to find a chip of Oriental - alabaster, which rests on the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, - at Ste. Geneviève. - - "In addition to this, your Majesty must obtain, by - means of some other agent, a loose sheet of paper, out - of a volume of the works of St. Augustine [here the - exact designation was given], the use of which will be - indicated later by the writer of this letter. - - "Under penalty of not obtaining any result from the - promised revelations, you must not begin by sending to - the Library, nor by sending at the same time to the - Library and to Ste. Geneviève. The safety of the person - who desires to offer good advice to His Majesty depends - upon the execution of the two prescribed acts in their - given order." - -The letter was unsigned. The mysterious bearing of this letter -attracted the attention of Louis XVIII., and he sent for M. Decazes -at seven o'clock on the following morning. Please be careful to note -that I am not relating a historical fact, but an anecdote from memory, -which I copied something like thirty years ago. Only later and in quite -different circumstances of my life, it recurred to my mind as does -effaced writing under the application of a chemical preparation. - -So, as indicated above, Louis XVIII. sent next morning for M. Decazes. - -"Monsieur," he said, as soon as he saw him, "you must go to the church -of Ste. Geneviève; you must descend to the crypt, where you will find -the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, and you must bring away the thing, no -matter what it is, that you will find on the tomb." - -M. Decazes went, and when he reached Ste. Geneviève, he went down to -the crypt. There, to his great surprise, he found nothing on the tomb -of Cardinal Caprara but a fragment of Oriental alabaster. However, his -orders were precise: we might rather say they were positive. After a -moment's hesitation, he picked up the bit of alabaster and took it back -to the Tuileries. He expected the king to jeer at the servile obedience -that brought him only an object so worthless, but quite the reverse was -the case, for at the sight of the bit of alabaster the king trembled. -Then, taking it in his hand and examining it minutely, he placed it on -his desk. - -"Now," said Louis XVIII., "send a trusted messenger to the Royal -Library; he must ask for the works of St. Augustine, the 1669 edition, -and in volume 7, between pages 404 and 405, he will find a sheet of -paper." - -"But, sire," asked M. Decazes, "why should not I myself go rather than -entrust this commission to another?" - -"Out of the question, _mon enfant_!" "_Mon enfant_" was the pet name by -which the king called his favourite minister. - -A trusted messenger was sent to the Royal Library: he opened St. -Augustine at the given pages and found the paper described. It was -a simple matter to take it away. The paper was a very thin, blank -folio sheet oddly snipped here and there. While Louis XVIII. was -searching for the mysterious revelations hidden in the jagged paper -the secretary brought him a missive containing a leaf of the same -size as that from the St. Augustine, but inscribed with apparently -unintelligible letters. At the corner of the envelope in which -this leaf came were written the two words: "Most urgent." The king -understood that there was a connection between the two events and a -likeness between the two leaves. He placed the cut sheet of paper over -the written sheet and saw that the letters shown up through the holes -in the upper leaf made sense. He dismissed the secretary and intimated -to M. Decazes to leave him alone, and when both had gone, he made out -the following lines:-- - - "King, thou art betrayed! Betrayed by thy minister and by - the P.P. of thy S----. - - "King, I alone can save thee. MARIANI." - -The reader will understand that I do not hold myself responsible for -this note any more than for the rest of the anecdote. The king did not -mention this note to anyone; but, that evening, the Minister of the -Police,[1] who was dismissed next day, issued orders to find a man -named Mariani. - -The following day, which was Sunday the 13th of February, the king on -opening his prayer-book at mass found this note inside:-- - -"They have found out what I wrote; they are hunting for me. Do your -utmost to see me, if you would avoid great misfortunes for your house. -I shall know if you will receive me, by means of three wafers which you -should stick inside the panes of your bedroom windows." - -Although the king was greatly interested by this last letter of -advice, he did not think it sufficiently urgent to attend to it as -directed. He waited and hesitated, and then left matters till the -morrow. That evening there was a special performance at the Opera, -when _Le Rossignol_, _les Noces de Gamache_, and _le Carnaval de -Venise_ were played. The Duc and Duchesse de Berry were present. About -eleven o'clock, at the close of the second act of the ballet, the -duchess, feeling tired, told her husband that she wished to leave. -The prince would not allow her to go alone, but himself conducted her -out of the Opera House. When he reached their carriage, which stood -in the rue Rameau, just as he was helping the princess up the step, -and saying to her, "Wait for me, I will rejoin you in a moment," a man -darted forward rapidly, passed like a flash of lightning between the -sentinel on guard at the door of exit and M. de Clermont-Lodève, the -gentleman-in-waiting, seized the prince by the left shoulder, leant -heavily against his breast and plunged a thin, sharp small-sword, -with a boxwood hilt, in his right breast. The man left the weapon -in the wound, knocked three or four curious bystanders spinning and -disappeared immediately round the corner of the rue de Richelieu and -under the Colbert Arcade. For the moment nobody noticed that the prince -was wounded; he himself had hardly felt any pain beyond the blow of a -fist. - -"Take care where you are going, you clumsy fellow!" M. de Choiseul, the -prince's aide-de-camp, had exclaimed, pushing the assassin to one side, -thinking he was simply an unduly inquisitive bystander. Suddenly the -prince lost his breath, grew pale and tottered, crying out, as he put -his hand to his breast-- - -"I have been assassinated!" - -"Impossible!" exclaimed those about him. - -"See," replied the prince, "here is the dagger." And giving effect -to his words, he drew out and held up the bloodstained sword from -his breast. The carriage door had not yet been shut. The duchess -sprang out, trying to catch her husband in her arms; but the prince -was already past standing, even with this support. He fell gently -back into the arms of those surrounding him, and was carried into the -drawing-room belonging to the king's box. There he received immediate -attention. - -By the mere appearance of the wound, the shape of the dagger and -the length of its blade, the doctors recognised the serious nature -of the case, and declared that the prince must not be taken to the -Tuileries. They therefore carried him to the suite of rooms occupied -by M. de Grandsire, the Secretary to the Opera Company, who lived at -the theatre. By a singular coincidence, the bed on which the dying -prince was laid was the same on which he had slept the first night of -his joyful re-entry into France. M. de Grandsire was at that time at -Cherbourg and he had lent this very bed to put in the Duc de Berry's -room. Here the prince learnt the arrest of his murderer. He asked his -name. They told him it was Louis-Pierre Louvel. He seemed to search -his memory and then, as if speaking to himself, he said, "I cannot -recollect ever having injured this man." - -No, prince, no, you did nothing to him; but you bear on your forehead -the fatal seal which carries the Bourbons to the grave or into exile. -No, prince, you have not injured the man, but you are heir to the -throne and that is sufficient in this country for the hand of God to -be laid heavily upon you. Look back, prince, on what has happened to -those who, for the last sixty years, have handled the fatal crown to -which they aspired. Louis XVI. died on the scaffold. Napoleon died at -St. Helena. The Duc de Reichstadt died at Schoenbrünn. Charles X. died -at Frohsdorf. Louis-Philippe died at Claremont. And who knows, prince, -where your son, the Count de Chambord, will die? Where your cousin the -Count de Paris? I ask the question of you who are about to know the -secret of that eternal life which hides away from us all the mysteries -of life and of death. And we would further point out to you, prince, -that not one of your race will die in the Tuileries, or will rest as -kings in the tombs of their fathers. - -But it was a good and noble heart that was about to cease to beat -amidst all the distracting events of that period. And when Louis -XVIII., who had been informed of the assassination, came at six in the -morning, to receive his nephew's last wishes, the first words of the -wounded prince were-- - -"Sire, pardon the man!" - -Louis XVIII. neither promised nor refused to pardon. - -"My dear nephew, you will survive this cruel act, I trust," he replied, -"and we will then discuss the matter again. It is of grave import, -moreover," he added, "and it must be looked into most carefully at some -future time." - -These words had scarcely been uttered by the king when the prince began -to fight for his breath; he stretched out his arms and asked to be -turned on his left side. - -"I am dying!" he said, as they hastened to carry out his last wish. - -And, indeed, they had hardly moved him when, at the stroke of half-past -six, he died. - -The grief of the duchess was inexpressible. She seized scissors from -the mantelpiece, let down her beautiful fair hair, cut it off to the -roots and threw the locks on the dead body of her husband. - -The sorrow of King Louis was twofold: not knowing that the Duchesse de -Berry was pregnant, he deplored even more than the death of a murdered -nephew the extinction of a race. - -When he withdrew to the Tuileries, he remembered the events of the -two preceding days--the letter received on the very morning of the -assassination, the warning of some great calamity threatening the royal -family. Then, although there was nothing more to be expected from the -mysterious stranger, the legend that we have given goes on to say that -Louis XVIII. dragged his aching limbs to the window and stuck the three -wafers on its panes as a signal of welcome to the unknown writer of the -letters. Two hours later, the king received a letter wrapped in three -coverings:-- - -"It is too late! Let a confidential person come and meet me on the pont -des Arts, where I will be at eleven o'clock to-night. - -"I rely on the honour of the king." - -At a quarter-past eleven the mysterious stranger was introduced into -the Tuileries and conducted to the king's private chamber. He remained -with Louis till one o'clock in the morning. No one ever knew what -passed in that interview. The next day, M. Clausel de Coussergues -proposed, in the Upper House, to impeach M. Decazes as an accomplice in -the assassination of the Duc de Berry. - -Thus, at the same time that the Napoleonic and Liberal party were -disseminating the skits against the Bourbons which we have quoted, and -distributing copies of the proceedings of the Maubreuil trial, the -Extreme Right was attacking by similar means the Duc d'Orléans and M. -Decazes; each in turn undermining and destroying one another, to the -advantage of a fourth party, which was soon to make its appearance -under the cloak of Carbonarism--we mean that Republican element which -Napoleon, when he was dying in the island of St. Helena, prophesied -would dominate the future. - -But before tackling this question, one word more about Louvel. God -forbid that we should glorify the assassin, no matter to what party he -belonged! We would only indicate, from the historical point of view, -the difference that may exist between one murderer and another. We have -related how Louvel disappeared, first round the corner of the rue de -Richelieu and then under the Colbert Arcade. He was just on the point -of escaping when a carriage barred his course and compelled him to -slacken his pace. During this moment of hesitation, the sentinel, who -had thrown down his gun to pursue him and who had lost sight of him, -had a glimpse of him again and redoubled his speed, caught up with him -and seized him round the waist, a waiter from a neighbouring café; at -the same time seizing hold of him by his collar. When he was captured, -the assassin did not attempt any fresh effort. One would have thought -that from motives of self-preservation he would have struggled to -escape, but his one attempt at flight seemed to satisfy him, and had -they let go their hold, he would not have taken his chance to regain -liberty. Louvel was taken to the guard-house below the vestibule of the -Opera. - -"Wretch!" exclaimed M. de Clermont-Lodève, "what can have induced you -to commit such a crime?" - -"The desire to deliver France from one of its cruellest enemies." - -"Who paid you to carry out the deed?" - -"Paid me!" cried Louvel, tossing his head,--"paid me!" Then with a -scornful smile he added, "Do you think one would do such a thing for -money?" - -Louvel's trial was carried to the Upper Chamber. On 5 June he appeared -before the High Court. On the following day he was condemned to death. -Four months had been spent in trying to find his accomplices, but not -one had been discovered. He was taken back to the Conciergerie, an hour -after his sentence had been pronounced, and one of his warders came to -him. - -"You would like," said the man to the prisoner, who throughout -his trial had preserved the utmost calm and even the greatest -decorum,--"you would like to send for a priest?" "What for?" asked -Louvel. - -"Why, to ease your conscience." - -"Oh, my conscience is at ease: it tells me I did my duty." - -"Your conscience deceives you. Listen to what I say and make your peace -with God: that is my advice." - -"And if I confess, do you suppose that will send me to Paradise?" - -"May be: the mercy of God is infinite." - -"Do you think the Prince de Condé, who has just died, will be in -Paradise?" - -"He should be, he was an upright prince." - -"In that case, I would like to join him there; it would amuse me vastly -to plague the old _émigré._" - -The conversation was here interrupted by M. de Sémonville, who came to -try and extract information from the prisoner. Finding he could not get -anything from him, he said to Louvel-- - -"Is there anything you want?" - -"Monsieur le comte," replied the condemned man, "I have had to sleep -between such coarse sheets in prison, I would like some finer ones for -my last night." - -The request was granted. Louvel had his fine sheets and slept soundly -between them from nine at night till six o'clock the next morning. On -6 June, at six in the evening, he was taken from the Conciergerie: it -was the time of the famous troubles of which we shall speak presently. -The streets were blocked, and there were spectators even on the roofs. -He wore a round red cap and grey trousers, and a blue coat was fastened -round his shoulders. The papers next day announced that his features -were changed and his gait enfeebled. - -Nothing of the kind: Louvel belonged to the family of assassins to -which Ravaillac and Alibaud were akin--that is to say, he was a man of -stout courage. He mounted the scaffold without bombast and also without -any trace of weakness, and he died as men do who have sacrificed their -lives to an idea. - -His cell was the last in the Conciergerie, to the right, at the bottom -of the corridor; it was the same in which Alibaud, Fieschi and Meunier -had been kept. - - -[1] M. Decazes, Ministre de l'Intérieur, had charge of the police. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Carbonarism - - -I will now (1821) give some details of the Carbonari movement--a -subject on which Dermoncourt and I had held long conversations. -Dermoncourt was an old aide-decamp of my father, whose name I have -often mentioned in the earlier chapters of these Memoirs--he was one of -the principal leaders in the conspiracy of Béfort. - -You will recollect the troubles of June; the death of young Lallemand, -who was killed whilst trying to escape and was accused after his -death of having disarmed a soldier of the Royal Guard. It was thought -that the dead could be accused with impunity. But his father defended -him. The Censorship--sometimes a most infamous thing--prevented the -poor father's letter from appearing in the papers. M. Lafitte had to -take his letter to the Chambers and to read it there before he could -make its contents known to the public. I give it in the form in which -Lallemand sent it to the newspapers, when they refused to publish it:-- - - "SIR,--Yesterday my son was beaten to death by a soldier - of the Royal Guard; to-day he is defamed by the _Drapeau - blanc_, the _Quotidienne_ and the _Journal des Débats._ - I owe it to his memory to deny the fact cited by those - papers. The statement is false! My son did not attempt - to disarm one of the Royal Guard; he was walking past - unarmed when he received from behind the blow that killed - him. LALLEMAND" - -The military conspiracy of 19 August was the outcome of the troubles -of June. The chief members of the lodge _Des Amis de la Verité_ were -involved in that conspiracy. They afterwards separated. Two of the -affiliated members, MM. Joubert and Dugier, set out for Italy. They -reached Naples in the midst of the Revolution of 1821--a Revolution -during which patriots were shamefully betrayed by their leader, -François. The two named above threw themselves into the Revolution and -were affiliated to the Italian Carbonari, while Dugier returned to -Paris, a member of a higher grade in the Society. This institution, as -yet unknown in France, had greatly appealed to Dugier, and he hoped -to be able to establish it in France. He set forth the principles and -aims of the Society to the executive council of the lodge _des Amis -de la Vérité_ on whom they produced a profound impression. Dugier had -brought back with him the rules of the Italian Society and he was -authorised to translate them. This task he accomplished; but the type -of religious mysticism which formed the basis of these rules was not -in the least congenial to French minds. They adopted the institution, -minus the details which, at that epoch, would have made it unpopular; -and M. Buchez--the same who on 15 May had tried to make Boissy-Anglas -forgotten--and MM. Bazard and Flottard were deputed to establish the -French Carbonari upon a basis better suited to French conditions of -mind and thought. On 1 May 1821, three young men, then unknown, none -of them thirty years old, met for the first time in the depths of -one of the poorest quarters of the capital, in a room which was very -far removed from representing, even to its owner, the golden mean -spoken of by Horace. They sat at a round table, and with grave and -even gloomy faces--for they were not ignorant of the terrible work to -which they were going to devote their lives--they defined the first -tenets of that Society of Carbonari which changed the France of 1821 -and 1822 into one vast volcanic disturbance whose flames' burst out -at the most opposite and unexpected quarters, at Effort, la Rochelle, -Nantes and Grenoble. What was still more remarkable, the work which -these three revolutionary chemists were preparing had only one object -in view, namely, to draw up a code for future conspirators, leaving -everyone perfectly free to agitate against anything he individually -chose, provided he conformed to the main rules of the association. -The following is a résumé of these rules: "Since might is not right, -and the Bourbons have been brought back by foreigners, the Carbonari -band together to secure for the French nation free exercise of their -rights--namely, the right to choose what form of government may be most -suited to the country's needs." - -It will be seen that nothing was clearly defined; but in reality a -Republican form of government was being shadowed forth. This, however, -was not to be proclaimed until thirty-seven years later, and only then -to be struck dead from its birth, by the very hand to which it owed its -being. It need hardly be said that the hand was the hand of Napoleon: -it is a family tradition of the Napoleons to strangle liberty as soon -as it has produced a first consul or a president; even as in the case -of those beautiful aloes which only flower once in fifty years and -perish when they have brought forth their brilliant but ill-fated -blossoms, which are but barren and deadly flowers. - -The division of the Carbonari into higher, central and private lodges -is well known. None of these lodges was allowed to contain more than -twenty members--thus avoiding the penal law directed against societies -which comprised over twenty members. The Higher Lodge was composed -of the seven founders of the Carbonari. These seven founders were -Bazard, Dugier, Flottard, Buchez, Carriol, Joubert and Limperani. Each -Carbonaro was expected to keep a pistol and fifty cartridges in his -house, and he had to hold himself in readiness to obey orders sent him -by his commanders from the Higher Lodge, whether by day or night. - -While the Society of Carbonari was being organised with its upper -lodge of seven members above named, something of the same kind of -thing was being established in the Chamber--only less active, vital -and determined in character. It was called the _Comité directeur_, and -its title sufficiently indicates its purpose. This _Comité directeur_ -was composed of General la Fayette, his son Georges de la Fayette, -of Manuel, Dupont (de l'Eure), de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson, -Jacques Koechlin, General Thiars and of MM. Mérilhou and Chevalier. -For military questions the committee added Generals Corbineau and -Tarayre. The _Comité directeur_ and the _Higher Lodge_ were in close -communication with one another. At first their meetings were only -intended for general discussions; for the young Carbonari treated the -old Liberals with contempt, and the latter reciprocated the feeling. -The Carbonari charged the Liberals with feebleness and vacillation; -the Liberals, in their turn, accused the Carbonari of impertinence and -frivolity. They might as well have accused one another of youth and -age. Furthermore, the Carbonari had organised the whole plot of Béfort -without saying a single word to the _Comité directeur._ - -However, Bazard was in league with la Fayette, and well aware of the -general's burning desire after popularity. Now, popular feeling in -1821 was on the side of the party in opposition. The farther they -advanced, the more popular they became. Bazard wrote to the general -asking him to authorise the use of his name as of one in co-operation -with them, and the request was granted. La Fayette possessed this -admirable characteristic: he yielded at the first pressure, without -having taken the initiative personally, and he went farther and -more to the point than most people. The secrets of the Upper Lodge -were revealed to him and he was asked to join it. He accepted the -invitation, was received into their number and became one of the most -active conspirators of Béfort. In this he risked his head, just as much -as did the humblest of the confederates. The boldest members of the -Chamber followed him and enlisted with him in the same cause. These -were Voyer-d'Argenson, Dupont (de l'Eure), Manuel, Jacques Koechlin and -de Corcelles senior. They did not have long to wait for a recognition -of their self-sacrificing devotion. When the Revolution was set afoot -they adopted the groundwork of the constitution of the year III. Five -directors were appointed, and these five were la Fayette, Jacques -Koechlin, de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson and Dupont (de l'Eure). - -Carbonarism had its military side; indeed it was more military than -civil in character. They relied strongly and with good reason upon the -army in all their movements. The army was abandoned by the king, abused -by the princes, sacrificed to privileged parties and three parts given -over to the Opposition. Lodges were established in most regiments, -and everything was so well arranged that even the very movements of -the regiments served as a means of propaganda. In leaving the town -where the president of the military lodge had been quartered for three -months, six months or a year, as the case might be, he received half -a piece of money, the other half being sent on in advance to the town -where his regiment was going--either to a member of the Higher or -Central Lodge. The two halves of the coin were fitted together, and the -conspirators were thus put into communication. By this means soldiers -became commercial travellers, as it were, charged with the spread of -revolution throughout France. Thus we shall find that all insurrections -which broke out were as much military as civil. - -Towards the middle of 1821 all plans were laid for a rising in Bordeaux -as well as at Béfort, at Neuf-Brisach as well as at Rochelle, at Nantes -and Grenoble, at Colmar and at Toulouse. France was covered with an -immense network of affiliated societies, so that the revolutionary -influence had expanded, unnoticed but active, into the very heart of -social life, from east to west, from north to south. From Paris--that -is, from the Higher Lodge--all orders were issued for the animation -and support of the propaganda; as the pulsations of the heart send -the life-giving blood to all parts of the human body. Everything -was in readiness. Information had been received that, thanks to the -influence of four young men who had been previously compromised in the -rebellion of 19 August, the 29th infantry, a regiment consisting of -three battalions, severally stationed at Béfort, Neuf-Brisach and at -Huningue, had been won over to the Carbonari. These four young men were -a guardsman called Lacombe, Lieutenant Desbordes and Second-Lieutenants -Bruc and Pegulu, to whom were joined a lawyer named Petit Jean and a -half-pay officer called Roussillon. Furthermore, there was Dermoncourt, -who had been placed on half-pay and who lived in the market town of -Widensollen, a mile away from Neuf-Brisach; he was engaged in the -coming insurrection to lead the light cavalry which was stationed in -barracks at Colmar. So much for the military operations. - -The civil side of the conspiracy was also in motion and conducted by -MM. Voyer-d'Argenson and Jacques Koechlin, who possessed factories, -near Mulhouse and Béfort, and who exercised great influence over their -workpeople, almost all of whom were discontented with the Government -that had given back to the nobles their ancient privileges, and to -the priests their old influence. These malcontents were eager to take -part in any rising into which a leader might be ready to urge them. -So, towards the close of 1821, the Higher Lodge in Paris received the -following news:-- - -At Huningue, Neuf-Brisach and at Béfort the 29th infantry was -stationed, commanded by Lieutenants Carrel, de Gromely and Levasseur; -at Colmar was the light cavalry headed by Dermoncourt; at Strasbourg -they had a stand-by in the two regiments of artillery and in the -battalion of _pontoniers_ at Metz in a regiment of engineers, and -better still the military school: finally, at Spinal they had a -regiment of cuirassiers, MM. Koechlin and Voyer-d'Argenson could be -relied upon not only for a rising at Mulhouse, but also all along the -course of the Rhine where private lodges were stationed; making a total -of more than 10,000 associates amongst the retired officers, citizens, -customs officers and foresters: all were men of determined character -and ready to sacrifice their lives. - -About this time, my poor mother, on reckoning up her income, found we -were so poor that she bethought her of our friend Dermoncourt, in hopes -that he might perhaps have still some relations with the Government. -So she decided to write and beg him to make inquiries with respect to -that unpaid pension of 28,500 francs owing to my father for the years -VII and VIII of the Republic. The letter reached Dermoncourt about 20 -or 22 December--eight days before the outbreak of insurrection. He -replied by return of post, and on 28 December we received the following -letter:-- - - "MY GOOD MADAME DUMAS,--What the devil possesses you - to imagine that I could have maintained relations with - that rabble of scoundrels who manage our affairs at - the present moment? Nay, thank heaven, I have retired, - I have nothing at all to do either by means of pen or - sword with what is going on. Therefore, my dear lady, do - not count on a poor devil like me for anything beyond - my own miserable pittance of 1000 francs per annum; but - look to God, who, if He does watch what goes on here - below, should be very angry at the way things are done. - There are two alternatives: either there is no good God, - or things would not go on as they are; but I know you - believe in the good God--so put your trust in Him. One of - these days things will be altered. Ask your son, who must - be a tall lad by now, and he will tell you that there is - a saying by a Latin author called Horace to the effect - that after rain comes fine weather. Keep your umbrella - open, then, a little longer and, if fine weather comes, - put it down and count on me. - - "Be hopeful; without hope, which lingers at the bottom of - every man's heart, there would be nothing left to decent - folk but to blow out their brains. - - "BARON DERMONCOURT" - -This letter said very little and yet it said a good deal: my mother -gathered that something lay behind it and that Dermoncourt was in the -secret. - -On the day following the receipt of our letter this is what was -happening at Béfort: carrying out the plan of the conspirators, the -signal was sent to Neuf-Brisach and Béfort at the same moment; and at -the identical hour and day, or rather the same night, these two places -took up arms and raised the tricolour standard. The insurrection took -place on the night of 29-30 December. A Provisional Government was -proclaimed at Béfort and then at Colmar. This Government, as we have -already mentioned, consisted of Jacques Koechlin, General la Fayette -and Voyer-d'Argenson. Twenty-five or thirty Carbonari had received -orders to set out to Béfort. They started without a moment's delay, and -arrived on the 28th in the daytime. On the 28th, just as Joubert, who -had preceded them to Béfort, was preparing to leave the town in order -to lead them in, he met M. Jacques Koechlin. M. Koechlin was looking -for him to tell him a singular piece of news. M. Voyer-d'Argenson, -who with himself and General la Fayette formed the revolutionary -triumvirate, had indeed come, but had shut himself up in his factories -in the valleys behind Massevaux, stating that he did not wish to -receive anyone there, but that the instructions brought were to be kept -for him. - -"All very well, but what are we to do?" asked Joubert. - -"Listen," said M. Koechlin: "I will go myself to Massevaux; I will look -after d'Argenson and draw him out, willy nilly, whilst you must try by -what means you can to hurry up the arrival of la Fayette." - -Whereupon the two conspirators left, the one, M. Koechlin, post haste, -as he said, to Massevaux, a little village off the main road, perhaps -seven miles from Béfort and equidistant from Colmar; the other, -Joubert, posted off to Lure, a small town on the road to Paris, twenty -leagues from Béfort. There a carriage stopped, and he recognised two -friendly faces inside, those of two brothers, great painters and true -patriots, Henri and Ary Scheffer; with them was M. de Corcelles junior. -Joubert very soon made them acquainted with what was happening. Ary -Scheffer, the intimate friend of General la Fayette, retraced his steps -to go and look for him at his castle of La Grange. The others returned -with Joubert to Béfort to announce that the movement was delayed. Thus -the 29th and 30th passed in useless waiting. On the night between those -two days General Dermoncourt, becoming impatient, sent to Mulhouse an -under-foreman called Rusconi, belonging to M. Koechlin. This man had -been once an officer in the Italian army and had followed Napoleon to -Elba. He was sent to inquire whether anything had been learnt by M. -Koechlin. Rusconi set off at ten o'clock a.m., covered nine stiff -leagues of country in driving rain, and reached M. Koechlin's house at -ten o'clock that night: he found him entertaining ten of his friends, -and he took him aside to inquire whether he had news of the conspiracy. -M. d'Argenson would not budge; there was no news yet from la Fayette; -it was supposed he was being detained by Manuel. In the meantime -General Dermoncourt was to be patient, and he should be informed when -it was time to act. - -"But," demanded the messenger, "for whom is he to act?" - -"Ah! there lies the difficulty," replied M. Koechlin: "the generals -want Napoleon II.; the others, with Manuel at their head, want -Louis--Philippe; General la Fayette wants a Republic ... but let us -first overthrow the Bourbons and then all will come clear." - -Rusconi left, hired a carriage, journeyed all that night, reached -Colmar at ten o'clock next day, and from Colmar he went on foot to -Widensollen, where he found the general ready for action. Nothing had -been done during his absence. This is what had happened. Ary Scheffer -had found la Fayette at La Grange. The general, who belonged to the -Chamber and whose absence would have been remarked if he stayed away -longer, did not wish to reach Béfort until the decisive moment. He -promised to set out that night on one condition--that M. Ary Scheffer -should make all speed to Paris to persuade Manuel and Dupont (de -l'Eure), the last two members of the Provisional Government, to come -and take part in the rebellion; he must also bring back Colonel -Fabvier, a man of judgment and courage, to take command of the -insurgent battalions. Ary Scheffer started for Paris, met Manuel, -Dupont and Fabvier, and got Manuel and Dupont to promise to set out -that same night. He took Colonel Fabvier in his carriage and again set -out after la Fayette, followed by Manuel and Dupont. - -Whilst this string of carriages was bearing the revolution at full -speed along the road from Paris, whilst M. Jacques Koechlin, preceded -by Joubert and Carrel, was nearing Béfort, and whilst Colonel Pailhès, -unaware of the arrival of Fabvier, was preparing to take command of -the troops, and Dermoncourt, with horse ready saddled, awaited the -signal, Second-Lieutenant Manoury, one of the chief associates, was -changing guard with one of his comrades and installing himself at -the main gate of the town, at the same time that the other initiated -members were warning their friends that the moment had come and that -in all probability the rising would take place during the night of 1 -January 1822. Now the evening of 1 January had come. Only a few hours -more and all would burst forth. In the meanwhile night approached. At -eight o'clock the roll was called. After roll-call the non-commissioned -adjutant, Tellier, went the round of all the sergeant-majors, ordering -them to their rooms, where each company put flints to the muskets, -packed knapsacks and prepared to march. The sergeant-majors returned -to supper with Manoury. Twenty paces from the place where Manoury and -his sergeant-majors supped, Colonel Pailhès went to the _Hôtel de la -Poste_ to dine with a score of the insurgents, and as the host of a -posting-inn is generally one of the principal ringleaders, no one was -anxious, and the dining-room was decorated with tricoloured flags and -cockades and eagles. And, indeed, what had they to fear? No officer -occupied the barracks, and at midnight the insurrection broke out. - -Alas! none knew what an accumulation of unlooked-for misfortunes was to -escape out of the Pandora's box which men call fate!... - -A sergeant whose six months' furlough had expired that evening and -who in consequence of his long absence knew nothing of what was going -forward, reached Béfort on the evening of 1 January just in time -to answer to the roll-call and to assist in the preparations. When -these preparations were accomplished, he wished to show proof of his -promptness and zeal to his captain by going to tell him the regiment -was ready. - -"Ready for what?" asked the captain. - -"To march." - -"To march where?" - -"To the place which has been appointed." - -The captain gazed at the sergeant. - -"What is it you say?" he asked again. - -"I say that the knapsacks are packed, captain, and the flints are in -the muskets." - -"You are either drunk or mad," cried the captain; "take yourself off to -bed." - -The sergeant was just about to withdraw, in fact, when another officer -stopped him and questioned him more minutely, gathering by the accuracy -of his replies that it was really the truth. - -"How could such an order be given unless the two captains had known of -it?" - -"Who gave the order?... Doubtless it must have been the -lieutenant-colonel?" - -"No doubt," the sergeant replied mechanically. - -Both the captains rose and went to find the lieutenant-colonel. He was -equally astonished and as much in the dark as they were. - -The order must have come from M. Toustain, deputy-governor and -commander-at-arms of the fortress of Béfort. They all three went to M. -Toustain. He had not heard anything of the rumour they brought him; but -suddenly an idea struck him. It was a plot. The two captains at once -rushed back to the barracks to order the knapsacks to be unstrapped, -the flints to be taken out of the muskets and the soldiers to be -confined to the barracks. - -In the meantime the deputy-governor visited the posts. The two officers -rushed to the barracks and M. Toustain began his inspection. One of the -first posts he came to was that guarded by Manoury. As he came nearer -he saw by the light of his lantern a group of four people. This group -struck him as looking suspicious and he accosted them. They were four -young men dressed like citizens. The king's lieutenant interrogated -them. - -"Who are you, gentlemen?" he asked. - -"We are citizens of this neighbourhood, commandant." - -"What are your names?" - -Whether from carelessness or from surprise, or whether they did not -want to lie, these four youths gave their names-- - -"Desbordes, Bruc, Pegulu and Lacombe." - -The reader will recollect that they had all four been in the -insurrection of 19 August, and their names had been blazoned in the -papers, so they were perfectly familiar to the deputy-governor; he -called to the head of the guard, Manoury, and ordered him to arrest -the four young men, to put them under a guard, and then to give him -five men to go out and clear the entrance to the suburbs. Scarcely -had the deputy-governor gone a hundred steps, when he perceived what -looked to be twenty-five or thirty persons taking flight: some of them -were in uniform; amongst them he recognised an officer of the 29th. M. -Toustain sprang on him and stretched out his hand to seize him by the -collar; but the officer freed himself, and presenting a pistol at close -quarters, fired full at M. Toustain's chest, the bullet hitting the -cross of St. Louis, which it broke and flattened. The shock was quite -enough, however, to knock down the commandant. But he soon got to his -feet, and as he saw that his five men were no match against thirty, he -returned to the town and stopped at the guard-house to take up Bruc, -Lacombe, Desbordes and Pegulu. All four had disappeared: Manoury, one -of the officers, had set them free and had disappeared with them. The -deputy-governor marched straight to the barracks and put himself at -the head of the battalion. This he led to the market-place, sending -his company of grenadiers to guard the gate of France and to arrest -whoever should attempt to go out. But he was already too late--for all -the insurgents were outside the town. After leaving his two chiefs, -the non-commissioned officer who had let out everything met Adjutant -Tellier, he who had given the order to pack up knapsacks and put flints -to the guns. He told him what had happened and the measures that had -been taken. Tellier realised that all was lost: he ran to the _Hôtel de -la Poste_, and opening the door, shouted out in the midst of the supper -party the terrible words-- - -"All is discovered!" - -Two officers, Peugnet and Bonnillon, still misbelieved and offered to -go to the barracks; indeed, they went. Ten minutes later they ran -back: the news was but too true, and there was only just time for -flight. And they fled. - -That was how the deputy-governor encountered Peugnet and his friends -outside the gate of France, for it was Peugnet whom he tried to arrest -and who fired the pistol-shot which flattened the cross of St. Louis. - -Pailhès and his supper companions had scarcely left the hotel when -Carrel and Joubert arrived upon the scene. They had come to announce, -in their turn, the discovery of the conspiracy. They only found in -the dining-room Guinard and Henri Scheffer, who were just leaving it -themselves. But not being natives of that country, they did not know -where to fly! Guinard, Henri Scheffer and Joubert mounted a carriage -and took the road to Mulhouse. M. de Corcelles junior and Bazard set -out to meet la Fayette in order to turn him back. When near Mulhouse, -Carrel quitted his three companions, took to horse and returned to -Neuf-Brisach, where his battalion was stationed. At the gate of Colmar -he met Rusconi on the road, the same fellow who, the evening before, -had been at Mulhouse. - -General Dermoncourt still waited, placing Rusconi as sentinel to bring -news to him. Rusconi knew Carrel and learnt from him that all had been -discovered and that the conspirators were fleeing. - -"But where will you go?" asked Rusconi. - -"_Ma foi_, I shall go to Neuf-Brisach to resume my duties." - -"That does not seem to me a prudent course." - -"I shall keep a look-out and at the first alarm I shall decamp.... Have -you any money?" - -"I have a hundred louis belonging to the conspiracy, take fifty of -them." - -"Give them to me, and then take my horse and go and warn the general." - -The exchange was made, and Carrel continued his journey on foot, while -Rusconi reached the general's country house at a gallop. The general -was just rising. Rusconi acquainted him with the failure of the -enterprise at Béfort, but Dermoncourt refused up to the last to believe -it. - -"Ah, well," he said, "the failure of Béfort must mean success at -Neuf-Brisach." - -"But, general," said Rusconi, "perhaps the news has already got abroad -and measures have been taken to frustrate everything?" - -"Then go to Colmar to make inquiries, and I will go to Neuf-Brisach: -return here in two hours' time." - -Each went his way. When Rusconi reached Colmar he entered the _Café -Blondeau_ for news. All was known. - -Whilst making his inquiries, a magistrate who was a friend of General -Dermoncourt found means to warn him that two orders of arrest had been -issued, one against himself and the other against the general. Rusconi -did not wait to learn more, but set off immediately for Widensollen. He -arrived at midnight, and found the general was sleeping peacefully: he -had been to Neuf-Brisach and had satisfied himself that all attempts -at rising were now impossible after what had occurred at Béfort. -At Rusconi's fresh news and at his wife's urgent entreaty, General -Dermoncourt decided to leave Widensollen for Heiteren. There he sought -refuge with a cousin, an old army-teacher. Two hours after their -departure the soldiers and a magistrate appeared at Widensollen. - -Baroness Dermoncourt sent the general word of this by their gardener, -urging him to fly without a moment's loss of time. They discussed the -possibility of crossing the Rhine, and decided that on the following -day they would pretend to go on a hunting excursion among the islands -which lay opposite Geiswasser. Geiswasser is a small hamlet situated on -this side of the Rhine, inhabited by fishers and customs officers. - -The pretext was all the more plausible as the islands were teeming -with game and General Dermoncourt had, together with M. Koechlin of -Mulhouse, rented several of them for shooting. At dawn they set out -with dogs and guns. They had hired the boatmen overnight and found them -ready. About nine o'clock, in a mist which prevented seeing ten paces -ahead, they embarked and told the boatmen to make for mid-stream. They -landed at one of the islands. Rusconi and Dermoncourt alone remained in -the boat, whilst those who had nothing to be afraid of pretended to go -and shoot. - -"Now, my men, I have business on the other side the Rhine," the general -said to the boatmen. "You must have the goodness to take me across." - -The boatmen looked at each other and smiled. - -"Willingly, general," they replied. A quarter of an hour later Rusconi -and Dermoncourt were in Breisgau. - -When he had put foot on the Grand Duke of Baden's territory, he drew a -handful of sovereigns from his pocket and gave them to the boatmen. - -"Thanks, general," they replied; "but there was really no need for -that. We are true Frenchmen and we would not like to see a brave man -like yourself shot." - -These boatmen knew about Béfort and were perfectly aware that they were -conducting fugitives and not a hunting party. - -The general retreated to Freiburg and from there he went to Bâle. On 5 -and 6 January we read the full details of the conspiracy in the papers. - -The name of Dermoncourt took such a prominent part in the proceedings -that we were quite sure if he were arrested his arrears of half-pay -would never be settled. - -These particulars explained his letter, and we were able to understand -what sort of fine weather to expect after the rain. Instead of the -barometer rising to "Set fair," it had dropped to "Stormy." - -My poor mother was obliged to keep her umbrella open, as Dermoncourt -had advised. Only the umbrella was such a dilapidated one that it no -longer served to ward off showers. - -In other words--to abandon our metaphor--we had come to the end of our -resources. - -But hope was still left me. - -You ask from what quarter? - -I will tell you. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -My hopes--Disappointment--M. Deviolaine is appointed forest-ranger to -the Duc d'Orléans--His coldness towards me--Half promises--First cloud -on my love-affairs--I go to spend three months with my brother-in-law -at Dreux--The news waiting for me on my return--Muphti--Walls and -hedges--The summer-house--Tennis--Why I gave up playing it--The wedding -party in the wood - - -I hoped that de Leuven would be able to get our comedies and melodramas -put upon the stage. - -M. de Leuven, his father, finding that no stir was made about his -presence in France, made up his mind to risk returning to Paris. -Adolphe naturally followed his father. His departure, which under any -other circumstances would have filled me with despair, now overwhelmed -me with delight, our ideas being what they were. De Leuven took away -our _chefs-d'œuvre_: we never doubted that the directors of the -various theatres for which they were destined would receive them with -enthusiasm! - -Thanks to our two vaudevilles and our drama, we would turn aside a -tributary of that Pactolus which, since 1822, had watered M. Scribe's -dominions. I would set sail on that tributary, with my mother, and -rejoin de Leuven in Paris. There a career would open before me, strewn -with roses and bank-notes. It can be imagined how anxiously I waited -Adolphe's first letters. These first letters were slow in coming. -I began to feel uneasy. At last one morning the postman (or rather -post-woman, an old dame, whom we called "Mother Colombe") turned her -steps in the direction of our house. She held a letter in her hand; -this letter was in Adolphe's handwriting and bore the Paris postmark. - -The directors--for reasons Adolphe could not fathom--did not put -themselves out to make that fuss over our _chefs-d'œuvre_ he thought -he had the right to expect of them. However, Adolphe did not despair -of getting them a hearing. If he could not succeed in this, he would -have to submit the manuscripts to the critics, which would be most -humiliating! In spite of the gleams of hope which still shone through -the epistle, the general tone of the letter was doleful. In conclusion, -Adolphe promised to keep me well posted concerning his doings. - -I awaited a second letter. The second letter was more than a month -in coming. And then, alas! practically all hope had fled. The _Dîner -d'amis_, borrowed from M. Bouilly, had not sufficient plot; the _Major -de Strasbourg_ was too much like the _Soldat Laboureur_, which had just -been played at the Variétés with such great success. - -And as for the _Abencérages_, every boulevard theatre had received a -play on that subject for the last ten, fifteen, or twenty years. - -Even supposing, therefore, that ours were received, it did not carry us -far. - -Still, we had not yet lost all hope in the matter of the _Dîner d'amis_ -and the _Major de Strasbourg._ - -After vain attempts to gain access at the Gymnase and the Varietés, we -tried the Porte-Saint-Martin, the Ambigue-Comique and the Gaieté. - -As for the unlucky _Abencérages_, its fate was sealed. - -I shed as bitter a tear over it as Boabdil shed over Grenada, and I -awaited Adolphe's third letter with very gloomy forebodings. - -Our cup of humiliation was full to the brim: we were refused -everywhere. But Adolphe had several plays on the way with Théaulon, -with Soulié and with Rousseau. He was going to try to get them played, -and when played, he would use the influence gained by his success to -demand the acceptance of one of our efforts. This was but poor comfort -and uncertain expectancy. I was greatly cast down. - -In the meantime an event had taken place which would have filled -me with high spirits under any other circumstances. M. Deviolaine -was appointed keeper of the forests of the Duc d'Orléans; he left -Villers-Cotterets and went to Paris to take over the management of the -forestry department. Two ways of helping me lay open to him: he could -take me into his office, or he could give me open air work. Unluckily, -since my affair with Madame Lebègue, the family had given me the cold -shoulder. This did not discourage my mother, who saw an opening for me -in one or other of these two careers, from approaching M. Deviolaine. - -It will be remembered that M. Deviolaine, although he was not an old -soldier, could never disguise the truth. He replied to my mother-- - -"Why, certainly, if your rascal of an Alexandre were not an idle lad, I -could find a berth for him; but I confess I have no confidence in him. -Besides, after the goings on there have been, not necessarily his, but -in which at all events he has not denied a share, everybody here would -make a dead set against me." - -Still my mother urged her case. She saw her last hope fading. - -"Very well, then," said M. Deviolaine; "give me some time to think over -things, and later we will see what can be done." - -I awaited my mother's return with the same impatience with which I had -awaited Adolphe's letters. The result was not more satisfactory. - -Two days before, we had received a letter from my brother-in-law, who -was a receiver at Dreux: he invited me to spend a month or two with -him. We had become so poor, alas! that the economy my absence would -produce would go a long way towards compensating my mother for her loss -at my departure. It was, moreover, my first absence: my mother and I -had never been parted except during that wonderful visit to Béthisy, -when the Abbé Fortier had given me my first lessons in hunting. There -was also another person in the town from whom it was a cruel wrench to -tear myself. It can be guessed to whom I refer. - -Although our _liaison_ had lasted more than three years, counting -more than a year of preliminary attentions, I still loved Adèle very -dearly, and the azure of our sky had hardly had so much as a light -cloud upon it during that period--an almost unique experience in the -annals of a courtship. Yet the poor girl had been feeling sad for some -time. While I was but nineteen, she was already twenty years old; and -our love-making, though delightful child's play, not only promised -nothing for her future, but rather compromised it. As no one thought -ill of our relations with each other, Adèle had received two or three -offers of marriage, all of which she declined, either because they did -not quite meet her views or because she would not sacrifice our love to -them. Was she not in danger of suffering from the same disappointment -which a certain hero of our acquaintance, almost a fellow-countryman, -experienced? After having despised perch, carp and eel, would she not -be compelled to sup with frogs? The prospect was not alluring, hence -her melancholy. Poor Adèle! I perceived that my departure was as -necessary for her welfare as for my own. We wept abundantly, she more -than I, and it was quite natural she should shed the most tears, seeing -she was to be consoled the soonest. - -My going away was settled. We had now reached the month of July 1822. -Only another week--eight days and eight nights!--a last week of -happiness, remained to me; for some presentiment warned me that this -week would be the last. The moment of parting came. We vowed fervently -never to forget one another for one single hour; we promised to write -to each other at least twice a week. Alas! we were not rich enough -to afford the luxury of a letter a day. At last we said our final -farewell. It was a cruel farewell--a separation of hearts even more -than a corporeal separation. - -I cannot explain how I got from Villers-Cotterets to Dreux--although -I can recollect the most trivial details of my youth, almost of my -babyhood. It is evident I must have gone through Paris, since that -is the direct route; but how could I forget having passed through -Paris? I cannot tell whether I stopped there or not. I have not the -faintest recollection whether I saw Adolphe or not. I know I left -Villers-Cotterets, and I found myself at Dreux! If anything could have -distracted my attention, it would have been that stay with my sister -and my brother-in-law. Victor, as I have already mentioned, was a -delightful fellow, full of wit, of repartee, of resource. But, alas! -there were too empty places in my heart which were difficult to fill. - -I stayed two months at Dreux. I was there at the beginning of the -shooting season. They told me a story of a three-legged hare, a sort -of enchanted creature seen by all sportsmen, known by all sportsmen, -shot at by all sportsmen; but after each shot the queer beast shook -its ears and only ran the faster. This hare was all the better known, -I might say all the more popular, because it was nearly the only one -in the countryside. We had not gone a quarter of a league from the -house, on the 1st of September, before a hare rose up near me. I gave -chase, I fired and it rolled over. My dog brought it to me: it was the -three-pawed hare! The sportsmen of Dreux united in giving me a grand -dinner. The death of this strange hare, and certain shots that brought -down two partridges at the same time, gave me a reputation in the -department of Eure-et-Loir which has lasted until to-day. But none of -these honours showered upon me, however exalted they were, could make -me stay beyond the 15th of September. - -Adèle's letters had become less and less frequent. Finally they ceased -altogether. - -I left on the 15th of September. I do not remember any more than about -my going, whether I went back through Paris or not. I found myself back -at Villers-Cotterets, and the news that met me on my arrival was-- - -"Do you know that Adèle Dalvin is going to be married?" - -"No, I had not heard it, but it is quite likely," I replied. - -Oh! what were the elegies of Parny on Éléonore's faithlessness, or -Bertin's lamentations on the infidelity of Eucharis; oh, my God, how -bloodless they seemed, when I tried to re-read them, with my own heart -wounded! - -Alas! poor Adèle! she was not making a love match: she was going to -marry a man double her own age; he had lived for years in Spain, and he -had brought home a small fortune. Adèle was making a prudent marriage. - -I determined to see her the very night I returned. You remember how I -paid my visits to Adèle. I entered the usual way, by slipping back the -bolt of the lock, I opened the door, I met Muphti again, and he gave me -such a greeting that he almost betrayed me by his demonstrations; then, -with my heart thumping as it had never yet beaten, I scaled the wall -and leapt over the two hedges. I felt quite ill when I was once more in -the garden; I leant against a tree to get my breath. Then I went to the -pavilion; but the nearer I drew, and the better I could see things in -the darkness, the more I felt my heart tighten. The shutters were quite -wide open, instead of being closed; the window, instead of being shut, -was half open. I leant on the window-sill: everything was dark inside. -I pushed the two flaps, I knelt on the sill. The room was empty: I felt -the bedside with my hands; the bed was unoccupied. It was evident that -Adèle had guessed I would come, that she had deserted the room, leaving -it easy for me to gain an entrance therein, in order to show me her -intentions. Ah yes! I guessed ... I understood everything. What good -could it do to meet, since all was over between us? I sat down on the -bed and I gave thanks to God for the gift of tears, since He had willed -us to endure sorrow. - -The marriage was fixed for fifteen days hence. During those fifteen -days I kept almost entirely to the house. I went to the park on Sunday, -but only to play tennis. I was very fond of that game, as of all games -of skill; I was rather good at it; for I had very strong muscles and I -could hold out through the longest game and sometimes even longer; this -strength of mine was a terror to other players. On this particular day, -when I wanted to overcome my mental feelings by great physical fatigue, -I gave myself up to the game with a kind of frenzy. One ball, which I -sent as high as a man, hit one of the players and knocked him down; -he was the son of a _brigadier de gendarmerie_, called Savard. We ran -up to him, and found that the ball had luckily hit him on the top of -his shoulder, a little above the biceps, just where the shirt-sleeve -gatherings come. Had it gone six inches higher I should have killed him -on the spot, for it would have reached his temple. I threw down my -racquet and I gave up the game: I have never played it since. I went -home, and I tried to find distraction in working. But I could not set -myself to my task: one works with heart and mind combined. Adolphe had -possession of my thoughts; Adèle was in the act of breaking my heart. - -The wedding-day drew near; I could not stay in Villers-Cotterets on -that day. I arranged a bird-snaring party with an old comrade of mine, -a playmate of my younger days, who had been somewhat neglected since de -la Ponce and Adolphe had not only taken hold of my affections but were -influencing my life. He was a harness-maker called Arpin. - -In the evening we went to prepare our tree: it was in a lovely copse, -a quarter of a league or so from the pretty village of Haramont, which -I have since attempted to make famous in _Ange Pitou_ and _Conscience -l'innocent._ At the foot of this tree, all whose branches we cut off, -to make way for our lime twigs, we built a hut of branches and covered -it with fern fronds, Next day, we were at our post before daybreak; -when the sun rose and shone on our stiff tree, we found the sport -had begun. It was a strange thing that, although when younger I had -taken such pleasure in this sport that I often lay sleepless the night -before, this present snaring had no power to distract my heart from the -anguish weighing upon it. - -O Sorrow, thou sublime mystery by which a man's spirit is raised and -his soul expanded! Sorrow, without which there would be no poetry, for -poetry is nearly always made up of joy and hope in equal parts, with an -equivalent amount of sorrow! - -Sorrow, which leaves its trace for life; a furrow moistened by tears, -whence Prayer springs, the mother of those three heavenly, noble -daughters, whose names are Faith, Hope and Charity! The benediction of -a poet is ever thine, O Sorrow! - -We had taken bread and wine with us; we had breakfasted and had dinner; -the catch was plentiful, and would have been entirely satisfactory -at any other time. We had reached the day's end, the hour when the -blackbird whistles or the robin sings, when the first shadows creep -silently to the heart of the wood;--suddenly I was startled from my -reverie (if one can so call a formless chaos of thoughts through which -no light had shone) by the sharp sound of a violin and by happy shouts -of laughter. Violin and laughter came nearer, and I soon began to see -through the trees that a player and a wedding party were coming from -Haramont and going towards Villers-Cotterets; they were taking a narrow -side-path, and would pass within twenty paces of me--young girls in -white dresses, youths in blue or black clothes, with large bouquets and -streaming ribbons. - -I put my head out of our hut and uttered a cry. This wedding party -was Adèle's! The young girl with the white veil and the bouquet of -orange blossom who walked in front, and gave her arm to her husband, -was Adèle! Her aunt lived at Haramont. After mass they had been to the -wedding breakfast with the aunt; they had gone by the high road in the -morning; they were returning at night by the shorter way. This short -cut, as I have said, ran within twenty paces of our hut. What I had -fled from had come to find me! Adèle did not see me; she did not know -that she was passing near me: she was leaning against the shoulder of -the man to whom she now belonged in the eyes of man and of God, while -he had his arm round her waist and held her closely to him. - -I gazed for a long time on that file of white dresses which, in the -growing darkness, looked like a procession of ghosts. I heaved a sigh -when it had disappeared. My first dream had just vanished, my first -illusion been shattered! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third clerk at Crespy--M. -Lefèvre--His character--My journeys to Villers-Cotterets--The -_Pélerinage à Ermenonville_--Athénaïs--New matter sent to -Adolphe--An uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris--How -this desire was accomplished--The journey--Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins--Adolphe-_Sylla_--Talma - - -During my absence a place had been offered me as second or third clerk, -I do not know exactly which, with M. Lefèvre, a lawyer at Crespy. It -was a very desirable place, because the clerks were lodged and boarded. -My keep had become such a burden on my poor mother, that she consented -for the second time to part with me in order to save my food. She made -up my little bit of packing--not much bigger than a Savoyard's on -leaving his mountains--and off I set. It was three and a half leagues -from Villers-Cotterets to Crespy: I did the journey on foot one fine -evening, and I duly arrived at M. Lefèvre's. - -M. Lefèvre was, at that period, a fairly good-looking man of -thirty-four or thirty-five, with dark brown hair, a very pale -complexion, and a well-worn appearance physically. You could recognise -he was a man who had lived a long while in Paris, who had taken many -permissible pleasures, and still more forbidden ones. Although M. -Lefèvre was confined to a little provincial town, he might be styled -a lawyer of the old school: he had ceremonious ways with his clients, -ceremonious manners with us, lofty domineering airs with the world at -large. M. Lefèvre seemed to say to all those who had business with him, -"Pray appreciate the honour I am bestowing upon you and your town, in -condescending to be a lawyer in the capital of a canton when I might -have been in practice in Paris." - -There was one thing that specially called forth from me feelings of -admiration for M. Lefèvre, and it was this: he went to the capital, as -they call it in Crespy, some eight or ten times a year, and he never -lowered himself to take the diligence: when he wanted a conveyance he -would call the gardener. "Pierre," he would say, "I am going to-morrow, -or this evening, to Paris; see that the post-horses are ready in the -chaise at such and such an hour." - -Pierre would go: at the appointed hour the horses would arrive, rousing -the whole district with their bells; the postillion, who still wore -a powdered wig and a blue jacket with red lapels and silver buttons, -would fling himself clumsily, heavily-booted, into the saddle, M. -Lefèvre would stretch himself nonchalantly in the carriage, wrapped in -a big cloak, take a pinch of snuff from a gold box, and say with an air -of careless indifference, "Go on!" and at the word the whip cracked, -the bells jingled and the carriage disappeared round the corner of the -street for three or four days. M. Lefèvre never told us the day or hour -of his return: he would return unawares, for he delighted in taking his -world by surprise. - -But M. Lefèvre was not a bad sort of man. Although cold and exacting, -he was just; he rarely refused holidays when they were asked for, but, -as we shall see, he never pardoned holidays taken without leave. - -My brother-in-law's mother lived at Crespy, so I had a ready entree -into the society of that little town. Alas! alas! what a different -world it was from our three-tiered society of Villers-Cotterets of -which I have spoken, and above all from our own charming little circle -of friends! All the good family of Millet, with whom we had taken -shelter during the first invasion, had disappeared: the mother, the two -brothers, the two sisters, had all left Crespy and lived in Paris. I -have since come across the mother and the eldest sister: they were both -in want. I was dreadfully bored in the heart of that ancient capital -of Valois! so sick of it that I very often returned home to sleep at -my mother's at Villers-Cotterets, when Saturday evening came, taking -my gun for a shoot on the way; then I would shoulder my gun at six -on Monday morning, and, shooting all the time, I returned to Maître -Lefèvre's before the office opened. - -Thus things went on for three months. I had a pretty room looking into -a garden full of flowers; the evening sun shone into the room; I had -paper, ink and pens in abundance on my table; the food was good, I -looked well enough, and yet I felt I could not possibly continue to -live thus. - -During one of my Sunday excursions I turned in the direction of -Ermenonville. Ermenonville is about six leagues from Crespy, but what -were six leagues to such legs as mine! I visited the historic places -of M. de Girardin, the desert, the poplar island, the tomb of the -Unknown. The poetic side to this pilgrimage revived my poor drooping -Muse a little, like a wan, sickly butterfly coming out of its chrysalis -in January instead of May. I set to work. I wrote partly in prose, -partly in verse, and under the inspiration of a charming young society -damsel named Athénaïs--who knew nothing about it-a bad imitation of -the _Lettres d'Émilie_ by Demoustier, and of the _Voyages du chevalier -Berlin_. I sent the work to Adolphe when it was finished. Since I -could not achieve success by the stage, I might perhaps attain it by -publishing. I gave it the essentially novel title of _Pélerinage à -Ermenonville._ Adolphe, naturally enough, could not do anything with -it; he lost it, never found it again, and so much the better. I cannot -recollect a single word of it. - -As a matter of fact, Adolphe was not succeeding any better than I was. -All his hopes fell to the ground, one after another, and he wrote me -that we should never do anything unless we were together. But, to be -together, it would be necessary to leave Crespy for Paris, and how was -this to be done, in the state of my purse, which even on those happy -days when my mother sent me some money never contained more than eight -or ten francs. - -So it was a material impossibility. But infinite are the mysteries of -Providence. One Saturday in the month of November, M. Lefèvre announced -to us in his usual fashion--by ordering Pierre to have the horses ready -by seven next morning--that he was going to pay one of his monthly -visits to Paris. Almost simultaneously with his giving this order, at -the conclusion of dinner (another of his habits), the cook came and -told me a friend wanted to see me. I went out. It was Paillet, my old -head clerk; like myself, he had left Maître Mennesson. He was living -temporarily on his farm at Vez, where he lodged in the top of a tower, -compared with which the tower of Madame Marlborough, however vaunted -it may be, is a mere trifle. The tower of Vez was really wonderful, -the only remains left standing of a stout castle of the twelfth -century--the ancient nest of vultures now peopled by rooks. Paillet had -come over on horseback, to learn the price of corn, I believe. He was -from time to time head clerk in the provinces or second clerk in Paris; -but his real business, his actual life, was that of a property-owner. -We took a turn round the ramparts. I was in full tide of pouring out -my grievances to this good friend, who loved me so devotedly, and who -sympathised with me to the utmost, when, all of a sudden, I struck my -forehead and burst out with-- - -"Oh, my dear fellow, I have an idea ...!" - -"What is it?" - -"Let us go and spend three days in Paris." - -"And what about the office?" - -"M. Lefèvre goes to Paris himself to-morrow; he usually stays away two -or three days; we shall have returned in two or three days' time." - -Paillet felt in his pockets and drew out twenty-eight francs. - -"There, that is all I possess," he said. "And you?" - -"I? I have seven francs." - -"Twenty-eight and seven make thirty-five! How the deuce do you think we -can go to Paris on that? We need thirty francs, to begin with, simply -for a carriage to get there and back." - -"Wait a bit: I know a way...." - -"Well?" - -"You have your horse?" - -"Yes." - -"We will put our things into a portmanteau, we will go in our -hunting-clothes, with our guns, and we will shoot along the route; we -can live on the game, and so it will cost us nothing." - -"How do you make that out?" - -"It is simple enough: from here to Dammartin, surely we can kill a -hare, two partridges and a quail?" - -"I hope we can kill more than that." - -"So do I, hard enough, but I am putting it at the lowest. When we reach -Dammartin we can roast the hinder portion of our hare, we can jug the -front half, and we can drink and eat." - -"And then?" - -"Then?... We will pay for our wine, our bread and our seasoning with -the two partridges, and we will give the quail to the waiter as a -tip.... There will only remain your horse to trouble about! Come, come, -for three francs a day we shall see wonders." - -"But what the dickens will people take us for?" - -"What does that matter?--for scholars on a holiday." - -"But we only have one gun." - -"That will be all we shall need: one of us will shoot, the other will -follow on horseback; in this way, as it is only sixteen leagues from -here to Paris, it will only mean eight for each of us." - -"And the keepers?" - -"Ah! that is our worst difficulty. Whichever of us is on horseback must -keep watch; he will warn the one who is poaching. The cavalier must -dismount from his horse, the sportsman will get up, spur with both -heels and clear out of the place at a gallop. The keeper will then come -up to the cavalier, and finding him walking along with his hands in his -pockets, will say, 'What are you doing here, sir?' 'I?... You can see -quite well for yourself.' 'Never mind, tell me.' 'I am walking.' 'Just -a minute ago, you were on horseback.' 'Yes.' 'And now you are on foot?' -'Yes.... Is it against the law for a man first to ride and then to -walk?' 'No, but you were not alone.' 'Quite possible.' 'Your companion -was shooting.' 'Do you think so?' 'Good heavens! why, there he is on -horseback carrying his gun.' 'My dear sir, if he is there with his gun -on horseback, run after him and try to stop him.' 'But I can't run -after him and stop him, because he is on horseback and I am on foot.' -'In that case you will be wise, my friend, to go to the nearest village -and drink a bottle of wine to our health.' And at this, one of us will -hold out a twenty-sous piece to the honest fellow, which we will reckon -in among our profit and loss; the gamekeeper will bow to us, go and -drink our health, and we shall pursue our journey." - -"Well, I never! that is not badly conceived," cried Paillet. "... They -tell me you are writing things." - -I heaved a sigh. "It is exactly for the purpose of going to ask de -Leuven for news of the plays I have written that I want to go to -Paris.... And then, once in Paris----" - -"Oh!" interrupted Paillet, "once in Paris, I know a little hotel, rue -des Vieux-Augustins, where I usually put up, and where I am known; once -in Paris, I shall not be anxious." - -"Then it is settled?" - -"Why, yes!... it will be a joke." - -"We will start for Paris?" - -"We will." - -"Very well, then, better still, let us start to-night, instead of -to-morrow! We can sleep at Ermenonville, and to-morrow evening, leaving -Ermenonville early, we shall be in Paris." - -"Let us leave to-night." - -We went our way, Paillet to his inn, to have his horse saddled; I to -Maître Lefèvre's, to get my gun and to put on my shooting-clothes. A -shirt, a coat, a pair of trousers and a pair of boots were sent off by -the third clerk to Paillet, who stuffed them into a portmanteau; these -things accomplished, I shouldered my gun and awaited Paillet outside -the town. Paillet soon appeared. It was too late for shooting: our only -thoughts were to gain the country. I jumped up behind. Two hours later, -we were at Ermenonville. - -It was the second or third time I had visited the _Hôtel de la Croix_: -so far as I can remember, I was not a profitable customer; but my -antecedents were by no means bad, rather the reverse. We were well -received. An omelette, a bottle of wine and as much bread as we wanted, -constituted our supper. Next day, our account, including the horse's -stabling, came to six francs--leaving twenty-nine. Paillet and I looked -at one another, as much as to say, "Dear me! how money does fly!" -And after two or three sage noddings of the head, we continued our -journey, going across country to Dammartin, where we meant to lunch. -Lunch did not trouble us: it lay in the barrel of our gun, and we set -forth to find it. The country round Ermenonville is full of game and -well guarded; so we had hardly gone a quarter of a league before I had -killed two hares and three partridges with six shots of my gun. I ought -to confess with due humility that these two hares and three partridges -belonged to M. de Girardin-Brégy. - -Now, when my dog was retrieving the third partridge, Paillet gave -the prearranged signal. The figure of a gamekeeper appeared on the -skyline, boldly defined against the white fleecy sky, like one of those -shepherds or country rustics in huge leggings that Decamps or Jadin put -in their landscapes, as a contrast to a lonely and twisted elm-tree. - -The manœuvre had already been discussed. In an instant I was on -horseback, spurring the horse with both heels, and carrying off with -me the incriminating plunder. The dialogue between Paillet and the -gamekeeper was lengthy and animated; but it ended as I had predicted. -Paillet majestically drew a twenty-sous piece from the common purse, -and our total expenditure had reached the sum of seven francs. That was -our loss; but on the profit side of our account we had two hares and -three partridges. Paillet joined me again; I remained on horseback and -he took his turn at hunting. So we alternated. By ten o'clock in the -morning we were at Dammartin, with three hares and eight partridges. -Of the two gamekeepers we ran across since our last, one had loftily -refused the twenty sous, the other had basely accepted. Our funds were -now reduced to twenty-seven francs. But we were more than half-way -there; and we had three hares and eight partridges to the good! As I -had foreseen, we paid our way, and generously, with a hare and three -partridges. We could have paid our way in larks. - -By eleven o'clock, we were off again, and we made straight tracks for -Paris, which we reached at half-past ten that night, I on foot and -Paillet on horseback, with four hares, a dozen partridges and two -quails. We had a marketable value of thirty francs of game with us. - -When we reached the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_, Paillet made himself -known and imposed his conditions. He told our host we had made a big -bet with some Englishmen. We had wagered that we could go to Paris -and back without spending a halfpenny, so we wished to gain the bet -by selling our game to him. He engaged to board and put us up, horse -and dog included, for two days and two nights, in exchange for our -twelve partridges, four hares and two quails. Besides this, when we -left he put us up a pasty and bottle of wine. On these conditions, our -host declared he would make a good thing out of us, and offered us a -certificate to certify that, at least while with him, we had not spent -a son. We thanked him and told him our Englishmen would take our word -for it. - -Paillet and I took our bearings and went to get a bath. With all -economy possible, we had had to deduct the sum of three francs fifty -from our remaining balance; we were thus left with twenty-three francs -fifty. We had spent rather less than a third of our wealth; but we had -arrived, and bed and board were assured us for _forty-eight hours_. - -In spite of the fatigue of the journey, I slept but ill: I was in -Paris! I envied my dog, who, laid down at the foot of my bed, free from -imagination, tired out in body, and indifferent to his resting-place, -was taking a nap. Next day I woke up at seven o'clock. In a twinkling I -was dressed. - -De Leuven lived in the rue Pigale, No. 14. It was nearly a league from -the rue des Vieux-Augustins, but, good gracious! what did that matter? -I had covered ten or a dozen leagues the day before, without reckoning -the ins and outs, and I could surely manage one to-day. I set out. -Paillet had business of his own to attend to; I had mine. We should -probably meet at dinner-time, or perhaps not until night. I left the -rue des' Vieux-Augustins by the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs and walked -straight ahead. I saw a passage where a crowd of people were going in -and coming out. I went down seven or eight steps until I thought I -was lost. I wanted to ascend again, but I felt ashamed. I continued -on my way and alighted on the rue Valois. I had made acquaintance, -first go off, with the ugliest passage in Paris, the passage of the -rue Neuve-des-Bons-Enfants. I went down another passage which opened -out before me, and I found myself in the Palais-Royal. I went all -round it: half the shops weren't opened. I stopped in front of the -Théâtre-Français and I saw on the poster-- - - - "To-morrow, Monday, _Sylla_, a Tragedy in verse, in five - acts, by M. de Jouy." - - -I vowed fervently that somehow or other I would get access to the -common purse and I would see _Sylla._ All the more because I read in -large letters on the same poster-- - - - "M. TALMA will take the part of Sylla" - - -However, since it would be much better to go with the help' of Adolphe, -I immediately inquired my way to the rue Pigale, and started off for -it. After many turnings and twistings, I reached my destination at -about nine in the morning. Adolphe was not yet up; but his father was -walking in the garden. I went up to him. He stopped, let me approach, -held out his hand to me, and said-- - -"So you have come to Paris, then?" - -"Yes, Monsieur de Leuven." - -"For some stay?" - -"For two days." - -"What have you come for?" - -"I have come to see two people--Adolphe and Talma." - -"Ah! is that so? You have become a millionaire, then, or you would not -commit such extravagances." - -I told M. de Leuven how Paillet and I had accomplished the journey. He -looked at me for a minute, then he said-- - -"You will get on, you have will-power. Go and wake Adolphe; he will -take you to see Talma, who will give you tickets; then come back and -lunch together here." - -That was the very thing I wanted. I took stock of the interior -topography of the house, and rushed off. I only opened two wrong doors -before I found Adolphe's: one was Gabriel Arnault's door; the other, -Louis Arnault's. I lost my way on the first landing: Louis put me -right. I reached Adolphe's room at last. Adolphe slept like the Seven -Sleepers. But had I had to deal with Epimenides I would have wakened -him. Adolphe rubbed his eyes, and could not recognise me. - -"Come, come," I said, "it is really I; wake up and get dressed. I want -to go to Talma." - -"To Talma! What for? You don't mean to say you have a tragedy to read -to him?" - -"No, but I want to ask him for some tickets." - -"What is he playing in now?" - -I fell from my state of exaltation. Adolphe, living in Paris, did -not know what Talma was acting! What was the idiot thinking of? No -wonder he had not yet got my _Pélerinage d'Ermenonville_ placed, or -any of our plays acted. Adolphe got out of bed and dressed himself. At -eleven o'clock we were ringing the bell of a house in the rue de la -Tour-des-Dames. Mademoiselle Mars, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Talma -all lived side by side. Talma was dressing, but Adolphe was an habitué -of the house: they let him in. I followed Adolphe, as Hernani followed -Charles-Quint; I, naturally, behind Adolphe. - -Talma was extremely short-sighted: I do not know whether he saw me -or not. He was washing his chest: his head was almost shaved--this -astonished me greatly, for I had heard it said, many times, that in -_Hamlet_, when the father's ghost appears, Talma's hairs could be -seen standing on end. I must confess that Talma's appearance, under -the above conditions, was far from being artistic. But when he turned -round, with his neck bare, the lower part of his body wrapped in a -large sort of white linen wrapper, and he took one of the corners of -this mantle and drew it over his shoulder, half veiling his breast, -there was something so regal in the action that it made me tremble. - -De Leuven laid bare our request. Talma took up a kind of antique -stiletto, at the end of which was a pen, and signed an order for two -seats for us. It was a member's order. Besides the actors' order which -were received on days when they were acting, members had the right to -give two free tickets every day. - -Then Adolphe explained who I was. In those days I was just the son -of General Alexandre Dumas: but that was something. Besides, Talma -remembered having met my father at Saint-Georges's. He held out his -hand to me, and I longed to kiss it. Full of theatrical ambitions as I -was, Talma was like a god to me--an unknown god, it is true, as unknown -as Jupiter was to Semele; but a god who appeared to me in the morning, -and who would reveal himself to me at night. Our hands clasped. Oh, -Talma! if only you had been twenty years younger or I twenty years -older! But at that time the whole honour was mine. - -Talma! I knew the past: you could not guess the future. If anyone had -told you, Talma, that the hand you had just held was to write sixty to -eighty dramas, in each of which you--who were looking out for rôles -all your life--would have found one which you would have acted to -perfection, you would not have allowed the poor youth to go away thus, -blushing at having seen you, proud at having shaken hands with you! But -how could you see anything in me, Talma, since I had not discovered it -myself? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The theatre ticket--The _Café du Roi_--Auguste -Lafarge--Théaulon--Rochefort--Ferdinand Langlé--People who dine -and people who don't--Canaris--First sight of Talma--Appreciation -of Mars and Rachel--Why Talma has no successor--_Sylla_ and the -Censorship--Talma's box--A cab-drive after midnight--The return to -Crespy--M. Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels--I hand in my resignation as his third clerk - - -I went back to de Leuven's house hugging the order in my pocket. With -the possibility of procuring another by the means of it, I would not -have parted with it for five hundred francs! I was filled with pride -at the thought of going to the Théâtre-Français, with an order signed -"_Talma_." We lunched. - -De Leuven raised great difficulties about going to the play: he had an -engagement with Scribe, a meeting with Théaulon, an appointment with I -don't know how many other celebrities besides, that night. His father -shrugged his shoulders, and de Leuven raised no more objections. It -was arranged that we were to go to the Français together; but, as I -wanted to see the Musée, the Jardin des Plantes and the Luxembourg, -he arranged to meet me at the _Café du Roi_ at seven o'clock. The -_Café du Roi_ formed the corner of the rue de Richelieu and the rue -Saint-Honoré. We shall have more to say about it later. - -After luncheon, I set out by myself and went to the Musée. At six -o'clock, I had tramped the tourists' round--that is to say, having -entered the Tuileries by the gate of the rue de la Paix, I had passed -under the Arch, visited the Musée, gone along the Quays, examined -Nôtre-Dame inside and out, made Martin climb up his tree and, under -cover of being a stranger--a title which only a blind man or an -evilly disposed person could dispute--I had forced my way through the -gates of the Luxembourg. - -I returned at six o'clock to the hotel, where I found Paillet. Upon -my word, we dined well! Our host was a conscientious man, and he gave -us soup, a _filet_ with olives, roast beef and potatoes _à la maître -d'hôtel_, the worth of two hares and four partridges, which we absorbed -under other guises. I urged Paillet in vain to come to the Français -with us: Paillet was formerly a second clerk in Paris; he had friends, -or perhaps it would be more truthful to say girl-friends, of other -days, to see again; he refused the offer, pressing though it was, and -I set off for the _Café du Roi_, not comprehending how there could -be anything more vitally important than to see Talma, or, if one had -already seen him, than to see him again. I reached our rendezvous some -minutes before Adolphe. Paillet had foreseen that I should probably -have some indispensable expenses: he had generously drawn three francs -from the common purse and given them to me. After this, a total of -twenty francs fifty centimes remained to us. - -I went into the _Café du Roi_ and sat down at a table; I calculated -what would cost me the least; I concluded that a small glass of brandy -would give me the right to wait, and at least to look as though I -was a habitué of the establishment; so I ordered one. Now, I had -never managed to swallow one drop of that abominable liquor; however, -although obliged to order it, I was not obliged to drink it. I had -scarcely taken my seat when I saw one of the regular customers (I -judged he was a regular attender, because I saw that he had nothing at -all on the table before him) get up and come towards me. I uttered a -cry of surprise and joy: it was Lafarge. Lafarge had gone a step lower -towards poverty: he wore a coat shiny at the elbows, trousers shiny at -the knees. - -"Why, surely I am not mistaken, it is really you?" he said. - -"It is really I. Sit down here." - -"With pleasure. Ask for another glass." - -"For you?" - -"Yes." - -"Take mine, my dear fellow. I never touch brandy." - -"Then why did you ask for it?" - -"Because I did not like to wait till Adolphe came in without asking for -something." - -"Is Adolphe coming here?" - -"Yes. We are going to see _Sylla_ together." - -"What! you are going to see that filth?" - -"Filth, _Sylla_? Why, it is an enormous success!" - -"Yes, the success of a wig." - -"The success of a wig?" I echoed, not understanding. "Certainly! Take -away from Sylla his Napoleonic locks, and the piece would never be -played through." - -"But surely M. de Jouy is a great poet?" - -"In the provinces he may be thought great, my dear boy; but here we are -in Paris, and we see things differently." - -"If he is not a great poet, he is at least a man of infinite resource." -"Well, perhaps he might have been thought clever under the Empire; but -you see, my boy, the wit of 1809 is not the wit of 1822." - -"Still, I thought that _l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ was written -under the Restoration." - -"Why, certainly; but do you think _l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ was -by M. de Jouy?" - -"Most certainly, since it appears under his name." - -"Oh, what sweet simplicity!" - -"Then who wrote it?" - -"Why, Merle." - -"Who is Merle?" - -"Hush! he is that gentleman you see over there in a big coat and a -wide-brimmed hat. He has ten times more wit than M. de Jouy." - -"But if he has ten times M. de Jouy's wit, how is it he has not a -quarter of his reputation?" - -"Oh, because, you see, my boy, reputations, as you will find later, are -not made either by wit or talents, but by coteries.... Just ask for -the sugar; brandy makes me ill if I drink it neat. Waiter! some sugar." - -"But if brandy upsets you, why drink it?" - -"What else can one do?" said Lafarge; "if one passes one's life in -cafés, one must drink something." - -"So you spend all your time in cafés?" - -"Nearly all: I can work best so." - -"In the midst of all the noise and talking?" - -"I am used to that: Théaulon works thus, Francis works thus, Rochefort -works thus, we all work thus. Don't we, Théaulon?" - -A man of thirty to thirty-five, who had been writing rapidly, on quarto -paper, something that looked like dialogue, at this interpellation -lifted up his pale face--red about the cheek bones--and looked at us -kindly. - -"Yes," he said; "what is it? Ah! it is you, Lafarge? Good-evening." And -he resumed his work. - -"Is that Théaulon?" I asked. - -"Yes; there's a man of ready wit for you! only he squanders and abuses -his ready wit. Do you know what he is doing now?" "No." - -"He is writing a comedy, in five acts, in verse." - -"What! he can write poetry here, in a café?" - -"In the first place, dear boy, this is not a café: it is a kind -of literary club; everybody you see here is either an author or a -journalist." - -"Well," I said to Lafarge, "I have never seen a café where they -consumed so little and wrote so much." - -"The deuce, you are framing already. You almost made a witticism just -then, do you know?" - -"Well, then, in return for the witticism I have almost perpetrated, -tell me who some of these gentlemen are." - -"My dear fellow, it would be useless: you need to be a Parisian to be -acquainted with reputations which are wholly Parisian." - -"But I assure you, my dear Auguste, I am not so provincial in such -matters as you think I am." - -"Have you heard of Rochefort?" - -"Yes. Has he not composed some very pretty songs and two or three -successful vaudevilles?" - -"Exactly so. Very well! he is that tall thin man, who is playing -dominoes." - -"Both players are of equal thinness." - -"Ah! quite true!... He is the one whose face always plays and never -wins." A way Rochefort had, gave rise to this joke on the part of his -friend Lafarge. I say gave rise to, and not _excused._ - -"And who is his partner?" - -"That is Ferdinand Langlé." - -"Ah! little Fleuriet's lover?" - -"Little Fleuriet's lover!... Hang it, you talk like a Parisian.... Who -has primed you so well?" - -"Hang it all! Adolphe ... he does not appear to hurry himself." - -"You are in a hurry, then?" - -"Of course I am, and naturally enough: I have never seen Talma." - -"Ah, well, dear boy, hurry up and see him." - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Because he is _wearing out_ horribly." - -"What do you mean by _wearing out_?" - -"I mean he is getting old and growing rusty." - -"I see! But the papers say he has never been fresher in talent or more -beautiful in facial expression." - -"Do you believe what the papers say?" - -"Oh!" - -"You may be a journalist yourself one day, my boy." - -"Well, if I am?" - -"Why, then, when you are, you will see how things come about." - -"And ...?" - -"And you will not believe what the papers say--that is all!" At this -moment the door opened, and Adolphe poked his head in. - -"Be quick," he said; "if we do not hurry, we shall find the curtain -raised." - -"Oh! it is you at last!" - -I darted towards Adolphe. - -"You have forgotten to pay," said Lafarge. - -"Oh! so I have.... Waiter, how much?" - -"One small glass, four sous; six sous of sugar, ten." - -I drew ten sous from my pocket and flung them on the table, and then, -the lighter by fifty centimes, I rushed out of the café. - -"You were with Lafarge?" said Adolphe. - -"Yes.... What is wrong with him?" - -"What do you mean by what is wrong with him?" - -"He told me that M. de Jouy was an idiot, and Talma a Cassandra." - -"Poor Lafarge!" said Adolphe; "perhaps he had not dined." - -"Not dined! Is he reduced so low as that?" - -"Pretty nearly." - -"Ah!" I said, "that explains many things!... MM. de Jouy and Talma dine -every day, and poor Lafarge cannot forgive them for it." - -Alas! I have since seen critics, besides Lafarge, who could not forgive -those who dined. - -I had dined so well that I had quite as much of the spirit of -indulgence in my stomach as curiosity in my mind. - -We went into the theatre. The hall was crowded, although it was about -the eighth performance of the play. We had terrible difficulty in -obtaining seats: our places were unreserved. Adolphe generously gave -forty sous to the woman who showed people to their seats, and she -wriggled a way in so well for us that she found us a corner in the -centre of the orchestra, into which we slipped like a couple of wedges, -which we must have resembled in shape and appearance. We were only -just in time, as Adolphe had said. Scarcely were we seated before the -curtain went up. - -It is odd, is it not, that I should be talking of _Sylla_ to the public -of 1851? "What was _Sylla_?" a whole generation will exclaim. O Hugo! -how true are your lines upon Canaris! They come back to me now, and, in -spite of my will, flow from my pen:-- - - "Canaris! Canaris! nous t'avons oublie! - Lorsque sur un héros le temps c'est replie, - Quand ce sublime acteur a fait pleurer ou lire, - Et qu'il a dit le mot que Dieu lui donne à dire; - Quand, venus au hasard des revolutions, - Les grands hommes out fait leurs grandes actions, - Qu'ils ont jeté leur lustre étincelant ou sombre, - Et qu'ils sont, pas à pas, redescendus dans l'ombre; - Leur nom s'éteint aussi! Tout est vain, tout est vain! - Et jusqu'à ce qu'un jour le poëte divin, - Qui peut créer un monde avec une parole, - Les prenne et leur rallume au front une auréole, - Nul ne se souvient d'eux, et la foule aux cent voix, - Qui, rien qu'en les voyant, hurlait d'aise autrefois, - Hélas! si par hasard devant elle on les nomme, - Interroge et s'étonne, et dit:'Quel est cet homme?'" - -No! it is true M. de Jouy was not a hero, although he had fought -bravely in India, nor a great man, although he had composed _l'Ermite -de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ and _Sylla_; but M. de Jouy was a man of parts, -or rather he possessed talent. - -This was my conviction then. Thirty years have rolled by since the -evening on which I first saw Talma appear on the stage. I have just -re-read _Sylla_ and it is my opinion to-day. No doubt M. de Jouy -had cleverly turned to account both the historical and the physical -likeness. The abdication of _Sylla_ called to mind the emperor's -abdication; Talma's head the cast of Napoleon's. No doubt this was the -reason why the work met with such an enthusiastic reception, and ran -for a hundred times. But there was something else besides the actor's -looks and the allusions in the tragedy; there were fine lines, good -situations, a _dénoûment_ daring in its simplicity. I am well aware -that very often the fine lines of one period are not the fine lines of -another,--at least so people hold,--but the four lines which the poet -puts into the mouth of Roscius are fine lines for all time: Roscius, -the Talma of those last days of Rome, who had witnessed the fall of -the Roman Republic, as Talma had witnessed the fall of the French -Republic:-- - - "Ah! puisse la nature épargner aux Romains - Ces sublimes esprits au-dessus des humains! - Trop de maux, trop de pleurs attestent le passage - De ces astres brûlants nés du sein de l'orage!" - -Then, again, very fine are the lines that the proscriber, who arrests -with his powerful hand the proscription, which was going to include -Cæsar, addresses to Ophelia when Ophelia says to him:-- - - "Oserais-je, à mon tour, demander à Sylla - Quel pouvoir inconnu, quelle ombre protectrice, - Peut dérober César à sa lente justice? - - _Sylla._ J'ai pesé comme vous ses vices, ses vertus, - Et mon œil dans César voit plus d'un Marius! - Je sais de quel espoir son jeune orgueil s'énivre; - Mais Pompée est vivant, César aussi doit vivre. - Parmi tous ces Romains à mon pouvoir soumis, - Je n'ai plus de rivaux, j'ai besoin d'ennemis, - D'ennemis fibres, fiers, dont la seule presence - Atteste mon génie ainsi que ma puissance; - L'histoire à Marius pourrait m'associer, - César aura vécu pour me justifier!" - -When I saw Talma come on to the stage I uttered a cry of astonishment. -Oh yes I it was indeed the impassive mask of the man I had seen pass in -his carriage, his head bent low on his breast, eight days before Ligny, -whom I saw return the day following Waterloo. Many have tried since, -with the aid of the green uniform, the grey overcoat and the little -hat, to reproduce that antique medallion, that bronze, half Greek, -half Roman; but not one of them, O Talma I possessed your lightning -glance, with the calm and imperturbable countenance upon which neither -the loss of a throne nor the death of thirty thousand men could imprint -one single line of regret or trace of remorse. Those who have never -seen Talma cannot imagine what he was: in him was the combination of -three supreme qualities which I have never found elsewhere combined -in one man--simplicity, power and poetry; it was impossible to be -more magnificent, with the perfect grace of an actor; I mean that -magnificence which has in it nothing personal attaching to the man, -but which changes according to the characters of the heroes he is -called upon to represent. It is impossible, I say, to find any actor -so endowed with this type of magnificence as was Talma. Melancholy in -_Orestes_, terrible in _Néro_, hideous in _Gloucester_, he could adapt -his voice, his looks, his gestures to each character. Mademoiselle -Mars was but the perfection of the graceful; Mademoiselle Rachel was -but the imperfection of the beautiful; Talma was the ideally great. -Actors lament that nothing of theirs survives themselves. O Talma! -I was a child when on that solemn evening I saw you for the first -time, as you came upon the stage and your gestures began, before that -row of senators, your clients; well, of that first scene, not one of -your actions is effaced from my memory, not one of your intonations -is lost.... O Talma! I can see you still, when these four lines are -uttered by Catiline:-- - - "Sur d'obscurs criminels qu'pargne ta clémence, - Je me tais; mais mon zèle eclaire ma prudence; - Le nom de Clodius sur la liste est omis, - C'est le plus dangereux de tous tes ennemis!" - -I can see you still, Talma!--may your great spirit hear me and thrill -with pleasure at not being forgotten!--I can see you still as with -scornful smile upon your lips you slowly diminish the distance that -separates you from your accuser; I can see and hear you still as you -place your hand upon his shoulder, and, draped like one of the finest -statues in Herculaneum or Pompeii, you utter these words to him, in -the vibrating voice which could penetrate to the very depths of one's -being:-- - - "Je n'examine pas si ta haine enhardie - Poursuit dans Clodius l'époux de Valérie; - Et si Catiline, par cet avis fatal, - Pretend servir ma cause ou punir un rival." - -O Talma! your incisive and sonorous intonation took root in the hearts -of all who heard you. It was indeed a fearfully ungrateful and barren -soil which at that unpoetical period of the Empire was left you to -cultivate, for, had you been disheartened by its sterility, there would -have been nothing great, or fine, or wide-spreading, during all those -thirty years in which you wore the Roman sandal or the Greek. Is it -that the spirit of genius, with all its absorbing power, is mortal like -that of the upas tree or the manchineel? - -I should like to continue speaking of Sylla to the end of the play in -order to render tribute to the prodigious talent Talma possessed, and -to follow him in the twofold development of his creation of the rôle of -Sylla and the details of that rôle. But what would be the good? Who is -interested in these things nowadays? Who amuses himself by recalling -thirty years after its extinction the intonation of an actor as he -declaimed line or hemistich or word? What does it matter to M. Guizard, -to M. Léon Faucher, to the President of the Republic, in what manner -Talma replied to Lænas, when he was sent by the Roman populace to learn -from Sylla the number of the condemned, and asked him-- - - "Combien en proscris-tu, Sylla?" - -What matters it to those gentlemen to know how Talma uttered his - - "Je ne sais pas!" - -At the most, they can only remember the cadence of voice with which -General Cavaignac pronounced those four words when he was asked how -many people he had transported untried out of France. And let us -remember that it is now but two years since the Dictator of 1848 -uttered these four words, which richly deserve to hold a place in -the annals of history beside those of Sylla. But though Talma was by -turns simple, great, magnificent, it was in the abdication scene that -he rose to actual sublimity. It is true that the abdication of Sylla -recalled that at Fontainebleau, and, we repeat, we have no doubt that -the resemblance between the modern and the ancient Dictator produced -an immense impression upon the vulgar public. This opinion was held by -the Censorship of 1821, which cut out these lines because they were -supposed to refer in turn to Bonaparte, first consul, and Napoleon, the -emperor. - -These to Bonaparte:-- - - ... C'était trop pour moi des lauriers de la guerre; - Je voulais une gloire et plus rare et plus chère. - Rome, en proie aux fureurs des partis triomphants, - Mourante sous les coups de ses propres enfants, - Invoquait à la fois mon bras et mon génie: - Je me fis dictateur, je sauvai la patrie!" - -These to Napoleon:-- - - "J'ai gouverné le monde à mes ordres soumis, - Et j'impose silence à tous mes ennemis! - Leur haine ne saurait atteindre ma mémoire, - J'ai mis entre eux et moi l'abîme de ma gloire." - -When one re-reads at the end of ten, twenty, or thirty years either -the lines which the Censorship forbade, or the plays it suppressed, -one is completely amazed at the stupidity of Governments. As soon -as a revolution has cut off the seven heads of a literary hydra, -governments make all speed to collect them again and to stick them -back on the trunk that feigned death whilst taking care not to lose -its hold on life. As though the Censorship had ever annihilated any -of the works that have been forbidden to be played! As though the -Censorship had strangled _Tartuffe, Mahomet, le Mariage de Figaro, -Charles IX., Pinto, Marion Delorme_ and _Antony_! No, when one of these -virile pieces is hounded from the theatre where it has made its mark, -it waits, calm and erect, until those who have proscribed it fall or -pass away, and, when they are fallen or dead, when its persecutors -are hurled from their thrones, or entering their tombs, the calm and -immortal daughter of Genius, omnipotent and great, enters the enclosure -that the mannikins have closed against her, from whence they have -disappeared, and their forgotten crowns being too small for her brow -become the sport of her feet. - -The curtain fell in the midst of immense applause. I was stunned, -dazzled, fascinated. Adolphe proposed we should go to Talma's -dressing-room to thank him. I followed him through that inextricable -labyrinth of corridors which wind about the back regions of the -Théâtre-Français, and which to-day unfortunately are no longer unknown -regions to me. No client who ever knocked at the door of the original -Sylla felt his heart beat so fast and so furiously as did mine at the -door of the actor who had just personated him. De Leuven pushed open -the door. The great actor's dressing-room lay before us: it was full of -men whom I did not know, who were all famous or about to become famous. -There was Casimir Delavigne, who had just written the last scenes of -_l'École des Vieillards;_ there was Lucien Arnault, who had just had -his _Régulus_ performed; there was Soumet, still very proud of his -twofold success of _Saül_ and of _Clytemnestre_; there was Népomucène -Lemercier, that paralysed sulky brute, whose talents were as crooked as -his body, who in his healthy moments had composed _Agamemnon, Pinto,_ -and _Fridegonde,_ and in his unhealthy hours _Christophe Colomb, la -Panhypocrisiade,_ and _Cahin-Caha;_ there was Delrieu, who had been at -work upon the revised version of his _Artaxerch,_ since 1809; there -was Viennet, whose tragedies made a sensation for fifteen or twenty -years on paper, to live and agonise and die within a week, like him -whose reign lasted two hours and whose torture three days; there was, -finally, the hero of the hour, M. de Jouy, with his tall figure, his -fine white head, his intellectual and kindly eyes, and in the centre -of them all--Talma in his simple white robe, just despoiled of its -purple, his head from which he had just removed the crown and his two -graceful white hands with which he had just broken the Dictator's palm. -I stayed at the door, blushing vividly, and very humble. - -"Talma," said Adolphe, "we have come to thank you." Talma looked round -out of his eye-corners. He perceived me at the door. - -"Ah! ah!" he said; "come in." - -I took two steps towards him. - -"Well, Mr. Poet," said he, "were you satisfied?" - -"I am more than that, monsieur ... I am wonder-struck." "Very well, you -must come and see me again, and ask for more seats." - -"Alas! Monsieur Talma, I leave Paris to-morrow or the day after at -latest." - -"That is a pity! you might have seen me in _Régulus._ ... You know I -have put _Régulus_ on the bill for the day after to-morrow, Lucien?" - -"Yes," Lucien replied. - -"And cannot you stop till the evening of the day after to-morrow?" - -"Impossible: I have to return to the provinces." - -"What do you do in the provinces?" - -"I dare not tell you: lama lawyer's clerk ..." - -And I heaved a deep sigh. - -"Bah!" said Talma, "you must not give way to despair on that account! -Corneille was clerk to a procurator!... Gentlemen, allow me to -introduce you to a future Corneille." - -I blushed to the eyes. - -"Lay your hand on my forehead: it will bring me good luck," I said to -Talma. - -Talma laid his hand on my head. - -"There--so be it," he said. "Alexandre Dumas, I baptize thee poet in -the name of Shakespeare, of Corneille and of Schiller!... Go back -to the provinces, go back to your office, and if you really have a -vocation, the angel of Poetry will know how to find you all right -wherever you be, will carry you off by the hair of your head like the -prophet Habakkuk and will take you where fate determines." - -I took Talma's hand and tried to kiss it. - -"Why, see!" he said, "the lad has enthusiasm and will make something of -himself;" and he shook me cordially by the hand. - -I had nothing more to wait for there. A longer stay in that -dressing-room crowded with celebrities would have been both -embarrassing and ridiculous: I made a sign to Adolphe, and we took our -leave. I wanted to fling my arms round Adolphe's neck in the corridor. - -"Yes, indeed," I said to him, "be sure I shall return to Paris. You may -depend upon that!" - -We went down by the little twisting staircase, which has since been -condemned; we left by the black corridor; we went along the gallery -then called the galerie de Nemours, and called to-day I know not what, -and we came out on the place du Palais-Royal. - -"There, you know your way," said Adolphe,--"the rue Croix-des-Petits -Champs, the rue Coquillière, the rue des Vieux-Augustins. Good-night; I -must leave you: it is late, and it is a long way from here to the rue -Pigale.... By the way, remember we lunch at ten and we dine at five." - -And Adolphe turned round the corner of the rue Richelieu and -disappeared. It was indeed late; all lights were out, and only a few -belated people were passing across the place du Palais-Royal. Although -Adolphe had told it me, I did not in the least know my way, and I was -extremely scared when I found myself alone. It must be confessed I -felt very uneasy at being out in the streets of Paris at such a late -hour; for I had heard heaps of stories of night attacks, robberies and -assassinations, and, with my fifty sous in my pocket, I trembled at -the thought of being plundered. A struggle went on in my mind between -courage and fear. Fear won the day. I hailed a cab. The cab came up to -me and I opened the door. - -"Monsieur knows it is past midnight?" said the driver. - -"Of course I know it," I replied; and I added to myself, "That is the -very reason I am taking a cab." - -"Where is the country squire going?" - -"Rue des Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins."_ - -"What?" said the driver. - -I repeated it. - -"Is monsieur quite sure he wants to go there?" - -"The deuce I do!" - -"In that case, off we go!" - -And lashing his horses, at the same time clicking with his tongue as do -all drivers, he urged them into a canter. - -Twenty seconds later, he pulled up, got down from his seat, and opened -the door. - -"Well ...?" I asked. - -"Well, my country lad, we are at your destination, rue des -Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins"_ - -I raised my head, and there, beyond doubt, was the house. I then -understood the driver's astonishment at seeing a great bumpkin of -twenty, who seemed in no way unsound of limb, wanting to take a cab -from the place du Palais-Royal to go to the rue des Vieux-Augustins. -But as it would have been too absurd to avow that I did not know the -distance between the two places, I said in a stout voice-- - -"All right--what is the fare?" - -"Oh, you know the fare well enough, young fellow." - -"If I knew it, I should not ask you." - -"It is fifty sous, then." - -"Fifty sous?" I exclaimed, horrified at having incurred such useless -expense. - -"Certainly, young chap, that is the tariff." - -"Fifty sous to come from the Palais-Royal here!" - -"I warned monsieur it was past midnight." - -"There you are," I said; "take your fifty sous." - -"Aren't you going to give me a _pourboire_, young fellow?" - -I made a movement to strangle the wretch; but he was strong and -vigorous. I reflected that perhaps he would strangle me, so I stayed -my hand. I rang the bell, the door was opened, and I went inside. I -felt dreadfully stricken with remorse for having squandered my money, -especially when I considered that even had Paillet spent nothing on his -side, we only had twenty francs fifty centimes left. Paillet had been -to the Opera, and had spent eight francs ten sous. Only a dozen francs -were left us. - -We looked at each other with some anxiety. - -"Listen," he said: "you have seen Talma, I have heard _la Lampe -mervilleuse_; this was all you wanted to see, all I wanted to hear: if -you agree, let us leave to-morrow, instead of the next day." - -"That is exactly what I was going to suggest to you." - -"All right; do not let us lose any time. It is now one o'clock; let -us get to bed as quickly as possible and sleep until six; then let us -start at seven, and sleep, if we can manage it, at Manteuil." - -"Good-night" - -"Good-night...." - -A quarter of an hour later, we were rivalling one another who could go -to sleep the soundest. - -Next day, or rather the same day, at eight o'clock, we had passed -Villette; at three o'clock, we were dining at Dammartin, under the same -conditions as we had lunched there; at seven, we were having our supper -at Manteuil; and on Wednesday at one o'clock, loaded with two hares -and six partridges,--the result of the economy we had exercised by our -hunting of the previous night and day,--we entered Crespy, giving our -last twenty sous to a poor beggar. Paillet and I parted at the entry -to the large square. I went to Maître Lefèvre's by the little passage, -and up to my room to change my things. I called Pierre, through the -window, and asked him for news of M. Lefèvre. M. Lefèvre had returned -in the night. I gave my game to the cook, went into the office and -slipped into my place. My three office companions were all in their -places. Nobody asked me a question. They thought I had just returned -from one of my usual excursions, only one that had lasted rather longer -than usual. I enquired if M. Lefèvre had asked any questions about me. -M. Lefèvre had wanted to know where I was; they had replied that they -did not know, and the matter had ended there. I drew my papers from my -desk and set to work. A few minutes later, M. Lefèvre appeared. He went -to the head clerk, gave him some instructions, and then returned to -his room, without even having seemed to notice my presence, which led -me to think he had taken particular notice of my absence. Dinner-time -arrived. We sat down; all went on as usual; save that, after dinner, -when I was rising to go, M. Lefèvre said to me-- - -"Monsieur Dumas, I want a few words with you." - -I knew the storm was about to burst, and I resolved to keep myself well -in hand. - -"Certainly, monsieur," I replied. - -The head clerk and the office boy, who shared the master's table with -me, discreetly withdrew. M. Lefèvre pointed to a chair opposite his -own, on the other side of the fireplace. I sat down. Then M. Lefèvre -lifted his head as a horse does under the martingale, a gesture which -was customary with him, crossed his right leg over his left leg, held -up one leg till the slipper fell, took his gold snuff-box, inhaled a -pinch of snuff, drew a dignified breath, and then, in a voice all the -more threatening because of its dulcet tones, he said, scratching his -right foot with his left hand, his most cherished habit-- - -"Monsieur Dumas, have you any knowledge of mechanics?" - -"Not in theory, monsieur, only in practice." - -"Well, then, you will know enough to understand my illustration." - -"I am listening, monsieur." - -"Monsieur Dumas, in order that a machine may work properly, none of its -wheels must stop." - -"Of course not, monsieur." - -"Very well, Monsieur Dumas; I need not say more. I am the engineer, you -are one of the wheels in the machine; for two days you have stopped, -and consequently for two days the general action of the machine has -lacked the co-operation of your individual movement." - -I rose to my feet. - -"Quite so, monsieur," I said. - -"You will understand," added M. Lefèvre in a less dogmatic tone, "that -this warning is merely provisional?" - -"You are very good, monsieur, but I take it as definitive." - -"Oh, then, that is better still," said M. Lefèvre. "It is now seven in -the evening, night is coming on, and the weather is bad; but you may -leave when you like, my dear Dumas. From the moment you cease to be -third clerk here you can remain as a friend, and in that capacity the -longer you stay the better I shall be pleased." - -I bowed a graceful acknowledgment to M. Lefèvre and withdrew to my -room. I had taken a great step, and an important career was now closed -to me; henceforth my future was in Paris, and I made up my mind to move -heaven and earth to leave the provinces. I spent half the night in -thinking, and before I fell asleep all my plans were made. - - - - -BOOK III - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -I return to my mother's--The excuse I give concerning my return--The -calf's lights--Pyramus and Cartouche--The intelligence of the fox more -developed than that of the dog--Death of Cartouche--Pyramus's various -gluttonous habits - - -I packed up my things next day and went. I was not without uneasiness -with regard to the way my mother might receive me--my poor mother! -her first expression at seeing me was always one of delight, but my -leaving Maître Lefèvre's would trouble her. So the nearer I drew to -Villers-Cotterets, the slower did my steps become. It generally took -me two hours to walk the three and a half leagues between Crespy and -Villers-Cotterets, for I used to run the last league; but now the -reverse was the case, for the last league took me the longest of all to -cover. I returned in shooting costume after my usual fashion. And my -dog was hardly three hundred yards away before he smelt home, stopped -an instant, lifted up his nose, and set off like an arrow. Five seconds -after he had disappeared down the road, I saw my mother appear on the -threshold. My courier had preceded me and announced my return. She met -me with her usual smile; the whole tenderness of her heart welled up at -my approach and shone in her face. I flung myself in her arms. - -Oh! what a love is a mother's!--a love always good, always devoted, -always faithful; a true diamond lost amongst all the false stones with -which youth decks its happiness; a pure and limpid carbuncle, which -shines in joy as in sorrow, by night as by day! My mother's first -thoughts were nought but joyful ones at seeing me again; then, at last, -she asked me how it was I had returned home on Thursday instead of on -Saturday, to spend Sunday with her, going back on Monday as usual. - -I dared not tell her of the misfortune that had befallen me. I told her -that, as business was slack at the office, I had obtained a holiday for -several days, which I meant to spend with her. - -"But," my mother observed, "I see you are wearing your hunting-coat and -breeches." - -"Yes, why not?" - -"How is it you have nothing in your game-bag?" - -It was not indeed customary for me to return with the game-bag empty. - -"I was so anxious to see you, dear mother, that instead of shooting, I -came the shortest way, by the high road." - -I lied. Had I spoken the truth, I should have said, "Alas! dear mother, -I was so much taken up with thinking what effect my news would have -upon you that I never thought of shooting, though at other times I have -forgotten everything for that passion." But had I told her that, I -should have had to tell her the news, and I wanted to delay it as long -as possible. - -An incident freed me from embarrassment and diverted my mother's -thoughts for the moment. I heard my dog howl. - -I ran to the door. The next house to ours was that of a butcher, -called Mauprivez. In the front of the butcher's slab there was a long -cross-bar of painted wood, in which at different intervals iron hooks -were fixed to hold various specimens of meat. In jumping up at a calfs -lights, Pyramus had got hooked like a carp on a fish-hook, and hung -suspended. That was why he howled, and, as will readily be imagined, -not without cause. I seized hold of him by the body, unhooked him, -and he rushed into the stable, his jaws bleeding. If I ever write the -history of the dogs that have belonged to me, Pyramus shall have a -prominent place by the side of Milord. I may therefore be allowed to -leave in suspense the interest my return naturally created, to talk -a bit about Pyramus, who, in spite of his name, which indicated that -all sorts of love misfortunes were before him, had never had, to my -knowledge, any misadventures except gastronomic ones. Pyramus was a -large chestnut-coloured dog, of very good French pedigree, who had been -given me when quite a puppy, with a fox-cub of the same age, which -the keeper who gave him me (it was poor Choron of la Maison-Neuve) -had had suckled by the same mother. I often amused myself by watching -the different instincts of these two animals develop, as they were -placed opposite one another in the yard in two parallel recesses. For -the first three or four months an almost brotherly intimacy reigned -between Cartouche and Pyramus. I need not mention that Cartouche -was the fox and Pyramus the dog. Nor need I mention that the name -of Cartouche was given to the fox in allusion to his instincts of -stealing and depredation. It was Cartouche who began to declare war -on Pyramus, although he was the weaker looking; this declaration of -war took place over some bones which were within Cartouche's boundary, -but which Pyramus had surreptitiously tried to annex. The first time -Pyramus attempted this piracy, Cartouche snarled; the second time, he -showed his teeth; the third time, he bit. Cartouche was the more to -be excused because he was always on the chain, while Pyramus had his -hours of liberty. Cartouche, restrained to a very circumscribed walk, -could not therefore, at full length of his chain, do unto Pyramus the -evil deeds which Pyramus, abusing his liberty, was guilty of on his -side. On account of this captivity, I was able to notice the superior -intelligence of the fox over that of the dog. Both were gourmands in -the highest degree, with this difference, that Pyramus was more of a -glutton and Cartouche more of an epicure. When they both stretched to -the full length of their chains, they could reach a distance of nearly -four feet, from the opening of their recesses. Add ten inches for the -length of Pyramus's head, four inches for Cartouche's pointed nose, and -you will arrive at this result, that whilst Pyramus, at the length of -his chain, could reach a bone at four feet ten inches from his recess, -Cartouche could only perpetrate the same deed four feet four inches -from his. Very well, if I placed a bone six feet off,--that is to -say, out of the reach of both,--Pyramus had to content himself with -stretching his chain with the whole strength of his sturdy shoulders, -but not being able to break it, he would stand with fixed bloodshot -eyes, his jaws slobbering and open, attempting from time to time, -with plaintive whines, to exorcise the distance, or, by desperate -efforts, to break his chain. If the bone were not either taken away -or given him, he would have gone mad; but he had never succeeded, by -any ingenious contrivance, to snatch the prey beyond his reach. It was -another matter with Cartouche. His preliminary tactics were the same as -those of Pyramus, and consequently equally fruitless. But soon he began -to reflect, rubbing a paw on his nose; then, all at once, as though a -sudden illumination had come into his mind, he turned himself round, -adding the length of his body to the length of his chain, dragged the -bone into the circle of his kingdom, by the help of one of his hind -paws, turned round again, seized hold of the bone, and entered into -his kennel, from which it was not rejected until it was as clean and -polished as ivory. Pyramus saw Cartouche perform this trick ten times; -he would howl with jealousy as he listened to his comrade's teeth -grinding on the bone which he was gnawing; but, I repeat, he never had -the intelligence to do the same thing himself, and to use his hind -paw as a hook to draw the tit-bit within his reach. Cartouche was of -superior intelligence to Pyramus in a thousand other instances such -as this, although his tractability was always inferior. But it is -common knowledge that with animals as with human beings, the capacity -for being trained is not always, nay is scarcely ever, combined with -intelligence. - -The reader may ask why the injustice was perpetrated of keeping -Cartouche always fastened, while Pyramus was allowed his liberty at -times. This is why: Pyramus was only a glutton by need, while Cartouche -was destructive by instinct. One day he broke his chain, and went from -our yard into the farmyard belonging to our neighbour Mauprivez. In -less than ten minutes he had strangled seventeen fowls and two cocks. -Nineteen cases of homicide: it was impossible to plead extenuating -circumstances: he was condemned to death and executed. So Pyramus -reigned sole master of the place, which, to his shame be it said, he -appreciated greatly. His appetite seemed to increase when he was left -alone. This appetite was a defect at home; but, out shooting, it was -a vice. Nearly always, the first game I killed under his nose, were -it small game, such as partridge, young pheasant or quail, would be -lost to me. His big jaws would open, and, with a rapid gulp, the piece -of game disappeared down his throat. Very rarely did I arrive in time -to perceive, by opening his jaws, the last feathers of the bird's -tail disappearing in the depths of his gullet. Then a lash with my -horse-whip, vigorously applied on the loins of the guilty sinner, would -cure him for the remainder of the chase, and it was seldom he repeated -the same fault; but, between one shoot and another, he generally -had time to forget the previous punishment, and more expenditure of -whipcord was needed. On two other occasions, however, the gluttony of -Pyramus turned out badly for him. - -One day de Leuven and I were shooting over the marshes of Pondron. It -was a place where two harvests were gathered during the year. The first -harvest was that of a small thicket of alderwood. The owner of the -land, after having cut his branches, stripped the twigs off, sawed it -and tied it in bundles. Then he became busy over his second harvest, -which was that of hay. They were just reaping this crop. But, as it was -luncheon-time, the reapers had rested their scythes, here and there, -and were feeding by a small river wherein they could moisten their -hard bread. One of them had placed his scythe against one of the heaps -of cut wood, about two feet and a half high, placed in cubic metres -or half-mètres. I put up a snipe; I fired and killed it, and it fell -behind this pile of wood against which the scythe was propped. It was -the first thing I had killed that day, consequently it happened to be -the perquisite Pyramus was in the habit of appropriating. So, putting -two and two together, he had scarcely seen the snipe, stopped in its -flight, fall vertically behind the wood pile, before he darted over -the stack so as to fall on the spot as soon as it did, without loss of -time. As I knew beforehand that it was a head of game lost, I did not -hurry myself to see the tail feathers of my snipe in the depths of -Pyramus's throat, but, to my great surprise, I saw no more of Pyramus -than if he had tumbled down an invisible chasm, hewn out behind the -pile of wood. When I had re-loaded my gun, I decided to fathom this -mystery. Pyramus had fallen on the far side of the heap of wood, his -neck on the point of the scythe; this point had penetrated to the right -of the pharynx, behind the neck, and stuck out four inches in front. -Poor Pyramus could not stir, and was bleeding' to death: the snipe, -intact, was within six inches of his nose. Adolphe and I raised him -up, so as to cause him the least possible hurt; we carried him to the -river, and we bathed him in deep water; then I made him a compress with -my handkerchief, folded in sixteen, which we bound round his neck with -Adolphe's silk one. Then, seeing a peasant from Haramont passing, with -a donkey carrying two baskets, we put Pyramus in one of the paniers -and we had him carried to Haramont, whence next day I took him away in -a small conveyance. Pyramus was a week between life and death. For a -month he carried his head on one side, like Prince Tuffiakin. Finally, -at the end of six weeks, he had regained his elasticity of movement, -and appeared to have completely forgotten the terrible catastrophe. But -whenever he saw a scythe, he made an immense detour to avoid coming -in contact with it. Another day, he returned home, his body as full -of holes as a sieve. He had been wandering about the forest alone, -watching his opportunity, and he had leapt at the throat of a hare; the -hare screamed out: a keeper, who was about a couple of hundred steps -away, ran up; but before the keeper could clear the two hundred paces, -the hare was half devoured. Now Pyramus, on seeing the approach of -the keeper and on hearing his execrations, understood that something -alarming would occur between himself and the man in blue clothes. He -took to his heels and set off full tear. But, as Friday, of Robinson -Crusoe memory remarked, "Small shot ran after me faster than you did!" -the keeper's small shot travelled faster than Pyramus, and Pyramus -returned home riddled in eight places. - -I have already related what happened to him ten minutes after my -return. A week later, he came in with a calf's lights in his mouth. A -knife was quivering in his side. Behind him came one of the Mauprivez' -sons. - -"Ah!" he said, "isn't it enough that your beastly Pyramus carries away -the contents of our shop, joint by joint, but he must needs carry away -my knife too?" - -Seeing Pyramus carry off the calfs lights, Mauprivez' boy had hurled -at him the knife butchers generally wear at their girdles; but, as -the knife went three or four inches into Pyramus's hide, Pyramus had -carried off both meat and knife. Mauprivez recovered his implement; but -the calfs lights were already devoured. Just when Pyramus's various -misdeeds had incurred not merely our individual reprobation, but public -reprobation still more, an advantageous occasion offered to get rid -of him. But as that occasion was invested in my eyes with all the -semblance of a miracle, I must be permitted to relate that miracle in -its proper time and place, and not to anticipate it here. - -Let us, for the moment, occupy ourselves over the unexpected return of -the prodigal son to the maternal roof--a return from which Pyramus and -Cartouche have incidentally diverted our attention. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Hope in Laffitte--A false hope--New projects--M. Lecornier--How and -on what conditions I clothe myself anew--Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du -Helder--Bamps at Villers-Cotterets--I visit our estate along with -him--Pyramus follows a butcher lad--An Englishman who loved gluttonous -dogs--I sell Pyramus--My first hundred francs--The use to which they -are put--Bamps departs for Paris--Open credit - - -Although I had told my mother that my return was only a provisional -one, to use M. Lefèvre's expression, she had very little doubt at heart -that it was really final. Her doubt turned to certainty when she saw -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday pass by without my speaking of returning to -Crespy; but, poor mother! she never said a word to me concerning this -catastrophe: it had cost her so much to part with me, that, since God -had sent me back to her, she opened her maternal heart, arms and door -to me. I had some hope left me: Adolphe had promised to make overtures -to M. Laffitte, the banker, on my behalf; if M. Laffitte made me an -opening in his office, where they worked from ten to four, there would -be the whole of the evening and early morning to oneself for other -work. Besides, it was time I should earn something. The most important -thing was to get to Paris, to light our poor candles at that universal, -vast and dazzling fireside, which was a light to the whole world. -A fortnight after my return from Crespy, I received a letter from -Adolphe. His request had come to nothing, for M. Laffitte's offices -were over full of clerks as it was: they were talking of clearing -some out. So I decided to put in action at the first opportunity a -plan I had settled upon during the last sleepless night I had spent -at M. Lefèvre's. This project was perfectly simple and, by its very -simplicity, seemed likely to succeed. - -I would select, from my father's desk, a dozen letters from Marshal -Jourdan, Marshal Victor, Marshal Sébastiani, from all the marshals -still living, in fact, with whom my father had had dealings. I would -collect a small sum of money and I would start for Paris. I would -approach these old friends of my father; they would do what they -could, and it would be a strange thing if four or five marshals of -France, one of whom was Minister for War, could not by their combined -influence find a situation at 1200 francs for the son of their old -comrade-in-arms. But although this plan looked as simple and artless, -at the first glance, as a pastoral by Florian, it was very difficult to -put in execution. Small though the sum was, it was not an easy thing -to raise it; moreover, an expenditure I had foolishly made at Crespy -complicated matters. - -I had become connected at Crespy with a young man who had lived in -Paris: his name was Lecornier. He was brother of that gracious person -to whom I gave a name in one of my preceding chapters--you will -recollect it, although it was only mentioned once--the charming name -of Athénaïs, or, in other words, Athena, Minerva, Pallas, although the -bearer of it was quite unaware of this fact. Well, ashamed of moving -in the aristocratic world of Crespy in my old-fashioned clothes of -Villers-Cotterets, I had asked Lecornier, as my build was exactly his, -to write to his tailor to make me a coat, a waistcoat and a pair of -trousers. Lecornier wrote: I sent my twenty francs as a remittance on -account, and, fifteen days later, the tailor forwarded me the goods, -enclosing a bill for a hundred and fifty-five francs, from which he had -deducted the twenty francs I had sent him on account. It was arranged -that the rest of the bill should be liquidated at the rate of twenty -francs a month. The tailor's name was Bamps, and he lived in the rue du -Helder, No. 12. It will be seen, from his charges, that although Bamps -lived in a fashionable quarter, he was neither a Chevreuil nor a Staub; -no, he was a journeyman who charged fancy prices, who had drifted from -the Latin quarter, where he should always have remained. But for the -very reason that his business was small, Bamps had all the more need of -the profits it produced. - -Although I exercised the greatest economy possible, I had not been able -to put aside the promised twenty francs when the next month's payment -became due. Not having them, of course I could not send them. This -first infraction of our treaty made Bamps very uneasy. Nevertheless, -Bamps knew that Lecornier belonged to a family well to do, although -not wealthy; Lecornier kept his engagements with him with scrupulous -punctuality; so he decided to wait, before giving signs of his anxiety. -The second month came. With it came the same impossibility on my -part, and, consequently, redoubled uneasiness on the part of Bamps. -Meanwhile, I had left Crespy--under the circumstances related--and I -had returned to Villers-Cotterets. Five or six days after my departure, -Bamps, becoming more and more uncomfortable, had written to Lecornier. -Lecornier had replied, giving him my fresh address. It therefore came -about that one day--about the beginning of the third month after -receiving the clothes--as I was lounging on our threshold, the town -clock struck one, the diligence from Paris drew up in the square, and -a traveller got down from it who asked the conductor two or three -questions, took his bearings and came straight to me. I guessed half -the truth. Bamps was walking with his knees out like Duguesclin, and -nobody but a soldier or a tailor could walk thus. I was not mistaken: -the stranger came straight to me and introduced himself; it was Bamps. -It was necessary to play something like the scene between Don Juan -and M. Dimanche; this was all the more difficult as I had never read -_Don Juan._ However, instinct made up for ignorance. I gave Bamps -a most cordial reception; I introduced him to my mother, to whom, -fortunately, I had said a few words about this my first debt; I offered -him refreshment, and I asked him to sit down, or, if he preferred so to -do, to visit our estate. Under the circumstances, Bamps' choice was a -foregone conclusion: he preferred to visit _our estate._ - -Now, what was this property of which the reader has already heard me -speak, but which he will assuredly have forgotten? Our estate was the -house of M. Harlay on which my mother had been paying a life-annuity -for something like forty years; M. Harlay had died during my stay with -Maître Lefèvre; but, just as though he had made a wager, he died on -the anniversary of his birth, triumphantly terminating his ninetieth -year!... Unfortunately, his death had not been much advantage to us. -My mother had borrowed, on house and garden, almost as much as house -and garden were worth; so that we were neither richer nor poorer by -this inheritance; though, as there were certain duties to pay, I may -venture to state we were poorer rather than richer. But Bamps knew -none of these details. I therefore offered, as I have said, to take -him over our estate. He accepted. I unchained Pryamus, and we set off. -After going fifty yards, Pyramus left us to follow a butcher boy who -went by with a piece of mutton on his shoulder. I give this detail, -although, at first glance, it may appear very trivial; for it was not -without influence upon my future. For what would have happened to me -and to Bamps if this butcher boy, whose name was Valtat, had not passed -by, and if Pyramus had not followed him? We went on our way, without -thinking of Pyramus. Man jostles up against great events, every moment -of his life, without seeing them and without being conscious of them. - -We soon arrived. M. Harlay's house, now our own, was situated in the -place de la Fontaine, perhaps a couple of hundred steps from the house -we lived in. I had taken the keys: I opened the doors, and we began -by looking over the interior of the house. It was not so clean as to -inspire great confidence: everything had grown old along with the -worthy man who had just died in it, and who had taken great care not -to undertake a single repair in it; "for," said he, "it will last as -long as I shall." It had lasted as long as he had, true; but, all the -same, it was time he died. If he had lingered on merely another year -or two with the same intention in his head, he would have out-lasted -the house. The inside of our poor property, then, afforded the most -melancholy sight of complete neglect and dilapidation. The floors were -broken through, the wall-papers torn off, the bricks broken. Bamps -shook his head, and said, in his half Alsacian and half French dialect, -"Ach! My vord! my vord! it is in a fery pad stade." - -Most surely would I have offered Bamps the house, in exchange for his -bill, if he would have taken it. When the house had been surveyed, I -said to Bamps-- - -"Now let us go and see the garden." - -"Is de garten in zo pad a stade as de house?" he asked. "Well ... it -has been rather neglected, but now it belongs to us...." - -"It vill take much money to restore dis old tumbledown place," Bamps -discreetly observed. - -"Bah! we shall find it," I replied: "if it is not in our own pockets, -it will be in someone else's." - -"Goot! if you can vind it, zo much de better." - -We crossed the yard and entered the garden. It was at the beginning of -April; we had had two or three lovely days--days one knows so well, -on which the year, like a faithful servant, seems to fold up Winter's -white garment, and unfold the green robe of Spring. - -Now, although the garden was as neglected as the house, it was -pursuing its work of life, in opposition to the work of death going -on in the house. The house grew older year by year; year by year the -garden renewed its youth. It looked as though the trees had powdered -themselves for a forest ball: apples and pears in white, and peaches -and almonds in pink. You could not imagine anything younger, fresher -or more full of life, than was this garden of death. Everything was -waking up with Nature, as she herself woke up: the birds had begun to -sing, and three or four butterflies, deceived by the flowers and by the -first rays of sunshine, were flying about still somewhat benumbed; poor -ephemera, born in the morning, but to die by night! - -"Well," I asked Bamps, "what do you say to the garden?" "Oh! dat is -fery bretty: it is a bity it is not in de rue de Rifoli." - -"There will be more than a hundred crowns' worth of fruit in this -garden, you take my word for it." - -"Yess, if no pad frosts come." - -O Bamps! you Jew, my friend, you tailor, my creditor, you have probably -not read those fine lines of Hugo, which, by the way, were not then -written:-- - - "Il faut que l'eau s'épuise à courir les valines; - Il faut que l'éclair brille, et brille peu d'instants; - Il faut qu'avril jaloux brûle de ses gelées - Le beau pommier trop fier de ses fleurs etoilées, - Neige odorante du printemps." - -We walked round the garden; then, when I fancied satisfaction carried -the day against dissatisfaction, I took Bamps back home. Dinner -was waiting for us. I believe the dinner caused Bamps to go from -satisfaction back to dissatisfaction. - -"Ah, veil," he said to me, when he had taken his cup of coffee and his -cognac, "we must now have a liddle talk about business." - -"Why not, my dear Bamps? Willingly." - -My mother heaved a sigh. - -"Veil, then," continued Bamps, "the bill is for a huntred and -vifty-vive francs." - -"Towards which I have given you twenty." - -"Towards vhich you haf gifen me tventy: so dere is a palance of a -huntred and thirdy-vive. Towards dese huntred and thirdy-vive, you said -you would gif me tventy per month. Two months haf gone py: so dat makes -forty you owe me." - -"Exactly forty, my dear sir--you reckon like Barême." - -"Veil, I can reckon all right." - -The situation was growing embarrassing. Had we opened my poor mother's -banking account and scratched together every farthing, we should -certainly not have been able to find the forty francs demanded. Just at -that moment the door opened. - -"Is M. Dumas in?" asked a hoarse, raucous voice. - -"Yes, M. Dumas is here," I replied in a bad temper. "What do you want -with him?" - -"I don't want him." - -"Who does, then?" - -"An Englishman at M. Cartier's." - -"An Englishman?" I repeated. - -"Yes, an Englishman, who is very anxious to see you." - -That was my own state of mind too! The Englishman could not be more -anxious to see me than I was to get away from Bamps. - -"My dear Bamps," I said to him, "wait for me; I will come back. We will -settle up our account on my return." - -"Be qvick back; I must depard dis efening." - -"Set your mind at rest about that: I shall be back in an instant." - -I took up my cap and followed the stable lad, who had told my mother, -to her great surprise, that he had orders not to go back without me. - -Cartier, at whose house was the Englishman who demanded to see me, -was an old friend of our family, the proprietor of the _Boule d'or,_ -a hotel situated at the extreme east of the town, on the road to -Soissons. The diligences stopped at his house. There was therefore -nothing surprising that the Englishman who was asking for me should be -staying there: what did astonish me was that this Englishman should -want me. When I appeared in the kitchen, old Cartier, who was warming -himself, according to his usual habit, in the chimney corner, came up -to me. - -"Look sharp," he said: "I believe I am going to pull off a good thing -for you." - -"Come now, that would be very welcome," I replied; "I was never in -greater need of a lucky windfall." - -"Well, follow me." - -And Cartier, walking in front of me, led me to a little parlour where -travellers dined. Just as we opened the door, we heard a voice saying, -with a strong English accent-- - -"Take care, mine host: the dog does not know me, and will run out." - -"Never fear, milord," replied Cartier: "I am bringing his master." - -Every innkeeper considers an Englishman has the right to the title of -milord; so they use the title unsparingly: true, it usually pays them -to do so. - -"Ah! come in, sir," said the Englishman, trying to rise, by leaning -both his elbows on the arms of his chair. He could not succeed. Seeing -this, I hastened to say to him-- - -"Pray do not disturb yourself, monsieur." - -"Oh, I will not disturb myself," said the Englishman, falling back in -his arm-chair with a sigh. The time he took in getting up and falling -back in his chair, with the rising and falling movement suggestive -of an omelette soufflée which has fallen flat, was occupied by me in -quickly glancing at him and his surroundings. He was a man of between -forty and forty-five years of age, of sandy complexion, with his hair -clipped short and his whiskers cut _en collier_; he wore a blue coat -with metal buttons, a chamois leather waistcoat, breeches of grey -woollen material with gaiters to match, after the fashion of grooms. He -was seated before the table where he had just dined. The table bore the -debris of a meal sufficient for six people. He must have weighed from -three hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. Pyramus was seated on -the parquetry floor, looking very melancholy; round Pyramus were placed -ten or twelve shiny plates, licked clean with that thoroughness I knew -he was capable of in the matter of dirty plates. On the last plate, -however, were some scraps still unconsumed. These unconsumed scraps -were the cause of Pyramus's depressed spirits. - -"Please come and speak to me, monsieur," said the Englishman. - -I drew near him. Pyramus recognised me, yawned to notify the fact, -stretched himself full length on his stomach so as to get as near to me -as possible, his paws stretched out on the floor, his nose laid on his -paws. - -"Yes, monsieur," I said to the Englishman. - -"Now!" said he. Then, after a pause, he added-- - -"That dog of yours has taken my fancy." - -"He is greatly honoured, monsieur." - -"And they have told me you might perhaps agree to sell him to me, if I -were to pay you a good price for him." - -"I shall not need very much persuasion, monsieur; I have been trying to -get rid of him, and since he pleases you ..." - -"Oh yes, he pleases me." - -"Well, then, take him." - -"Oh, I do not want to take the dog without paying for him." Cartier -nudged my elbow. - -"Monsieur," I said, "I am not a dealer in dogs: he was given to me, I -will give him to you." - -"Well, but he has cost you his keep." - -"Oh, the keep of a dog does not come to much." - -"Never mind; if is but fair I should pay for his food.... How long have -you had him?" - -"Nearly two years." - -"Then I owe you for his food for two years." - -Cartier continued to nudge my elbow. And it occurred to me that the -dog's keep would help admirably to pay for the master's clothes. - -"Very well," said I, "we will settle it so: you shall pay me for his -keep." - -"Reckon it up." - -"What do you think of fifty francs per year?" - -"Oh! oh!" - -"Is it too much?" I asked. - -"On the contrary, I do not think it is enough: the dog eats a lot." - -"Yes, true, monsieur; I was intending to warn you of that." "Oh, I have -witnessed it; but I like animals and people who eat a lot: it shows -they have a good digestion, and a good digestion tends to good humour." - -"Very well, then, you shall fix your own charge." - -"You said, I think, that it was to be ten napoleons?" - -"No, monsieur; I said five napoleons." - -Cartier nudged my elbow harder and harder. - -"Ah! five napoleons?... You will not take ten?" - -"No, monsieur, and only that because I happen at this moment to be in -great need of five napoleons." - -"Won't you take fifteen napoleons? I am sure the dog is worth fifteen -napoleons." - -"No, no, no, no; give me five napoleons, and he is yours." - -"What do you call him?" - -"Pyramus." - -"Pyramus!" exclaimed the Englishman. - -Pyramus did not budge. - -"Oh," continued the Englishman, "what did you say you called him?" - -"I said Pyramus." - -"He did not stir when I called him." - -"That is because he is not yet accustomed to your pronunciation." - -"Oh, he will soon get used to it." - -"There is no doubt of it." - -"You think so?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"Good! I thank you, monsieur: here are the five napoleons." - -I hesitated to take them; but in the English accent with which he -pronounced the last words there was an intonation which so cruelly -reminded me of the German accent of Bamps that I decided. - -"I am much obliged to you, monsieur," I said. - -"On the contrary, it is I who ought to thank you," the Englishman -replied, trying to raise himself afresh--an attempt which was as -abortive as the first. - -I made him a sign with my hand, as I bowed; he sank back into his -arm-chair, and I went out. - -"Well, now, how did it come about that Pyramus fell into the hands of -such a master?" I asked old Cartier. - -"That scamp of a dog was born with a lucky spoon in his mouth!" - -"It was the simplest thing in the world. Valtat brought me a piece of -lamb; Pyramus scented the fresh meat; he followed Valtat. Valtat came -here; Pyramus came here. The Englishman got out of the carriage; he -saw your dog. He had been recommended to take shooting exercise: he -asked me if the dog was a good one; I told him it was. He asked me who -owned the dog; I told him it belonged to you. He asked me if you would -consent to sell it; I told him I would send and fetch you, and then -he could ask you himself. I sent for you ... you came ... there's the -whole story.... Pyramus is sold and you are not ill pleased?" - -"Why, certainly not! The rascal is such a thief that I should have been -obliged to give him away or to break his neck.... He was ruining us!" - -Cartier shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "That would not be a -difficult task!" Then, passing to another train of ideas, he said-- - -"So you have returned home?" - -"That is so." - -"You were sick of Crespy?" - -"I am sick of every place." - -"What do you want to do now?" - -"Why, I want to go to Paris." - -"And when do you start?" - -"May be sooner than you think." - -"Do not go without giving me an opportunity to pay you out." - -"Never fear!" - -Before I went to Crespy, I had thoroughly beaten Cartier at billiards. - -"Besides," I went on, "if I go, as I shall not leave in any carriage -but one of yours, you can stop me on the step." - -"Done!... But this time it must be a struggle to death." "To death!" - -"Your five napoleons must be staked." - -"You know I never play for money, and as for my five napoleons, they -already have their vocation." - -"Well, well, well, adieu." - -"_Au revoir._" - -And I left Cartier, with this engagement booked. We shall see where it -led me. - -When I re-entered the house, I found Bamps, who was beginning to grow -impatient. The first coach for Paris passed through Villers-Cotterets -at eight o'clock in the evening: it was now seven. - -"Ah! goot!" he said, "there you are!... I did not regon I should zee -you again." - -"What!" I said, imitating his jargon, "you did not regon you should zee -me again?" - -Wondrous power of money! I was mocking Bamps, who, an hour before, had -made me tremble with fear. Bamps knit his eyebrows. - -"We zay, den?" he said. - -"We say that I owe you twenty francs per month--that two months have -gone by without payment--and that, consequently, I owe you forty -francs." - -"You owe me vorty vrancs." - -"All right, my dear Bamps--here you are!" - -And I threw two napoleons on the table, taking care to let the three -others in the palm of my hand be visible. My poor mother looked at me -with the most profound amazement. I reassured her with a sign. The -sign allayed her fears, but not her surprise. Bamps examined the two -napoleons, rubbed them to make sure they were not false, and rolled -them, one after the other, into his pocket. - -"You do not vant any more dings?" he asked. - -"No, thank you, my dear Monsieur. Besides, I am expecting to leave here -for Paris in a short time." - -"You will bear in mind that I have the first claim on your custom?" - -"All right, my dear Bamps, for good and all! But if you mean to start -at eight o'clock ...?" - -"If I mean to stard--! I should just tink so!" - -"Well, then, there is no time to lose." - -"The Tevil!" - -"You know where the coach stops?" - -"Yess." - -"Very well, _bon voyage_." - -"Atieu! Monsir Toumas! Atieu, Matame Toumas!... Atieu! atieu!" - -And Bamps, delighted, not only at having secured forty francs, but -still further at being somewhat reassured about the rest of his -account, set off, wafting us his parting benedictions, with all the -speed his little legs could make. - -My mother just waited till she had closed both doors, then she said-- - -"But where did you get that money, you young rogue?" - -"I sold Pyramus, mother." - -"For how much?" - -"A hundred francs." - -"So that there are sixty francs left?" - -"At your service, dear mother." - -"I am afraid I must take them. I have two hundred francs to pay -to-morrow to the warehouseman, and I only have a hundred and fifty -towards it." - -"Here they are ... but on one condition." - -"What is it?" - -"That you let me have them back again as soon as I set off for Paris." - -"With whom are you going?" - -"That must be my business." - -"Well, so be it.... I really begin to feel as though God were with you." - -At this, we both went to bed, with that settled faith that has never -deserted me. And I doubt even whether my mother's faith, at any rate at -that moment, was as strong as mine. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house--The residue--The -Piranèses--An architect at twelve hundred francs salary--I discount my -first bill--Gondon--How I was nearly killed at his house--The fifty -francs--Cartier--The game of billiards--How six hundred small glasses -of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to Paris - - -The time had now come when my poor mother was obliged to take a -definite step. She had borrowed so much and so often upon our thirty -or forty acres let to M. Gilbert of Soucy, and upon the house which M. -Harlay had at last left for us, that the value of both acres and house -was nearly absorbed by mortgages. So it was decided to sell everything. -The land was sold by auction, and fetched thirty-three thousand -francs. The house was sold, by private contract, for twelve thousand -francs to the M. Picot who had given me my first lessons in fencing. -We realised forty-five thousand francs. When our debts were settled -and all expenses paid, my mother had two hundred and fifty-three -francs left. Lest some optimistic readers should think that this was -our annual income, I hasten to say that it was capital. Need anyone -ask if my poor mother was distressed at such a result? We had never -really been so close to destitution. My mother fell into the depths -of discouragement. Since my father's death we had been unceasingly -drawing nearer and nearer to the end of all our resources. It had -been a long struggle--from 1806 to 1823! It had lasted for seventeen -years; but we were beaten at last. Nevertheless, I never felt gayer -or more confident. I do not know why I deserve it, whether for deeds -done in this world, or in other worlds where I may have had previous -existences, but God seems to have me under His special care, and -however grave my situation He comes openly to my succour. So, my God! -I proudly and yet very humbly confess Thy name before believers and -before infidels, and not even from the merit of faith do I say this, -but simply because it is the truth. For, hadst Thou appeared to me when -I invoked Thee, O my God! and hadst Thou asked me, "Child, say boldly -what it is you want," I should never have dared to ask for half the -favours Thou hast granted me out of Thy infinite bounty. - -Well, my mother told me that, when all our debts were paid, we only had -two hundred and fifty-three francs left. - -"Very well," I said to my mother; "you must give me the fifty-three -francs: I will set out for Paris, and, this time, I promise to return -only with good news." - -"Are you aware, my dear boy," said my mother, "that you are asking me -for a fifth of our capital?" - -"You remember that you owe me sixty francs?" - -"Yes, but recollect that when I said,'For what purpose shall I return -you the sixty francs?' you replied, 'That is my business.'" - -"Very well, so indeed it is my business.... Will you give me the -Piranèses which are upstairs in the big portfolio?" - -"What do you call the Piranèses?" - -"Those large black engravings that my father brought back from Italy." - -"What will you do with them?" - -"I will find a home for them." - -My mother shrugged her shoulders dubiously. - -"Do as you like about them," she said. - -There was an architect, named Oudet, amongst the staff at the -workhouse, who very much wanted our Piranèses. I had always refused him -them, telling him that one day I would bring him them myself. The day -had come. But it was an unlucky day: Oudet had no money. This was quite -conceivable. Oudet, as architect to the Castle, received only a hundred -francs per month. True, I was not very exorbitant in the matter of my -Piranèses, which were well worth five or six hundred francs; I only -asked fifty francs. Oudet offered to pay me these fifty francs in three -months' time. - -In three months!... How could I wait for three months? - -I left Oudet in despair. I ought to say, in justice to Oudet, -that he was probably in even lower straits than I was. In leaving -Oudet, I ran up against another of my friends, whose name was -Gondon. He was a shooting comrade. He had a property three leagues -from Villers-Cotterets,--at Cœuvre, the country of the beautiful -Gabrielle,--and we had very often spent whole weeks together there, -shooting by day and poaching by night. It was at his place that I -nearly lost my life one evening, in the most ridiculous fashion -imaginable. It was the evening before the opening of the shooting -season. Five or six of us shooters had come from Villers-Cotterets, -and we were putting up at Gondon's, in order to be up early for a -start at daybreak. Now, as we had neither rooms nor beds enough for -everybody, the sitting-room had been transformed into a dormitory, -in the four corners of which four beds were set up--that is to say, -four mattresses were laid down. When the candles were extinguished, my -three companions took it into their heads to start a bolster fight. As, -for some reason or another, I did not feel inclined for the sport, I -announced my intention of remaining neutral. The result of this compact -was that after a quarter of an hour's fight between Austrians, Russians -and Prussians, the Austrians, Russians and Prussians became allies -and united to fall upon me, who represented France. So they hurled -themselves on my bed, and began to belabour me with the afore-mentioned -bolsters, as threshers beat out corn with their flails in a barn. I -drew up my sheet over my head, and waited patiently till the storm -should have passed over, which could not be long first, at the rate -they were beating. And as I anticipated, the storm calmed down. One -thrasher retired, then another. But the third, who was my cousin, Félix -Deviolaine, upheld no doubt by the tie of kinship, continued striking -in spite of the retreat of the others. Suddenly he stopped, and I heard -him get silently into his bed. One might have thought some accident -had overtaken him, which he was anxious to conceal from his comrades. -In fact, the opposite end of the bolster to that which he had held in -his hands, had burst by the violence of the blows, and all the feathers -had escaped. This down made a mountain, just where the sheet which -protected my head joined the bolster. I was totally unaware of the -fact. As I did not feel any more blows, and having heard my last enemy -retire to his bed, I gently put out my head and, as for the past ten -minutes I had become more or less stifled, according as I tightened or -loosened the sheet, I drew a full breath. I swallowed a big armful of -feathers. Suffocation was instantaneous, almost complete. I uttered -an inarticulate cry, and feeling myself literally being strangled, I -began to roll about the room. My companions at first thought I had -now taken it into my head to pirouette like a ballet dancer, just as -they had fancied a fight; but they realised at last that the strangled -sounds I gave forth expressed acute agony. Gondon was the first to -realise that something very serious had happened to me, from some -unknown cause, and that I was _in extremis_. Félix, who alone could -have explained my gyrations and my wheezings, lay still, and pretended -to be asleep. Gondon rushed into the kitchen, returned with a candle, -and threw light on the scene. I must have been a very funny spectacle, -and I confess, there was a general burst of laughter. But though I -had been pretty gluttonous, I had not swallowed all the feathers and -all the down: some stuck to my curly head, giving me a false air of -resemblance to Polichinelle. This false air soon began to look like -reality from the flush of redness that strangulation had sent into -my face. They thought water was the best thing to give me. One of my -companions, named Labarre, ran in his shirt to the pump and filled a -pot with water, which he laughingly brought me. Such hilarity, when my -torture had reached its height, drove me wild. I seized the pot by the -handle, and chucked the contents down Labarre's back. The water was icy -cold. Its temperature was little in harmony with the natural warmth of -his blood, and it produced such gambols and such contortions on the -part of the anointed, that, in spite of my various woes, the desire -to laugh was now on my side. I made a different effort from any I had -tried hitherto, and I expectorated some of the feathers and down which -had blocked my throat. From that moment I was safe. Nevertheless, I -continued to spit feathers for a week, and I coughed for a month. - -I beg my reader's pardon for this digression; but, as I had neglected -to put down this important episode in my life in its chronological -order, it will not be deemed extraordinary if I seize the first -opportunity that presents itself to repair this omission. - -Well, I met Gondon coming out of Oudet's house. He had a hundred francs -in his hand. - -"Oh, my dear fellow," I said, "if you are so wealthy, you can surely -lend Oudet fifty francs." - -"What to do?" - -"To buy my Piranèses from me." - -"Your Piranèses?" - -"Yes, I want to go to Paris. Oudet offered to buy my Piranèses for -fifty francs, and now...." - -"And now he does not wish to have them?" - -"On the contrary, he is dying to possess them; but he hasn't a son, and -cannot pay me for three months." - -"And you want fifty francs?" - -"Indeed I do." - -"You would like to have them?" - -"Rather." - -"Wait: perhaps we can arrange matters." - -"Oh, do try, my good fellow." - -"There is a very simple way: I cannot give you the fifty francs, -because I have promised my tailor a hundred francs to-day; but Oudet -can make a cheque out to me for fifty francs at three months, I will -endorse the cheque, and I will give it to the tailor as ready money." - -We went to Oudet's. Oudet made out the cheque, and I carried off the -money, thanking Gondon, and above all God, who out of His infinite -loving kindness had provided me the means to advance a step farther on -my way. I accompanied Gondon as far as his tailor's. At the tailor's -door I ran up against old Cartier. - -"Well, my boy," he said, "isn't there a bit left of your dog's money to -pay for a small glass of wine for your old friend?" - -"Certainly, if he wins it of me at billiards;" and I jingled my fifty -francs. - -I turned to Gondon. - -"Come and see what happens," I said to him. - -"You go on; I will rejoin you.... At Camberlin's, is it not?" - -"At Camberlin's." - -Camberlin was the traditional coffee-house; since the discovery of -coffee and the invention of billiards, the Camberlins had sold coffee -and kept a billiard-table, from father to son. - -It was to Camberlin's my grandfather used to go every evening to take -a hand at dominoes or piquet, until his little bitch Charmante came -scratching at the door, with two lanterns held in her jaws. It was -at Camberlin's my father and M. Deviolaine came to challenge each -other's skill at play, as, on another green carpet, they challenged -each other's skill at the chase. It was at Camberlin's, finally, that, -thanks to my antecedents, I had been able, almost gratis, when I lost, -to begin my education as an elder Philibert under three different -masters, who had ended by seeing me a better player than they were. -These three masters were--Cartier, against whom I was going to wipe -out an old score; Camusat, Hiraux's nephew, who reclothed his uncle at -la Râpée, when they turned him out of Villers-Cotterets in drawers and -shirt; and a delightful youth, called Gaillard, who was a first-class -player in all sorts of games, and who had, to my great satisfaction, -replaced M. Miaud, my old rival, at the work-house. So I had become -a much better player than Cartier; but, as he would never admit it, -he invariably declined the six points I as invariably offered him -before we began the match. Just as we were trying our cues on the -billiard-table, Gondon entered. - -"What will you take, Gondon?" Cartier asked. "Dumas is paying." - -"I will take absinthe; I want to enjoy my dinner well to-day." - -"Well, so will I," said Cartier. "And you?" - -"I? You know I have made a vow never to take either liqueur or coffee." - -To what saint and on what occasion I made this vow I cannot at all say; -but I know I kept it religiously. - -"Then we will say two small absinthes?" replied Cartier, continuing to -joke. "That will be six sous, waiter, in exchange for your receipt." -In the provinces, at any rate at Villers-Cotterets, a small glass of -absinthe costs three sous. - -"My dear Gondon," I said, "I cannot offer you a better prayer than my -uncle's, the curé at Béthisy: 'My God, side neither with one nor with -the other, and you will see a rascal receive a jolly good whacking!' -Will you have your six points, father Cartier?" - -"Go along with you!" Cartier exclaimed disdainfully, putting my ball on -the yellow. - -We played Russian fashion, a game with five balls, and thirty-six -points. I made the yellow six times--three times into the right pocket -and three times into the left. - -"Six times six; thirty-six; first round. Your two small glasses are not -worth more than their three sous, father Cartier." "Four sous, you mean -to say." - -"Not unless I let you win the second round." - -"Come on, then!" - -"Will you have the six points?" - -"I will give them to you, if you like." - -"Done! Mark my six points, Gondon; I have my designs on father Cartier. -I mean him to contribute to my visit to Paris: the diligences start -from his hotel." - -At the second round, Cartier got up to twelve. - -At thirty points, I had a run and made sixteen more; that made -forty-six points, instead of thirty-six. Deducting the six points -restored to Cartier, there still remained four I could offer him in -return. He refused them with his usual dignity. But Cartier was beside -himself when he had lost the first game, and the wilder he was the more -obstinate he became: once set going, he would have played away his -land, his hotel, his saucepans, to the very chickens that were turning -on his spit. - -Worthy old Cartier! He is alive yet; although he is eighty-six or -eighty-seven, he is still remarkably hale, and lives with his two -children. I never go to Villers-Cotterets without calling on him. Last -time I saw him, about a year ago, I paid him a compliment on his health. - -"My goodness, my dear Cartier," I said to him, "you are like our oak -trees, which, if they do not grow very tall, go deep into the soil and -gain in roots what they miss in the way of leaves. You will live to the -Last Judgment." - -"Oh, my boy," he said, "I have been very ill,--did you not know it?" - -"No--when?" - -"Three and a half years ago." - -"What was the matter with you?" - -"I had toothache." - -"That was your own fault. What business have you with' teeth at your -age?" - -Well, on that day, poor old Cartier! (I am referring to the day of our -game),--on that day, to use a gaming term, I took a fine tooth out of -his head. We played for five hours on end, always doubling; I won _six -hundred small glasses of absinthe_ from him. We should have played -longer, and you may judge what an ocean of absinthe Cartier would have -owed me, if Auguste had not come to look for him. - -Auguste was one of Cartier's sons: his father stood in great awe of -him; he put his finger to his lips to ask me to keep mum. I was as -generous as was Alexander in the matter of the family of Porus. - -I let Cartier go, without demanding my winnings from him. And Gondon -and I reckoned up the account. Reduced to money, the six hundred small -glasses of absinthe would have produced a total of eighteen hundred -sous--that is to say, ninety francs. I could have paid the journey to -Paris a dozen times over. My mother had good cause to say, "My boy, God -is on your side." - -My mother was very uneasy when I returned home; she knew what folly -I was capable of, when I had got an idea into my head, and it was -therefore with some anxiety that she asked me where I had been. -Generally, when I had been to Camberlin's, I took a roundabout way -in telling her of it. My poor mother, foreseeing what passions would -one day surge in me, was afraid that gaming might be one of them. -In several of her surmises she was correct; but at any rate she was -completely mistaken in this one. So I told her what had just happened. -How the Piranèses had brought us in fifty francs, and how M. Cartier -was going to pay my fare to Paris. But these blessings from heaven -brought sadness with them, for they meant our separation. I did my best -to comfort her by telling her that the separation would be only for a -little while, and that as soon as I had obtained a berth at fifteen -hundred francs, she should leave Villers-Cotterets also and come and -join me; but my mother knew that a berth at fifteen hundred francs was -an Eldorado, difficult to discover. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy--M. Danré of Vouty -advises my mother to let me go to Paris--My good-byes--Laffitte and -Perregaux--The three things which Maître Mennesson asks me not to -forget--The Abbé Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him--I leave -Villers-Cotterets - - -One morning, I said to my mother-- - -"Have you anything to say to M. Danré? I am going to Vouty." - -"What do you want of M. Danré?" - -"To ask him for a letter to General Foy." - -My mother raised her eyes to heaven; she questioned whence came all -these ideas to me, that converged all to one end. - -M. Danré was my father's old friend, who, having had his left hand -mutilated when out shooting, had been brought into our house. There, -the reader will remember, Doctor Lécosse had skilfully amputated his -thumb, and as my mother had nursed him with the greatest care through -the whole of the illness the accident brought on, he had a warm feeling -in his heart towards my mother, my sister and myself. It always, -therefore, gave him great pleasure to see me, whether I arrived with a -message from Me. Mennesson, his lawyer, when I was with Me. Mennesson, -or whether on my own account. This time it was on my own affairs. I -told him the object of my visit. - -When General Foy was put on the lists for election, the electors would -not appoint him; but M. Danré had supported his candidature, and, -thanks to M. Danré's influence in the department, General Foy had -been elected. We know what a foremost place the illustrious patriot -took in the Chamber. General Foy was not an eloquent orator; he was -far better than that: he possessed a warm heart, ready to act at the -inspiration of every noble passion. Not a single great question came -under his notice during all the time he was in the Chamber, that was -not supported by him if it was a worthy object, or that was not opposed -by him if it was unworthy; his words fell from the tribune, terrible as -the return thrusts in a duel--piercing thrusts, nearly always deadly to -his adversaries. But, like all men of feeling, he wore himself out in -the struggle, the most constant and most maddening struggle of all: it -killed him while rendering his name immortal. - -In 1823, General Foy was at the height of his popularity, and from the -pinnacle to which he had attained, he reminded M. Danré from time to -time of his existence, which proved to the humble farmer, who, like -Philoctètes, had made sovereigns, but had no desire to be one, that he -was still his affectionate and grateful friend. Therefore M. Danré did -not feel in any way averse to give me the letter I asked of him, and -it was couched in the most favourable terms. Then, when M. Danré had -written, signed and sealed the letter, he asked me about my pecuniary -resources. I told him everything, even to the ingenious methods by the -aid of which I had obtained what I had. - -"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I had half a mind to offer you my purse; -but, really, it would smirch your record. People do not do that sort of -thing to end in failure: you should succeed with that fifty francs of -yours, and I do not wish to take away the credit of owing it entirely -to yourself. Take courage, then, and go in peace! If you are absolutely -in need of my services, write to me from Paris." - -"So you feel hopeful?" I said to M. Danré. - -"Very." - -"Are you coming to Villers-Cotterets on Thursday?" - -Thursday was market day. - -"Yes; why do you ask?" - -"Because if you are, I would beg you to call and tell my mother you are -hopeful: she has great confidence in you, and as everybody seems bent -on telling her I shall never do anything...." - -"The fact is you have not done very much up to now!" - -"Because they were determined to push me into a vocation I was not -fitted for, dear Monsieur Danré; but you will see, directly they leave -me alone to do what I am cut out for, I shall become a hard worker." - -"Mind you do! I will reassure your mother, relying on your word." - -"You may, and I will fulfil it." - -The day but one after my visit, M. Danré came to Villers-Cotterets, -as he had promised, and saw my mother. I was watching for his coming; -I let him start the conversation and then I came in. My mother was -crying, but seemed to have made up her mind. When she saw me, she held -out her hand. - -"You are bent on leaving me, then?" she said. - -"I must, mother. But do not be uneasy; if we separate, this time it -will not be for long." - -"Yes, because you will fail, and return to Villers-Cotterets once more." - -"No, no, mother; on the contrary, because I shall succeed, and bring -you to Paris." - -"And when do you mean to go?" - -"Listen, mother dear: when a great resolution is taken, the sooner it -is put into execution the better.... Ask M. Danré." - -"Yes, ask Lazarille. I do not know what you did to M. Danré, but the -fact is...." - -"M. Danré is fair-minded, mother; he knows that everything must move -in its own appointed surroundings if it is to become of any worth. I -should make a bad lawyer, a bad solicitor, a bad sheriffs officer; I -should make a shocking bad teacher I You know quite well that it took -three schoolmasters to get me through the multiplication table and it -was not a brilliant success. Very well! I believe I can do something -better." - -"What, you scamp?" - -"Mother, I swear I know nothing about what I shall do, but you -remember what the fortune-teller whom you questioned on my behalf -predicted?" - -My mother sighed. - -"What did she predict?" asked M. Danré. - -"She said," I replied, "'I cannot tell you what your son will become, -madame; I can only see him, through clouds and flashes of lightning, -like a traveller who is crossing high mountains, reaching a height -to which few men attain. I do not say he will command people, but I -foresee he will speak to them; although I cannot indicate the precise -lines of his destiny, your son belongs to that class of men whom we -style RULERS.' 'My son is to become a king, then?' my mother laughingly -retorted. 'No, no, but something similar, something perhaps more -desirable: every king has not a crown on his head and a sceptre in his -hand.' 'So much the better,' said my mother; 'I never envied the lot of -Madame Bonaparte.' I was five years old, Monsieur Danré, I was present -when my horoscope was made; well--I will prove the gipsy to be in the -right. You know that prophecies are not always fulfilled because they -must be fulfilled, but because they put a fixed idea into the minds of -those about whom they are made which influences events, which modifies -circumstances, which finally brings them to the end aimed at; because -this end was revealed to them in advance, whilst, had it not been for -the revelation, they would have passed by the end without noticing it." - -"I should like to know where he got all these notions from!" my mother -exclaimed. - -"Oh, why, from his own thoughts," said M. Danré. - -"Then is it your judgment, too, that he ought to go?" - -"I advise it." - -"But you know the poor lad's resources!" - -"Fifty francs and his carriage fare paid." - -"Well?" - -"That will be enough, if he is to succeed, or if his destiny urges him -on as he says. If he had a million, he would not obtain what he wishes -to obtain so long as he had no vocation for it." - -"Well, well, he had better go, if he is so set on it." - -"When shall I go, mother?" - -"When you like. Only, you must let us have a day together first." - -"Listen, mother mine. I will stay all to-day, to-morrow and Saturday -with you. On Saturday night I will leave by the ten o'clock coach: I -shall reach Paris by five.... I shall have time to get to Adolphe's -house before he goes out." - -"Ah!" said my mother, as she heaved a sigh, "he is the one who has led -you astray!" - -I did not much heed the sigh, because I felt sure the engagement made -would be fulfilled. I began to make my round of farewells. - -I had not seen Adèle since her marriage. I would not write to her: the -letter might be opened by her husband, and compromise her. I applied -to Louise Brézette, our friend in common. Alas! I found the poor child -in tears. Chollet, whose education in forestry was finished, had -been obliged to return to his parents, and he had carried off with -him all the young girl's first dreams of love: she was forlorn and -inconsolable; she mourned the whole of her life for her lover, and bore -the marks of her love-sickness. I quoted the example of Ariadne to her, -advising her to follow it, and I believe ... I believe she followed it, -and that I contributed, in some measure, towards inducing her to follow -it.... - -Poor beloved children! true and affectionate friends of my youth! my -life is now so much taken up, the hours that belong to me are so few, -I am common property to such an extent, that when, by chance, I go -home, or you come here, I cannot give you all the time that the claims -of love and of memory demand. But when I shall have won a few of those -hours of repose in search of which Théaulon spent his life, and which -he never found, oh! I promise you those hours shall be given to you -unquestionably, unshared by others. You have ample claims to demand the -leisure of my old age, and you will make my latter days to flourish as -in my springtime. For there are closed tombs there which draw me as -much, more even, than open houses; dead friends who talk to me more -clearly than do the living. - -When I left Louise, I went to Maître Mennesson; I had always kept on -pretty good terms with him. But, since our separation, he had married. -I think his marriage made him more sceptical than ever. - -"Ah!" he said, when he caught sight of me, "so there you are!" - -"Yes; I have come to bid you good-bye." - -"You have decided to go, then?" - -"On Saturday night." - -"And how much do you take with you?" - -"Fifty francs." - -"My dear lad, there are people who started on less than that--M. -Laffitte, for example." - -"Yes, exactly so. I mean to pay him a call, and to ask him for a post -in his office." - -"Well, then, if you find a pin on his carpet, do not fail to pick it up -and to put it on his mantelpiece." - -"Why?" - -"Because when M. Laffitte arrived in Paris, much poorer even than -you, he went to see M. Perregaux, just as you are going to call on M. -Laffitte; he went to ask for a place in his office, as you are going -to ask for one in his. M. Perregaux had no vacancy; he dismissed M. -Laffitte, who was going away, his eyes looking down sadly on the floor -as father Aubry's were inclined towards the grave, when he perceived a -pin, not on the earth but on the carpet. M. Laffitte was a tidy man: -he picked up the pin and put it on the mantelpiece, saying, 'Pardon -me, monsieur.' But M. Perregaux, be it known, was a person who noticed -every little thing: he reflected that a young man who would pick up a -pin from the ground must be an orderly person, and, as M. Laffitte was -going away, he said to him, 'I have been thinking, monsieur, stay.' -'But you told me you had no opening in your office.' 'If there is not -one, we will make one for you.' M. Perregaux did as a matter of fact -make room for him--as his partner." - -"That is a very delightful story, dear Monsieur Mennesson, and I thank -you for your great kindness in relating it to me; but I am afraid it is -no good to me; for, unluckily, I am no picker up of pins." - -"Ah! that is precisely your great fault." - -"Or my strongest point ... we shall see. Therefore, if you have any -good advice to give me...?" - -"Beware of priests, hate the Bourbons, and remember that the only state -worthy of a great nation is a Republic." - -"My dear Monsieur Mennesson, reversing the order of your advice, I -would say: Yes, I am of your opinion as to the government which is most -suited to a great nation, and on the supposition that if I am anything -I am a Republican like yourself. As for the Bourbons, I neither love -them nor hate them. I have heard it said that their race produced a -holy king, a good one and a great one: Saint Louis, Henri IV. and -Louis XIV. Only, the last reigning sovereign returned to France riding -behind a Cossack; that, I believe, damaged the Bourbon cause in the -eyes of France; so it comes about that if some day my voice is needed -to hasten their going away, and my gun to assist their departure, those -who are driving them out will find one voice and one gun the more. As -to distrusting priests, I have only known but one, the Abbé Grégoire, -and as he seemed to me the model of all Christian virtues, until I -encounter a bad one, let me believe that all are good." - -"Well, well, you will change all that." - -"It is possible. Meanwhile, give me your hand: I am going to ask for -his blessing." - -"Go, then, and much good may it do you!" - -"I believe it will." - -I went to the abbé. - -"Well, well," he said, "so you are going to leave us?" - -It will be seen that the rumour of my departure had already spread all -over the place. - -"Yes, M. l'abbé, and I have come to ask you to remember me in your -prayers." - -"Oh! my prayers? I thought that was the thing you cared least about." - -"M. l'abbé, do you remember the day I made my first communion?" - -"Yes, I know, it produced a profound impression on you, but you let it -stay at that, and you have never been seen at church since." - -"Do you suppose the sacrament would have the same effect on me at the -tenth time as on the first?" - -"Ah! my God, no, certainly not. Unhappily, one gets accustomed to -everything in this world." - -"Very well, M. l'abbé, my other impressions would have effaced that. -One must not get too used to sacred things, M. l'abbé; frequent use of -them not only takes away their grandeur, but still more their efficacy. -Who told you once that I should only need the consolation of the Church -in great trouble, as one only requires bleeding in serious illness?" -"You have a curious way of putting things...." - -"Well, M. l'abbé, you said it yourself, more than once: we must -treat men less according to their maladies than according to their -temperaments. I am impressionability personified. I have an impulsive -character, you yourself told me so. I shall commit all kinds of -mistakes, all kinds of follies--never a wicked or disgraceful action. -Not, indeed, because I am better than anyone else; but because bad and -dishonourable actions are the result of reflection and of calculation, -and when I act, it is on the spur of the moment; and this impulse is so -quick, that the action springing from it is done before I have had time -to consider the consequences or to calculate the results."-- - -"There is some truth in what you say: but come, what is the use of -giving any advice to a character of your calibre?" - -"Well, I did not come to ask for your advice, dear abbé; I came to beg -your prayers." - -"Prayers?.... You do not believe in them." - -"Ah! pardon, that is another matter.... No, true, I have not always had -faith in them; but do not be troubled: on the day when I shall have -need to believe in them, I shall believe in them. Listen: when I took -my communion, had I not read in Voltaire that it was a curious sort -of God that needed to be digested? and, in Pigault-Lebrun, that the -Host was nothing more than a wafer double the thickness of an ordinary -wafer? Well, did that prevent me feeling a trembling that shook my -whole body, when the Host touched my lips? Did it prevent the tears -springing into my eyes, tears of humility, tears of thankfulness, -above all, tears of love towards God? Do you not believe that God -prefers a generous heart which abandons itself utterly to Him when it -is too full, to a niggardly heart which only yields itself drop by -drop? Should not prayer come from the depths of the soul, rather than -consist of the words of one's lips? Do you believe God will be angry -if I forget Him during ordinary daily life, as one forgets the beating -of one's heart, so long as I return to Him at every time of trouble or -of joy? No M. l'abbé, no; on the contrary, I believe God loves me, and -that is why I forget Him, just as one forgets a good father whom one is -always sure of." - -"Well," replied the abbé, "it matters little to me if you forget God; -but I do not want you to doubt His existence." - -"Oh! be at rest on that point: it is not the hunter who ever doubts the -existence of God--no man does who has spent whole nights in the moonlit -woods, who has studied Nature, from the elephant down to the mite, who -has watched the setting and the rising of the sun, who has heard the -songs of the birds, their evening laments and their morning hymns of -praise!" - -"Then all will be well.... Now, you know, there is a text in the -Gospels which is short and easy to remember; make it the foundation -of your actions and you need not fear failure; this text, which ought -to be engraved in letters of gold over the entry to every town, over -the entry to every house, over the entry to every heart, is:'_Do not -do unto others that ye would not have them do to you._' And when -philosophers, cavillers, libertines, say to you, 'Confucius has a maxim -better than that, as follows: Do unto others what you would have them -do to you,' reply, 'No, it is not better!--for it is false in its -application; one cannot always do what one would like others to do to -oneself, whilst one can always abstain from doing what one would not -like them to do to oneself.' Come, kiss me and let us leave matters -here.... We could not say anything better than that." - -And, with these words, we embraced warmly, and I left him. - -The next day but one, after having made my last visit to the -cemetery,--a pious pilgrimage which my mother made almost every day, -and in which, this time, I accompanied her,--we wended our way towards -the _Hôtel de la Boule d'or_ where the passing coach was to pick me -up and take me away to Paris. At half-past nine we heard the sound of -the wheels; my mother and I had still another half-hour together. We -retired into a room where we were alone, and we wept together; but our -tears were from different causes. My mother wept in doubt, I wept in -hope. We could neither of us see the hand of God; but very certainly -God was present and His grace was with us. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -I find Adolphe again--The pastoral drama--First steps--The Duc de -Bellune--General Sébastiani--His secretaries and his snuff-boxes--The -fourth floor, small door to the left--The general who painted battles - - -I got down at No. 9 rue du Bouloy, at five in the morning. This time, -I did not make the same mistake that I did when I left the Théâtre -Français. I took my bearings, and, by certain landmarks, I thought I -recognised the vicinity of the rue des Vieux-Augustins. I questioned -the conductor, who confirmed my convictions, and handed me my small -luggage. I disputed over it victoriously with several porters, and I -reached the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_ towards half-past five. There -I felt at home. The waiter recognised me as the traveller with the -hares and the partridges, and, in the absence of the landlord, who was -still asleep, he took me to the room I had occupied on my last visit. -My first desire was for sleep. Owing to the emotions of parting, and -owing to wakeful dreams I had had in the diligence, I arrived tired -out. I told the boy to wake me at nine, if I had not given any signs -of life before. I knew Adolphe's habits by now, and I knew I need not -hurry over going to his house. But when the landlord himself came into -my room at nine o'clock, he found me up: sleep would have none of -me. It was Sunday morning. Under the Bourbons Paris was very dreary -on Sundays. Strict orders forbade the opening of shops, and it was -considered not only a breach of religious order, but still worse, a -crime of _lèse majesty_ to disobey these ordinances. I risked being -arrested in Paris at nine in the morning nearly as much as I had risked -it by being in the streets after midnight. I did not feel uneasy. -Thanks to my sportsman's instincts, I found the rue du Mont-Blanc; -then the rue Pigale; then, finally, No. 14 in the rue Pigale. - -M. de Leuven was, as usual, walking in his garden. It was early in May: -he was amusing himself by giving a bit of sugar to a rose. He turned -round and said-- - -"Ah! it is you. Why have you been so long without coming to see us?" - -"Why, because I returned to Villers-Cotterets." - -"And you have now come back?" - -"As you see. I have come to try my fortune for the last time.... This -time, I must stop in Paris, whatever happens." - -"Well, as to that, you will always be welcome here, my dear boy. We -have a kind of Platonic republic here, save in the matter of the -community of women and the presence of poets: one mouth more or less -makes no difference to our republic. There is even an empty attic to -spare upstairs; you can dispute possession of it with the rats; but I -believe you are capable of defending yourself. Go and arrange it all -with Adolphe." - -M. de Leuven wrote on foreign politics at that time, for the _Courrier -français._ Brought up on the knees of the kings and queens of the -North, speaking all the Northern languages, knowing everything it is -permitted man to know, the politics of foreign courts were almost -his mother tongue. He rose at five o'clock every morning, received -the papers by six, and by seven or eight his work for the _Courrier -français_ was finished. - -Generally, by the time his father finished his day's work, Adolphe had -not begun his. He was still in bed--which I forgave him after he had -assured me that he had worked at a little drama in two acts, called the -_Pauvre Fille_, until two in the morning. - -The reader will recollect Soumet's charming elegy:-- - - "J'ai fui le pénible sommeil, - Qu'aucun songe heureux n'accompagne; - J'ai devancé sur la montagne - Les premiers rayons du soleil. - S'éveillant avec la nature, - Le jeune oiseau chantait sur l'aubépine en fleurs; - Sa mère lui portait la douce nourriture; - Mes yeux se sont mouillés de pleurs. - Oh! pourquoi n'ai-je plus de mère? - Pourquoi ne suis-je pas semblable au jeune oiseau - Dont le nid se balance aux branches de l'ormeau, - Moi, malheureux enfant trouve sur une pierre, - Devant l'église du hameau?" - -Short lines were much in vogue at that period. M. Guiraud had just -made with his _Petits Savoyards_ a reputation almost equal to that M. -Dennery has since made with his _Grâce de Dieu_, the only difference -being that M. Guiraud's Savoyard only asked for a son, while M. -Dennery's Savoyard asked for five. True, M. Dennery is a Jew. The first -of Hugo's _Odes_ had made their appearance; Lamartine's _Méditations_ -were out; but these were too strong and too substantial meat for the -stomachs of 1823, which had been nourished on the refuse of Parny, of -Bertin and of Millevoye. - -Adolphe was writing his _Pauvre Fille_ in collaboration with Ferdinand -Langlé, and it was to be ready for a reading in a week's time. - -"Ah me! when shall I have reached that stage?" I thought to myself. -While I waited, I questioned Adolphe as to the composition of the -Ministry. You ask why I wanted to know about the composition of the -Ministry, and what I had to do with ministers? Why, I wanted to -know what the Duc de Bellune was. As ministers are but mortals, and -quickly forgotten when they are dead, it gives me pleasure to draw -this minister from his grave, and to acquaint the reader with the -constitution of the Ministry of 1823 at the date of my arrival in Paris. - -Keeper of the Seals, Comte de Peyronnet. Foreign Minister, Vicomte de -Montmorency. Minister for the Interior, Comte de Cubières. Minister -for War, _le Maréchal Duc de Bellune_. Minister for the Navy, Marquis -de Clermont-Tonnerre. Minister for Finance, Comte de Villèle. King's -Chamberlain, M. de Lauriston. - -The Duc de Bellune was still War Minister. That was all I wanted to -know. - -I have mentioned that I was interested in the Duc de Bellune, no -matter what office he held. I had a letter of his in my possession, -wherein he had thanked my father for a service he had rendered in -Italy; he placed himself at my father's disposition, in case he should -ever be able to do anything for him. The occasion offered on behalf -of the son instead of the father. But as, at that period, the law of -inheritance had not yet been abolished, as there was not even talk of -abolishing it, I did not doubt that as I had succeeded in the direct -line to Napoleon's hatred, I should succeed in direct line also to the -gratitude of the Duc de Bellune. I begged a pen and ink from de Leuven; -I trimmed the quill with the care the case demanded, and, in my very -best handwriting, I drew up a petition asking for an interview with -the Minister of War. I particularised all my claims to his favour; I -emphasised them in the name of my father, which the marshal could not -have forgotten; I recalled the old friendship which had united them, -while leaving unmentioned the service my father had rendered him, of -which the marshal's letter (he was then a major or a colonel) gave -proof. Then, easy about my future, I returned to literature. - -Adolphe sensibly pointed out to me that, sure though I felt of the -protection of Marshal Victor, it might still be as well to throw out my -line in other directions, in the unlikely, but still possible, case of -my being deceived. - -I told Adolphe that, if Marshal Victor failed me, there still remained -Marshal Jourdan and Marshal Sébastiani. - -It was quite out of the question that these would not move heaven -and earth for me. I had three or four letters from Jourdan to my -father, which gave token of a friendship equal to that of Damon and -Pythias. I had only one letter from Marshal Sébastiani; but this letter -proved that when at loggerheads with Bonaparte during the Egyptian -campaign, it was through the intercession of my father, who was then -on excellent terms with the general-in-chief, that he had obtained a -commission in the expedition. Surely such services as these would -never be forgotten! At that time, as can be seen, I was very simple, -very provincial, very confiding. I am wrong in saying "at that time"; -alas! I am just the same now, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, Adolphe's -suspicions disturbed me. I decided not to wait for the Duc de Bellune's -answer before seeing my other patrons, and I told Adolphe I meant to -buy the _Almanach des 25,000 adresses_ in order to find out where they -lived. - -"Do not put yourself to that expense," said Adolphe. "I believe my -father has it: I will lend it you." - -The tone in which Adolphe said "Do not put yourself to that expense" -annoyed me. It was as clear as day that he believed I should be making -a useless expenditure in buying the Directory in question. I was angry -with Adolphe for having such a low opinion of men. - -To give him the lie, I went next morning to Marshal Jourdan. I -announced myself as Alexandre Dumas. My success was surprising. The -marshal no doubt imagined that the news he had received fifteen years -ago was not true, and that my father was still alive. But when he saw -me, his face changed completely: he remembered perfectly that a General -Alexandre Dumas had existed in times gone by, with whom he had come in -contact, but he had never heard of the existence of a son. In spite -of all I could urge to establish my identity, he dismissed me, after -ten minutes' interview, still a disbeliever in my existence. This good -marshal was stronger than St. Thomas: he saw and did not believe. - -It was a sad beginning. I recalled the way in which, advising me not -to buy an _Almanach des 25,000 adresses,_ Adolphe had said to me, -"Do not put yourself to that expense." Was it possible, perchance, -that Adolphe's scepticism might prove correct? These depressing -cogitations passed through my mind while I was walking from the -faubourg Saint-Germain to the faubourg Saint-Honoré--that is to say, -from Marshal Jourdan's to Marshal Sébastiani's. I announced myself, -as I had at Marshal Jourdan's; at my name the door opened. I thought, -for a moment, that I had inherited Ali Baba's famous "Open, sesame!" -The _general_ was in his study. I italicise _general,_ as I was in -error previously in calling the famous minister of foreign affairs -to Louis-Philippe _marshal_:--Comte Sébastiani was only a general -when I paid my visit to him. So the general was in his study: in the -four comers of this study, as at the four corners of a map are the -four cardinal points or four winds, were four secretaries. These -four secretaries were writing at his dictation. They were three less -in number than Cæsar's, but two more than Napoleon's. Each of these -secretaries had on his desk, besides his pen, his paper and his -penknife, a gold snuff-box which he opened and offered to the general, -every time the latter had occasion, when walking round the room, to -stop in front of the desk. The general would daintily insert the first -finger and thumb of a hand whose whiteness and delicacy had been the -envy of his grand-cousin Napoleon, take a voluptuous sniff of the -Spanish powder and, like _le Malade imaginaire,_ proceed to measure the -length and the breadth of the room.. - -My visit was short. Whatever consideration I might have for the -general, I did not feel inclined to become his snuff-box boy. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, somewhat cast -down. The first two men I had turned to had blown upon my golden -dreams, and tarnished them. Besides, although a whole day had gone by, -although I had given my address as accurately as possible, I had not -yet received any answer from the Duc de Bellune. - -I picked up my _Almanack des 25,000 adresses,_ and began to -congratulate myself on not having wasted five francs in its -acquisition. I was quickly disillusioned, as will be seen; my cheerful -confidence had gone; I felt that sinking of heart which ever increases -in proportion as golden dreams give place to reality. I then turned -over the leaves of the book purely and simply at hap-hazard, looking -at it mechanically, reading without taking it in, when, all at once, I -saw a name that I had often heard my mother pronounce, and, each time, -in such eulogistic terms that all my spirits revived. That name was -General Verdier's, who had served in Egypt, under my father. - -"Come, come," I said; "the number three is a favourite with the gods; -perhaps my third unknown and providential protector will do more for me -than the other two--which would be no great tax, seeing the others have -not done anything at all." - -General Verdier lived in the faubourg Montmartre, No. 6. Ten minutes -later, I was holding the following terse dialogue with the concierge of -his house:-- - -"Does General Verdier live here, please?" - -"Fourth floor, small door on the left." - -I made the concierge repeat it: I believed I must have misunderstood -him. - -Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani lived in sumptuous mansions, in -the faubourg Saint-Germain and the faubourg Saint-Honoré; entrance was -gained to these mansions by gates like those of Gaza. Why, then, should -General Verdier live in the rue du faubourg Montmartre, on the fourth -floor, and why did one gain access to him through a small doorway? - -The concierge repeated his words: I had not misunderstood. - -"Good gracious!" I said, as I climbed the staircase; "this does not -look like Marshal Jourdan's lackeys, nor Marshal Sébastiani's Swiss -guards. _General Verdier, fourth floor, small door on the left,_ surely -this is a man likely to remember my father!" - -I reached the fourth floor; I discovered the small door; at this door -hung a humble, modest, green string. I rang with an uncontrollable -fluttering at my heart. This third trial was to decide my opinion of -men. Steps approached, the door was opened. A man of about sixty opened -the door; he wore a cap edged with astrakan, and was clothed in a green -braided jacket and trousers of white calf-skin. He held in his hand a -palette full of paints, and under his thumb, which held his palette, -was a paint-brush. I looked at the other doors. - -"I beg your pardon, monsieur," I said; "I am afraid I have made some -mistake...." - -"What is your pleasure, monsieur?" asked the man with the palette. - -"To present my compliments to General Verdier." - -"In that case, step in: here you are." - -I went in, and, when we had crossed a tiny square hall which served as -an ante-chamber, I found myself in a studio. - -"You will allow me to go on with my work, monsieur?" said the painter, -placing himself in front of a battlepiece in the construction of which -I had interrupted him. - -"Certainly: but will you have the goodness, monsieur, to inform me -where I shall find the general?" - -The painter turned round. - -"The general? What general?" - -"General Verdier." - -"Why, I am he." - -"You?" - -I stared with such rude surprise at him that he began to laugh. - -"It astonishes you to see me handle the brush so badly," said he, -"after having heard, maybe, that I handled a sword passably? What -would you have me do? I have an active hand and I must keep it always -occupied somehow.... But come, as evidently, after the question you put -to me just now, you have nothing to say to the painter, what do you -want with the general?" - -"I am the son of your old comrade-at-arms in Egypt, General Dumas." - -He turned round quickly towards me, and looked at me earnestly; then, -after a moment's silence, he said-- - -"By the powers, so you are! You are the very image of him." Tears -immediately came into his eyes, and, throwing down his brush, he held -out his hand to me, which I longed to kiss rather than to shake. - -"Ah! You remember him, then?" - -"Remember him! I should think I do: the handsomest and the bravest man -in the army! You are the very spit of him, my lad: what a model he -would have made any painter!" - -"Yes, you are right; I remember him perfectly." - -"And what brings you to Paris, my dear boy? for, if my memory serves -me, you lived with your mother, in some village or other." - -"True, General; but my mother is getting on in years, and we are poor." - -"We are both in the same boat," he said. - -"So," I went on, "I have come to Paris, in the hope of obtaining a -small situation, now that it is my turn to provide for her as hitherto -she has provided for me." - -"That is well thought of! But, my poor lad, a place is not so easy to -get in these times, no matter how small, especially for the son of a -Republican general. Ah! if you were the son of an _émigré_ or of a -Chouan,--if only your poor father had served in the Russian or Austrian -army,--I daresay you might have had a chance." - -"The deuce, General, you frighten me! And I had been counting on your -protection." - -"What?" he exclaimed. - -I repeated my sentence word for word, but with a little less assurance. - -"My protection!" He shook his head and smiled sadly. - -"My poor boy," he said, "if you wish to take lessons in painting, my -protection may be sufficient to provide you with them, and, even so, -you will never be a great artist if you do not surpass your master. My -protection! Well, well! I am grateful to you for that expression,'pon -my word! for you are, most likely, the only person in the world who -would ask me for such a thing to-day. You flatterer!" - -"Excuse me, General, I do not rightly understand." - -"Why, those rascals pensioned me off for some imaginary conspiracy with -Dermoncourt! So, you see, here I am, painting pictures; and if you -want to do the same, here are a palette, some brushes and a thirty-six -canvas." - -"Thanks, General; I have never got beyond the first stages; so you see -my apprenticeship would be too long, and neither my mother nor I could -wait----' - -"Ah! what can I say, my lad? You know the proverb: 'The prettiest girl -in the world....' Ah I pardon, pardon; I find I am mistaken. I have -still half my purse; I had forgotten that: it is true it is hardly -worth troubling about." He opened the drawer of a small chest in which, -I remember, there were two gold coins and forty francs in silver. - -"There," he said, "this is the remainder of my quarter's pay." - -"Thank you, General; but I am nearly as wealthy as you." It was my turn -to have tears in my eyes. "Thank you, but perhaps you can advise me -what further steps I can take." - -"You have already taken some steps, then?" - -"Yes, I set about them this morning." - -"Ah! ah! And who have you seen?" - -"I saw Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani." - -"Pooh!... Well?" - -"Well, General, pooh!..." - -"And after that...." - -"And after that, I wrote yesterday to the Minister of War." - -"To Bellune?" - -"Yes." - -"And has he answered you?" - -"Not yet, but I hope he will reply to me." - -The general, while he filled in the face of a Cossack, made a grimace -which might be summed up in the words: "If you are counting only on -that...." - -"I have still," I added, in response to his thought, "a letter of -introduction to General Foy, deputy of my own department." - -"Very well, my dear boy, as I believe that even if you have time to -lose, you have no money to spare, I advise you not to wait for the -minister's answer. To-morrow is Tuesday; there is a sitting of the -Chamber: but present yourself early at General Foy's,--you will find -him at work, for he is a hard worker, like myself; only, he does better -work. Don't worry; he will receive you kindly." - -"You think so?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"I hope so, for I have a letter." - -"Yes, he will give you a kindly reception, I have no doubt, because of -your letter; but above all he will receive you well for your father's -sake, although he did not know him personally. Now, will you dine with -me? We will talk of Egypt. It was hot there!" - -"Willingly, General. At what hour do you dine?" - -"At six o'clock.... Now go and take a turn on the boulevards, whilst I -finish my Cossack, and return at six." - -I took leave of General Verdier, and descended from the fourth floor, I -must confess, with a lighter heart than I had ascended to it. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -_Régulus_--Talma and the play--General Foy--The letter of -recommendation and the interview--The Duc de Bellune's reply--I -obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc d'Orléans--Journey -to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother the good news--No. 9--I gain a -prize in a lottery - - -Men and things began to appear to me in their true light, and the -world, which until now had been hidden from me in the mists of -illusion, began to show itself as it really is, as God and the Devil -have made it, interspersed with good and evil, spotted with dirt. I -related to Adolphe everything that had occurred. - -"Go on," he said; "if your story finishes as it has begun, you will -accomplish much more than the writing of a comic opera: you will write -a comedy." - -But Adolphe's thoughts were in reality busy on my behalf. _Régulus_ was -to be played at the Théâtre-Français that night: he had asked for two -orchestra stalls from Lucien Arnault, and had kept them for me; only, -on that evening, he would be too busy to come with me: the _Pauvre -Fille_ claimed every minute of his time. - -I was almost glad of this inability: I could thus take General Verdier -to the play in return for his dinner. I found him waiting for me at his -house at six o'clock; I showed him my two tickets, and laid my proposal -before him. - -"Well, well, well!" he said, "I cannot refuse this: I do not often -allow myself the luxury of going to the play, and especially as it is -Talma...." - -"You know some dramatists, then?" - -"Yes, I know M. Arnault." - -"Very good!... And now I must confess, General, that I want to stay in -Paris really to go in for literature." - -"Ah! not really?" - -"Really, General." - -"Listen: you came to ask my advice ...?" - -"Certainly I did." - -"Very well, don't count too much on literature for a living; you look -as though you had a good appetite; now, literature will necessitate -your going hungry many a time.... However, on those days, you must look -me up: the painter always shares his crusts with the poet. _Ut pictura -poesis!_ I do not need to interpret that, for I presume you know Latin." - -"A little, General." - -"That is much more than I do. Come, let us go and dine." - -"Do we not dine at your rooms?" - -"Do you imagine I am rich enough, on my half-pay, to keep up a kitchen -and a household? No, no, no, indeed! I dine at the Palais-Royal for -forty sous; to-day we will have an _extra_, and I can get it for six -francs. You see you are not going to cost me much, so need not be -anxious." - -We betook ourselves to the Palais-Royal, where indeed we dined -excellently for our six francs, or rather for General Verdier's -six francs. Then we went to take our places for _Régulus._ My mind -was still full of _Sylla_; I saw the gloomy Dictator enter with -his flattened locks, his crowned head, his forehead furrowed with -anxieties: his speech was deliberate, almost solemn; his glance--that -of a lynx and a hyena--shot from under his drooping eyelids like that -of a nocturnal animal which sees in the darkness. - -Thus I awaited Talma. - -He entered, at a rapid pace, with haughty head and terse speech, as -befitted the general of a free people and a conquering nation; he -entered, in short, as _Régulus_ would have entered. No longer, the -toga, no longer the purple, no longer the crown: a simple tunic, bound -by an iron girdle, without any other cloak than that of the soldier. -Here was where Talma was admirable in his personality--always that of -the hero he was called upon to represent--he reconstructed a world, he -refashioned an epoch. - -Yes, in _Sylla_ he was the man of the falling republic; he was the -man who, in putting aside the purple, and in restoring to Rome that -temporary independence which she was soon no longer to know, said, to -those who assisted at this great act of his public life:-- - - "J'achève un grand destin; j'achève un grand ouvrage; - Sur ce monde étonné, j'ai marqué mon passage. - Ne m'accusez jamais dans la postérité, - Romains, de vous avoir rendu la liberté!" - -It was Sylla who, in Marius and with Marius, witnessed the expiration -of the last breath of republican virility; it was he who saw the rise -of Cæsar--that Cæsar who later spoke thus to Brutus:-- - - "O le pauvre insensé! qui vient, du couchant sombre, - Demander la lumière, et qui marche vers l'ombre! - Et qui se croit, rêvant les antiques vertus, - Au siècle des Camille et des Cincinnatus! - Oui, leur siècle était grand, peut-être regrettable; - Oui, la simplicity des habits, de la table; - Cette orge qui bouillait sur le plat des Toscans; - Ce peu qu'on avait d'or, qui reluisant aux camps; - Annibal, sous nos murs plantant sa javeline; - Et nos guerriers debout sur la porte Colline; - Voilà qui défendait au vice d'approcher!... - Mais le Nil dans le Tibre est venu s'épancher, - Et l'or asiatique, aux mains sacerdotales, - A remplacé l'argile étrusque des vestales; - Et le luxe, fondant sur nous comme un vautour, - Venge les nations et nous dompte à son tour. - La Rome des consuls et de la république - A brisé dès longtemps sa ceinture italique. - Rome a conquis la Grèce, et Carthage, et le Pont; - Rome a conquis l'Espagne et la Gaule.--Répond, - Toi, qui ne veux pas voir, comme une mer de lave, - Monter incessamment vers nous le monde esclave: - Cette ville aux sept monts, qu'un dieu même créa, - Est-ce toujours la fille et l'Albe et de Rhéa, - La matrone sévère ou bien la courtisane?... - Ville de Mithridate et d'Ariobarzane, - Ville de Ptolémée, et ville de Juba. - Rome est un compost de tout ce qui tomba! - Rome, c'est l'univers! et sa débauche accuse - Marseille, Alexandrie, Athènes, Syracuse, - Et Rhode et Sybaris, fécondes en douleurs, - Et Tarente lascive, au front chargé de fleurs!..." - -Well, it was in this first epoch, spoken of by Cæsar, when "l'orge -bouillait sur le plat des Toscans," that Regulus flourished. Therefore, -from his very entry, Talma appeared as the stern republican, the man -vowed to great causes. Yes, yes, Talma, you were indeed, this time, -the Punic warrior, the colleague of Duillius--that conqueror to whom -his contemporaries, still in ignorance of the titles and the honours -with which defenders of their country should be rewarded, were giving -a flute player to follow him wherever he went, and a rostral column -to set up in front of his house; yes, you were indeed the consul who, -when he landed on African shores, had to beat down monsters before -he could beat down men, and who tested the implements of war, which -were destined to break down the walls of Carthage, by crushing a -boa-constrictor a hundred cubits in length. You were indeed that man -whose two victories spelt two hundred towns, and who refused Carthage -peace: Carthage, the Queen of the Mediterranean, the Sovereign of -the Ocean, who had coasted down Africa as far as the Equator, who -had spread North as far as the Cassiterides, and who possessed armed -ships. O Carthaginians, merchants, lawyers and senators! you were lost -at last. The race of traders had to give way to the race of warriors, -speculators to soldiers, Hannons to Barcas; you would have consented -to all the demands of Regulus, if there had not been found in Carthage -a Lacedemonian, a mercenary, a Xantippe, who declared that Carthage -still possessed the means for resisting, and demanded the chief -command of the armies. The command was given him. He was a Greek. He -lured the Romans into the plain, charged into them with his cavalry and -crushed them beneath his elephants. It was at this stage of affairs, O -Regulus--Talma that you made your entry into Carthage, but conquered, -and a prisoner! - -Lucien Arnault had certainly not extracted all the dramatic force out -of this splendid republican subject that it was capable of showing: -he had certainly not shown us Rome, patient and indefatigable as the -ploughing oxen; he had certainly not depicted commercial Carthage, with -its armies of condottieri recruited from the sturdy Ligurians, that -Strabo shows us, in the mountains of Genes, breaking down the rocks and -carrying enormous burdens; from those clever slingers who came from the -Balearic Isles, who could stop a stag in its flight, an eagle on the -wing, with their stone-throwing; from the sturdy and strong Iberians, -who seemed insensible to hunger and to fatigue, when they were marching -to battle with their red cloaks and their two-edged-swords; finally, -from the Numidians whom we fight even to-day at Constantine and at -Djidjelli, terrible cavaliers, centaurs thin and fiery like their -chargers. No,--although the epoch was not remote,--the piece lacked -poetry; you, my dear Lucien, simply extracted from this mass of -material the devotion of a single man, and did not choose to depict a -people. - -Talma was superb when he was urging the Roman Senate to refuse peace, -thereby condemning himself to death; Talma was magnificent in that last -cry which hung for two centuries after, like a menace, over the city of -Dido: "To Carthage! to Carthage!" - -I returned to my quarters, this second time even more filled with -admiration than on the first occasion; only, as I knew my way, I -dispensed with the expense of a cab. Besides, my way was nearly the -same as General Verdier's to the faubourg Montmartre; he left me at the -corner of the rue Coquillière, shaking my hand and wishing me good luck. - -Next day, at ten, I presented myself at General Foy's. He lived at No. -64 rue du Mont-Blanc. I was shown into his study, and found him engaged -upon his _Histoire de la Péninsule._ As I entered he was writing, -standing against a table which could be lowered or raised as required. -Round him, on chairs, on arm-chairs, on the floor, were scattered, in -apparent confusion, speeches, proofs, maps and open books. When the -general heard the door of his sanctum open he turned round. General -Foy was, at that time, a man of about forty-eight or fifty years of -age, thin, short rather than tall, with scanty grey hair, a projecting -forehead, an aquiline nose and a bilious complexion. He carried his -head high, his manner was short and his gestures commanding. I was -announced. - -"M. Alexandre Dumas!" he repeated after the servant; "let him come in." - -I appeared before him, trembling all over. - -"Are you M. Alexandre Dumas?" he asked. - -"Yes, General." - -"Are you the son of General Dumas who commanded the Army of the Alps?" - -"Yes, General." - -"I have been told that Bonaparte treated him very unjustly and that -this injustice was extended to his widow." - -"He left us in poverty." - -"Can I do anything for you?" - -"I confess, General, that you are nearly my sole hope." - -"How is that?" - -"Will you first make yourself acquainted with this letter from M. -Danré." - -"Ah! worthy Danré!... You know him?" - -"He was an intimate friend of my father." - -"Yes, he lived a league from Villers-Cotterets, where General Dumas -died.... And what is the good fellow doing?" - -"He is happy and proud to have been of some use to you in your -election, General." - -"Of some use? Say rather he did everything!" said he, breaking open -the letter. "Do you know," he continued, as he held the letter open -without reading it,--"do you know that he made himself answerable on -my account to the electors--body and soul, body and soul?... They did -not want to appoint me! I hope his rash zeal did not cost him too much. -Let me see what he says." - -He began to read. - -"Oh! oh! he commends you to me most pressingly; he is very fond of you, -then?" - -"Almost as fond as he is of his own son, General." - -"I must first find out what you are fit for." - -"Oh! not good for much." - -"Bah! you surely know some mathematics?" - -"No, General." - -"You have at least some notion of algebra, of geometry, of physics?" - -He stopped between each word, and at each word I blushed afresh, and -the perspiration ran down my forehead in faster and faster drops. -It was the first time I had been thus actually confronted with my -ignorance. - -"No, General," I replied, stammering; "I do not know anything of those -things." - -"You have perhaps studied law?" - -"No, General." - -"You know Latin, Greek?" - -"A little Latin, no Greek." - -"Can you speak any modern language?" - -"Italian." - -"You understand book-keeping?" - -"Not the least in the world." - -I was in agony, and he himself was visibly sorry for me. - -"Oh, General!" I burst out in tones that seemed to impress him greatly, -"my education is utterly defective and I am ashamed to say that I never -realised it until this moment.... Oh! but I will mend matters, I give -you my word; and soon, very soon, I shall be able to reply 'Yes' to all -the questions to which I have just now said 'No.'" - -"But have you anything to live upon in the meantime, my young friend?" - -"Nothing, absolutely nothing, General!" I replied, crushed by the -feeling of my powerlessness. - -The general looked at me in profound pity. - -"Nevertheless," he said, "I do not want to abandon you ..." - -"No, General, for you will not be abandoning me only! True, I am -ignorant and good for nothing; but my mother counts upon me; I have -promised her I will find a place, and she ought not to be punished for -my ignorance and my laziness." - -"Give me your address," said the general. "I will consider what can be -done for you.... Write, there, at that desk." - -He held the pen out to me which he had just been using. I took it; I -looked at it, still wet; then, shaking my head, I gave it back to him. - -"What is the matter?" - -"No, General," I said; "I cannot write with your pen: it would be a -profanation." - -He smiled. "What a child you are!" he said. "Look, here is a new one." - -"Thanks." I wrote. The general looked on. - -I had scarcely written my name before he clapped his hands together. - -"We are saved!" he said. - -"How is that?" - -"You write a beautiful hand." - -My head fell on my breast; my shame was insupportable. The only thing -I possessed was a good handwriting. This diploma of incapacity well -became me! A beautiful handwriting! So some day I might become a -copying-clerk. That was my future! I would rather cut off my right -arm. General Foy went on without paying much heed to what was passing -through my mind. - -"Listen," he said: "I am dining to-day at the Palais-Royal; I will -mention you to the Duc d'Orléans; I will tell him he ought to take the -son of a Republican general into his offices. Sit down there...." - -He pointed to an empty desk. - -"Draw up a petition, and write your very best." - -I obeyed. When I had finished, General Foy took my petition, read -it and traced a few lines in the margin. His handwriting compared -unfavourably with mine and humiliated me most cruelly. Then he folded -up the petition, put it in his pocket and, holding out his hand to bid -me good-bye, he invited me to return and lunch with him next day. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and there I found -a letter franked by the Minister of War. Good and evil fortune had, -up to this time, treated me pretty impartially. The letter that I was -about to break open should turn the scale definitely. The minister -replied that, as he had no time for a personal interview, he invited -me to lay before him anything I had to say in writing. Decidedly, -the balance of the scale was towards ill-fortune. I replied that the -audience I asked of him was but to hand him the original of a letter -of thanks he had once written to my father, his general-in-chief; but -that, as I might not have the honour of seeing him, I would content -myself with sending him a copy of it. Poor marshal! I have seen him -since: he was then as affectionate to me as he had been indifferent -under the circumstances I have just related; and, nowadays, his son and -his grandson are my good friends. - -I went early, next morning, as I had been advised, to General Foy's, -who was now my only hope. The general was at his work, as on the -previous day. He received me with a smiling face, which looked very -promising. - -"Well," he said, "our business is settled." - -I looked at him, astounded. - -"How is that?" I asked. - -"Yes, you are to enter the secretarial staff of the Duc d'Orléans as -supernumerary, at twelve hundred francs. It is nothing very great; but -mow is your chance to work." - -"It is a fortune!... And when am I to begin?" - -"Next Monday, if you like." - -"Next Monday?" - -"Yes, it is arranged with the chief clerk in the office." - -"What is his name?" - -"M. Oudard.... You will introduce yourself to him in my name." - -"Oh, General, I can hardly believe my good fortune." - -The general looked at me with an indescribably kindly expression. This -reminded me that I had not even thanked him. I threw my arms round his -neck and kissed him. He began to laugh. - -"There is good stuff in you," he said; "but remember what you have -promised me: study!" - -"Oh yes, General; I am now going to live by my handwriting: but I -promise you that one day I shall live by my pen." - -"We shall see; take your pen and write to your mother." - -"No, General, no; I wish to tell her this good news with my own lips. -To-day is Tuesday; I will start to-night: I will spend Wednesday, -Thursday, Friday and Saturday with her; I will come back here on the -night of Sunday--and on Monday I will go to my office." - -"But you will ruin yourself in carriages!" - -"No; I have a free pass from the diligence proprietor." - -And I related to him how old Cartier owed me a dozen fares. "Now," I -asked of the general, "what message shall I take from you to M. Danré?" - -"Well, tell him we had lunch together and that I am very well." - -A small round table ready laid was carried in at this juncture. - -"A second cover," ordered the general. - -"Really, General, you make me ashamed...." - -"Have you lunched?" - -"No, but----" - -"To table, to table!... I have to be at the Chamber by noon." - -We lunched _tête-à-tête._ The general talked to me of my future plans; -I confided all my literary plans to him. He looked at me; he listened -to me with the benevolent smile of a large-hearted man; he seemed -to say, "Golden dreams! foolish hopes! purple but fugitive clouds, -which sail over the heaven of youth, may they not vanish into the -azure firmament too quickly for my poor protégé!" Beloved and kindly -general! loyal soul! noble heart! you are now, alas! dead, before -those dreams were realised; you died without knowing they were to be -realised one day,--you are dead, and gratitude and grief have inspired -me, on the borders of that tomb into which you descended before your -time, to write I will not say the first good lines I made,--that would -perhaps be too ambitious,--but the first of my lines which are worth -the trouble of being quoted. Here are those I recall; the rest I have -completely forgotten:-- - - "Ainsi de notre vieille gloire - Chaque jour emporte un débris! - Chaque jour enrichit l'histoire - Des grands noms qui nous sont repris! - Et, chaque jour, pleurant sur la nouvelle tombe - D'un héros généreux dans sa course arrêté, - Chacun de nous se dit épouvante: - 'Encore une pierre qui tombe - Du temple de la Liberté!'..." - -With one bound I covered the distance between the rue du Mont-Blanc -and the rue Pigale. I longed to tell Adolphe the realisation of all my -hopes. I was now, at last, sure of remaining in Paris. A most ambitious -career opened out before me, limitless and vast. God, on His side, had -done all that was necessary: He had left me with Aladdin's lamp in -the enchanted garden. The rest depended on myself. No man had ever, -I believe, seen his wishes more completely satisfied, his hopes more -entirely crowned. Napoleon could not have been prouder and happier -than I on the day when, having espoused Marie-Louise, he repeated -three times before nightfall, "My poor uncle Louis XVI.!" Adolphe -entered very heartily into my delight. M. de Leuven, to be still -characteristic, quietly ridiculed my raptures. Madame de Leuven, the -most perfect of women, rejoiced in advance over the joy my mother would -shortly experience. All three wanted to keep me to dinner with them; -but I remembered that a diligence left at half-past four o'clock, and -that by it I should be able to reach home by one in the morning. It -was odd I should be as eager to return to Villers-Cotterets as I had -been to come to Paris. True, I was not returning for long. I reached -Villers-Cotterets at one o'clock. One thing marred my joy: everybody -was asleep; no one was in the dark streets; I could not cry out from -the door of the diligence, "Here I am! but only for three days; I am -going back to Paris for good." Oh! what an incontestable reality had -the fable of King Midas become to me! When I reached Cartier's house, -I leapt from the coach to the ground without thinking of making use of -the step. When on mother-earth I rushed off, shouting to Auguste-- - -"It is I, it is I, Auguste! Put my fare down to your father's account." - -In five minutes I was at home. I had a special way of my own of opening -the door, after my nocturnal escapades; I turned it to account, and I -entered my mother's room, who had hardly been an hour in bed, crying-- - -"Victory, dear mother, victory!" - -My poor mother sat up in bed in great agitation: such an early return -and one so completely successful had never entered her head. She was -obliged to believe my word when, after kissing her, she saw me dance -round the room still shouting "Victory!" I told her the whole story: -Jourdan and his lackeys, Sébastiani and his secretaries, Verdier and -his pictures, the Duc de Bellune refusing to receive me and General -Foy receiving me twice. And my mother made me repeat it over and over -again; unable to believe that I, her poor child, had in three days, -without support, without acquaintances, without influence, by my -persistence and determination, myself changed the course of my destiny -for ever. - -At last I got to the end of my tale and sleep had a hearing. I went -to the bed that was scarcely cold since I had last used it, and, -when I woke up, I wondered if I could really have been absent from -Villers-Cotterets during those three days, and if it had not all been -a dream. I leapt out of my bed, I dressed myself, I kissed my mother -and I ran off along the road to Vouty. M. Danré ought to be the first -to hear of my good fortune. This was but fair, since he had brought it -about. - -M. Danré learnt the news with feelings of personal pride. There is -something very comforting to poor human nature when a man counts on -a friend for a good action, and this friend accomplishes the deed, -without ostentation, in fulfilment of his promise. - -M. Danré would have liked me to have stayed there all day; but I was -as slippery as an eel. I was not merely in haste that everybody should -know of my happiness, but I wanted to increase this happiness twofold, -by telling it myself. Dear M. Danré understood this, like the good soul -he was. We lunched, and then he set me free. Without, I am thankful to -say, representing the same mythological idea as Mercury, my heels, like -his, were endowed with wings: in twenty or twenty-five minutes, I was -back in Villers-Cotterets; but the news had spread in my absence, in -spite of my celerity. Everybody already knew, on my return, that I was -a supernumerary in the secretariat of the Duc d'Orléans, and everybody -was waiting for me at their doors to congratulate me on my good -fortune. They followed me in procession to the door of Abbé Grégoire's -house. What recollections of my own have I not put in the story of my -poor fellow-countrywoman Ange Pitou! I found our house full of gossips -when I returned. Besides our friend Madame Darcourt, our neighbours -Mesdames Lafarge, Dupré, Dupuis were holding a confabulation. I was -welcomed with open arms, fêted by everybody. They had never doubted my -powers; they had always said that I should become somebody; they were -delighted to have prophesied an event to my poor mother which was now -realised. These ladies, with the exception of Madame Darcourt, let it -be noted, were those who had predicted to my mother that her darling -son would always be a good-for-nothing. But Fate is the most powerful, -the most inexorable of kings; it is not, then, to be wondered at that -it has its courtiers. We were never left alone together the whole of -the day. I took advantage of the numbers in the house to go and pay a -special farewell visit to my good Louise, who would fain have comforted -me after Adèle's marriage, if I had been consolable, and whom I would -assuredly have comforted after Chollet had gone, had not I myself left. - -In the evening my mother and I at last found ourselves alone together -for a little while. We took the opportunity to talk over our private -affairs. I wanted my mother to sell everything that we did not need -and come as soon as possible to settle with me in Paris. Twenty years -of misfortunes had sown distrust in my mother's heart. In her opinion, -it was far too hasty to act like this. Then, the twelve hundred francs -that I looked upon as a fortune was a very small amount to live upon in -Paris. Besides, I had not got the salary yet. A supernumerary is but a -probationer: if at the end of one month, or two months, they thought -that I was not suitable for the post, and if M. Oudard, the head of my -office, should make me take a seat as Augustus had made Cinna, as M. -Lefèvre had made me, and ask me, as M. Lefèvre had asked me, "Monsieur, -do you understand mechanics?" we were lost; for my mother would not -even have her tobacco-shop to fall back upon, which she would have left -and which she could not sell merely temporarily. My mother, therefore, -decided on a common-sense course, which was as follows-- - -I was to return to Paris, where my bed, my bedding, my sheets, my table -linen, four chairs, a table, a chest of drawers and two sets of plate -would be forwarded; I would hire a small room, the cheapest possible; I -would stay there until my position was established; and when my place -was secure, I would write to my mother. Then my mother would hesitate -no longer: she would sell everything and come to join me. - -The next day was a Thursday. I utilised my being at Villers-Cotterets -to draw for the conscription; my years would have called me to the -service of my country, had I not been the son of a widow. I took No. 9, -which was no inconvenience to myself, and did not deprive another of a -good number I might have taken. I met Boudoux, my old friend of the -_marette_ and the _pipée._ - -"Ah! Monsieur Dumas," he said, "as you have obtained such an excellent -situation, you can surely give me a four-pound loaf." - -I took him off to the baker; and instead of a four-pound loaf I paid -for one of eight pounds for him. - -I held my conscription ticket in my hand. - -"What is that?" asked Boudoux. - -"That? It is my number." - -"You have taken No. 9?" - -"As you see." - -"Well, now, I have an idea: in return for your eight-pound loaf, -Monsieur Dumas, if I were you, I would go to my aunt Chapuis, and I -would put a thirty-sous piece on No. 9. Thirty sous wont ruin you, and -if No. 9 turns up, it will bring you in seventy-three francs." - -"Here are thirty sous, Boudoux; go and put them on in my name, and -bring me back the ticket." - -Boudoux went off, breaking off, with his right hand, huge chunks of the -bread which he carried under his left arm. His aunt Chapuis kept both -the post-office and the lottery-office. - -Ten minutes later, Boudoux returned with the ticket. There was only a -fragment of crust left of the eight-pound loaf, and that he finished -before my eyes. It was the final day of the lottery. I should know, -therefore, by Saturday morning whether I had won my seventy-three -francs or lost my thirty sous. - -Friday was taken up with making preparations for my Parisian -housekeeping. My mother would have liked me to carry off everything -in the house; but I realised that, with my twelve hundred francs per -annum, the smaller the room the more economical it would be, and I -stuck to the bed, the four chairs, and the chest of drawers. - -One slight inconvenience remained to me. General Foy had told me that -I was a supernumerary at twelve hundred francs; but these hundred -francs per month which the munificence of Monseigneur the Duc d'Orléans -conceded me would not be paid me until the end of the month. I had not -Boudoux's appetite, but I could certainly eat and eat very heartily: -General Verdier had not been out in his surmise. - -I had thirty-five francs left out of my fifty. My mother decided to -part with another hundred francs: it was half of what she had left. It -went to my heart very bitterly to take my poor mother's hundred francs, -and I was just thinking of having recourse to the purse of M. Danré, -when, in the midst of our discussion, which took place on Saturday -morning, I heard Boudoux's voice shouting out-- - -"Ah! M. Dumas, now this is well worth a second eight-pound loaf." - -"What is worth an eight-pound loaf?" - -"No. 9 came up! If you go to aunt Chapuis's office, she will count you -out your seventy-three francs." - -My mother and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Boudoux. - -"Are you telling me the truth, Boudoux?" - -"Before God, I am, M. Dumas; that rascally No. 9 turned up: you can go -and see for yourself on the list; it is the third." - -There was nothing astonishing about this: had we not struck a vein of -good fortune? - -My mother and I went to Madame Chapuis. We were even better off than we -supposed. Boudoux had calculated upon the number coming out along with -others; I had put my thirty sous on the single item: the result of this -difference was that my thirty sous brought me in a hundred and fifty -francs, instead of seventy-three. - -I have never rightly understood the reason why Madame Chapuis doubled -the amount, which was paid me, I remember, in crowns of six livres, -plus the necessary smaller change; but when I saw the crowns, when I -was allowed to carry them off, I did not ask for further explanation. I -was the possessor of the sum of a hundred and eighty-five francs! I had -never had so much money in my pocket. Therefore, as all these six-livre -crowns made a great chinking and took up a lot of room, my mother -changed them for me into gold. - -Oh! what a fine thing gold is, however much decried, when it is the -realisation of the dearest hopes in life! Those nine gold coins were -little enough; but nevertheless, at that moment, they were of more -value in my eyes than the thousands of similar pieces which have passed -through my hands since; and which, after the fashion of Jupiter, I have -showered upon that most costly of all mistresses men call _Fancy._ So I -cost my mother nothing, not even for the carriage of my furniture, for -which I paid the carrier in advance, bargaining with him for the sum -of twenty francs to bring them to Paris, to the door of the hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins, to be removed from there when I should have chosen my -lodgings. They were to be delivered on the Monday night. - -At last the hour of parting came. The whole town assisted at my -departure. It was for all the world as though one of the navigators -of the Middle Ages were leaving to discover an unknown land, and the -wishes and the cheering of his compatriots were giving him a send-off -across the seas. - -In truth, those dear good friends realised, with their simple and -kindly instinct, that I was embarking on an ocean quite as stormy and -uncertain as that which, according to the blind soothsayer, surrounded -the shield of Achilles. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I find lodgings--Hiraux's son--Journals and journalists in 1823--By -being saved the expense of a dinner I am enabled to go to the play at -the Porte-Saint-Martin--My entry into the pit--Sensation caused by my -hair--I am turned out--How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one--A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs - - -The reader will have observed that my balance increased each journey -I made to Paris. It was but four months since the firm of Paillet and -Company had entered the city with thirty-five francs apiece; only a -week ago I had reached the barrier with fifty francs in my pocket; now, -finally, I alighted at the door of the _Hôtel des Vieux Augustins_ with -one hundred and eighty-five francs. - -I began to search for lodgings the same day. When I had climbed and -descended a good many staircases, I stopped at a little room on a -fourth floor. This room, which contained the luxury of an alcove, -belonged to that immense mass of houses called the Italian quarter, -and formed part of No. 1. It was papered with a yellow paper at twelve -sous the piece, and looked out on the yard. It was let to me for the -sum of a hundred and twenty francs per annum. It suited me in every -respect, so I did not haggle. I told the porter I would take it, and -I advised him that my furniture would come in on the following night. -The porter asked me for the _denier à Dieu._ I was a complete stranger -to Parisian habits and I did not know what the _denier à Dieu_ meant. -I thought it must be a commission on letting the room: I majestically -took a napoleon out of my pocket, and I dropped it into the hand of the -porter, who bowed down to the ground. - -In his eyes I evidently passed for a prince travelling incognito. -To give twenty francs as _denier à Dieu_ for a room at a hundred and -twenty!... Such a thing had never been heard of. Twenty francs! it was -a sixth of the rent!... So his wife instantly asked for the honour -of looking after me. I granted her this favour for five francs per -month--always with the same regal air. - -From there, I ran to General Verdier's to get up my appetite, and I -told him the good news. I had left Paris at such short notice, on the -previous Monday, that I had not had time to ascend his four flights of -stairs. I mounted them, this time, fruitlessly: the general had taken -advantage of its being Sunday and had gone out. I followed his example: -I strolled about the boulevards,--the only place where I ran no risk -of being lost,--and I reached the _Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré_ -at the end of my strolling. Suddenly, through the windows, I saw -someone I knew: it was Hiraux, the son of good old Hiraux, who had so -unsuccessfully endeavoured to make a musician of me. I entered the -café. Hiraux had recently bought it: he was the proprietor of it.... -I was in his house!... Although he was slightly older than myself, we -had been very good chums in our childhood. He kept me to dinner. While -waiting for dinner, he put all the journals of the establishment before -me. Some of those papers have since disappeared. The chief of them at -that time were: the _Journal des Débats_, always under the direction of -the brothers Bertin, and a supporter of the Government. It reflected -the views of Louis XVIII. and of M. de Villèle--namely, a moderate -and conciliatory Royalism, a policy of optimism and vacillation; the -system, in fact, by which, in the midst of the plots of the Carbonari -and the intrigues of the Extreme Party, Louis XVIII. managed to die -almost in tranquillity: if not on the throne, at any rate close by it. - -The old _Constitutionnel_--of Saint-Albin, Jay, Tissot and Évariste -Dumoulin--was suppressed one day for an article which the Censorship -placed on the Index, an article which somehow had managed to get -inserted without any trace of the claws and teeth of the censors. Then, -with a rapidity of decision which indicated the extreme devotion the -_Constitutionnel_ of every epoch has always exhibited in its own cause, -it bought for a mere song the _Journal du Commerce_, which had four -hundred subscribers; and, under the title of the _Journal du Commerce_ -appeared next morning: it need hardly be said that the good old rogue -was recognised under this transparent disguise, and just about the -time when I arrived in Paris, it had resumed, or was about to resume, -its old title, so dear to the citizens of Paris. The _Constitutionnel_ -was very timid: it represented the Liberal opinion, and never really -breathed out thunder and lightning except against the Jesuits, towards -whom it had vowed the same cruel and magnificent hatred that nowadays -it fulminates against _demagogues_. - -The _Drapeau blanc_ was edited by Martainville, a man of infinite -resource, but one who could hate and was hated in return. Charged with -the defence of the bridge of Pecq, as commandant of the National Guard -of Saint-Germain, he was reproached with having, in 1814, delivered -up this bridge to the Prussians; and he replied to the reproach, not -merely by an avowal, but with bravado: not being able to deny it, he -boasted about it. But as all treachery torments the heart of the man -who has committed it, irrespective of what he said, so it preyed on -his vital forces. M. Arnault had infuriated him by deriving his name -from _Martin_ on his father's, and _Vil_ (vile) on his mother's side. -He was courageous enough, and, ever ready to tackle an adversary, he -did battle with Telleville Arnault over his _Germanicus._ The bullet of -the poet's son merely grazed the thigh of the critic, leaving nothing -worse than a slight bruise behind it. "Bah!" said Arnault's father, "he -has not even felt it: a blow from a stick would have produced the same -effect." - -The _Foudre_ was the admitted journal of the Marsan Party, the -outspoken expression of the ultra-Royalists, who, through all the -reactions that followed, leant for support on the Comte d'Artois, and -who waited impatiently for that decomposition of the elements, which, -at the rate things were going, could not fail to be accomplished under -Louis XVIII. - -The editors of the _Foudre_ were Bérard, the two brothers Dartois (who -were also comic-opera writers), Théaulon and Ferdinand Langlé, Brisset -and de Rancé. - -At the opposite pole of Liberal opinion to the _Foudre_ was the -_Miroir_, a newspaper hussar, a delightful skirmisher, overflowing with -wit and _humour_; it was controlled by all the men who were noted for -their spirit of opposition to the times, and who, we hasten to say, -were really opposed to it. These men were MM. de Jouy, Arnault, Jal, -Coste, Castel, Moreau, etc. So the unfortunate _Miroir_ was the object -of relentless persecution at the hands of the Government, in whose eyes -it was for ever flashing a broken ray of sunlight from the days of the -Empire. Suppressed as the _Miroir_, it reappeared as the _Pandore;_ -suppressed as _Pandore_, it became the _Opinion;_ suppressed finally as -_Opinion_, it rose again under the title of the _Reunion;_ but this was -the last of its metamorphoses: Proteus was run to earth, and died in -chains. - -Do not let us forget the _Courrier français_, the sentinel of advanced -opinion, almost Republican, at a time when no one dared even to -pronounce the word republic. It was for the _Courrier français,_ edited -by Châtelain, one of the most honest and most enlightened patriots of -that period, that, as I have already mentioned, M. de Leuven worked. - -But I had really nothing to do with any of these political journals: -I only read the literary news. As I had found a dinner which cost me -nothing, I decided to spend the price of my dinner on a theatre ticket, -a ticket for a play: I hunted through the theatre advertisements in all -the newspapers, and, guided by Hiraux in the choice of the literature -on which I proposed to spend my evening, I decided to go to the -Porte-Saint-Martin. - -The play was the _Vampire._ It was only the third or fourth -representation of the revival of this piece. Hiraux advised me to make -haste; the piece had caught on and was drawing crowds. It was played -by the two actors who were popular at the Porte-Saint-Martin: Philippe -and Madame Dorval. I followed Hiraux's advice; but, in spite of all the -haste I made, it is a long way from the _Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré_ -to the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin: I found the approaches to it -blocked. - -I was quite fresh to Paris. I did not know all the various theatre -customs. I went along by the side of an enormous queue enclosed in -barriers, not daring even to ask where the entrance-money was taken. -One of the _habitués_ in the queue no doubt perceived my confusion, for -he called out to me-- - -"Monsieur! monsieur!" - -I turned round, wondering if he were addressing me. - -"Yes ... you, monsieur," continued the habitué, "you with the frizzy -locks ... do you want a place?" - -"Do I want a place?" I repeated. - -"Yes. If you put yourself at the bottom of this queue, you will never -get in to-night. Five hundred people will be turned away." - -This was Hebrew to me. Of his language I only gathered that five -hundred folk would be turned away and that I should be one of the -number. - -"Come, would you really like my place?" continued the habitué. - -"Have you got a place, then?" - -"Can't you see for yourself?" - -I could see nothing at all. - -"Taken in advance, then?" I asked. - -"Taken since noon." - -"And a good one ...?" - -"What do you mean by good?" - -Now it was the habitué who did not understand. - -"Well," I went on, "shall I have a good place?" - -"You can sit where you like." - -"What! I can sit where I like?" - -"Of course." - -"How much did your place cost?" - -"Twenty sous." - -I reflected within myself that twenty sous to sit where I liked was not -dear. I drew twenty sous from my pocket and gave them to the _habitué_, -who immediately, with an agility that proved he was well accustomed -to this exercise, climbed up the rails of the barrier, got over it and -alighted by my side. - -"Well," I said, "now where is your place?" - -"Take it, ... but look sharp; for, if they push up, you will lose it." - -At the same moment light broke in on my mind: "Those people, inside -that barrier, have no doubt taken and paid for their places in advance, -and it is in order to keep them they are penned in like that." - -"Ah! good, I see!" I replied; and I strode over the barrier in my turn, -the reverse way; so that, contrary to the action of my place-seller, -who had come without from within, I went from the outside within. I did -not understand matters at all. After a second, there was a movement -forward. They were just opening the offices. I was carried forward -with the crowd, and ten minutes later, I found myself in front of the -grating. - -"Well, monsieur, aren't you going to take your ticket?" asked my -neighbour. - -"My ticket? What do you mean?" - -"Of course, your ticket!" answered someone just behind me. "If you -aren't going to take your ticket, at least allow us to take ours." - -And a light thrust showed the desire of those behind me to have their -turn. - -"But," I said, "surely I have bought my place ...?" - -"Your place ...?" - -"Yes, I gave twenty sous for it, as you saw.... Why, I gave twenty sous -to that man who sold me his place!" - -"Oh, his place in the queue!" exclaimed my neighbours; "but his place -in the queue is not his place inside the theatre." - -"He told me that, with his place, I could go where I liked." - -"Of course you can go where you like; take a stage-box. You can do -what you like, and you can go where you like. But tickets for the -stage-boxes are at the other office." - -"Forward! forward! hurry up!" exclaimed those near me. - -"Gentlemen, clear the gangway, if you please," cried a voice. - -"It is this gentleman, who will not take his ticket, and who prevents -us from getting ours!" cried a chorus of my neighbours. - -"Come, come, make up your mind." - -The murmurs grew, and with them ringing in my ears, by degrees it -dawned upon me what had been pretty clearly dinned into me--namely, -that I had bought my place in the queue, and not my place in the -theatre. - -So, as people were beginning to hustle me in a threatening fashion, -I drew a six-francs piece from my pocket and asked for a pit ticket. -They gave me four francs six sous, and a ticket which had been white. -It was time! I was immediately carried away by a wave of the crowd. -I presented my once white ticket to the check-taker: they gave me in -exchange a ticket that had been red. I went down a corridor to the -left; I found a door on my left with the word PARTERRE written over it, -and I entered. And now I understood the truth of what the _habitué_ who -had sold me his place for twenty sous had said. Although I had scarcely -fifteen or twenty people in front of me in the queue, the pit was -nearly full. A most compact nucleus had formed beneath the lights, and -I realised then that those must be the best places. - -I immediately resolved to mix with this group, which did not look to me -to be too closely packed, for a good place therein. I climbed over the -benches, as I had seen several other people do, and balancing myself, -on the tops of their curved backs, I hastened to reach the centre. - -I was becoming, or rather, it must be admitted, I was, a very -ridiculous object. I wore my hair very long, and, as it was frizzy, it -formed a grotesque aureole round my head. Moreover, at a period when -people wore short frock-coats, hardly reaching to the knee, I wore a -coat which came down to my ankles. A revolution had taken place in -Paris, which had not yet had time to reach as far as Villers-Cotterets. -I was in 1 the latest fashion of Villers-Cotterets, but I was in the -last but one Parisian mode. Now, as nothing generally is more opposed -to the latest fashion than the last mode but one, I looked excessively -absurd, as I have already had the modesty to admit. Of course, I -appeared so in the eyes of those towards whom I advanced; for they -greeted me with shouts of laughter, which I thought in very bad taste. - -I have always been exceedingly polite; but at this period, coupled -with the politeness I had acquired from my maternal education, there -woke in me a restless, suspicious hastiness of temper which I probably -inherited from my father. This hastiness made my nerves an easy prey -to irritation. I took my hat in my hand--an action which revealed -the utter oddity of my way of wearing my hair--and the general -hilarity among the group in the rows to which I desired to gain access -redoubled. "Pardon me, gentlemen," I said in the politest of tones, -"but I should like to know the cause of your laughter, so that I may -be able to laugh with you. They say the piece we have come to see is -extremely sad, and I should not be sorry to make merry before I have to -weep." - -My speech was listened to in the most religious silence; then, from the -depths of this silence, a voice suddenly exclaimed-- - -"Oh! that 'ead of 'is!" - -The apostrophe seemed to be exceedingly funny, for it had hardly been -uttered before the bursts of laughter were redoubled; but the hilarity -had scarcely begun afresh before it was accompanied by the sound of a -stinging smack in the face which I gave to the wag. "Monsieur," I said, -as I slapped him, "my name is Alexandre Dumas. Until after to-morrow, -you will find me at the _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins_, in the road of the -same name, and after to-morrow at No. 1 place des Italiens." - -It would seem that I spoke a language quite unknown to these gentlemen; -for, instead of replying to me, twenty fists were flourished -threateningly, and everybody shouted-- - -"Put him out! put him out!" - -"What!" I cried, "put me to the door? That would be a nice thing, upon -my word, seeing that I have already paid for my place twice over--once -in the queue, and then again at the box-office." - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried the voices afresh, with redoubled -fury. - -"Gentlemen, I have had the honour to give you my address." - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried the people, in strident, raucous -tones. - -All the people present had risen from their seats, were leaning over -the gallery, and were almost half out of the boxes. I seemed to be at -the end of an immense funnel with everybody gazing at me from all sides. - -"Put him out! put him out!" cried those who did not even know what the -commotion was about, but who calculated that one person less would mean -room for one more. - -I was debating what course to take, from the depths of my funnel, when -a well-dressed man broke through the crowd, which deferentially opened -a way for him, and he asked me to go out. - -"Why am I to go out?" I asked in great surprise. - -"Because you are disturbing the performance." - -"What! I am disturbing the play?... The play has not begun yet." - -"Well, you are disturbing the audience." - -"Really, monsieur!" - -"Follow me." - -I remembered the affair that my father, at about my age, had had with a -musketeer at la Montansier, and although I knew that the constabulary -was dissolved, I expected I was in for something of the same sort. So -I followed without making any resistance, in the midst of the cheers -of the audience, who testified their satisfaction at the justice that -was being dealt out to me. My guide led me into the corridor, from the -corridor to the office, and from the office into the street. When in -the street he said, "There! don't do it again." And he returned to the -theatre. - -I saw that I had got off very cheaply, since my father had kept his -warder attached to him for a whole week, whilst I had only been in -custody for five minutes. I stood for a moment on the pavement, -whilst I made this judicious reflection, and seeing that my guide had -re-entered, I too decided to do the same. - -"Your ticket?" said the ticket collector. - -"My ticket? You took it from me just now, and, as a proof, it was a -white one, for which you gave me in exchange a red ticket." - -"Then what have you done with your red ticket?" - -"I gave it to a woman who asked me for it." - -"So that you have neither ticket nor check?" - -"Why, no, I have neither ticket nor check." - -"Then you cannot go in." - -"Do you mean to say I cannot enter, after having paid for my ticket -twice over?" - -"Twice?" - -"Yes, twice." - -"How did you do that?" - -"Once in the queue, and again at the box-office." - -"You humbug!" said the ticket collector. - -"What did you say?" - -"I said you cannot go in, that is what I said." - -"But I mean to get in, nevertheless." - -"Then take a ticket at the office." - -"That will be the second." - -"Well, what does that matter to me?" - -"What does it matter to you?" - -"If you have sold your ticket at the door, it is no affair of mine." - -"Ah! so you take me for a dealer in checks?" - -"I take you for a brawler who has just been turned out for disturbing -the peace, and if you go on doing it, you'll not be led out into the -road the next time, but into the police station." - -There could be no mistaking the threat. I began to understand that, -without intending it, I had infringed the law--or rather custom, which -is far more jealous of contravention than the law. - -"Ah, is this so?" I said. - -"That is about it," said the collector. - -"Well, well, you are the stronger of the two," I said. - -And I went out. - -When outside the door, I considered how stupid it was to have come to -see a play, to have paid for two places to see it-a place in the queue -and a place at the office--to have seen only a curtain representing -hangings of green velvet, and to come away without seeing anything -else. I went on to reflect that, since I had already paid for two -tickets, I might as well incur the expense of a third, and as people -were still going in and a double queue circled the theatre so that -the door formed as it were the clasp to the girdle, I placed myself -at the end of the queue which looked to me to be the shortest. It was -the opposite queue to the one I had gone in by before; it was not so -dense, as it led to the orchestra, the front galleries, the stage-boxes -and the first and second rows of stalls. This was what I was informed -by the clerk at the box-office when I asked for a ticket for the pit. -I looked up, and, as he had indicated, I saw upon the white plan the -designation of the places to be obtained at that particular office. The -cheapest places were those in the orchestra and second row of stalls. -Seats in the orchestra and in the second row of stalls cost two francs -fifty; centimes. I took two francs fifty centimes from my pocket, and -asked for an orchestra seat. The orchestra ticket was handed to me, and -my play-going cost me five francs all told. - -No matter: it was no good crying over spilt milk! My dinner had not -cost me anything, and to-morrow I was to enter the Duc d'Orléans' -secretarial offices; I could well afford to allow myself this trivial -orgy. I reappeared triumphant before the check barrier, holding my -orchestra ticket in my hand. The collector smiled graciously upon -me, and said, "On the right, monsieur." I noticed this was quite a -different direction from the first time. The first time I had tacked -myself on to the right-hand queue and gone in at the left; the second -time, I followed the left queue and they told me to enter on the right. -I augured from this that since I had this time reversed the order of my -proceedings, the manner of my reception would also be reversed, and, -consequently, that I should be welcomed instead of rejected. - -I was not mistaken. I found quite a different stamp of people in the -orchestra from those I had found in the pit, and, as the girl who -showed me to my seat pointed out to me a vacant place towards the -centre of a row, I set to work to reach it. Everyone rose politely -to allow me to pass. I gained my seat, and sat down by the side of a -gentleman, wearing grey trousers, a buff waistcoat and black tie. He -was a man of about forty or forty-two. His hat was placed on the seat -I came to fill. He was interrupted in the perusal of a charming little -book,--which I learnt later was an Elzevir,--apologised as he took up -his hat, bowed to me and went on reading. "Upon my word!" I said to -myself, "here is a gentleman who seems to me better brought up than -those I have just encountered." And, promising to enter into friendly -relations with my neighbour I sat down in the empty stall. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -My neighbour--His portrait--The _Pastissier françois_--A course in -bibliomania--Madame Méchin and the governor of Soissons--Cannons and -Elzevirs - - -At this period of my life, being made up entirely of ignorance, -optimism and faith, I did not know in the least what an Elzevir, or -rather Elzevier, was. I learnt that evening, as we shall see; but -I did not understand thoroughly until much later, after I had made -the acquaintance of my learned friend, _la bibliophile_ Jacob. So it -is a little previous to say that the polite gentleman was reading -an Elzevir; I ought to say simply that he was reading a book. I -have related how I had taken the seat next his, and how, having -been distracted from his reading by having to lift his hat off my -seat, he had immediately plunged back again into his reading, more -absorbedly than ever. I have ever admired men who are capable of doing -anything whole-heartedly _(passionnément_);--please do not confound -_passionnément_ with _passionnellement_; this latter adverb was not -invented in 1823, or, if it were, Fourier had not yet exploited it. - -It was not surprising that, interested as I was in literature, I should -endeavour to find out what the book was which could inspire such a -powerful influence over my neighbour, who was so deeply absorbed in -his reading that, metaphorically speaking, he gave himself up, bound -hand and foot, into my power. I had more than a quarter of an hour in -which to make this investigation before the curtain rose, therefore I -conducted it at my leisure. First of all, I tried to see the title of -the book; but the binding was carefully hidden by a paper cover, so -it was impossible to read the title on the back of the book. I rose; -in that position I could look down on the reader. Then, thanks to the -excellent sight I have the good fortune to possess, I was able to -read the following curious title on the opposite side to the engraved -frontispiece:-- - - LE PASTISSIER FRANÇOIS - Où est enseignée la manière de faire toute sorte - de pastisserie - Très-utile à toutes sortes de personnes; - Ensemble le moyen d'apprester toutes sortes; - d'œufs pour les jours maigres et autres - En plus de soixante façons. - - AMSTERDAM - - CHEZ LOUIS ET DANIEL ELZÉVIER - - 1655 - -"Ah! ah!" I said to myself, "now I have it! This well-mannered -gentleman is surely a gourmand of the first order,--M. Grimod de la -Reyniere perhaps, whom I have so often heard described as a rival of -Cambacérès and of d'Aigrefeuille;--but stay, this gentleman has hands -and M. Grimod de la Reyniere has only stumps." At that moment, the -polite gentleman let his hand and the book he held fall on his knees; -then, casting his eyes upward, he appeared to be lost in profound -reflection. He was, as I have said, a man of forty or forty-two years -of age, with an essentially gentle face, kindly and sympathetic; he had -black hair, blue-grey eyes, a nose slightly bent to the left through an -excrescence, a finely cut, clever-looking, witty mouth--the mouth of a -born story-teller. - -I was yearning to get up a conversation with him--I, a hobbledehoy of a -country bumpkin, ignorant of everything, but _anxious to learn_ as they -put it in M. Lhomond's elementary lessons. His benevolent countenance -encouraged me. I took advantage of the moment when he stopped reading -to address a word or two to him. - -"Monsieur," said I, "pray forgive me if my question seems impertinent, -but are you extremely fond of eggs?" - -My neighbour shook his head, came gradually out of his reverie, -and, looking at me with a distraught expression, he said, in a very -pronounced Eastern French accent-- - -"Pardon me, monsieur, but I believe you did me the honour of addressing -me ...?" - -I repeated my sentence. - -"Why do you suppose that?" he said. - -"The little book you are reading so attentively, monsieur,--excuse -my rudeness, but my eyes fell involuntarily on the title,--contains -recipes, does it not? for cooking eggs in more than sixty different -ways?" - -"Oh yes, true...." he said. - -"Monsieur, that book would have been of great use to an uncle of -mine, a curé, who was, or rather still is, a great eater, and a fine -sportsman: one day he made a bet with one of his _confrères_ that he -would eat a hundred eggs at his dinner; he was only able to discover -eighteen or twenty ways of serving them ... yes, twenty ways, for he -ate them by fives at a time. You see, if he had known sixty ways of -cooking them, instead of a hundred, he could have eaten two hundred." - -My neighbour looked at me with a certain attention which seemed to -imply that he was asking himself, "Am I by any chance seated next to a -young lunatic?" - -"Well?" he said. - -"Well, if I could procure such a book for my dear uncle, I am sure he -would be most grateful to me." - -"Monsieur," said my neighbour, "I doubt if, in spite of the sentiments -which do a nephew's heart the greatest credit, you could procure this -book." - -"Why not?" - -"Because it is exceedingly rare." - -"That little old book exceedingly rare?" - -"Do you not know that it is an Elzevir, monsieur?" - -"No." - -"Do you not know what an Elzevir is?" exclaimed my neighbour, -overwhelmed with astonishment. - -"No, monsieur, no; but do not be alarmed at such a trifle: since I came -to Paris not quite a week ago, I have discovered that I am ignorant of -nearly everything. Tell me what it is, please: I am not well enough off -to afford myself masters, I am too old to go back to college and I have -made up my mind to take _the whole world_ as my teacher--a teacher whom -report says is even more learned than Voltaire." - -"Ah! ah! quite right, monsieur," said my neighbour, looking at me with -some interest; "and if you profit by the lessons that teacher will give -you, you will become a great philosopher, as well as a great savant. -Well, what is an Elzevir?... First of all, and in particular, this -little volume that you see is one; or, in general, every book that -came from the establishment of Louis Elzevir and of his successors, -booksellers of Amsterdam. But do you know what a bibliomaniac is?" - -"I do not know Greek, monsieur." - -"You know your ignorance and that is something. The bibliomaniac--root, -βιβλιο, book; μανια, madness--is a variety of the species -man--_species bipes et genus homo._" - -"I understand." - -"This animal has two legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and -down the quays and the boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, -turning over every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that -is too long for him and trousers that are too short; he always wears on -his feet shoes that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, -under his coat, and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together -with string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he -never washes his hands." - -"But you are describing a perfectly disgusting animal. I hope the race -does not consist entirely of specimens like that, and that there are -exceptions." - -"Yes, but these exceptions are rare. Well, what this creature is in -particular quest after, among the old shopkeepers and on the old -bookstalls,--for you know that all animals hunt for something or -other,--is for Elzevirs." - -"Are they hard to find?" - -"Yes, more and more difficult every day." - -"And how can Elzevirs be recognised?... Pray remember, monsieur, that -you are not risking anything by instructing me; I do not ever expect to -become a bibliomaniac, and my questions are solely out of curiosity." - -"How can they be recognised? I will tell you. In the first place, -monsieur, the first volume in which one finds the name of Elzevir or -Elzevier is one entitled _Eutropii histories romanæ_, _lib. X. Lugduni -Batavorum, apud Ludovicum Elzevierum_, 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 -pages. The design on the frontispiece,--remember this carefully, it is -the key to the whole mystery,--the design on the frontispiece is that -of an angel holding a book in one hand and a scythe in the other." - -"Yes, I understand: 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 pages, an angel holding -a book in one hand and a scythe in the other." - -"Bravo!... Isaac Elzevir--whom some declare to be the son and others -the nephew of Louis Elzevir: I maintain that he is the son; Bérard -maintains that he is the nephew, and, although he has Techener on his -side, I still think I am right--Isaac Elzevir substituted for this -design an elm tree, encircled by a vine laden with grapes, with this -device: _Non solus._ Do you follow me?" - -"The Latin, yes." - -"Well, then, Daniel Elzevir, in his turn, adopted Minerva and the olive -tree as his mark, with the device: _Ne extra oleas_. You still follow -me?" - -"Perfectly: Isaac, a vine laden with grapes; Daniel, Minerva and the -olive tree." - -"Better and better. But, besides these recognised editions, there -are anonymous and pseudonymous editions, and there is where the -inexperienced bibliomaniacs get confused. Ah!" - -"Will you be my Ariadne?" - -"Well, these editions are usually designated by a sphere." - -"Then that is a guide." - -"Yes, but you will see! These brothers, cousins or nephews Elzevir were -a very capricious lot of fellows. Thus, for example, one finds, since -1629, a buffalo head forming part of the headpieces in their books, at -the beginning of prefaces, dedicatory epistles and text." - -"Well, thanks to the buffalo's head, it seems...." - -"Wait a bit ... this lasted for five years. Since the _Sallust_ of 1634 -and even perhaps earlier, they adopted another sign which resembled a -siren. Also in this edition...." - -"The _Sallust_ of 1634?" - -"Exactly! They adopted also, for the first time, on page 216, a -tail-piece of a head of Medusa." - -"So, when once this principle is fixed and one knows that on page 216 -of the _Sallust_ of 1634 there is a figure representing ...." - -"Yes, yes, upon my word, that would be delightful, if it could be laid -down as a positive rule; but, bah! Daniel did not remain constant to -his designs. For example, in the 1661 _Terence_, he substitutes a -garland of hollyhocks for the buffalo head and the siren, and this -garland is to be found in a great many of his editions. But, in the -_Persius_ of 1664 he does not even put that." - -"Oh, gracious! and what does he adopt in the _Persius_ of 1664?" - -"He adopts a large ornament, in the centre of which are two swords -crossed over a crown." - -"As though to indicate that the Elzevirs are the kings of the -book-selling world." - -"You have hit it exactly, monsieur: a sovereignty no one disputes with -them." - -"And the one you have there, monsieur,--which treats of French -confectionery and the sixty ways of cooking eggs,--is it the angel with -the book and the scythe? Is it the vine cluster? Is it the Minerva and -the olive tree? Is it the buffalo head? Is it the siren? Is it the head -of Medusa? Is it the garland of hollyhocks? Or is it the crown and two -swords?" - -"This one, monsieur, is the rarest of all. I found it, this evening, -as I was coming here. Just think how I have argued with that idiot of -a Bérard over this Elzevir, for three years; he thinks himself a great -savant, and is not even half instructed." - -"And, without seeming too inquisitive, monsieur, may I ask what was the -object of the discussion?" - -"He would have it that _le Pastissier françois_ was printed in 1654, -and contained only four preliminary leaves; whilst I maintained, and -with reason, as you see, that it was printed in 1655 and that it had -five preliminary leaves and a frontispiece. Now here is the very -date, 1655; here are the five preliminary leaves; here is the very -frontispiece." - -"Upon my word, so it is." - -"Ah! ah! how sheepish, how utterly foolish my friend Bérard will look -now!" - -"But, monsieur," I suggested timidly, "did you not tell me that you had -argued over this little volume for the past three years?" - -"Yes, indeed, for more than three years." - -"Well, it seems to me that if the discussion no longer amused you, you -had a very simple remedy at hand to stop it." - -"What?" - -"Does not one of the ancient philosophers prove the incontestability of -movement to another philosopher who denies movement, by walking before -him?" - -"Well?" - -"Well, then, you must prove to M. Bérard the superiority of your -knowledge over his, by showing him the Elzevir you have there, and -unless he is more incredulous than St. Thomas...." - -"But, to show it, monsieur, it was necessary to possess it, and I had -it not." - -"This little volume is, then, very rare?" - -"It is the rarest of the lot! There are probably only ten examples of -it left in Europe." - -"And why is this particular volume rarer than the others? Were there -fewer copies printed?" - -"On the contrary, Techener declares that there were five thousand five -hundred copies issued, and I maintain that there were more than ten -thousand printed." - -"The deuce! was the edition burnt, then, with the library of -Alexandria?" - -"No; but it was lost, spoilt, torn up in kitchens. You can quite -understand that chefs and cookmaids are indifferent bibliomaniacs: -they served the _Pastissier françois_ as they served _Carême_ or the -_Cuisinier royal_; hence the rarity of the book." - -"So rare that, as you say, you have not found one before to-night?" - -"Oh, I knew of it six weeks ago. I told Frank to keep it for me, as I -was not well enough off to buy it." - -"What! You were not rich enough to buy it, not rich enough to buy that -little old book?" - -The bibliomaniac smiled disdainfully. - -"Do you know, monsieur," he said to me, "what a copy of the _Pastissier -françois_ is worth?" - -"Why, I should judge it worth about a crown." - -"A copy of the _Pastissier françois,_ monsieur, is worth from two -hundred to four hundred francs." - -"From two to four hundred francs ...?" - -"Yes, indeed.... Only a week ago, old Brunet, the author of _Manuel des -libraires_, an enthusiastic Elzeviriomaniac, inserted a notice in the -papers that he was willing to pay three hundred francs for a copy such -as this. Luckily, Frank did not see the notice." - -"Pardon me, monsieur! but I warned you what an ignoramus lam ... you -said a book like that was worth from two hundred to four hundred -francs." - -"Yes, from two hundred to four hundred francs." - -"Why is there such a difference in the price?" - -"Because of the margins." - -"Ah! the margins?" - -"All the value of an Elzevir consists in the width of its margins; the -wider they are, the dearer the Elzevir. An Elzevir without a margin is -worth next to nothing; they measure the margins with compasses, and, -according as they have twelve, fifteen or eighteen lines, the Elzevir -is worth two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and even six hundred -francs." - -"Six hundred francs!... I am of Madame Méchin's way of thinking." - -"And what was Madame Méchin's way of thinking?" - -"Madame Méchin is a very witty woman." - -"Yes, I am aware of that." - -"Her husband was prefect of the department of Aisne." - -"I know that too." - -"Well, one day when she was visiting Soissons with her husband, the -governor of the place, to do her honour, showed her the guns upon the -ramparts, one after the other. When she had seen all the kinds, of -every date and every shape, and had exhausted her repertory of _Ohs!_ -and _Reallys!_ and _Is it possibles! _ Madame Méchin, who did not know -what to say next to the governor, asked him, 'How much does a pair of -cannon cost, M. le gouverneur?' 'A twelve, twenty-four or thirty-six -pounder, madame la comtesse?' 'Oh, let us say thirty-six?' 'A pair -of thirty-six cannon, madame,' replied the governor,--'a pair of -thirty-six cannon might cost from eight to ten thousand francs. 'Well, -then,' replied Madame Méchin, 'I am not going to put my money on them.'" - -My neighbour looked at me, doubtful whether I had told the story -innocently or jokingly. He was possibly going to question me on that -head, when we heard the call bell; the overture began, and there were -cries for silence. Upon this, I prepared myself to listen, whilst -my neighbour plunged more deeply than ever into the reading of his -precious Elzevir. - -The curtain rose. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -Prologue of the _Vampire_--The style offends my neighbour's ear--First -act--Idealogy--The rotifer--What the animal is--Its conformation, its -life, its death and its resurrection - - -The overture was intended to represent a storm. The scene opened in the -cave of Staffa. Malvina slept on a tomb. Oscar sat on another. A third -enclosed Lord Ruthven, who was to come out of it at a given moment. -The part of Malvina was taken by Madame Dorval; Oscar, or the angel of -marriage, by Moessard; Lord Ruthven, or the Vampire, by Philippe. - -Alas! who could have known at that moment, when I was looking eagerly -beyond the curtain, taking in the whole scene, decorations and -characters combined, that I should be present at Philippe's funeral, -watch by Madame Dorval's death-bed, and see Moessard crowned? - -In the prologue, there was another angel, called Ithuriel, the angel -of the moon, talking with the angel of marriage. This was Mademoiselle -Denotte. I do not know whether she is now living or dead.... The -narrative was carried on between the angel of marriage and the angel of -the moon, two angels who, as they wore the same armour, might have been -taken to belong to the same family. - -Malvina had lost herself in hunting; the storm terrifying her, she had -taken shelter in the cave of Staffa. There, unable to keep awake, she -had fallen asleep on a tomb. The angel of marriage was watching over -her. The angel of the moon, who had slid down on a ray of the pale -goddess, through the cracks of the basaltic roof, asked why the angel -of marriage sat there, and, above all, how it came about that there -was a young girl in the grotto of Staffa. - -The angel of marriage replied that, as Malvina, sister of Lord -Aubrey, was to espouse Lord Marsden next day, he had been summoned -by the importance of the occasion, and that his looks, when Ithuriel -interrupted him in the act of silently gazing upon the beautiful -betrothed girl, and the sadness depicted upon his face, sprang from -knowledge of the misfortunes in store for the young maiden, who was -about to fall from the arms of Love into those of Death. Then Ithuriel -began to understand. - -"Explain thyself," said Ithuriel, "is it true that horrible phantoms -_come (viennent)_ sometimes ...?" - -My neighbour trembled, as though an asp had bitten him in his sleep. - -"_Vinssent!_" he cried,--"_vinssent!_3" - -Cries of "Silence!" burst forth all over the theatre, and I too -clamoured loudly for silence, for I was enthralled by this opening. - -The angel of the moon, interrupted in the middle of her sentence, threw -an angry look across the orchestra, and went on: - -"Is it true that horrible phantoms come _(viennent)_ under the cloak -of the rights of marriage, to suck blood from the throat of a timid -maiden?" - -"_Vinssent! vinssent! vinssent!_" murmured my neighbour. - -Fresh cries of "_Hush!_" drowned his exclamation, which it must be -confessed was less bold and less startling this time than the first. - -Oscar replied: "Yes! and these monsters are called vampires. A Power -whose inscrutable decrees we are not permitted to call in question, -has permitted certain miserable beings, who are tormented by the -punishments which their crimes have drawn down upon them on this earth, -to enjoy a frightful power, which they exercise by preference over the -nuptial couch and over the cradle; sometimes their formidable shapes -appear clothed in the hideous guise death has bestowed upon them; -others, more highly favoured, because their career is more brief and -their future more fearful, obtain permission to reclothe themselves -with the fleshy vesture lost in the tomb, and reappear before the -living in the bodily shapes they formerly possessed." - -"And when do these monsters appear?" asked Ithuriel. - -"The first hour of the morning wakes them in their sepulchre," replied -Oscar. "When the sound of its sonorous stroke has died away among the -echoes of the mountains, they fall back motionless in their everlasting -tombs. But there is one among them over whom my power is more limited -... what am I saying?... Fate herself can never go back on her -decisions! ... After having carried desolation into twenty different -countries, always conquered, ever continuing, the blood which sustains -its horrible existence ever renewing its vitality ... in thirty-six -hours, at one o'clock in the morning, it has at length to submit to -annihilation, the lawful punishment of an infinite succession of -crimes, if it cannot, at that time, add yet another crime, and count -one more victim." - -"My God! think of writing a play like that!" murmured my neighbour. - -It seemed to me that he was too critical; for I thought this -dialogue was couched in the finest style imaginable. The prologue -continued. Several persons who had heard my neighbour gave vent to -various whispered comments on the presumption of this indefatigable -interrupter; but, as he buried himself in his _Pastissier françois,_ -the murmurs ceased. - -It is unnecessary to point out that the young betrothed asleep on the -tomb was the innocent heroine who was destined to be the bride of the -Vampire, and had the public been in any doubt, all their doubts would -have been dispersed after the last scene of the prologue. - -"What do I hear?" said Ithuriel; "thy conversation has kept me long -while in these caves." - -As the angel of the moon asks this question, the silvery chime of a -distant clock is heard striking one, and the reverberation is repeated -in echoes again and again. - -_Oscar._ "Stay and see." - -All the tombs open as the hour sounds; pale shades rise half out of -their graves and then fall back under their monumental stones as the -sound of the echoes dies away. - -A SPECTRE, clad in a shroud, escapes from the most conspicuous of these -tombs: his face is exposed; he glides to the place where Miss Aubrey -sleeps, exclaiming-- - -"Malvina!" - -_Oscar._ "Withdraw." - -_Spectre._ "She belongs to me!" - -Oscar puts his arms round the sleeping girl. "She belongs to God, and -thou wilt soon belong to the regions of nothingness." - -The Spectre retires, but repeats threateningly, "To nothingness." - -Ithuriel crosses the stage in a cloud. - -The scene changes and represents an apartment in the house of Sir -Aubrey. - -"Absurd! absurd!" exclaimed my neighbour. And he resumed his reading of -_le Pastissier françois._ - -I did not at all agree with him: I thought the staging magnificent; I -had nothing to say about Malvina, for she had not spoken; but Philippe -seemed to me exceedingly fine, notwithstanding his paleness, and -Moessard very good. Moreover, crude as it was, it was an attempt at -Romanticism--a movement almost entirely unknown at that time. This -intervention of immaterial and superior beings in human destiny had -a fanciful side to it which pleased my imagination, and maybe that -evening was responsible for the germ in me from which sprang the _Don -Juan de Marana_ of eleven years later. The play began. - -_Sir_ Aubrey (the reader will see presently why I underline the word -_Sir)--Sir_ Aubrey met Lord Ruthven, a rich English traveller, at -Athens, and they became friends. During their wanderings about the -Parthenon and their day-dreams by the seashore, they planned means -for tying the bonds of their friendship more firmly, and, subject to -Malvina's consent, they decided upon a union between the young girl, -who was at home in the castle of Staffa, and the noble traveller, -who had become her brother's closest friend. Unfortunately, during -an excursion which Aubrey and Ruthven made to the suburbs of Athens, -to attend the wedding of a young maiden endowed privately by Lord -Ruthven, the two companions were attacked by brigands: a sharp defence -put the assassins to flight; but Lord Ruthven was struck down mortally -wounded. His last words were a request that his friend would place him -on a hillock bathed by the moon's rays. Aubrey carried out this last -request, and laid the dying man on the place indicated; then, as his -friend's eyes closed and his breathing ceased, Aubrey began to search -for his scattered servitors; but when he returned with them, an hour -later, the body had disappeared. Aubrey fancied that the assassins must -have taken the body away to remove all traces of their crime. - -When he returned to Scotland, he broke the news of Lord Ruthven's death -to his brother, Lord Marsden, and told him of the close relationship -that had united them during their travels. Then Marsden claimed -succession to his brother's rights, and proposed to marry Malvina, if -Malvina would consent to this substitution. Malvina, who did not know -either the one or the other, made no objection to Lord Marsden's claim -or to her brother's wishes. - -Lord Marsden is announced. Malvina feels that slight embarrassment -which, like an early morning mist, always comes over the hearts of -young maidens at the approach of their betrothed. Aubrey, overjoyed, -rushes to greet him; but when he sees him he utters a cry of surprise. -It is not Lord Marsden--that is to say, a person hitherto unknown--who -stands before him; it is his friend Lord Ruthven! - -Aubrey's astonishment is intense; but all is explained. Ruthven did not -die; he only fainted: the coolness of the night air brought him back -to consciousness. Aubrey's departure and his return to Scotland had -been too prompt for Ruthven to send him word; but when he was well he -returned to Ireland, to find his brother dead; he inherited his name -and his fortune, and, under that name, with twice the fortune he had -before, he offered to espouse Malvina, and rejoiced in anticipation at -the joy he would cause his beloved Aubrey, by his reappearance before -him. Ruthven is charming: his friend has not overrated him. He and -Malvina were both so favourably impressed with one another that, under -the pretext of very urgent business, he asked to be allowed to marry -her within twenty-four hours. Malvina makes a proper show of resistance -before yielding. They return to Marsden's castle. The curtain falls. - -Now I had been watching my neighbour almost as much as the play, and, -to my great satisfaction, I had seen him close his Elzevir and listen -to the final scenes. When the curtain fell, he uttered an exclamation -of disdain accompanied by a deep-drawn sigh. - -"Pooh!" he said. - -I took advantage of this moment to renew our conversation. - -"Excuse me, monsieur," I said, "but at the conclusion of the prologue -you said,'How absurd!'" - -"Yes," said my neighbour, "I suppose I did say so; or, if I did not say -it, I certainly thought it." - -"Do you then condemn the use of supernatural beings in the drama?" - -"Not at all; on the contrary, I admire it extremely. All the great -masters have made potent use of it: Shakespeare in _Hamlet_, in -_Macbeth_ and in _Julius Cæsar_; Molière in _le Festin de pierre_, -which he ought rather to have called _le Convive de pierre_, for -his title to be really significant; Voltaire in _Sémiramis_; Goethe -in _Faust._ No, on the contrary, I highly approve of the use of the -supernatural, because I believe in it." - -"What! you have faith in the supernatural?" - -"Most certainly." - -"In everyday life?" - -"Certainly. We elbow every moment against beings who are unknown to us -because they are invisible to us: the air, fire, the earth, are all -inhabited. Sylphs, gnomes, water-sprites, hobgoblins, bogies, angels, -demons, fly, float, crawl and leap around us. What are those shooting -stars of the night, meteors which astronomers in vain try to explain to -us, and of which they can discover neither cause nor end, if they are -not angels carrying God's orders from one world to another? Some day we -shall see it all." - -"Did you say, we shall see?" - -"Yes, by heaven! we shall see. Do you not think that we see these -miracles?" - -"You said 'we'; do you think we personally shall see them?" - -"Well, I did not exactly say that ... not I, for I am already old; -perhaps you, who are still young; but certainly our descendants." - -"And why, for heaven's sake, will our descendants see anything that we -cannot see?" - -"In the same way that we see things which our ancestors never did." - -"What things do we see which they did not?" - -"Why, steam, piston guns, air-balloons, electricity, printing, -gunpowder! Do you suppose the world progresses only to stop half-way? -Do you imagine that after having conquered successively the earth, -water and fire, man, for instance, will not make himself master of the -air? It would be ridiculous to hold that belief. If perchance you doubt -it, young man, so much the worse for you." - -"I confess one thing, monsieur, and that is, I neither doubt nor -believe. My mind has never dwelt on such theories. I have been wrong, I -see, since they can be interesting, and I should take to them if I had -the pleasure of talking for long with you. So you believe, monsieur, -that we shall gradually attain to a knowledge of all Nature's secrets?" - -"I am convinced of it." - -"But we should then be as powerful as the Almighty." - -"Not quite.... As knowing, perhaps; as powerful, no." - -"Do you think, then, that there is such a great distinction between -knowledge and power?" - -"There is an abyss between those two words! God has given you authority -to make use of all created things. None of these things is useless -or idle: all at the right moment are capable of contributing to the -well-being of man, to the happiness of humanity; but, in order to be -able to apply these things to the good of the race and to the welfare -of the individual, man must know precisely the cause and the end of -everything. He will utilise all, and when he has utilised the earth, -water, fire and air, neither space nor distance will any longer exist -for him: he will see the world as it is, not merely in its visible -forms, but also in its invisible forms; he will penetrate into the -bowels of the earth, as do gnomes; he will inhabit water, like nymphs -and tritons; he will play in fire, as do hobgoblins and salamanders; -he will fly through the air, like angels and sylphs; he will ascend, -almost to God, by the chain of being and by the ladder of perfection; -he will see the supreme Ruler of all things, as I see you; and if, -instead of learning humility through knowledge, he should gain pride; -if, instead of worshipping, he be puffed up; if because of his -knowledge of creation, he thinks himself equal to the Creator, God will -say to him, 'Make Me a star or a _rotifer_!'" - -I thought I had not heard him correctly, and I repeated-- - -"A star or a...?" - -"Or a rotifer:--it is an animal I have discovered. Columbus discovered -a world and I an ephemera. Do you imagine that Columbus weighed -heavier, for all that, before the eyes of God, than I?" - -I remained in thought for a moment. Was this man out of his mind? -Whether or no, his madness was a fine frenzy. - -"Well," he went on, "one day people will discover water-sprites, -gnomes, sylphs, nymphs, angels, just as I discovered my animalcule. -All that is needed is to find a microscope capable of perceiving -the infinitely transparent, just as we have discovered one for the -infinitely little. Before the invention of the solar microscope, -creation, to man's eyes, stopped short at the acarus, the seison; he -little thought there were snakes in his water, crocodiles in his -vinegar, blue dolphins ... in other things. The solar microscope was -invented and he saw them all." - -I sat dumbfounded. I had never heard anyone speak of such extraordinary -things. "Good gracious! monsieur," I said to him, "you open out to me a -whole world of whose existence I knew nothing. What! are there serpents -in water?" - -"Hydras." - -"Crocodiles in our vinegar?" - -"Ichthyosauri." - -"And blue dolphins in ...? But it is impossible!" - -"Ah! that is the usual formula--'It is impossible!' ... You said just -now,'It is impossible!' in reference to things we do not see. And now -you say 'It is impossible' of things that everybody else but yourself -has seen. All 'impossibility' is relative: what is impossible to the -oyster is not impossible to the fish; what is impossible to the fish -is not impossible to the serpent; what is impossible to the serpent is -not impossible to the quadruped; what is impossible to the quadruped -is not impossible to man; what is impossible to man is not impossible -with God. When Fulton offered to demonstrate the existence of steam to -Napoleon, Napoleon said, as you, 'It is impossible!' and had he lived -two or three years longer he would have seen pass by, from the top of -his rocky island, their funnels smoking, the machines that might still -have kept him emperor, had he not scorned them as the creatures of a -dream, utopian and impossible! Even Job prophesied steamships...." - -"Job prophesied steamships?" - -"Yes, most certainly.... What else do you think his description of -leviathan meant, whom he calls the king of the seas?--'I will not -forget the leviathan, his strength and the marvellous structure of -his body. By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like -the eyelids of the morning. Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out -of a seething pot or caldron. His breath kindleth coals: his heart is -as firm as a stone, yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. -He maketh the deep to boil as a pot; he maketh the sea like a pot of -ointment. He maketh a path to shine after him: one would think the -deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without -fear.' Leviathan is, of course, the modern steamship!" - -"Indeed, monsieur," I said to my neighbour, "you make my head reel. You -know so much and you talk so well, I feel carried away by all you tell -me, like a leaf by a whirlwind. You spoke of a tiny animal that you -discovered--an ephemera: do you call that a rotifer?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you discover it in water, in wine or in vinegar?" - -"In wet sand." - -"How did it come about?" - -"Oh! why, in a very simple way. I had begun making microscopic -experiments upon infinitely small things, long before Raspail. One day, -when I had examined under the microscope water, wine, vinegar, cheese, -bread, all the ingredients in fact that experiments are usually made -upon, I took a little wet sand out of my rain gutter,--I then lodged on -a sixth floor,--I put it on the slide of my microscope and applied my -eye to the lens. Then I saw a strange animal move about, in shape like -a velocipede, furnished with two wheels, which it moved very rapidly. -If it had a river to cross, these wheels served the same purpose as -those of a steamboat; had it dry land to go over, the wheels acted the -same as those of a tilbury. I watched it, I studied its every detail, I -drew it. Then I suddenly remembered that my rotifer,--I had christened -it by that name, although I have since called it a _tarentatello_>--I -suddenly remembered that my rotifer had made me forget an engagement. I -was in a great hurry; I had an appointment with one of the animalculæ -which do not like being kept waiting--an ephemera whom mortals call a -woman.... I left my microscope, my rotifer and the pinch of sand which -was his world. I had other work to do where I went, protracted and -engaging work, which kept me all the night. I did not get back until -the next morning: I went straight to my microscope. Alas! the sand had -dried up during the night, and my poor rotifer, which needed moisture, -no doubt, to live, had died. Its almost imperceptible body was -stretched on its left side, its wheels were motionless, the steamboat -puffed no longer, the velocipede had stopped." - -"Ah! poor rotifer!" I exclaimed. - -"Wait, wait!" - -"Ah! was it like Lord Ruthven, then? He was not dead? Was he, like Lord -Ruthven, a vampire?" - -"You will see! Quite dead though he was, the animal was still a curious -variety of ephemera, and his body was as worth preserving as that of a -mammoth or a mastodon. Only, you understand, quite other precautions -have to be taken to handle an animal a hundred times smaller than a -seison, than to change the situation of an animal ten times greater -than an elephant! I selected a little cardboard box, from among all -my boxes; I destined it to be my rotifer's tomb, and by the help of -the feather end of a pen I transported my pinch of sand from the slide -of my microscope to my box. I meant to show this corpse to Geoffroy -Saint-Hilaire or to Cuvier; but I did not get the opportunity. I never -met these gentlemen, or, if I did meet them, they declined to mount my -six flights of stairs; so for three or maybe six months or a year I -forgot the body of the poor rotifer. One day, by chance, the box fell -into my hand; and I desired to see what change a year had wrought on -the body of an ephemera. The weather was cloudy, there had been a great -fall of stormy rain. In order to see better, I placed my microscope -close to the window, and I emptied the contents of the little box on -to the slide. The body of the poor rotifer still lay motionless on the -sand; but the weather, which remembers the colossal so ruthlessly, -seemed to have forgotten the tiny atom. I was looking at my ephemera -with an easily understood feeling of curiosity, when suddenly the wind -drove a drop of rain on to the microscope slide and wet my pinch of -sand." - -"Well?" I asked. - -"Well, then the miracle took place. My rotifer seemed to revive at -the touch of that refreshing coolness: it began to move one antenna, -then another; then one of its wheels began to turn round, then both -its wheels: it regained its centre of gravity, its movements became -regular; in short, it lived!" - -"Nonsense!" - -"Monsieur, the miracle of the resurrection, in which perhaps you -believe, although Voltaire had no faith in it, was accomplished, not -at the end of three days ... three days, a fine miracle!... but at the -end of a year.... I renewed the same test ten times: ten times the sand -dried, ten times the rotifer died! ten times the sand was wetted, and -ten times the rotifer came to life again! I had discovered an immortal, -not a rotifer, monsieur! My rotifer had probably lived before the -Deluge and would survive to the Judgment Day." - -"And you still possess this marvellous animal?" - -"Ah, monsieur," my neighbour replied, with a deep sigh, "I have not -that happiness. One day when, for the twentieth time, perhaps, I was -preparing to repeat my experiment, a puff of wind carried away the dry -sand, and, with the dry sand, my deathless phenomenon. Alas! I have -taken many a pinch of wet sand from my gutters since, and even from -elsewhere, but always in vain; I have never found again the equivalent -of what I lost. My rotifer was not only immortal but even unique.... -Will you allow me to pass, monsieur? The second act is about to begin, -and I think this melodrama so poor that I much prefer to go away." - -"Oh, monsieur," I said, "I beg of you not to go; I have many more -things to ask of you, and you seem to me to be very learned!... You -need not listen if you don't want to; you can read _le Pastissier -françois,_ and in the intervals we can talk of Elzevirs and -rotifers.... I will listen to the play, which, I assure you, interests -me greatly." - -"You are very good," said my neighbour; and he bowed. - -Then came the three raps and, with the charming suavity I had already -noticed in him, he resumed his reading. - -The curtain rose, revealing the entrance to a farm, a chain of snowy -mountains, and a window. The farm represented on the stage was that -belonging to Marsden Castle. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Second act of the _Vampire_--Analysis--My neighbour again objects--He -has seen a vampire--Where and how--A statement which records the -existence of vampires--Nero--Why he established the race of hired -applauders--My neighbour leaves the orchestra - - -While Ruthven's preparations for marrying Malvina were in progress, -Edgard, one of his vassals, married Lovette. Lovette made the -prettiest, the sweetest and the most graceful betrothed imaginable: she -was Jenny Vertpré, at twenty. - -Lord Ruthven, who really loved Malvina, would much rather have sucked -the blood of another man's wife than that of his own; so, at the -request of Edgard, his servant, he willingly acceded to be present at -his nuptials. The marriage takes place. Lord Ruthven is seen sitting -down: the ballet is just about to begin, when an ancient bard comes -forward with his harp; he was a guest at every castle, the poet invited -to every marriage. He recognised Ruthven, who did not recognise him, -being otherwise employed in ogling poor Lovette. - -The bard tunes his harp and sings:-- - - "O jeune vierge de Staffa - Brûlant de la première flamme, - Dont le cœur palpite déjà - Aux doux noms d'amante et de femme! - Au moment d'unir votre sort - A l'amant de votre pensée, - Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -This first couplet rouses Lord Ruthven's anger, who sees in it a -warning addressed to Lovette, and who consequently fears to see his -victim snatched away from him. So he turns his bewitching glance -from the young girl to glare furiously on the bard, who continues -unconcernedly:-- - - "Quand le soleil de ces déserts - Des monts ne dore plus la cime, - Alors, les anges des enfers - Viennent caresser leurs victimes.... - Si leur douce voix vous endort, - Reculez, leur main est glacée! - Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -A third stanza and Lovette will escape from the Vampire. The bard, who -is the angel of marriage in disguise, must not therefore be allowed to -sing his third stanza. Lord Ruthven complains that the song brings back -unhappy memories, and sends the old man away. - -Then, as night draws on, as there is no time to lose, since, unless -he can suck the blood of a maiden before one o'clock in the morning, -he must die, he seeks an interview with Lovette. Lovette would fain -decline; but Edgard is afraid of displeasing his lord and master, who, -left alone with Lovette, endeavours to seduce her, swears to her that -he loves her, and places a purse full of gold in her hand. Just at that -moment the bard's harp is heard and the refrain of the song:-- - - "Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée, - De l'amour qui donne la mort!" - -Then everybody comes on, and the ballet begins. Towards the middle of -the ballet, Lovette withdraws, tired; Ruthven, who has not let her go -out of sight, follows her. Edgard soon perceives that neither Lovette -nor his lord are present. He goes out in his turn. Cries are heard from -the wing; Lovette runs on, terrified; a pistol-shot is heard: Lord -Ruthven falls mortally wounded on the stage. - -"He tried to dishonour my betrothed!" cries Edgard, who appears, his -pistol still smoking in his hand. - -Aubrey dashes towards the wounded man. Lord Ruthven still breathes; he -asks to be left alone with his friend. Everybody goes off. - -"One last promise, Aubrey," says Lord Ruthven. - -"Oh, ask it, take my life!... it will be unbearable to me without -thee," replies Aubrey. - -"My friend, I only ask thee for profound secrecy for twelve hours." - -"For twelve hours?" - -"Promise me that Malvina shall not know anything of what has -happened--that you will not do anything to avenge my death before the -hour of one in the morning has struck.... Swear secrecy by my dying -breath!..." - -"I swear it!" says Aubrey, stretching forth his hands. The moon comes -out from behind clouds and shines brilliantly during Ruthven's last -words. - -"Aubrey," says Ruthven, "the queen of night casts light upon me for the -last time.... Let me see her and pay my final vows to heaven!" - -Ruthven's head falls back at these words. Then Aubrey, helped by -Lovette's father, carries the dead man to the rocks in the distance, -kisses his hand for the last time, and retires, led away by the old -man. At that moment the moonlight completely floods Ruthven's body with -its rays and lights up the frozen mountains.... - -The curtain falls, and the whole house applauds enthusiastically, -save my neighbour, who still growls under his breath. Such inveterate -animosity against a play which appeared to me to be full of interest -astonished me, coming from a person who seemed so well disposed as he. -He had not merely contented himself with noisy exclamations, as I have -indicated, but, still worse, during the whole of the last scene he had -played in a disturbing fashion with a key which he several times put to -his lips. - -"Really, monsieur," I said, "I think you are very hard on this piece." - -My neighbour shrugged his shoulders. - -"Yes, monsieur, I know it, and the more so because the author considers -himself a man of genius, a man of talent, the possessor of a good -style; but he deceives himself. I saw the piece when it was played -three years ago, and now I have seen it again. Well, what I said then, -I repeat: the piece is dull, unimaginative, improbable. Yes, see how he -makes vampires act! And then _Sir_ Aubrey! People don't talk of _Sir_ -Aubrey. Aubrey is a family name, and the title of _Sir_ is only used -before the baptismal name. Ah! the author was wise to preserve his -anonymity; he showed his sense in doing that." - -I took advantage of a moment when my neighbour stopped to take breath, -and I said-- - -"Monsieur, you said just now, 'Yes, see how he makes vampires act!' Did -you not say so? I was not mistaken, was I?" - -"No." - -"Well, by employing such language you gave me the impression that you -believe they really exist?" - -"Of course they exist." - -"Have you ever seen any, by chance?" - -"Certainly I have seen them." - -"Through a solar microscope?" I laughingly suggested. "No, with my own -eyes, as Orgon and Tartuffe." - -"Whereabouts?" - -"In Illyria." - -"In Illyria? Ah! Have you been in Illyria?" - -"Three years." - -"And you saw vampires there?" - -"Illyria, you must know, is the historic ground of vampires like -Hungary, Servia and Poland." - -"No, I did not know.... I do not know anything. Where were the vampires -you saw?" - -"At Spalatro. I was lodging with a good man of sixty-two. He died. -Three days after his burial, he appeared to his son, in the night, and -asked for something to eat: the son gave him all he wanted; he ate it, -and then vanished. The next day the son told me what had happened, -telling me he felt certain his father would not return once only, and -asking me to place myself, the following night, at a window to see -him enter and go out. I was very anxious to see a vampire. I stood -at the window, but that night he did not come. The son then told me, -fearing lest I should be discouraged, that he would probably come on -the following night. On the following night I placed myself again at my -window, and sure enough, towards midnight, the old man appeared, and I -recognised him perfectly. He came from the direction of the cemetery; -he walked at a brisk pace, but his steps made no sound. When he reached -the door, he knocked; I counted three raps: the knocks sounded hard on -the oak, as though it were struck with a bone and not with a finger. -The son opened the door and the old man entered...." - -I listened to this story with the greatest attention, and I began to -prefer the intervals to the melodrama. - -"My curiosity was too highly excited for me to leave my window," -continued my neighbour; "there I stayed. Half an hour later, the old -man came out; he returned whence he had come--that is to say, in the -direction of the cemetery. He disappeared round the corner of a wall. -At the same moment, almost, my door opened. I turned round quickly and -saw the son. He was very pale. 'Well,' I said,'so your father came?' -'Yes ... did you see him enter?' 'Enter and come out.... What did -he do to-day?' 'He asked me for food and drink, as he did the other -day.' 'And did he eat and drink?' 'He ate and drank.... But that is -not all ... this is what troubles me. He said to me ...' 'Ah!' he said -something else than a mere request for food and drink?' 'Yes, he said -to me, "This is the second time I have come and eaten with thee. It -is now thy turn to come and eat with me."' 'The devil!...' 'I am to -expect him the same hour the day after to-morrow.' 'The deuce you are!' -'Yes, yes, that is just what worries me.' The day but one after, he was -found dead in his bed! The same day two or three other people in the -same village who had also seen the old man, and to whom he had spoken, -fell ill and died too. It was then recognised that the old man was a -vampire. I was questioned; I told all I had seen and heard. Justice -demanded an examination of the graveyard. They opened the tombs of all -those who had died during the previous six weeks: every corpse was in -a state of decomposition. But when they came to Kisilowa's tomb--that -was the old man's name--they found him with his eyes open, his lips -red, his lungs breathing properly, although he was as rigid as if in -death. They drove a stake through his heart; he uttered a loud cry and -blood gushed out from his mouth: then they laid him on a stack of wood, -reduced him to ashes and scattered the ashes to the four winds.... I -left the country soon after. I never heard if his son turned into a -vampire too." - -"Why should he have become a vampire too?" I asked. - -"Ah! because it is the custom of those who die from a vampire's bite to -become vampires." - -"Really, you say this as though it were a known fact." - -"But indeed it is a known, registered and well established fact! Do you -doubt it?... Read Don Calmet's _Traité des apparitions_, vol ii. pp. -41 _et sqq_.; you will find a record signed by the hadnagi Barriavar -and the ancient heïduques; further by Battiw, first lieutenant of the -regiment of Alexander of Wurtemberg; by Clercktinger, surgeon-major of -the Fürstenberg regiment; by three other surgeons of the company and by -Goltchitz, captain at Slottats, stating that in the year 1730, a month -after the death of a certain heïduque, who lived in Medreiga, named -Arnold-Paul, who had been crushed by the fall of a hay waggon, four -people died suddenly, and, from the nature of their death, according -to the traditions of the country, it was evident that they had been -the victims of vampirism; they then called to mind that, during his -life, this Arnold-Paul had often related how, in the neighbourhood -of Cossova, on the Turko-Servian frontier, he had been worried by a -Turkish vampire,--for they too hold the belief that those who have -been passive vampires during their lives become active vampires after -their death,--but that he had found a cure in the eating of earth -from the vampire's grave, and in rubbing himself with its blood-- -precautions which did not prevent him from becoming a vampire after -his death; for, four persons having died, they thought the deed was -due to him, and they exhumed his body forty days after his burial: -he was quite recognisable, and his body bore the colour of life; his -hair, his nails and his beard had grown; his veins were filled with a -bloody fluid, which exuded from all parts of his body upon the shroud -in which he was wrapped round: the hadnagi, or bailiff of the place, -in the presence of those who performed the act of exhumation, and who -was a man experienced in cases of vampirism, caused a very sharp stake -to be driven through the heart of the said Arnold-Paul, after the -usual custom, piercing his body through and through, a frightful cry -escaping from his lips, as though he were alive; this act accomplished, -they cut off his head, burned him to ashes, and did the same with the -corpses of the four or five other victims of vampirism, lest they, -in their turn, should cause the deaths of others; but none of these -precautions prevented the same wonders from being renewed, five years -later, about the year 1735, when seventeen people, belonging to the -same village, died from vampirism, some without any previous illness, -others after having languished two or three days; among others a young -person, named Stranoska, daughter of the heïduque Jeronitzo, went to -bed in perfect health, waked up in the middle of the night, trembling -all over, uttering fearful shrieks, and saying that the son of the -heïduque Millo, who had died nine weeks before, had tried to strangle -her during her sleep; she languished from that instant, and died in -three days' time: since what she had said of the son of Millo led them -to suspect him of being a vampire, they exhumed him, and found him in -a state which left no doubt of the fact of vampirism; they discovered, -in short, after prolonged investigation, that the defunct Arnold-Paul -had not only killed the four persons already referred to, but also -many animals, of which fresh vampires, and particularly Millo's son, -had eaten; on this evidence, they decided to disinter all who had died -since a certain date, and among about forty corpses they discovered -seventeen which bore evident signs of vampirism; so they pierced their -hearts, cut off their heads, then burnt them and threw their bodies -into the river." - -"Does the book which contains this evidence cost as much as an Elzevir, -monsieur?" - -"Oh dear no! You will pick it up anywhere, two volumes, in 18mo, of 480 -pages each. Techener, Guillemot or Frank will have a copy. It will cost -you from forty sous to three francs." - -"Thanks, I shall give myself the pleasure of buying a copy." - -"Now will you allow me to depart?... Three years ago I thought the -third act pretty bad; it will seem worse to me to-day." - -"If you really must, monsieur ..." - -"Yes, really you must let me go." - -"But first may I ask your advice?" - -"With the greatest pleasure.... Speak." - -"Before I came into the orchestra, I entered the pit, and there I had a -slight breeze." - -"Ah! It was you, was it?" - -"It was I." - -"You ...?" - -"Yes." - -"Smacked ...?" - -"Yes." - -"What occasioned you to allow yourself that diversion?" - -I told him my adventure, and asked him if I ought to forewarn my -witnesses overnight, or if it would be time enough next morning. - -He shook his head. - -"Oh, neither to-night nor to-morrow morning," he said. - -"What! neither to-night nor to-morrow?" - -"No; it would be useless trouble." - -"Why so?" - -"Because you fell into a nest of hired applauders." - -"A nest of hired applauders!... What are they?" I asked. - -"Oh! young man," exclaimed my neighbour in paternal accents, "do your -utmost to preserve your holy innocence!" - -"But suppose I beg you to put an end to it ...?" - -"Have you ever heard that in former times there were emperors of Rome?" - -"Certainly." - -"Do you remember the name of the fifth of those emperors?" "I think it -was Nero." - -"Right.... Well, Nero, who poisoned his cousin Britannicus, -disembowelled his mother Agrippina, strangled his wife Octavia, -killed his wife Poppæa with a kick in the stomach, had a tenor voice, -after the style of Ponchard; only his style was less cultivated, and -occasionally he sang false! That did not matter whilst Nero sang before -his roystering companions or before his courtesans at the Palatine -or Maison-Dorée; neither was it of much consequence when Nero sang -as he watched Rome burn: the Romans were too much occupied with the -fire to pay any attention to a semi-tone too high or a flat too low. -But when he took it into his head to sing in a public theatre, it was -a different matter: every time the illustrious tenor deviated in the -slightest degree from musical correctness, some spectator allowed -himself--what I shall permit myself to do immediately, if you insist on -my remaining to the end of this silly melodrama--to whistle. Of course -the spectator was arrested and promptly flung to the lions; but as he -passed before Nero, instead of saying simply, according to custom, -'Augustus, he who is about to die salutes thee!' he said,'Augustus, -I am to die because you sang false; but when I am dead, you will not -sing the more correctly.' This final salutation, taken up and added -to by other culprits, annoyed Nero: he had the whistlers strangled in -the corridors, and no one whistled any more. But it was not enough for -Nero,--that _hankerer after the impossible,_ as Tacitus called him,--it -was not enough that no one whistled any more, he wanted everybody to -applaud him. Now, he could indeed strangle those who whistled, but he -could not exactly strangle those who did not applaud; he would have -had to strangle the whole audience, and that would have been no light -job: Roman theatres held twenty, thirty, forty thousand spectators!... -As they were so strong in numbers, they could easily have prevented -themselves from being strangled. Nero went one better: he instituted a -body composed of Roman nobles--a kind of confraternity consisting of -some three thousand members. These three thousand chevaliers were not -the emperor's pretorians, they were the artist's body-guard; wherever -he went, they followed him; whenever he sang, they applauded him. Did -a surly spectator raise a murmur, a sensitive ear allow its owner -to utter a slight whistle, that murmur or whistle was immediately -drowned by applause. Nero ruled triumphant in the theatre. Had not -Sylla, Cæsar and Pompey exhausted all other kinds of triumph? Well, -my dear sir, that race of chevaliers has been perpetuated under the -name of _claqueurs_. The Opéra has them, the Théâtre-Français has -them, the Odéon has them--and is fortunate in having them!--finally, -the Porte-Saint-Martin has them; nowadays their mission is not only -to support poor actors--it consists even more, as you have just seen, -in preventing bad plays from collapsing. They are called _romains_, -from their origin; but our _romains_ are not recruited from among the -nobility. No, managers are not so hard to please in their choice, and -it is not necessary to show a gold ring on the first finger; provided -they can show a couple of big hands, and bring these large hands -rapidly and noisily together, that is the only quartering of nobility -required of them. So, you see, I am quite right to warn you not to -upset two of your friends for one of those rapscallions.... Now that I -have enlightened you, will you allow me to leave?" - -I knew it would be impertinent to retain my neighbour any longer. -Though his conversation, which had covered a wide range of subjects -in a short time, was agreeable and highly edifying to myself, it was -evident he could not say the same of mine. I could not teach him -anything, save that I was ignorant of everything he knew. So I effaced -myself with a sigh, not daring to ask him who he was, and allowing him -to pass by with his _Pastissier françois_ hugged with both hands to -his breast, fearing, no doubt, lest one of the chevaliers of whom he -had just spoken, curious in the matter of rare books, should relieve -him of it. - -I watched him withdraw with regret: a vague presentiment told me that, -after having done me so much service, this man would become one of my -closest friends. In the meanwhile, he had made the intervals far more -interesting than the play. - -Happily the bell was ringing for the third act, and so the intervals -were at an end. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -A parenthesis_--Hariadan Barberousse_ at Villers-Cotterets--I play the -rôle of Don Ramire as an amateur--My costume--The third act of the -_Vampire_--My friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment--He is expelled from the theatre--Madame Allan-Dorval--Her -family and her childhood--Philippe--His death and his funeral - - -The only definite feeling I was conscious of, when my neighbour had -gone, was one of utter loneliness in that vast building. So I gave -my whole attention to the play. Could I judge clearly? No, certainly -not as yet: the _Vampire_ was one of the first melodramas I had come -across. The first was _Hariadan Barberousse._ I have forgotten to tell -at the proper time and place how I became acquainted with the work of -MM. Saint-Victor and Corse. - -A troop of poverty-stricken actors came to Villers-Cotterets -(you will understand they must have been poor indeed to come to -Villers-Cotterets), and there they pretty nearly died of starvation. -They consisted of but one family named Robba. These poor devils were -possessed with the idea of giving a benefit for themselves, and they -thought of begging two or three young ladies and young gentlemen of the -town to play with them and for them. Naturally I was applied to. Nature -had already implanted in my heart that fountain of goodwill through -which everything that I had, that I have, that I shall have, passed, -passes, and always will pass. I agreed to undertake the rôle of Don -Ramire. All the other mothers refused to allow their boys and girls -to act. Were their children going to mount the boards and play with -ordinary actors? No indeed! My mother alone kept her promised word, and -I was the only artiste on this special occasion whose name, printed in -big letters on the bills, was utilised in the philanthropic mission of -obtaining a good audience for them. - -I had to concoct a costume. It was a lengthy business to bring such an -operation to a conclusion. Happily, no one was very exacting at that -period, above all at Villers-Cotterets. Even Talma, who was a great -renovator, played _Hamlet_ in white satin breeches, _bottes à cœur_ -and a polonaise. But of this wardrobe I only had the _bottes à cœur:_ -I could not play Don Ramire with the aid only of the boots. We made -a tunic,--everybody played in tunics at that epoch,--and a splendid -tunic it was, indeed, for it was made out of two red cashmere shawls, -ornamented with a great gold-flowered pattern; my father had brought -the shawls from Egypt, and I believe I have already referred to them. -We contented ourselves with sewing them together, leaving an opening -on each side for my arms, a sword-belt at the waist serving as a -girdle; out of each arm-hole appeared a satin sleeve, and Don Ramire -was, if not exactly sufficiently, at least sumptuously and modestly, -clad from the shoulders to half-way down his thighs. A turned-down -collar and a satin toque to match the tunic in colour completed the -upper part of the costume. But the question of the lower half was more -serious. Tights were rare in Villers-Cotterets; I might even say that -they were unknown; so it was of no use wishing to procure tights: it -would have been time wasted, a vision, a dream. The longest pair of -silk stockings that could be found, sewed into a pair of drawers, did -the business. Then came the laced boots. Ah! these laced boots, they -were an invention of my own. A second pair of silk stockings were dyed -red; soles were sewed to them; they were put over the first pair, -then turned back, rolled up to within three inches of the ankle; the -roll was tied fast to make a pad; we imitated the lacing of a laced -boot with green ribbon; and then this footgear formed the base of a -presentable-looking Don Ramire, who, atop, indulged in the luxury -of a satin toque with an ostrich plume. Finally came the sword. My -father's sword, the sword of a Republican, with its cap of Liberty, -looked somewhat odd when compared with the rest of Don Ramire's attire. -The mayor, M. Mussart, lent me a silver-mounted Louis XV. sword: the -chain which had fastened it was detached; but, though the guard had -disappeared, the hilt and the sheath were left, and this was sufficient -to satisfy the most exacting. - -The announcement of this important entertainment made a great -sensation: people came from all the towns and all the villages round, -even from Soissons. I looked perfectly absurd, having never seen any -play but _Paul et Virginie_ at the age of three, and the _Jeunesse de -Henri V._ when I was eleven. But the Robbas took eight hundred francs -at the doors--a fortune to them; and a mother, a father, children and -grandchildren had wherewithal to keep themselves in food for two-thirds -of a year. - -Poor Robbas! I recollect that the whole of their _répertoire_ only -consisted of _Adolphe et Clara_ and the _Déserteur._ God alone knows -what became of the poor things! That was how I came to know _Hariadan -Barberousse_, which, with the _Vampire_, whose last act I was about to -see, completed the sum total of my melodramatic equipment. - -The third act was but a repetition of what had passed in the first. -Ruthven, whom his friend Aubrey believed dead at - -Marsden's farm, comes to life again, a sepulchral Endymion, under the -kisses of the moon. He returns to the castle before Malvina's brother -and urges forward his marriage; then Aubrey comes back and finds the -bride adorned and the chapel prepared. He approaches his sister to tell -her the terrible news of the death of her betrothed, and, seeing him -pale and distressed, Malvina exclaims-- - -"Dear brother, you are in trouble!... For heaven's sake, tell me all!" - -"Rally your courage, then," says Aubrey. - -"You terrify me!" exclaims Malvina. - -Then, turning towards the door-- - -"Milord is long a-coming," she says. - -"Since I must rend your heart, know that all my plans are broken. A -fearful, an unlooked-for event has deprived us, me of a friend, you of -a husband!... The unfortunate Ruthven." - -At this juncture Ruthven comes forward, seizes Aubrey by the arm and -says to him in a grim voice-- - -"Think of thy oath!" - -At these words, and just as the whole audience burst into applause, -a loud whistle sounded from one of the boxes. I turned round, and -everybody in the orchestra and the pit did likewise. The hired -applauders rose in a body and, climbing on the forms, shouted, "Put -him out!" This formidable mountain could be seen rising up in the -centre of the theatre, like the enormous counterfeit Parnassus of M. -Titon-Dutillet at the Bibliothèque. But the whistler continued to -whistle, hidden in his box, sheltered behind the railing as behind an -impregnable rampart. I do not know why, but I came to the conclusion -that it was my neighbour who was at last gratifying to his heart's -content his desire to deride the piece which had disgusted him -throughout the night. The play was totally stopped: Philippe, Madame -Dorval and Thérigny stood on the stage without being able to utter -a syllable; shouts of "Put him out!" increased and a police officer -was sent for. By dint of gazing hard into the box I could see through -the bars, and there I discerned, in the dusky interior, the untoward -whistler. It was indeed my neighbour the bibliomaniac. The police -officer arrived. In spite of all his protestations, the whistler was -expelled from the theatre, and the piece went on in the midst of -stampings and bravoes. - -The play was drawing to its close. Aubrey, seized by Lord Ruthven's -attendants, is carried away from Malvina's side, and she remains -unprotected. Ruthven bears her off; a door opens--it is that of the -chapel, illuminated for the nocturnal marriage. Malvina hesitates -to contract the marriage without the presence of her brother; but -Ruthven becomes more and more urgent; for unless the blood of a young -damsel gives him renewed life within a very few minutes, he _will -be annihilated,_ as the angel of marriage had predicted! Suddenly, -Aubrey, who has escaped from his guardians, appears in the chapel; he -stops his sister; he implores her not to go on any farther with the -proceedings. Ruthven again recalls Aubrey to his oath. - -"Yes," says Aubrey, "but the hour is just about to strike when I may -reveal everything." - -"Wretch!" cries Ruthven, drawing a dagger, "if you utter one word...." - -"You shall only take her bathed in my blood!" cries Aubrey, redoubling -his resistance. - -"Well, then, you shall both perish!" says Ruthven. - -He is about to strike Aubrey. One o'clock sounds; Malvina falls -fainting in the arms of Bridget; thunder rumbles. - -"Annihilation! annihilation!" shrieks Ruthven. - -He lets his dagger fall and tries to flee. Shades come up out of the -ground and carry him off; the destroying angel appears in a cloud; -lightning flashes, and Ruthven is engulfed amidst the shades. - -"_PLUIE DE FEU_" - -It will be gathered that we are copying from the manuscript itself. - -Philippe was recalled. But Madame Dorval's part was so execrable -that no one dreamt of recalling her; she was only engaged at the -Porte-Saint-Martin to play the worst parts; the favourite artiste, -Mademoiselle Lévesque, took the good ones. - -Allow me a few words concerning that poor dear creature, whom I then -saw for the first time, and who died in my arms twenty-six years -later.[1] - -A large portion of these Memoirs will be devoted to remarks concerning -the influence of eminent artistes, great comedians or famous poets; for -my pages are intended to deal with the development of art in France -during one half of the nineteenth century. - -Political events will also no doubt have their share of attention, -but only their due share. It is time things were relegated to their -proper positions, and, as our century is first and foremost one of -appreciation, it is desirable that men and things should be appreciated -at their proper value. - -Mademoiselle Mars and Talma, those two great artistic glories of the -Empire and the Restoration, will still survive in the thoughts of the -twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, when the very names of those -political actors whom men call ministers will long have been forgotten, -the men who disdainfully flung to these glorious mendicants the grant -annually allowed by the Chamber as though it were an alms. - -Who was minister in England the year Shakespeare wrote _Othello_? Who -was gonfalonier in Florence when Dante wrote his _Inferno_? Who was -minister to King Hiero when the author of _Prometheus_ came to beg -protection from him? Who was archon of Athens when the divine Homer -died on one of the Sporades, towards the middle of the tenth century -B.C.? - -To answer such queries one must needs be my neighbour,--my neighbour -who knew so many things, who could recognise Elzevirs, who knew where -vampires were to be found, who knew the origin of hired applauders -and who had been put out of the theatre for whistling at the prose -of MM.... for no name was ever printed on the _Vampire_ pamphlet, -published by Barba, who ostentatiously put below his name: _Publisher -of the Works of Pigault-Lebrun._ - -Let us return to Madame Allan-Dorval, as she was called at that period. -As I advance with these Memoirs there are many men and women, literary -or political comedians whom we shall meet with, who made a name for -themselves in their day, and I shall do for these personages what I am -just about to do for poor Marie Dorval. When she died I undertook to -raise a monument over her grave--a literary monument in my writings, -a sepulchral monument in stone. The stones were to be paid for by my -literary labours, and it pleased me to think of being the architect of -both monuments. - -Unluckily, I began the erection of my literary monument in the -_Constitutionnel._ At the second article, I referred to _Antony_ and -the old _Constitutionnel._ M. Véron's susceptibility took fright: -the literary monument was arrested at its first attempt. And as the -sepulchral monument depended on the literary monument, the sepulchral -monument was never begun. - -Some day we will take up this matter again, among many others we have -been compelled to drop, and with God's help, and in spite of the -ill-will of men, we will finish them. - -The age of artistes is ever a problem that is never solved until after -their death. I never learned Dorval's age until she died. She was born -on Twelfth Night in the year 1798; so in 1823, when I was twenty, she -was twenty-five. She did not call herself Marie Dorval then: those two -names, so easy to pronounce that they seem always to have belonged to -her, were not then linked to each other by the golden chain of genius. -Her real name was Thomase-Amélie Delaunay: she was born close to the -théâtre de Lorient and her earliest steps were patters across its -boards. Her mother was an actress who took the part of leading singer. -_Camille ou le Souterrain_ was then the comic opera in vogue. The -little maiden was rocked on the stage to these lines, which her mother -could hardly sing save with tears in her eyes:-- - - "Oh! non, non, il n'est pas possible - D'avoir un plus aimable enfant!" - -Directly she could talk, her lips stammered out the prose of Panard and -Collé, Sedaine and Favart; at seven, she passed into what was called -the _emploi des Betsy._ Her most popular air was in _Sylvani_-- - - "Je ne sais pas si mon cœur aime." - -An artist at Lorient painted her portrait at that time--that is to -say, in 1808. In 1839, Madame Dorval returned to Lorient, her native -town. The day following a striking success, an old white-haired man -came to call upon her to pay her his tribute. His offering was this -painting of her as a child: a third of a century had passed by and the -woman could not be recognised in it. To-day both painter and Madame -Dorval are dead, but the portrait still continues to smile. It hung in -Madame Dorval's bedroom. I saw it, for the first time, when I helped -to close her eyes. It was a melancholy contrast, I need hardly say, to -see the face of the rosy child in the picture confronting the livid -face on the death-bed opposite. How many joys, hopes, disappointments -and sorrows had passed between that childish smile and the death-agony! -At twelve years of age little Delaunay left Lorient with the whole -company. That was in 1810, when diligences did not traverse France in -every direction: in those days railways had not yet carved their way -through the valleys or tunnelled the mountains; if you wanted to go to -Strassbourg--that is to say, to cross France from west to east--you had -to club together and buy a large wicker carriage, and it took six weeks -to go from the Ocean, to the Rhine. - -The comedy company passed through Paris and stopped four days in the -capital. It was the zenith of Talma's reputation: how could anyone pass -through Paris without seeing Talma? For three days, the mother and -daughter economised in their breakfasts and in their dinners, and on -the fourth day they took two tickets for the second gallery. Talma was -playing _Hamlet_. - -Those of you who knew Madame Dorval will understand what it meant to a -nature such as hers to see the famous actor play; what it meant to that -heart which was so loyally filial in its early days and so motherly -in later years, to listen to the gloomy ravings of the Danish prince, -as he speaks of his father in a voice full of tears, in the way Talma -represented him. And at these three lines-- - - "On remplace un ami, son épouse, une amante; - Mais un vertueux père est un bien précieux - Qu'on ne tient qu'une fois de la bonté des cieux!"-- - -the young actress, who, with the intuition of genius in her, -comprehended the greatness of art displayed, as well as realised, the -depth of the pathos, leant backwards, sobbed and fainted away. They -carried her into an adjoining room; but the play continued in vain, so -far as she was concerned: she would not see any more of it. She did not -see Talma again until ten years later. - -The company continued its journey and reached Strassbourg. And then -Mademoiselle Delaunay gradually became famous. She changed her line -of character and played _les Dugazon._ She made a fascinating young -girl, overflowing with mischievousness and good humour, declaiming M. -Étienne's prose excellently, but singing M. Nicholo's music out of -tune. Now it is a great defect for a _Dugazon_ to sing falsely, while -speaking correctly. Happily, Perrier, who was acting at Strassbourg, -advised Madame Delaunay to let her daughter give up comic opera, and -turn her attention to comedy. In deference to this advice, _la Dugazon_ -became a young lover. Panard was given up for Molière and the actress -and the public profited by the change. - -From that time dated Madame Dorval's first successes. Alas! from that -time dated also her first sorrows. Her mother fell ill of a long and -painful disease. The engagements which Madame Delaunay found as first -singer became fewer as her voice grew weaker. Then the young girl -redoubled her labours; she knew that talent was not only a question -of art, but still more one of necessity. Thanks to her efforts, her -engagements brought in eighty francs to a hundred francs; and those of -her' mother diminished, at the same time, from three hundred francs to -one hundred and fifty francs, and from one hundred and fifty francs -they fell to nothing. From that time began the young girl's life of -devotion which continued on into womanhood. - -For a year Amélie Delaunay did everything for her mother: she was -servant, nurse, comforter; then, at the end of a year, the mother died, -and all those nights of watching and weeping, all her careful tendings, -were lost, except in the sight of God. - -When her mother died the young girl was left alone in the world. She -could never afterwards remember what she did during the two years after -her mother's death: memory was drowned in grief! The company moved -on from Lorient to Strassbourg, from Strassbourg to Bayonne, always -travelling in the same wicker carriage with the same horses, which -belonged to the company. However, one great event came about: - -Amélie Delaunay married a poor boy of fifteen, out of loneliness. -She had no love for him: he was one of her fellow-actors, who played -the rôle of _les Martins;_ his name was Allan-Dorval. He died at St. -Petersburg. Where he lived nobody ever knew. This marriage had no other -influence on the actress's life beyond giving her the name by which -she became known; her other name, that of Marie, was given her by us. -Antony was her godfather and Adèle d'Hervey her godmother. - -Their journeyings were continued and, as they were _en route_ for -Bayonne, they came close to Paris. I do not know in what village, -upon what road, at what inn, Potier, the great actor whom Talma -admired, met Madame Allan-Dorval, in what theatre he saw her play or -what part she was taking, when she uttered one of those heartfelt -phrases, one of those outbursts of fraternal affection by which great -artistes recognise each other's talents. I know nothing of all this, -for poor Marie forgot it herself; but, in a trice he described to her -Paris--that is to say, splendour, fame, suffering! - -The young wife came to Paris with a letter of introduction from Potier -to M. de Saint-Romain, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin. M. de -Saint-Romain engaged Madame Allan-Dorval on this recommendation, and -from that day her name became part of the recollections of Parisians, -her life became interwoven with the literary life of Paris. This was in -1818. - -What had this poor talented young woman played ere Potier's -encouragement had made a path for her genius? She had acted in the -_Cabane du Montagnard,_ the _Catacombes_, the _Pandoursy_ and, finally, -in the _Vampire_, at which my neighbour had hooted so shamelessly. Poor -Marie! only she herself could relate the sufferings of those early -days. There was, I remember, one special costume on which she had to -sew some lace trimming every evening before the performance, and it had -to be unsewn every evening after the play.--O Frétillon! Frétillon! thy -cotillion never saw half what that dress did! - -She whom I now saw for the first time was the Eve from whose womb a -new dramatic world was to spring. As for Philippe, who eclipsed her at -that time, with the dignity and majesty of his steps and gestures, his -was the acting of the pure old-fashioned melodrama of Pixérécourt and -Caignez. No one could wear yellow top boots, a buff tunic embroidered -in black, a plumed toque and a cross-handled sword like Philippe. This -attire, at that period, went by the name of the costume of a cavalier. -Lafont carried it off perfectly in _Tancrède_ and in _Adélaïde -Duguesclin._ - -Philippe died the first. His death made almost as much stir as his -life. As I shall not have occasion to speak of him again, and as, had -he lived, he would not have had anything to do with contemporary art, -we will finish his story here. Philippe died on 16 October 1824--that -is to say, one month, to the day, after the death of Louis XVIII. On -the 18th, they brought his body to the church of Saint-Laurent, his own -parish church; but the clergy refused to take it in. The same thing -happened with regard to Mademoiselle Raucourt. But Philippe's comrades -and all his public admirers decided to go forward with stout hearts, to -proceed without uproar, or violent acts, or rebellious deeds. They drew -the shell from the hearse: six actors from the different Paris theatres -bore it on their shoulders, and, followed by over three thousand -people, they took it to the Tuileries. They meant to deposit the coffin -in the Castle courtyard, to demand justice, and not to withdraw until -they had received it. The resolution was all the more impressive as it -was accomplished with composure and solemnity. The cortège was moving -along the boulevards, and had reached the top of the rue Montmartre, -when a squadron of police rushed out at full gallop, swords in hand, -and barred the entire width of the boulevard. Then a council of -deliberation was held over the bier, and, still with the same calmness -and the same composure, a deputation of five was elected to go to the -Tuileries and to ask for the prayers of the Church and a Christian -burial for the body of poor Philippe. These five deputies were: MM. -Étienne, Jourdan, Colombeau, Ménessier and Crosnier. Charles X. refused -to receive them, and sent them back to M. de Corbières, the Minister -for the Interior. M. de Corbières, very brutal by nature, replied -roughly that the clergy had their laws, that it was not his business -to transgress them, although he was in charge of the police of the -realm. The five deputies brought back this reply to the three thousand -Parisians camped in the boulevard, round the coffin that was craving -burial. The bearers then took the body up again on their shoulders and -pursued their course with it along the road to Père-Lachaise. Victory -remained on the side of authority, as the saying is; only, it is by -such kinds of victories that authority cuts its own throat. "Another -victory like that," said Pyrrhus, after the battle of Heracles, "and we -shall be lost!" - -From that moment the generous promises made by Charles x. on his -accession to the throne were valued at their true worth: and who shall -say that one of the clouds that caused the storm of 27 July 1830, was -not whirled into being on 18 October 1824? - - -[1] See _les Morts vont vite_, vol. ii. pp. 241 ff. - - - - -BOOK IV - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -My beginning at the office--Ernest Basset--Lassagne--M. Oudard--I see -M. Deviolaine--M. le Chevalier de Broval--His portrait--Folded letters -and oblong letters--How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters--I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac and whistler - - -The next day I waited from eight o'clock in the morning until ten -o'clock; but, as my neighbour in the orchestra had predicted, nobody -came to demand satisfaction for the blow I had dealt on the previous -evening. However, I had now arrived at two convictions--namely, that -there must be something extravagant about my appearance and about -some portion of my clothing. For fear of falling out egregiously with -everybody I met abroad, I ought to cut my locks and to shorten the -length of my coat. My hair was fully two inches too long; my coat -certainly a foot beyond regulation length. I called in a barber and a -tailor. The barber asked me for ten minutes; the tailor for a day. I -gave up my coat to the tailor and my head to the barber. I intended to -go to the office in a morning coat: it should be understood that my -first visit to the office was almost in the nature of a call upon my -chiefs. A morning coat would not be out of place. - -My face was completely changed by the cropping of my hair: when it -was too long, I looked like one of the sellers of "Lion Pomade," who -make their own heads their principal prospectuses; when my hair was -too short, I looked like a seal. Of course the barber cut my hair -too short; unfortunately, there was then no remedy left me but to -wait until it grew again. When I had breakfasted fairly well at my -hotel, and given notice that I should settle my account and leave the -establishment that evening, I made my way towards the office. - -As a quarter-past ten struck, I made inquiries of the porter in the -hall and he told me which staircase led to M. Oudard's offices, -otherwise the Secretariat. They were situated at the right angle of -the second court of the Palais-Royal, looking upon the square from -the side of the garden. I went towards this staircase and I furnished -myself with fresh instructions from a second porter: the offices were -on the third floor, so I climbed up. My heart was beating violently: I -was entering upon another life--one which I had desired and chosen for -myself this time. This staircase was leading me to my future office. -Where would my future office lead me?... No one had arrived. I waited -with the office-boys. The first employé who appeared was a fine big -fair youth; he came singing up the stairs, and took down the office -door key from a nail. I rose. - -"Monsieur Ernest," said one of the office-boys, the eldest of them, a -lad called Raulot, "this young man wants to speak to M. Oudard." - -The person addressed as Ernest looked at me for a moment with his keen, -clear blue eyes. - -"Monsieur," I said to him, "I am one of the supernumeraries, of whom -you may perhaps have heard." - -"Ah yes! M. Alexandre Dumas," he exclaimed; "the son of General -Alexandre Dumas, recommended by General Foy?" - -I saw he knew all about me. - -"I am the same," I said. - -"Come in," he said, going in before me and opening the door of a small -room, with one window in it and three desks. "See," he continued, "you -are expected; here is your seat. Everything is ready--paper, pens, ink; -you have but to sit down and to draw up your chair to your desk." - -"Have I the pleasure of talking to one of those with whom I am destined -to spend my days?" I asked. - -"Yes.... I have just been promoted as ordinary clerk at eighteen -hundred francs; I am giving up my place as copying-clerk, and that -place will be yours, after a longer or shorter probationary period." - -"And who is our third companion?" - -"He is our deputy head clerk, Lassagne." - -The door opened. - -"Hullo! who is talking about Lassagne?" asked a young man of -twenty-eight to thirty, as he came in. - -Ernest turned round. - -"Ah! it is you," he replied. "I was just saying to M. Dumas,"--he -pointed to me, I bowed,--"I was just telling M. Dumas that this was -your place, that his, and the other mine." - -"Are you our new colleague?" Lassagne asked me. - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"You are welcome." And he held out his hand to me. - -I took it. It was one of those warm and trembling hands that it is a -pleasure to shake from the first touch--a loyal hand, revealing the -nature of him to whom it belonged. - -"Good!" I said to myself: "this man will be friendly to me, I am sure." - -"Listen," he said: "a word of advice. It is rumoured that you have come -here with the idea of entering upon a literary career: do not talk too -loudly of such a project; it will only do you harm.... Hush! that is -Oudard entering his room." - -And I heard in the neighbouring room the self-possessed, measured tread -of a man accustomed to rule an office. A moment later, the door of our -office opened and Raulot appeared. - -"M. Oudard wants M. Alexandre Dumas," he said. - -I rose and cast a glance at Lassagne: he understood what I felt like. - -"Go along," he said; "he is a capital fellow, but you have to become -acquainted with him: however, you will soon do that." - -This was not altogether reassuring; so it was with my heart beating -very rapidly that I proceeded along the corridor and entered M. -Oudard's office. - -I found him standing before the fireplace. He was a man of five feet -six inches high, with a brown complexion, black hair and an impassive -face, gentle although firm. His black eyes had that direct look to be -found in men who have risen from a lower class to a high position; its -expression was almost stonily hard when it was fixed on you; you would -have said he had ridden rough-shod over everything and everybody that -had come in his way, as so many obstacles on the road towards that -goal, known only to himself, which he had made up his mind to reach. -He had fine teeth; but, contrary to the habit of those who possess -this advantage, he rarely smiled: one could see that nothing--not even -the most insignificant event--was indifferent to him; a pebble under -the foot of an ambitious man will raise him higher by the size of that -pebble. Oudard was very ambitious; but as he was also essentially -honest, I doubt whether his ambition had ever, I will not say inspired -him with an evil thought--what man is master of his thoughts?--but -caused him to commit a mean action. Later, it will be seen that he was -hard on me, almost pitiless. He was, I am sure, well intentioned in -being so; he did not think of the future I wanted to carve for myself, -and he feared I should only lose the position I had made--the position -which he had helped me to make. Oudard, unlike other upstarts (and let -us admit, he was really more a man who had achieved success than a mere -parvenu), talked a great deal of the village where he was born, of the -home in which he had been brought up, of his old mother, who came to -see him, dressed in her peasant's costume, with whom he would walk out -in the Palais-Royal or whom he would take to the play, just as she was: -perhaps all this talk was only another form of pride, but it is a pride -I like. He was devoted to his mother--a sentiment sufficiently rare -in ambitious men to be noted here as out of the common. Oudard must -have been thirty-two at that period; he was head of the Secretarial -Department, and private secretary to the Duchesse d'Orléans. These two -posts combined must have been worth about twelve thousand francs a year -to him, perquisites included. He was clad in black trousers, a white -piqué waistcoat and a black coat and cravat. He wore very fine cotton -stockings and slippers. Such was the get-up of a man who was not merely -chief clerk of an office, but one who might be called into the presence -of a prince or princess at any moment. - -"Come in, Monsieur Dumas," he said. - -I went up to him and bowed. - -"You have been very especially commended to me by two persons, one of -whom I greatly respect and the other of whom I love dearly." - -"Is not General Foy one of these, monsieur?" - -"Yes, he is the man I respect. But how is it you do not guess the name -of the other?" - -"I confess, monsieur, I should be puzzled to name anyone else in whom I -can have inspired sufficient interest to cause him to take the trouble -to recommend me to you." - -"It was M. Deviolaine." - -"M. Deviolaine?" I repeated, in considerable surprise. - -"Yes, M. Deviolaine.... Is he not related to you?" - -"Certainly, monsieur; but when my mother begged M. Deviolaine to have -the goodness to recommend me to Monseigneur le Duc d'Orléans, M. -Deviolaine met the request so coldly...." - -"Oh, you know, brusqueness is almost the leading trait in the character -of our worthy Conservator.... You must not pay any heed to that." - -"I fear, monsieur, that if my good cousin spoke much of me to you, in -recommending me to you, he has not flattered me." - -"That would not be bad for you, since it would but give you a chance to -surprise me agreeably." - -"He has probably told you I was idle?" - -"He told me you had never done much work; but you are young, and you -can make up for lost time." - -"He told you I cared for nothing but shooting?" - -"He confessed you were something of a poacher." - -"He told you I was wayward and changeable in my ideas and fancies?" - -"He said you had been under all the solicitors in Villers-Cotterets -and Crespy and had not been able to stop with any of them." - -"He exaggerated somewhat.... But if I did not remain with either -of the two solicitors under whom I worked, it was on account of my -unalterable, intense desire to come to Paris." - -"Very well, here you are, and your desire is fulfilled." - -"Was that all M. Deviolaine told you about me?" - -"Well, no; ... he said, too, that you were a good son, and that, -although you constantly made your mother miserable, you adored her; -that you had never really wished to learn anything, but more from -over-quickness, than from want of intelligence; he told me, besides, -that you had certainly a poor head, but that he also believed you were -good-hearted.... Go and thank him, go and thank him." - -"Where shall I find him?" - -"One of the office-boys will take you to him." - -He rang. - -"Take M. Dumas to M. Deviolaine's rooms," he said. - -Then, addressing me-- - -"You have already met Lassagne?" he said. - -"Yes, I have just had five minutes' talk with him." - -"He is a very good fellow with but one failing: he will be too weak -with you; luckily I shall be at hand. Lassagne and Ernest Basset will -tell you what your work will be." - -"And M. de Broval?" I asked. - -M. de Broval was the general manager. - -"M. de Broval will be told you have come, and will probably ask for -you. You know that your whole future depends on him?" - -"And on you, monsieur, yes." - -"I hope, so far as I am concerned, that that will not cause you much -uneasiness.... But go and thank M. Deviolaine; go! You have already -delayed too long." - -I bowed to M. Oudard and I went out. Five minutes afterwards, I was at -M. Deviolaine's. He worked in a large room by himself, and at a desk -which stood alone in the middle of the room. As I was preceded by an -office-boy, and as it was presumed that I had been sent by M. Oudard, -they let me enter unannounced. M. Deviolaine heard the door open and he -waited an instant for someone to speak; then, as I also was waiting, he -looked up and asked-- - -"Who is there?" - -"It is I, M. Deviolaine." - -"Who, you? (_toi_)" - -"I see you recognise me, by the way you speak." - -"Yes, I recognise you.... So there you are! Well, you are a fine lad!" - -"Why, if you please?" - -"Well! you have been to Paris three times without paying me a single -call." - -"I did not know you would care to see me." - -"It was not for you to question whether it would please me or not; it -was your duty to come." - -"Well, here I am; better late than never." - -"What have you come for now?" - -"I have come to thank you." - -"What for?" - -"For what you said about me to M. Oudard." - -"You are not difficult to please, then." - -"Why?" - -"Do you know what I did say?" - -"Certainly: you told him I was an idle lad; that I was no good except -for copying deeds; that I had tired out the patience of every solicitor -in Villers-Cotterets and in Crespy." - -"Well, is there much thanks due to me for all that?" - -"No, it was not for that I came to thank you; it was for what you -added." - -"I did not add anything." - -"But you did!... you went on to say...." - -"I tell you I added nothing; but I will add something now you are here: -that is, that if you are so ill-advised as to write filthy plays and -trashy verses here, as you did in Villers-Cotterets, I will report you, -I will carry you off with me, I will confine you in one of my offices -and I will lead you a dog's life ... see if I don't!" - -"Let me say, cousin...." - -"What?" - -"While I am here...." - -"Well?" - -"Even if you do not let me go back." - -"Well?" - -"Because that,--_A cause que_, a grammatical error, I know quite well; -but Corneille and Bossuet made use of it,--because that I have only -come to Paris to write filthy plays and trashy verses, whether I am -in the Secretarial Department or here, I must still continue to write -them." - -"Ah, is that so? Do you seriously imagine you can become a Corneille, a -Racine or a Voltaire after an education of three francs a month?" - -"If I were to become such a man as any one of those three, I should be -only what another man has been, and that would not be worth while." - -"You mean, then, that you would do better than they?" - -"I would do something different." - -"Come a little nearer me, so that I can give you a good kick, you -conceited lad." - -I went nearer to him. - -"Here I am!" - -"I believe the impudent boy has actually come closer!" - -"Yes.... My mother told me to give you her love." - -"Is your poor mother quite well?" - -"I hope she is." - -"She is a good creature! How the devil did you happen to come into the -world by such a mother? Come, shake hands and be off with you!" - -"Good-bye, cousin." - -He kept hold of my hand. - -"Do you want any money, you rogue?" - -"Thanks.... I have some." - -"Where did you get it?" - -"I will tell you that some other time; it would take too long now." - -"You are right; I have no time to lose. Be off with you!" - -"Good-bye, cousin." - -"Come and dine with me when you like." - -"Oh! thanks, yes, for your people to look down on me." "To look down on -you! I would like to see them do that. My wife dined often enough with -your grandfather and your grandmother to justify you in coming to dine -with me as often as you like.... But now be off, cub! you are making me -waste all my time." - -M. Deviolaine's office-boy came in. His name was Féresse. We shall see -more of him later. - -"M. Deviolaine," he said, "M. de Broval wishes to know if the report on -the management of the forest of Villers-Cotterets is finished?" - -"No, not yet ... in a quarter of an hour." - -Then, turning to me-- - -"You see?... you see?" - -"I will make myself scarce, M. Deviolaine." - -And off I went, while M. Deviolaine buried his nose in the report, -growling as usual. - -I returned to our common office, and I sat down at my desk. My desk -was next to Lassagne's, so we were only separated from one another by -the width of our tables and by the little black set of pigeon-holes in -which the current work was usually put. Ernest had gone out, I know not -why. I asked Lassagne to tell me what to do. Lassagne got up, leant -over my desk and told me. I always took a great interest in studying -people around me, and especially the man whose position in the office -was that of my immediate superior; for, although Ernest was now a -full-fledged clerk and I only destined to be a simple copying-clerk, he -was more my comrade than my superior. - -Lassagne, as I think I have already said, was at that time a man -of twenty-eight or thirty, with an attractive face, enshrined in -beautiful black hair, animated by black eyes full of intelligence and -cleverness, and lighted up (if the phrase may be permitted) by teeth so -white and so regular that the vainest of women might have envied them. -The only defect in his face was his aquiline nose, which was a little -more inclined to one side than the other; but this very irregularity -gave an original touch to his face that it would not have had without -it. Add to these things a sympathetic voice which seemed gently to -vibrate in one's ear, and at the sound of which it was impossible not -to turn round and smile. In short, a delightful person whose like I -have rarely met; well informed; a brilliant song-writer; the intimate -friend of Désaugiers, Théaulon, Armand Gouffé, Brazier, Rougemont and -all the opera-writers of the time; so that he refreshed himself after -his official work, which he loathed, by entering into the literary -world, which he adored, and his daily labour alternated with desultory -work, consisting partly of articles for the _Drapeau blanc_ and the -_Foudre_ and partly of contributions to some of the most delightful -plays of the operatic theatres. It will be admitted that here was the -very superior I needed, and I could not have asked Providence for -anything that would have seemed to me better for me. - -Well, during the five years that we spent in the same office there was -never a cloud, or a quarrel, or a feeling of cross purposes between -Lassagne and me. He made me like the hour at which I began my daily -work, because I knew he would come in immediately after me; he made me -love the time I spent at my desk, because he was always ready there to -help me with an explanation, to teach me something fresh about life, -which had as yet, for me, scarcely opened, about the world of which I -was totally ignorant, and finally about foreign or national literature, -of which in 1823 I knew practically nothing, either of the one or of -the other. - -Lassagne arranged my daily work; it was entirely mechanical, and -consisted in copying out, in the finest handwriting possible, the -largest possible number of letters: these, according to their -importance, had to be signed by M. Oudard, M. de Broval, or even by the -Duc d'Orléans. In the midst of this correspondence, which concerned -the whole range of administration and which often, when addressed -to princes or foreign kings, passed from matters of administration -to politics, there occurred reports connected with the contentious -affairs of M. le Duc d'Orléans; for the Duc d'Orléans himself prepared -his litigious business for his counsel, doing himself the work that -solicitors do for barristers--that is to say, preparing the briefs. -These were nearly always entirely in the handwriting of the Duc -d'Orléans, or at all events corrected and annotated in his large thick -writing, in which every letter was fastened to its neighbouring letter -by a solid stroke, after the fashion of the arguments of a logical -dialectician, bound together, entwined, succeeding each other. - -I was attacking my first letter, and, by the advice of Lassagne, who -had laid great stress on this point, I was despatching it in my very -best handwriting, when I heard the door of communication between -Oudard's office and ours open. I pretended, with the hypocrisy of an -old hand, to be so deeply absorbed in my work that no noise could -distract my attention, when I heard the creak of steps advancing -towards my desk and then they stopped by me. - -"Dumas!" called out Lassagne to me. - -I raised my head and I saw, standing close to me on my left, a person -who was totally unknown to me. - -"M. le Chevalier de Broval," added Lassagne, adding information to his -exclamation. - -I rose from my seat. - -"Do not disturb yourself," he said. And he took the letter I was -copying, which was nearly finished, and read it. - -I took advantage of this respite to examine him. - -M. le Chevalier de Broval, as everyone knows, had been one of the -faithful followers of M. le Duc d'Orléans. He had never left him during -the last portion of his exile, serving him sometimes as secretary, -at other times as diplomatist; in this latter capacity he had been -mixed up in all the lengthy discussions over the marriage of the -Duc d'Orléans with Princess Marie-Amélie, daughter of Ferdinand and -Caroline, King and Queen of Naples; and in connection with this -marriage he had gained the Order of Saint-Janvier, which he wore on -a braided coat on high festivals, next to the cross of the Legion of -Honour. He was a little old man of about sixty years of age, with short -stubbly hair; he was slightly lame, walked crookedly on his left side, -had a big red nose, which told its own tale, and small grey eyes, that -expressed nothing; he looked a typical courtier, polite, obsequious, -fawning to his master, kind by fits and starts, but generally -capricious with his subordinates; he thought a great deal of trifles, -attaching supreme importance to the manner in which a letter was folded -or a seal was fastened; he really imbibed these notions from the Duc -d'Orléans himself, who was even more particular over little details -than perhaps was M. de Broval. - -M. de Broval read the letter, took my pen, added an apostrophe or a -comma here and there; then, replacing it in front of me: "Finish it," -he said. - -I finished it. - -He waited behind me, literally pressing on my shoulders. - -Every fresh face I saw in turn had its effect on me. I finished with a -very shaky hand. - -"There it is, M. le chevalier," I said. - -"Good!" he exclaimed. - -He took a pen, signed, threw sand over my writing and over his; then, -giving me back the epistle, which was for a simple inspector,--as, at -first, they did not risk confiding more than that to my inexperienced -hand,--he said-- - -"Do you know how to fold a letter?" - -I looked at him with astonishment. - -"I ask you if you know how to fold a letter. Answer me!" - -"Yes, yes ... at least, I believe so," I replied, astonished at the -fixed stare his little grey eyes had assumed. - -"You believe? Is that all? You are not sure?" - -"Monsieur, I am not yet sure about anything, as you see, not even about -the folding of a letter." - -"And there you are right, for there are ten ways of folding a letter, -according to the rank of the person to whom it is addressed. Fold this -one." - -I began to fold the letter in four. - -"Oh! what are you about?" he said. - -I stopped short. "Pardon, monsieur," I said, "but you _ordered_ me to -fold the letter, and I am folding it." - -M. de Broval bit his lip. I had laid emphasis on the word "ordered" in -the spoken phrase as I have just underlined it in the written phrase. - -"Yes," he said; "but you are folding it square--that is all right for -high functionaries. If you give square-folded letters to inspectors and -sub-inspectors, what will you do for ministers, princes and kings?" - -"Quite so, M. le chevalier," I replied; "will you tell me what is the -correct way for inspectors and sub-inspectors?" - -"Oblong, monsieur, oblong." - -"You will pardon my ignorance, monsieur; I know what an oblong is in -theory, but I do not yet know what it is in practice." - -"See...." - -And M. de Broval condescended willingly to give me the lesson in things -oblong I had asked of him. - -"There!" he said, when the letter was folded. - -"Thank you, monsieur," I replied. - -"Now, monsieur, the envelope?" he said. - -I had never made envelopes, except for the rare petitions I had written -for my mother, and once on my own account in General Foy's office, so -I was still more ignorant about the making of envelopes than about -the folding. I took a half-sheet of paper in my left hand, a pair of -scissors in my right hand, and I began to cut the sheet. - -M. le Chevalier de Broval uttered a mingled cry of surprise and terror. - -"Oh! good Lord!" he said, "what are you going to do?" - -"Why, M. le chevalier, I am going to make the envelope you asked me to -make." - -"With scissors?" - -"Yes." - -"First learn this, monsieur: paper should not be cut, it should be -torn." - -I listened with all attention. - -"Oh!" I exclaimed. - -"It should be torn," repeated M. de Broval; "and then in this case -there is no need even to tear the paper, which perhaps you do not -realise either?" - -"No, monsieur, I do not." - -"You will learn.... It only wants an English envelope." - -"Ah! an English envelope?" - -"You do not know how to make an English envelope?" - -"I do not even know what it is, M. le chevalier." - -"I will show you. As a general rule, monsieur, square letters and -square envelopes are for ministers, for princes and for kings." - -"Right, M. le chevalier; I will remember." - -"You are sure?" - -"Yes." - -"Good.... And for heads of departments, chief assistants, inspectors -and sub-inspectors, oblong letters and English envelopes." - -I repeated, "Oblong letters and English envelopes." - -"Yes, yes, of course.... There, that is what we call an English -envelope." - -"Thank you, monsieur." - -"Now the seal.... Ernest, will you light me a taper?" Ernest hastened -to bring us the lighted taper; and now, I confess to my shame, my -confusion increased: I had never hitherto sealed my letters except with -wafers--that is to say, when I had sealed them. - -I took the wax in so awkward a fashion, I heated it in such a queer -way, I blew it out so quickly, for fear of burning the paper, that -this time I excited pity rather than impatience in the breast of M. de -Broval. - -"Oh! my friend," he said, "have you really never even sealed a letter?" - -"Never, monsieur," I replied. "Who was there for me to write to, buried -away as I have been in a little country town?" - -This humble confession touched M. de Broval. - -"See," he said, heating the wax, "this is how one seals a letter." - -And, believe me, he sealed the letter at arm's length, with as steady -a hand as though he had been twenty-five years of age. Then, taking -a large silver seal, he pressed it on the lake of burning wax, and -did not withdraw it until the impress was clearly defined and I could -see the escutcheon with the three heraldic fleurs-de-lis of Orléans, -surmounted by the ducal coronet. - -I was disheartened, I must confess. - -"Write the address," M. le Chevalier de Broval said imperiously. - -I wrote the address with a trembling hand. - -"Good, good!" said M. le Chevalier de Broval; "don't be discouraged, my -boy.... It is all right; now countersign it." - -I stopped, completely ignorant of what a countersign was. - -M. de Broval began to realise, as General Foy had done, how ignorant I -was. He pointed with a finger to the corner of the letter. - -"There," he said, "write there _Duc d'Orléans._ That is to frank the -letter. You hear?" - -I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly -understood what was said. - -"There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it -with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all -these things.... Ernest,"--Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and -in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian -name,--"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and -to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off. - -The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to -begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with -hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making -envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole will into it, and it was not -long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill. - -When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had -become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the -third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was -this-- - -"The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have -ever seen." - -While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, -Lassagne was reading the papers. - -"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!" - -"What is it?" I asked. - -Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:--"A scene which recalls -that of la Fontaine at the first representation of _Florentin_ took -place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of -the _Vampire._ Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled -from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. -Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the _Vampire_." - -"So!" I cried, "my neighbour of the orchestra was Charles Nodier!" - -"Did you have any talk with him?" asked Lassagne. - -"I did nothing else during the intervals." - -"You were fortunate," continued Lassagne: "had I been in your place, I -should have greatly preferred the intervals to the play." - -I knew Charles Nodier by name, but I was in complete ignorance as to -what he had done. - -As I left the office, I entered a bookshop and asked for a novel by -Nodier. They gave me _Jean Sbogar._ - -The reading of that book began to shake my faith in Pigault-Lebrun. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Illustrious contemporaries--The sentence written on my foundation -stone--My reply--I settle down in the place des Italiens--M. de -Leuven's table--M. Louis-Bonaparte's witty saying--Lassagne gives me my -first lesson in literature and history - - -When I came up to Paris, the men who held illustrious rank in -literature, among whom I sought a place, were--MM. de Chateaubriand, -Jouy, Lemercier, Arnault, Étienne, Baour-Lormian, de Béranger, Ch. -Nodier, Viennet, Scribe, Théaulon, Soumet, Casimir Delavigne, Lucien -Arnault, Ancelot, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Désaugiers and Alfred de -Vigny. It will, of course, be understood that I do not rank them in the -order I have written down their names. Then follow men whose interests -were half literary half political, such as--MM. Cousin, Salvandy, -Villemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, -Mérimée and Guizot. Then, finally, those who were not yet famous, but -were gradually coming forward, such as Balzac, Soulié, de Musset, -Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier. - -The three women of the day were all poets--Mesdames Desbordes-Valmore, -Amable Tastu, Delphine Gay. Madame Sand was still unknown, and did not -reveal her powers until the production of _Indiana_, in 1828 or 1829, I -believe. - -I knew the whole of this _pléiade_, who entertained the world with -their wit and poetry for over half a century--some as friends and -supporters, others as enemies and adversaries. Neither the benefits -I have received from the former, nor the harm the latter sought to -do me, shall influence in the slightest degree the judgments I shall -pass on them. The first, in supporting me, have not caused me to climb -higher by one step; the second, in trying to hinder me, have not kept -me back one step. Through all the friendships, hatreds, jealousies of -a life that has been harassed in its minor details, but ever calm and -serene in its progress, I reached the position God had assigned me; -I attained it without the aid of intrigues or cliques, and advanced -only by my own endeavours. I have reached the summit which every man -mounts half-way through life, and I ask for nothing, I desire nothing, -I covet nothing. I have many friendships, I have not a single enmity. -If, at the starting-point of my life, God had said to me, "Young -man, what do you desire?" I should not have dared to demand from His -infinite greatness that which He has condescended to grant me out of -His fatherly goodness. So I will say all I have to say of the men I -have named, according as they have appeared to me on my path through -life: if I conceal anything, it will be the evil I know about them. -Why should I be unjust to them? Not one among them possessed a single -honour or good fortune in exchange for which I ever had any desire to -barter my reputation or my purse. - -Yesterday I read the following words, written by an unknown hand on the -foundation stone of a house which I had caused to be built for me, and -which, until I or someone else can inhabit it, as yet shelters only -sparrows and swallows:-- - -"O Dumas! tu n'as pas su jouir, et pourtant tu regretteras! E. L." - -I wrote underneath:-- - -"Niais!... si tu es un homme. Menteuse!... si tu es une femme. A. D." - -But I took good care to obliterate the sentence. - -Let us return to my contemporaries, and add to the list of famous names -that led me to these reflections. - -Among musical composers, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Auber, Donizetti, -Bellini, Liszt, Thalberg. Among dramatic artists, Talma, Lafont, Mars, -Duchesnois, Georges, Leverd, Frédérick (Lemaître), Dorval, Potier, -Monrose père, Déjazet, Smithson, Lablache, Macready, Karatikin, Miss -Faucit, Schroeder-Devrient, la Malibran, la Hungher. - -I have had the honour to know several kings and princes,--they will -have their place,--but my kings in the realms of art come before all, -my princes in imagination have first place. To each sovereign his due -honour. - -When I came out of my office, or rather from the bookshop where I had -bought _Jean Sbogar_, I made haste to the place des Italiens. My waggon -load of furniture was waiting at the door; it took but an hour to -settle my household arrangements, and at the end of that time all was -finished. - -Of a poet's usual equipment I now had the attic; of the possessions of -the happy man, I now had a loft under the tiles. Better than all these -things, I was only twenty! I cleared the distance between the place des -Italiens and the rue Pigale in no time. I was longing to tell Adolphe -that I was installed at the Duc d'Orléans'; that I possessed a desk, -paper, pens, ink, sealing-wax, in the Palais-Royal; four chairs, a -table, a bed and a room papered yellow in the place des Italiens. - -Adolphe very sincerely shared my delight. M. de Leuven, chewing his -tooth-pick, gently ridiculed my enthusiasm. Madame de Leuven, the most -perfect of women, rejoiced in the joy my mother would feel. - -I was invited to fix a regular day on which I should dine at M. de -Leuven's. On that day my place should always be laid: it should be an -institution in perpetuity. In perpetuity! What a great word!--one so -often uttered in life, but one which really exists only in death! - -"You are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, monseigneur," said my -dear and good friend Nogent Saint-Laurent to Prince Louis-Bonaparte. - -"How long does perpetuity last in France, Monsieur Saint-Laurent?" -asked the prince. - -His perpetuity, as a matter of fact, lasted at Ham for five years--two -years less than the perpetuity of M. de Peyronnet and M. de Polignac. - -My perpetuity at M. de Leuven's table lasted exactly as long as that -of Prince Louis at Ham. I will tell how it came to cease, and I might -as well admit at once that the fault was not M. de Leuven's, nor Madame -de Leuven's, nor Adolphe's. It was arranged that I should dine there on -the following day to make the acquaintance of the Arnault family: this -was to be an extra dinner. - -It can be realised how preoccupied I was, throughout the twenty-two -hours that had to elapse before we sat down to the table, with the -thought of dining with the author of _Marius à Minturnes_, the man who -had written _Régulus._ - -I announced the great news to Ernest and to Lassagne. Ernest seemed -quite unmoved by it, and Lassagne was only indifferently interested. I -badgered Lassagne to know why he was so cold in matters concerning such -celebrities. - -He answered simply, "I am not of the same political views as those -gentlemen, and I do not think much of their literary value either." - -I stood astounded. - -"But," I asked, "have you not read _Germanicus_?" - -"Yes; but it is very bad!" - -"Have you not read _Régulus_?" - -"Yes; but it is very poor!" - -I lowered my head, more astonished than ever. - -Then, finally, I struggled to rise from under the weight of the -anathema. - -"But why are these plays so successful?" - -"Talma acts in them ..." - -"The reputation of these men ..." - -"They bring that about themselves through their newspapers!... When -M. de Jouy, M. Arnault or M. Lemercier produces a play in which Talma -takes no part, you will see it will only run ten nights." - -Again I hung down my head. - -"Listen, my dear boy," Lassagne went on, with that wonderful sweetness -of his in eyes and voice, and above all with that almost fatherly -kindliness that I still noticed in him, when I met him by chance -twenty-five years later and had the happiness to greet him,--"listen: -you want to become a literary man?" - -"Oh yes!" I exclaimed. - -"Not so loud!" he said, laughing; "you know I told you not to talk so -loud about that ... here, at any rate. Well, when you do write, do not -take the literature of the Empire as your model: that is my advice." - -"But what shall I take?" - -"Well, upon my word, I should be much puzzled to tell you. Our young -dramatic authors, Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot, -certainly possess talent; Lamartine and Hugo are poets--I therefore -leave them out of the question; they have not done theatrical work, and -I do not know if they are likely to, though if they ever do, I doubt -whether they would succeed...." - -"Why not?" - -"Because the one is too much of a visionary, and the other too much of -a thinker. Neither the one nor the other lives in the actual world, and -the theatre, you see, my lad, is humanity. I say, then, that our young -dramatic authors--Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot--have -talent; but take particular notice of what I am telling you: they -belong purely and solely to a period of transition; they are links -which connect the chain of the past to the chain of the future, bridges -which lead from what has been to what shall be." - -"And what is that which shall be ...?" - -"Ah! there, my young friend, you ask me more than I can tell you. The -public has not made up its mind; it knows already what it does not want -any longer, but it does not yet know what it wants." - -"In poetry, in drama or in fiction?" - -"In drama and in fiction ... there, nothing is settled; in poetry we -need not look farther than to Lamartine and Hugo, who represent the -spirit of the age quite sufficiently." - -"But Casimir Delavigne ...?" - -"Ah! he is different. Casimir Delavigne is the poet of the people: we -must leave him his circle; he does not enter into competition." - -"Well, in comedy, tragedy, drama, whom ought one to follow?" - -"In the first place, you should never imitate anybody; you should -study: the man who follows a guide is obliged to walk behind. Will you -be content to walk behind?" - -"No." - -"Then you must study. Do not attempt to produce either comedy, or -tragedy, or drama; take passions, events, characters, smelt them -all down in the furnace of your imagination, and raise statues of -Corinthian bronze." - -"What is Corinthian bronze?" - -"Don't you know?" - -"I know nothing." - -"What a happy state to be in!" - -"Why?" - -"Because then you can find things out for yourself: you need only -measure things by the standard of your own intelligence: you need no -other rule than that of your own capacity. Corinthian bronze?... have -you heard that once upon a time Mummius burnt Corinth?" - -"Yes; I think I translated that once somewhere, in the _De Viris._" - -"Then you will remember that the heat of the fire melted the gold, -silver and brass, which ran down the streets in streams. Now, the -mingling of these three, the most valuable of all metals, made one -single metal; and they gave to this metal the name of Corinthian -bronze. Well, then, the man who will be endowed with the genius to do -for comedy, tragedy and the drama that which Mummius, in his ignorance, -in his vandalism, in his barbarity, did for gold, silver and brass, who -will smelt by aid of the fire of inspiration, and who will melt into -one single mould Æschylus, Shakespeare and Molière, he, my dear friend, -will have discovered a bronze as precious as the bronze of Corinth." - -I pondered for a moment over what Lassagne had said to me. "What you -say sounds very beautiful, monsieur," I replied; "and, because it is -beautiful, it ought to be true." - -"Are you acquainted with Æschylus?" - -"No." - -"Do you know Shakespeare?" - -"No." - -"Have you read Molière?" - -"Hardly at all." - -"Well, read all that those three men have written. When you have read -them, re-read them; when you have re-read them, learn them by heart." - -"And next?" - -"Oh! next?... You will pass from them to those who preceded them--from -Æschylus to Sophocles, from Sophocles to Euripides, from Euripides -to Seneca, from Seneca to Racine, from Racine to Voltaire, and from -Voltaire to Chénier, in the realms of tragedy. Thus you will understand -the transformation that altered a race of eagles into a race of -parroquets." - -"And from Shakespeare to whom shall I turn?" - -"From Shakespeare to Schiller." - -"And from Schiller?" - -"To no one." - -"But Ducis?" - -"Oh, don't confound Schiller with Ducis. Schiller is inspired, Ducis -imitates; Schiller remains original, Ducis became a copyist, and a poor -copyist." - -"And what about Molière?" - -"As to Molière, if you want to study something that is worth taking -trouble over, you must ascend, not descend." - -"From Molière to whom?" - -"From Molière to Terence, from Terence to Plautus, from Plautus to -Aristophanes." - -"But it seems to me you are forgetting Corneille?" - -"I am not forgetting him: I have put him on one side." "Why?" - -"Because he is neither an ancient Greek nor an old Roman." - -"What is Corneille, then?" - -"He is a Cordouan, like Lucan; you will see, when you compare -them, that his verse has striking resemblance to the metre of the -_Pharsalia_." - -"May I write down all you have told me?" - -"What for?" - -"To act as a guide to my studies." - -"You need not trouble, seeing you have me at hand." - -"But perhaps I shall not always have you." - -"If you have not me, you will have someone else." - -"But he might not perhaps know what you do?" - -Lassagne shrugged his shoulders. - -"My dear lad," he said, "I only know what all the world knows; I only -tell you what the first person you met might tell you." - -"Then I must be ignorant indeed!" I murmured, letting my head fall into -my hands. - -"The fact is, you have much to learn; but you are young, you will -learn." - -"Tell me what needs to be done in fiction?" - -"Everything, just as in the drama." - -"But I thought we had some excellent novels." - -"What have you read in the way of novels?" - -"Those of Lesage, Madame Cottin and Pigault-Lebrun." - -"What effect did they have on you?" - -"Lesage's novels amused me; Madame Cottin's made me cry; -Pigault-Lebrun's made me laugh." - -"Then you have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper?" - -"I have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper." - -"Well, read them." - -"And when I have read them, what shall I do?" - -"Make Corinthian bronze all the time; only, try to put in a slight -ingredient they all lack." - -"What is that?" - -"Passion.... Goethe gives us poetry; Walter Scott character studies; -Cooper the mysterious grandeur of prairies, forests and oceans; but you -will look in vain for passion among them." - -"So, a man who could be a poet like Goethe, an observer like Walter -Scott, clever at description like Cooper, with the addition of a touch -of passion ...?" - -"Ah! such a man would be almost perfect." - -"Which are the first three works I ought to read of those three -masters?" - -"Goethe's _Wilhelm Meister_, Walter Scott's _Ivanhoe_ and Cooper's -_Spy."_ - -"I read _Jean Sbogar_ through last night." - -"Oh, that is another story altogether." - -"What kind is it?" - -"It belongs to the _genre_ style of novel. But France is not waiting -for that." - -"What is she waiting for?" - -"She is waiting for the historical novel." - -"But the history of France is so dull!" - -Lassagne raised his head and looked at me. - -"What!" he exclaimed. - -"The history of France is so dull!" I repeated. - -"How do you know that?" - -I blushed. - -"People have told me it is." - -"Poor boy! People have told you!... Read for yourself and then you will -have an opinion." - -"What must I read?" - -"Why, there is a whole world of it: Joinville, Froissart, Monstrelet, -Châtelain, Juvénal des Ursins, Montluc, Saulx-Tavannes, l'Estoile, -Cardinal de Retz, Saint-Simon, Villars, Madame de la Fayette, Richelieu -... and so I could go on." - -"How many volumes do those make?" - -"Probably between two and three hundred." - -"And you have read them?" - -"Certainly." - -"And I must read them?" - -"If you wish to write novels, you must not only read them, you must get -them off by heart." - -"Why, you frighten me! I should not be able to write a word for two or -three years!" - -"Oh! longer than that, or you will write ignorantly." - -"Oh, my God! what a lot of time I have lost!" - -"You must retrieve it." - -"You will aid me, will you not?" - -"What about the office?" - -"Oh! I will read and study at night; I will work at the office, and we -can have a chat from time to time...." - -"Yes, like to-day's; but we have talked too much." - -"One word more. You have told me what I ought to study in the drama?" - -"Yes." - -"In romance?" - -"Yes." - -"In history?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, now, in poetry, what ought I to study?" - -"First, what have you read?" - -"Voltaire, Parny, Bertin, Demoustier, Legouvé, Colardeau." - -"Good! forget the lot." - -"Really?" - -"Read Homer as representative of antiquity; Virgil among the Latin -poets; Dante in the Middle Ages. I am giving you giants' marrow to feed -on." - -"And among the moderns?" - -"Ronsard, Mathurin, Régnier, Milton, Goethe, Uhland, Byron, Lamartine, -Victor Hugo, and especially a little volume which has just been -published by Latouche." - -"What is the name of it?" - -"_André Chénier_." - -"I have read it...." - -"You have read Marie-Joseph.... Do not confuse Marie-Joseph with André." - -"But how am I to read foreign authors when I do not know either Greek -or English or German?" - -"The deuce! Why, that is simple enough: you must learn those languages." - -"How?" - -"I do not know; but remember this: one can always learn what one wants -to learn. And now I think it is time we gave our attention to business. -One more piece of advice." - -"What is it?" - -"If you mean to follow the instructions I give you...." - -"Indeed I do!" - -"You must not say a word to M. Arnault of this little scheme of study." - -"Why?" - -"Because you would not be a friend of his for long." - -"You think not?" - -"I am certain of it." - -"Thanks.... I will keep my mouth shut." - -"You will do well. Now, a second word of advice." - -"I am listening." - -"You must not repeat a word of our conversation either to Oudard or to -M. de Broval." - -"Why?" - -"Because they would not leave us long in the same office." - -"The devil! I want to stay in it dreadfully." - -"Then it depends on yourself." - -"Oh, if it depends on me, we shall be together for many years." - -"So be it." - -At this point M. Oudard entered, and I set to my task with an avidity -that won me many compliments from him at the end of the day. - -I made a splendid discovery--which was that I could copy without -thinking of what I was copying, and consequently I was able to think of -other things whilst copying. - -By the second day I had advanced as far as others who had been at work -for four or five years. - -As will be seen, I was making rapid progress. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase--M. Dormeuil--_Kenilworth -Castle_--M. Warez and Soulié--Mademoiselle Lévesque--The Arnault -family--The _Feuille--Marius à Minturnes_--Danton's epigram--The -reversed passport--Three fables--_Germanicus_--Inscriptions and -epigrams--Ramponneau--The young man and the tilbury-_Extra ecclesiam -nulla est salus_--Madame Arnault - - -It was well I could copy without taking in what I was doing; for -Lassagne's conversation, as may be imagined, gave me much to think -about. Every day showed me my deplorable ignorance more and more, and, -like a traveller lost in a marshy, unstable bog, I did not know whereon -to place my feet in order to find that solid ground which would lead me -to the end I was trying to reach. - -How was it Adolphe had never spoken to me of all these matters? So far -reaching were the vistas that opened before me every moment, that I -was bewildered. Did Adolphe think all this of little use in connection -with the art and practice of literature? Or was it that the kind -of literature he wanted me to produce could dispense with all such -knowledge? I had often noticed his father shrug his shoulders at our -theatrical schemes; was it not perchance that his father, who knew so -many things, laughed in his sleeve at me for being so ignorant? And M. -Deviolaine, who instinctively (for, except as a valuer and in questions -of forestry, he hardly knew more than I did) called my attempts filth -and my efforts at poetry mere rubbish, could he by chance be right? - -Of course, one could read, work and study, but how was it possible to -keep all the things I had heard about since the previous evening in my -mind without revealing them? I resolved to have an open talk about it -all with Adolphe. - -At half-past five I reached M. de Leuven's house, but Adolphe had not -yet returned: he was reading at the Gymnase a play he had written -in collaboration with Frédéric Soulié. He put in an appearance at -a quarter to six, looking more melancholy and more thoughtful than -Hippolytus on the road to Mycenæ. - -"Well, my poor friend," said I, "refused again?" - -"No," he replied; "but only accepted subject to correction." - -"Then all hope is not lost?" - -"True. Dormeuil made us go into his office, after the reading, and as -he thought there were tedious passages in the piece, he said to us,'My -dear fellows, my dear fellows, it must be cut down to the quick.' -At these words Soulié snatched the play out of his hands, crying, -'Monsieur Dormeuil, not a hand must be laid on it.' So, you will -understand, Dormeuil is furious." - -"Who is Dormeuil?" - -"One of the managers of the Gymnase." - -"And that means...." - -"And that means that Soulié has vowed the piece shall be played as it -is or not at all." - -"The deuce! Then Soulié doesn't mind if his things get played or not?" - -"You do not know that fellow's obstinacy; there is no way of turning -him. Did you hear what he said to Warez?" - -"Who is Warez?" - -"Warez is manager to Madame Oudinot, proprietor of the Ambigu." - -"Well, what did he say to Warez?" - -"We took him a melodrama to read, called _Kenilworth Castle;_ Warez -read it. He was not very much struck with the work. When we went, -yesterday, for his answer, 'Gentlemen,' he said to us, 'will you -allow me to read your play to M. Picard?' 'Ah!' replies Soulié, 'in -order that he can steal the idea from us. 'What! Monsieur Soulié,' -exclaims Warez, 'steal your play from you--an Academician!' 'Well,' -says Soulié, 'three-fourths of the Academicians certainly steal their -places, why should they stick at stealing other people's work?' I need -not tell you, my dear friend, that that meant another closed door! I -had some sort of an idea of going to Mademoiselle Lévesque, who is all -powerful at the theatre, to offer her the part of Marie Stuart, which -is magnificent...." - -"Well?" - -"You know what happened to Casimir Delavigne, at the reading of the -_Vêpres siciliennes_, at the Théâtre-Français?" - -"Yes, the piece was refused." - -"Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to -give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the -work was badly _written_.'" - -"And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?" - -"No; but she said that, at the _present_ moment, she had so many new -parts, she could not possibly undertake _ours."_ - -"The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study -so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of -my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?" - -"Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn -all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go -in to dinner." - -We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,--I was already -acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis. - -I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet -Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked -to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, -as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. -Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses -of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, -and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since -the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the -underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, took up his gun -and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by. - -"Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!" - -"Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then -asked her. - -"Oh, monsieur, you will see...." - -And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which -she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo. - -"You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he -sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and -note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished. - -M. Arnault's family consisted of Lucien and Telleville, his two sons by -a first marriage; of Louis and Gabrielle, his two children by a second -marriage. M. Arnault's second wife was a young lady from Bonneuil. Let -me say a few words about this excellent family. We will begin, like the -Gospels, with the meek and mild members. - -Gabrielle was a pretty child of fourteen or fifteen, with a dazzlingly -white complexion; she was of no more account in the household as yet -than a bud in a bouquet. Louis was about my own age, namely, twenty -or twenty-one. He was a good-looking lad, fair, fresh-coloured, -rosy-cheeked, a trifle spruce, ever laughing, on the most friendly -terms with his sister, full of respect for his mother and admiration -for his father. Telleville was a handsome captain; very brave, very -loyal, very daring, a Bonapartist like the rest of the family, thrown -into the midst of the artistic world, without ever having written a -verse of poetry, but possessing a delightful wit, and being full of -spirit and originality. Lucien, the author of _Régulus_, and, later, of -_Pierre de Portugal_ and of _Tibère,_ had too cold and calculating a -mind to be really poetical; yet there was a certain boldness of style -in his lines and a certain melancholy about his ideas, that appealed -both to the imagination and to the heart. There is one of the truest -and most charming lines I know, in _Pierre de Portugal_, a line such -as Racine wrote in his best days, universally known because it belongs -to that school:-- - - "Les chagrins du départ sont pour celui qui reste." - -The year before my arrival in Paris, _Régulus_ had achieved enormous -popularity. I will quote a few lines of it, to give some idea of the -author, who appears to have given up literary work. - -Regulus is about to leave Rome, to which he was devotedly attached, and -he says to Licinius:-- - - "Je meurs pour la sauver, c'est mourir digne d'elle! - Mais, toi, Licinius, parjure à l'amitié, - Disciple de ma gloire, as-tu donc oublié - Ces jours où j'opposais, dans les champs du carnage, - Ma vieille expérience à ton jeune courage? - Aimant un vrai soldat dans un vrai citoyen, - Ne le souvient-il plus que, par un doux lien, - Ma tendresse voulait vous unir l'un à l'autre? - Le hasard a trahi mon espoir et le vôtre; - Mais, des bords du tombeau, je puis enfin bénir - Les nœuds qui pour jamais doivent vous réunir. - Si tu l'aimes, viens, jure au dieu de la victoire - De servir, aujourd'hui, la patrie et la gloire; - D'éclairer les Romains par toi seul égarés; - De rétablir la paix dans ces remparts sacrés; - Jure! dis-je. A l'instant, je te donne ma fille, - Je te lègue mon nom, mon honneur, ma famille; - Et les dieux ne m'auront opprimé qu'à demi, - Si, dans un vrai Romain, je retrouve un ami!" - -Lucien was about thirty or thirty-two at this period. Until the -downfall of Napoleon his career had been administrative: he had been -made auditor to the State Council and a prefect at twenty-five. In -spite of much physical suffering which saddened his life, he was indeed -one of the best-hearted and most benevolent persons I ever knew. For -five years I saw Lucien two or three times a week; I do not think -that, during the long period of intimacy, I ever heard him jibe at -his _confrères_, or complain or whine; he was one of those gentle, -melancholy and tranquil spirits one sees in dreams. I do not know what -became of him; after 1829 I lost sight of him completely. Twenty-two -years of absence and of separation will certainly have driven me from -his remembrance; those twenty-two years have engraved him the more -deeply on mine. - -M. Arnault was quite different. I never knew a more subtle, mordant, -satirical nature than this brilliant person owned. In military parlance -he would have been described as a damned good shot. Neither Bertrand -nor Lozes ever returned a straight thrust more rapidly and more surely -than did M. Arnault, on every occasion, by a word or an epigram or -a flash of wit. He was but an indifferent dramatic author, but he -excelled in fables and satire. Once, in a fit of despondency, he let -fall what was probably the only tear he shed, like that of Aramis upon -the death of Porthos: he dipped his pen in the salt drops, and wrote -the following lines--a gem that André Chénier, or Millevoye, Lamartine -or Victor Hugo might have wished to write:-- - - - LA FEUILLE - - "De ta tige détachée, - Pauvre feuille desséchée, - Où vas-tu?--Je n'en sais rien. - L'orage a brisé le chêne - Qui seul était mon soutien; - De son inconstante haleine - Le zéphir ou l'aquilon, - Depuis ce jour me promène - De la forêt à la plaine, - De la montagne au vallon. - Je vais où le vent me mène - Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer; - Je vais où va toute chose, - Où vont la feuille de rose - Et la feuille de laurier!" - -I do not know what the famous poets of my day would have given to -have written those fifteen lines; I know I would have given any of -my plays the fates might have chosen. M. Arnault's great ambition -was, unluckily, to write for the stage. He had begun by _Marius à -Minturnes_, at the time when he was with Monsieur. The tragedy was -produced in 1790, and in spite of the prediction of the Comte de -Provence, who had asserted that a tragedy without a woman must be -a failure, it was a great success. Saint-Phal played young Marius, -Vanhove Marius, and Saint-Prix le Cimbre. That was the happy period -when men of the talent of Saint-Prix accepted parts in which they came -on only in one scene, and in that single scene uttered a few lines, -_e.g._:-- - - "Quelle voix, quel regard, et quel aspect terrible! - Quel bras oppose au mien un obstacle invincible?... - L'effroi s'est emparè de mes sens éperdus ... - Je ne pourrais jamais égorger Marius!" - -The play was dedicated to Monsieur. I have heard M. Arnault relate, in -his extremely fascinating way, that success made him very vain, very -peremptory and very scornful. One day, in 1792, he was in the balcony -of the Théâtre-Français, talking loudly, in his customary fashion, -making a great noise with his cane and hindering people from hearing; -this went on from the raising of the curtain till the end of the first -act, when a gentleman, who was behind M. Arnault and only separated -from him by one row, bent forward, and touching his shoulder with the -tips of his gloved hand, said, "Monsieur Arnault, pray allow us to -listen, even though they are playing _Marius à Minturnes_." - -This polite and, I might even add, witty gentleman was Danton. A -month later, this same polite and witty gentleman had instituted the -September massacres. M. Arnault was so alarmed by these massacres -that he fled on foot. On reaching the barricade, he found it guarded -by a sans-culotte in name and in reality; this sans-culotte was -engaged in preventing a poor woman from passing, under the pretext -that her passport for Bercy had not been _vised_ at the section des -Enfants-Trouvés. Now, while he noted the persistence of this honourable -sentinel, an idea occurred to M. Arnault--that this terrible Cerberus -could not read. Joking is a bad disease, of which one is rarely cured. -M. Arnault, who suffered much from this malady, boldly walked up to the -sans-culotte and presented his passport upside down to the man, saying-- - -"_Viséd_ at the Enfants-Trouvés: there is the stamp." - -M. Arnault guessed rightly. - -"Pass," said the sans-culotte. - -And M. Arnault passed. - -In the interval that had elapsed between _Marius_ and the 3rd of -September, the date at which we have arrived, M. Arnault had produced -his tragedy of _Lucrèce._ The play falling flat, the author laid its -want of success at Mademoiselle Raucourt's door.... It is known that -this famous actress's aversion to men was not entirely imputed to -virtuous causes. However that may be, later, we shall have to speak -of Mademoiselle Raucourt in connection with her pupil, Mademoiselle -Georges. - -M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very -amusing manner, in his memoirs entitled _Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire_, -the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an -Ossianic tragedy, called _Oscar_, which was very successful, and which -he dedicated to Bonaparte; then _les Vénitiens,_ the catastrophe of -which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people -would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good -people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of -Ducis's _Othello_, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, -according to the choice of the spectators. _Les Vénitiens_ was a -tremendous success. - -While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, -under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into -his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it -was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, the _Roi d'Yvetot._ -Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and -retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted -with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave -a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed -nearly all his fables, a charming collection but little known, as -very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going -to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these -three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, -I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case -of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about -to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams. - - LE COLIMAÇON - - "Sans amis comme sans famille, - Ici-bas, vivre en étranger; - Se retirer dans sa coquille, - Au signal du moindre danger; - S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes, - De soi seul emplir sa maison; - En sortir, selon la saison, - Pour faire à son prochain les cornes - Signaler ses pas destructeurs - Par les traces les plus impures; - Outrager les plus belles fleurs - Par ses baisers ou ses morsures; - Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison, - Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste; - C'est l'histoire de l'égoiste - Ou celle du colimaçon." - - - LE DROIT DE CHACUN - - "Un jour, le roi des animaux - Défendit, par une ordonnance, - A ses sujets, à ses vassaux, - De courir sans une licence - Sur quelque bête que ce soit; - Promettant, il est vrai, de conserver le droit - A quiconque en usait pour motif honnête. - Tigres, loups et renards, de présenter requête - A Sa Majesté: loups, pour courir le mouton, - Renards, pour courir le chapon, - Tigres, pour courir toute bête. - Parmi les députés, qui criaient à tue-tête, - Un chien s'égosillait à force d'aboyer. - 'Plaise à Sa Majesté, disait-il, m'octroyer - Droit de donner la chasse, en toute circonstance, - A tous les animaux vivant de ma substance. - --Gentilshommes, à vous permis de giboyer, - Dit, s'adressant au tigre, au loup, au renard même - Des forêts le maître suprême - Aux chasseurs tels que vous permis de déployer, - Même chez leurs voisins, leurs efforts, leurs astuces; - Mais néant au placet du chien!' - Que réclamait, pourtant, ce roturier-ta?--Rien, - Que le droit de tuer ses puces." - - - LES DEUX BAMBOUS - - "L'an passé--c'était l'an quarante,-- - L'an passé, le Grand Turc disait au grand vizir: - 'Quand, pour régner sous moi, je daignai te choisir, - Roustan, je te croyais d'humeur bien différente. - Roustan met son plus grand plaisir. - A me contrarier; quelque ordre que je donne, - Au lieu d'obéir, il raisonne; - Toujours des _si,_ toujours des _mais_; - Il défend ce que je permets: - Ce que je défends, il l'ordonne. - A rien ne tient qu'ici je ne te fasse voir - A quel point je suis las de ces façons de faire! - Va-t'en! Qu'on fasse entrer mon grand eunuque noir - C'est celui-là qui connaît son affaire, - C'est lui qui, toujours complaisant, - Sans jamais m'étourdir de droit ni de justice, - N'ayant de loi que mon caprice, - Sait me servir en m'amusant. - Jamais ce ton grondeur, jamais cet air sinistre! - Ainsi que tout désir, m'épargnant tout travail, - Il conduirait l'empire aussi bien qu'un sérail. - J'en veux faire un premier ministre. - --En fait de politique et de gouvernement, - Sultan, dit le vizir, chacun a son système: - Te plaire est le meilleur; le mien, conséquemment, - Est mauvais.... Toutefois, ne pourrais-je humblement, - Te soumettre un petit problème? - --Parle.--Ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui. - Que péniblement je me traîne, - Vieux et cassé, sultan, dans ma marche incertaine, - Ma faiblesse a besoin d'appui. - Or, j'ai deux roseaux de la Chine: - Plus ferme qu'un bâton, l'un ne sait pas plier, - L'autre, élégant, léger, droit comme un peuplier, - Est plus souple qu'une badine. - Lequel choisir?--Lequel?... Roustan, je ne crois pas - Qu'un flexible bambou puisse assurer nos pas. - --Tu le crois! lorsque tu m'arraches - Ton sceptre affermi par mes mains, - Pour le livrer à des faquins - Sans caractere et sans moustaches.' - - Rois, vos ministres sont, pour vous, - Ce qu'est, pour nous, le jonc dont l'appui nous assiste, - Je le dis des vizirs ainsi que des bambous, - On ne peut s'appuyer que sur ce qui résiste." - -If you read, one after the other, M. Arnault's one hundred and fifty -fables, you will find throughout, the same ease, the same touch, the -same carping spirit. When you have read them, you will certainly not -say of the author, "He is a delightful person," but you will assuredly -say, "He is an honest man." - -In 1815 M. Arnault was exiled. Why? For so slight a reason that no one -bothered even to think of it; his name was on the list, and that was -all! But who signed that list? Louis XVIII., formerly Monsieur--that is -to say, the very same Comte de Provence under whose protection the poet -had begun his career, and to whom he had dedicated his _Marius._ - -Now, although there was no reason for M. Arnault's exile, party spirit -invented one and said that he was proscribed as a regicide. There were, -however, two sufficient reasons why this could not be: first, because -M. Arnault did not belong to the Convention; secondly, because in 1792 -and 1793 he was abroad. Nevertheless, the rumour was tacitly accepted, -and soon nobody doubted that M. Arnault was exiled on that ground. - -M. Arnault sent _Germanicus_ from Brussels: it was played on the -22nd of March 1817, and forbidden the following day. During the -representation the tragedy shifted from the stage to the pit, where a -terrible fight took place, in which several people were hurt and one -even killed. The battle was waged between the Life Guards and the -partisans of the late Government. The weapon that was generally made -use of in this skirmish was that kind of bamboo upon which Roustan, -the Grand Turk's first vizir, whose grievances we have just heard, was -wont to lean. One can understand that the thicker and less pliable they -were, the better they served for defence and for attack. From the date -of that fray these canes were dubbed "_Germanicus"_ Angry feelings -waxed strong at this period. The day but one after the representation, -Martainville published a scurrilous article attacking M. Arnault's -private honour. This article, which was the result of a blow given the -critic by Telleville, led to a duel in which, as we said above, the -journalist had his thigh bruised by a bullet. - -_Germanicus_ was revived later. We were present at the revival; -but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a -success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added -a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature--a bitterness which cropped out -on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by -the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand -francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house -in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder -sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault -found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than -before he had inherited that sum. - -M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every -occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the -Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait -had been exhibited in the last Salon. - -Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's -wit, but also his very nature:-- - - VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR - - "Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix; - Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes, - En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois, - J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes." - - POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN - - "Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde, - Je suis votre humble serviteur; - Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœur - Ne s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde." - - - SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON[1] - - "Il est altéré de vin; - Il est altéré de gloire; - Il ne prend jamais en vain - Sa pinte ou son écritoire. - Des flots qu'il en fait couler, - Abreuvant plus d'un délire. - Il écrit pour se soûler, - Il se soûle pour écrire." - - - POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN - - "Je n'attaque jamais en traître, - Je caresse sans intérêt, - Je mords parfois, mais à regret: - Bon chien se forme sur son maître." - - - POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME - - "Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain, - En triompher est peu possible: - L'épée en main il est terrible, - Terrible il est la plume en main; - Et pour se battre et pour écrire, - Nul ne saurait lui ressembler; - Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire, - Il écrit à faire trembler." - -No matter what were his troubles, M. Arnault had always worshipped -dogs. Out of fifty of his fables, more than twenty have these -interesting quadrupeds for their heroes. When I was honoured by an -introduction into the private life of his family, the gate was guarded -by a horrible beast, half pug, half poodle, called Ramponneau. M. -Arnault never stirred without this dog: he had him in his study while -he worked, in his garden when he took his walks there. Only the king's -highway was denied him by M. Arnault, for fear of poisoned meat. M. -Arnault himself superintended his dog's education, and on one point -he was inexorable. Ramponneau would persist in committing ill manners -in his study. Directly the sight and the odour revealed the crime -committed, Ramponneau was seized by his flanks and the skin of his -neck, conducted to the spot where the indiscretion had been committed -and soundly thrashed. After this, Ramponneau's nose was rubbed in the -subject-matter of his crime, according to an old custom, the origin -of which is lost in the deeps of time--an operation to which he -submitted with visible repugnance. These daily faults and the ensuing -chastenings went on for nearly two months, and M. Arnault began to -fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this point, although he -learnt a crowd of pleasing tricks, such as feigning death, standing to -attention, smoking a pipe, leaping to honour the Emperor. I ask pardon -for the word "uneducatible." I could not find the word I wanted, so I -made one up. M. Arnault, I repeat, began to fear that Ramponneau was -uneducatible on this one point, when, one day, Ramponneau, who had -just committed his usual crime, seeing his master was far too much -absorbed in his tragedy of _Guillaume de Nassau_ to perceive what -had just happened, went and pulled at the hem of his dressing-gown. -M. Arnault turned round: Ramponneau jumped up two or three times to -attract his attention; then, when he was quite sure he had arrested it, -he went straight to the spot which we have termed the subject-matter of -his crime, and rubbed his nose in, purely of his own accord, without -any compulsion, certainly with evident repugnance, but with touching -resignation. The poor beast was deceived. He had thought that the -whippings and punishment which followed the crime had had no other end -than to teach him to rub his nose in the object in question of his own -accord. Ramponneau's education was completely at fault, and he kept -this defect all his life, the muzzle he was provided with making very -little difference to his habit. - -I have already referred to M. Arnault's remarkable gift of swift and -witty repartee. I will give two instances of it now, and others in -their due place and season later, as we come across them. - -One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A -young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of -his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. -Arnault, who was not a patient man. - -"You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?" - -"What did you say,--blackguard?" exclaimed the young man. - -"Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault. - -"Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my -address!" - -"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to." - -Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without -saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; -besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that -time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round. - -"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not -salute me."[2] - -"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the -Gospel: _Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."_[3] - -I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame -Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she -was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, -full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for -five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the -reader shall judge when the time comes. - - -[1] The Abbé Geoffrey. - -[2] Et qui ne me salue pas. - -[3] Hors de l'Église, pas de salut! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent--Choruses of the various -plays, sung as prologues and epilogues--Transformation of the -vaudeville--The Gymnase and M. Scribe--The _Folle de Waterloo_ - - -Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric -Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the -Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration -as a refusal. - -I shall often return to, and speak much of Soulié: he was one of the -most powerful literary influences of the day, and his personality was -one of the most marked I have known. He died young. He died, not only -in the full tide of his talent, but even before he had produced the -perfect and finished work he would certainly have created, some day -or other, had not death hastened its footsteps. Soulié's brain was a -little confused and obscure; his thoughts were only lighted up on one -side, after the fashion of this planet; the reverse side to the one -illuminated by the sun was pitifully dark. Soulié did not know how to -begin either a novel or a drama. The opening explanation of his work -was done hap-hazard: sometimes in the first act, sometimes in the -last, if it were a play; if it were a novel, sometimes in the first, -sometimes in the last volume. His introduction, timidly begun, nearly -always was laboriously unravelled. It seemed as though, like those -night birds which need the darkness to develop all their faculties, -Soulié was not at ease save in twilight. - -I was for ever quarrelling with him on this point. As he was gifted -with unrivalled imagination and power, when he was on the warpath, -I used to beseech him continually to let in the utmost possible -daylight at the beginning of his action. "Be clear to the verge of -transparency," I continually said to him. "God's greatness consists in -His making of light; without light, we should not have known how to -appreciate the sublime grandeur of creation." - -Soulié was twenty-six when I first knew him. He was a lusty young -man, of medium height, but capitally proportioned; he had a prominent -forehead; dark hair, eyebrows and beard; a well-shaped nose and full -eyes; thick lips and white teeth. He laughed readily, although it was -never a fresh young laugh. It sounded ironical and strident, which gave -it the quality of age. Being naturally of a bantering disposition, -irony was a weapon he could wield admirably. - -He had tried his hand at most things, and he retained some slight -knowledge of everything he had done. After having received an excellent -education in the provinces, I believe he studied law at Rheims, to -which we owe the admirable description of student's life in his book -entitled _Confession générale._ He passed his legal examinations and -was called to the Bar; but he did not take kindly to the profession. -Rather than follow that very liberal avocation, he preferred a -mercantile calling. This aversion led to his developing the notion of a -big steam sawmill in 1824 or 1825. - -In the meantime, Soulié (who then signed himself Soulié de Lavelanet) -lived upon a small allowance his father made him a hundred louis, as -far as I am able to remember. He lived in the rue de Provence, on the -first floor, in a bewitching room that seemed a palace to us. There -was, above all else, a most unwonted luxury in this room, a piano on -which Soulié could play two or three tunes. He was both very radical -and very aristocratic, two qualities which often went together at that -period: see, for example, Carrel, whom we have already seen in the -Béfort affair, and who will reappear on the scene presently, after the -amnesty to be accorded by Charles X. on his accession to the throne. - -Soulié was brave, without being quarrelsome; but he had the -sensitiveness both of the student and of the Southerner. He was -passably skilful as a swordsman and a first-rate shot. - -Soulié at first thought me a worthless lad, of no importance; and it -was quite natural he should. He was astonished and almost overwhelmed -by my early successes. By that time I knew Soulié as he was; jealous -almost to envy, but, by reason of the strong kindliness of his good and -upright heart, able to keep all the evil tendencies of his character -under control. A constant struggle was waged within him between good -and bad principles, and yet not once perhaps did the evil principle get -the better of him. He very often tried to hate me, but never managed to -succeed: very often, when he set out to run me down in conversation, -he would end by praising me. And, as a matter of fact, I was the man -who hampered his career more than any other: in the theatre, in the -newspapers, in the matter of books, I was everywhere in his path, doing -him involuntary but actual damage everywhere; and, in spite of this, -I was so certain of Soulié, and so sure of his supreme justice and -goodness of heart, that, if I had needed any act of service, I should -have gone to Soulié to ask it of him, rather than of any other--and he -would have rendered me this service, more readily than any other person -would. - -At first Soulié turned his attention towards poetry. It was in the -domain of poetry, I believe, that he looked to make his conquests. His -first stage-play was an imitation of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ -I never experienced greater emotion than that which I felt at the first -representation of this play. - -We were often months or a year without seeing each other; but when -fate turned us face to face, no matter how far off we might be, we -each walked straight to the other's heart and open arms. Perhaps, -before catching sight of me, Soulié had not particularly cared to meet -me; perhaps, had someone told him, "Dumas is over there," he would -have made a detour; but, directly he caught sight of me, the electric -current dominated his will and he was mine, body and soul, as though -never a single jealous thought had crossed his mind. It was different -with regard to Hugo or Lamartine: he did not like them, and he rarely -spoke impartially of their talent. I feel convinced that it was Hugo's -_Odes et Ballades_ and Lamartine's _M&ditations_ which led Frédéric -Soulié to write in prose. Rest in peace, friend of my youth, companion -of my first serious efforts, I will depict thee as thou wert; I will -design a statue of thee, not a bust; I will isolate thee; I will place -thee on the pedestal of thy works, so that all those who never knew -thee may take the measure of thy impressive figure; for thou art one -of those who can be studied from all aspects, and who, living or dead, -have no need to be afraid of being placed in a full light. - -At the time of which I am writing, Soulié was linked in literary -friendship with Jules Lefèvre and Latouche,--Latouche, with whom he -quarrelled so fiercely later over _Christine._ In private life, his -chief friend was a tall, stout fellow called David, who was at that -time, and may still be, a stockbroker. I do not know whether Soulié was -his only friend; but I believe that on the Exchange he made not a few -enemies. - -When we went to see Soulié, he was entertaining a dozen of his friends -to tea, cake and sandwiches. Such luxuries quite dazzled me. Soulié was -conscious of his own powers, and this rendered him extremely scornful -towards second-rate literature. In his efforts to poach upon other -writers' preserves, until the time came when he could do better than -they, he treated certain contemporary celebrities, whose positions I -envied greatly, with lofty off-handedness. He proposed, he said, to -publish an Almanac for the coming year, 1824, entitled the _Parfait -Vaudevilliste_, which should consist of ready-made verses from old -soldiers and young colonels. Among these verses from old soldiers were -some of the first order, and the following may be taken as a model: it -is one which Gontier sang in _Michel et Christine_, and for which he -was enthusiastically applauded nightly:-- - - "Sans murmurer, - Votre douleur amère, - Frapp'rait mes yeux, plutôt tout endurer! - Moi, j'y suis fait, c'est mon sort ordinaire; - Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire, - Sans murmurer!" - -There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of -representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current -events, and these found a fitting place in the _Parfait Vaudevilliste._ -Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. -Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his -collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the -choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what -period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard -waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and -legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the -names of their begetters. - -These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He -placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty -ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used -a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from the _Barbier -châtelain_, by Théaulon: to every man his due. - - "Bonne nuit! - Bonne nuit! - Ça soulage, - En voyage. - Bonne nuit! - Bonne nuit! - Retirons-nous sans bruit." - -This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to -hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, -of Brazier and Courcy, in the _Parisien à Londres,_ was also not devoid -of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it -was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair -number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised -during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a -lively curiosity among the audience. - -So the audience sang:-- - - "Nous allons voir juger - Cet étranger, - Qui fut bien léger!... - A l'audience, - On défend l'innocence, - Et l'on sait la venger." - -The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, -left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:-- - - "Nous _avons vu_ juger - Cet étranger, - Qui fut bien léger!... - A l'audience, - On défend l'innocence, - Et l'on sait la venger." - -But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres -than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus -of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the -table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers. - -They sang this:-- - - "Quel repas - Plein d'appas, - Où, gai convive, - L'Amour arrive!... - Quel repas - Plein d'appas! - On n'en fait pas - De pareils ici-bas!" - -In spite of the holy laws of propriety, more respected, one knows, -among dramatic authors than in any other class of society, Adolphe -one day allowed himself the liberty of using this couplet and had the -audacity to put it in one of his plays, without troubling to change -it one single iota. There is quite a long story about this: Adolphe, -threatened with a lawsuit by Dumanoir, was only able to settle matters -by offering a chorus for dancers in exchange for the drinking chorus. - -This is de Leuven's chorus: it will be seen that if Dumanoir did not -gain much through this, he did not lose much by it:-- - - "A la danse, - A la danse, - Allons, amis, que l'on séance! - Entendez-vous du bal - Les gais accords, le doux signal?..." - -Dumanoir faithfully adhered to the agreement, but only used the chorus -once; then he returned it to Adolphe, who, on regaining possession, -continued to use his chorus, to the great satisfaction of the audience. - -All these choruses, however, pale before that of _Jean de Calais_. This -was by Émile Vanderburch, one of the authors of the _Gamin de Paris_, -and it concluded the play. It runs thus:-- - - "Chantons les hauts faits - De Jean de Calais! - On dira, dans l'histoire, - Qu'il a mérité - Sa gloire - Et sa félicité!..." - -Indeed, a great revolution was taking place at this time in comic -opera; and this revolution was brought about by a man who has since -proscribed others as revolutionists. We refer to Scribe, who, in the -literary revolution of 1820 to 1828, played pretty nearly the rôle the -Girondists played in the political revolution of 1792 and 1793. - -Before Scribe, comic operas (with the exception of the delightful -sketches of Désaugiers) were hardly more than bare skeletons, left for -the actors to clothe as they liked. Nowadays the great thing is to -create rôles for M. Arnal, M. Bouffé, or Mademoiselle Rose Chéri, but -at that time no one thought of creating a rôle for M. Potier, M. Brunet -or M. Perrin. M. Perrin, M. Brunet or M. Potier found their rôles -outlined for them at the first rehearsal, and made them what they were -at the first representation. - -Scribe was the first author to make plays instead of outline sketches. -Plots developed in his clever hands, and so, in three or four years, -the Théâtre du Gymnase attained its full growth. It was not modelled on -any other company, but created what might well be called M. Scribe's -company: it was composed almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, -old soldiers and faithful servants. Never had such widows been seen, -never such colonels; never had old soldiers spoken thus; never had -such devoted servants been met with. But the company of the Gymnase, -as M. Scribe created it, became the fashion, and the direct patronage -of Madame la Duchesse de Berry contributed not a little towards the -fortune made by the manager, and to the author's reputation. The form -of verse itself was changed. The old airs of our fathers, who had been -satisfied with the gay repetition of _lon, lon, la, larira dondaine,_ -and the _gai, gai, larira dondé,_ were abandoned for the more -artificially mannered comic opera, pointed epigrams and long-drawn-out, -elegantly turned verses. When the situation became touching, eight or -ten lines would express the feelings of the character, borrowing charm -from the music, and sighing declarations of love, for which prose had -ceased to suffice. In short, a charming little bastard sprang into -being, of which, to use a village expression, M. Scribe was both father -and godfather, and which was neither the old vaudeville, nor comic -opera, nor comedy. - -The models of the new style were the _Somnambule, Michel et Christine_, -the _Héritière_, the _Mariage de raison, Philippe_ and _Marraine._ -Later, some vaudevilles went a degree farther; for example, the -_Chevalier de Saint-Georges, un Duel sous Richelieu,_ the _Vie de -bohème._ These bordered on comedy, and could at a pinch be played -without lines. Other changes will be pointed out, so far as they -affected the arts. Let us briefly state here that we had entered into -the age of transition. In 1818, Scribe began by the vaudeville; from -1818 to 1820 Hugo and Lamartine appeared in the literary world, the -former with his _Odes et Ballades_, the latter with his _Méditations,_ -the first attempts of the new poetry; from 1820 to 1824 Nodier -published novels of a kind which introduced a fresh type--namely, the -picturesque; from 1824 to 1828 it was the turn of painting to attempt -fresh styles; finally, from 1828 to 1835, the revolution spread to the -dramatic world, and followed almost immediately on the footsteps of the -historical and imaginative novel. Thus the nineteenth century, freed -from parental restraint, assumed its true colour and originality. Of -course it will be understood that, as I was so closely associated with -all the great artists and all the great sculptors of the time, each -of them will come into these Memoirs in turn; they will constitute a -gigantic gallery wherein every illustrious name shall have its living -monument. - -Let us return to Soulié. We had reached the date when his first -piece of poetry had the honour of print: it was called the _Folk de -Waterloo_, and had been written at the request of Vatout, for the work -he produced on the Gallery of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that -Soulié read it to us. Here it is: we give it in order to indicate the -point of departure of all our great poets. When we take note of the end -to which they have attained, we can measure the distance traversed. -Probably some contemporary grumblers will tell us it matters very -little where they started or where they ended: to such we would reply -that we are not merely writing for the year 1851 or the year 1852, but -for the sacred future which seizes chisel, brush, and pen as they drop -from the hands of the illustrious dead. - - - LA FOLLE DE WATERLOO - - "Un jour, livrant mon âme à la mélancolie, - J'avais porté mes pas errants - Dans ces prisons où la folie - Est offerte en spectacle aux yeux indifférents. - C'était à l'heure qui dégage - Quelques infortunés des fers et des verrous; - Et mon cœur s'étonnait d'écouter leur langage, - Où se mêlaient les pleurs, le rire et le courroux. - - Tandis que leur gardien les menace ou les raille, - Une femme paraît pâle et le front penché; - Sa main tient l'ornement qui, les jours de bataille. - Brille au cou des guerriers sur l'épaule attaché, - Et de ses blonds cheveux s'échappe un brin de paille - A sa couche arrache - - En voyant sa jeunesse et le morne délire, - Qui doit, par la prison, la conduire au tombeau, - Je me sends pleurer.... Elle se prit à rire, - Et cria lentement:'Waterloo! Waterloo!' - - 'Quel malheur t'a donc fait ce malheur de la France?' - Lui dis-je.... Et son regard craintif - Ou, sans voir la raison, je revis l'espérance, - S'unit pour m'appeler à son geste furtif. - - 'Français, parle plus has, dit-elle. Oh! tu m'alarmes! - Peut-être ces Anglais vont étouffer ta voix; - Car c'est à Waterloo que, la première fois, - Adolphe m'écouta sans répondre à mes larmes. - - 'Lorsque, dans ton pays, la guerre s'allumait, - Il me quitta pour elle, en disant qu'il m'aimait; - C'est là le seul adieu dont mon cœur se souvienne ... - La gloire l'appelait, il a suivi sa loi; - Et, comme son amour n'était pas tout pour moi, - Il servit sa patrie, et j'oubliai la mienne! - - 'Et, quand je voulus le chercher, - Pour le voir, dans le sang il me fallut marcher; - J'entendais de longs cris de douleur et d'alarmes; - La lune se leva sur ce morne tableau; - J'aperçus sur le sol des guerriers et des armes, - Et des Anglais criaient: "Waterloo! Waterloo!" - - 'Et moi, fille de l'Angleterre, - Indifférente aux miens qui dormaient sur la terre, - J'appelais un Français, et pleurais sans remords ... - Tout à coup, une voix mourante et solitaire - S'éleva de ce champ des morts: - - "Adolphe?" me dit-on. "Des héros de la garde - Il était le plus brave et marchait avec nous; - Nous combattions ici.... Va, baisse-toi, regarde, - Tu l'y retrouveras, car nous y sommes tous!" - - 'Je tremblais de le voir et je le vis lui-même.... - Dis-moi quel est ce mal qu'on ne peut exprimer? - Ses yeux, sous mes baisers, n'ont pu se ranimer.... - Oh! comme j'ai souffert à cette heure suprême; - Car il semblait ne plus m'aimer! - - Et puis ... je ne sais plus!... Connaît-il ma demeure? - Jadis, quand il venait, il venait tous les jours! - Et sa mère, en pleurant, accusait nos amours.... - Hélas! il ne vient plus, et pourtant elle pleure! - - La folle vers la porte adresse alors ses pas, - Attache à ses verrous un regard immobile, - M'appelle à ses côtés, et, d'une voix débile: - 'Pauvre Adolphe, dit-elle, en soupirant tout bas; - Comme il souffre!... il m'attend, puisqu'il ne revient pas!' - - Elle dit, dans les airs la cloche balancée - Apprit à la douleur que l'heure était passée - D'espérer que ses maux, un jour, pourraient finir. - La folle se cachait; mais, dans le sombre asile - Où, jeune, elle portait un si long avenir, - A la voix des gardiens d'où la pitié s'exile, - Seule, il lui fallut revenir. - - 'Adieu! je ne crains pas qu'un Français me refuse, - Dit-elle, en me tendant la main; - Si tu le vois, là-bas, qui vient sur le chemin; - D'un aussi long retard si son amour s'accuse, - Dis-lui que je le plains, dis-lui que je l'excuse, - Dis-lui que je l'attends demain!'" - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The Duc d'Orléans--My first interview with him--Maria-Stella-Chiappini ---Her attempts to gain rank--Herhistory--The statement of the Duc -d'Orléans--Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza ---Rectification of Maria-Stella'scertificate of birth - - -I had been installed nearly a month at the office, to the great -satisfaction of Oudard and of M. de Broval (who, thanks to my beautiful -handwriting, thought that M. Deviolaine had been too hard on me), -when the former sent word by Raulot that he wanted me in his office. -I hastened to respond to the invitation. Oudard looked very solemn. -"My dear Dumas," he said, "M. le Duc d'Orléans has just asked me for -someone to copy quickly and neatly a piece of work he has prepared -for his counsel. Although there is nothing secret about it, you must -understand that it will not do to have the papers left about in the -office while being copied. I thought of you, because you write rapidly -and correctly: it will be the means of bringing you before the duke. I -am going to take you into his room." - -I must confess I felt greatly excited on learning that I was about to -find myself face to face with a man whose influence might be of much -importance in the shaping of my destiny. - -Oudard noticed the effect this news produced on me, and tried to -reassure me by telling me of the perfect kindness of the duke. This did -not at all prevent me from feeling very nervous as I approached His -Royal Highness's room. I had a moment's respite, for His Royal Highness -was at breakfast; but I soon heard a step that I guessed was his, -and fear seized me once more. The door opened, and the Duc d'Orléans -appeared. I had seen him already, once or twice, at Villers-Cotterets, -when he came to the sale of the woods. I believe I said that he stayed -then with M. Collard, from whom he was the recipient of the most lavish -hospitality imaginable, although, so far as he himself was concerned, -the Duc d'Orléans always tried to restrain hospitality offered him -within the limits of a simple family visit. - -M. le Duc d'Orléans had, as a matter of fact, the good feeling to -recognise almost publicly his illegitimate relations: he had his two -natural uncles--the two abbés Saint-Phar and Saint-Albin--living with -him at the Palais-Royal, and he did not make any distinction between -them and the other members of his family. - -The prince would be fifty years old the following October: he was -still a very good-looking man, though his figure was marred by his -stoutness, which had increased during the past ten years; his face was -frank, his eyes bright and intelligent, without depth or steadfastness; -he was fluently affable, but nevertheless his words never lost their -aristocratic savour unless his sole interest were to conciliate a vain -citizen; he had a pleasant voice, which in his good-humoured moments -was usually kind in tone; and, when he was in the mood, he could be -heard, even a long way off, singing the mass in a voice almost as -out of tune as that of Louis XV. I have since heard him sing the -_Marseillaise_ as falsely as he sang the mass. To make a long story -short, I was presented to him: not much ceremony was observed in my -case. - -"Monseigneur, this is M. Dumas, of whom I have spoken to you, the -protégé of General Foy." - -"Oh, good!" replied the duke. "I was delighted to do something to -please General Foy, who recommended you very warmly to me, monsieur. -You are the son of a brave man, whom Bonaparte is said to have left -almost to die of starvation." - -I bowed in token of affirmation. - -"You write a very good hand, you make and seal envelopes excellently; -work, and M. Oudard will look after you." - -"In the meantime," Oudard interposed, "Monseigneur wishes to entrust -you with an important piece of work: His Highness desires it to be done -promptly and correctly." - -"I will not leave it until it is finished," I replied, "and I will do -my utmost to be as accurate as His Highness requires." - -The duke made a sign to Oudard, as much as to say, "Not bad for a -country lad." - -Then, going before me, he said-- - -"Come into this room and sit down at that table." - -And with these words he pointed out a desk to me. - -"Here you will be undisturbed." - -He then opened a bundle in which about fifty pages were arranged in -order, covered on both sides with his big handwriting and numbered at -the front of each page. - -"See," he said, "copy from here to there: if you finish before I come -back, you must wait for me; I have several corrections to make in -certain passages, and I will make them as I dictate them to you." - -I sat down and set to work at my task. The work with which I was -entrusted was concerned with an event which had recently made a great -stir, and which could not fail to take up the attention of Paris. This -was the claim made by Maria-Stella-Petronilla Chiappini, Baroness of -Sternberg, to the rank and fortune of the Duc d'Orléans, which she -contended belonged to her. - -Here is the fable upon which her pretension was founded. We give it -from Maria-Stella's point of view, without, be it well understood, -believing for a single instant in the justice of her claim. - -Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans, who was married in 1768, had, -to the beginning of January 1772, only presented her husband, -Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orléans, with a still-born daughter. The -absence of male issue troubled the Duc d'Orléans greatly, as his -fortune, derived chiefly from portions granted him as a younger son, -would, in default of male issue, revert to the Crown. It was with this -in his mind and in the hope that travel might perhaps lead to the -Duchesse d'Orléans being again pregnant, that Louis-Philippe and his -wife set out for Italy, in the early part of the year 1772, under the -name of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville. - -I repeat for the last time, that throughout this narrative it is not I -who am speaking, but the claimant, Maria-Stella-Petronilla. - -Well, the august travellers had scarcely reached the top of the -Apennines before symptoms of a fresh pregnancy declared themselves, -which caused the Duchesse d'Orléans to stay at Modigliana. - -In the village of Modigliana there was a prison, and a gaoler to watch -over the prison. The gaoler was called Chiappini. M. le Duc d'Orléans, -faithful to his traditions of familiarity with the people, became on -still more easy terms with the gaoler as the intimacy took place under -cover of his incognito. There was, besides, a reason for the intimacy. -Chiappini's wife was expecting her confinement just at the same time -as Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans. A treaty was accordingly entered into -between the illustrious travellers and the humble gaoler, to the effect -that should Madame la Comtesse de Joinville by chance give birth to -a girl, and the wife of Chiappini to a boy, the two mothers should -exchange their two children. - -Fate ordained matters as the parents had foreseen: the gaoler's wife -gave birth to a boy, the prince's wife gave birth to a girl; and the -agreed exchange was made, the prince handing over a considerable sum to -the gaoler as well. - -The child destined to play the part of prince was then transported -to Paris, and although he was born as far back as 17 April 1773, the -fact was kept secret till 6 October, on which date it was declared, -and the child was baptized by the almoner of the Palais-Royal, in the -presence of the parish priest and of two valets. In the meantime, the -duchess's daughter, left in Italy, was brought up there under the name -of Maria-Stella-Petronilla. The rest of the story can be guessed. -Nevertheless, we will give it in detail. Maria-Stella did not know -the story of her birth until after the death of the gaoler Chiappini. -She had a melancholy childhood. The gaoler's wife, who regretted her -son and who was for ever reproaching her husband for the agreement -made, rendered the child's life very miserable. The young girl was, it -seems, extremely beautiful, and at the age of seventeen she made such a -deep impression upon Lord Newborough, one of the wealthiest noblemen -of England, who was passing through Modigliana, that he married her -almost in spite of herself, and took her away to London. She was left -a widow very young, with several children,--one of whom is now a peer -of England,--but she soon married the Baron de Sternberg, who took her -away to St. Petersburg, where she presented him with a son. - -One day, the Baroness de Sternberg, who was almost separated from her -husband, received a letter with an Italian postmark; she opened it -and read the following lines, written by the hand of the man whom she -believed to be her father:-- - - "MILADY,--I have at last reached the close of my life, - without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely - concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:-- - - "The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name - I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this - life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked - to make an exchange, and taking into consideration - the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I - consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made - to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and - at the same time the other person adopted my son. I - perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since - you are placed in a higher station in life than your - father--though he was in almost the same rank--and it is - this reflection which allows me to die with some degree - of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you - may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your - forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to - keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be - able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter - will not even be sent you until after my death. LAURENT - CHIAPPINI" - -Upon receipt of this letter, Maria-Stella at once prepared to travel -to Italy. She did not agree with the gaoler Chiappini in thinking the -matter irremediable: she wished to know who was her true father. She -gathered information wherever she could find it, and at length she -learned that in 1772--in other words, a year before her birth--two -French travellers arrived at Modigliana, and remained there until the -month of April 1773. These two travellers called themselves the Comte -and Comtesse de Joinville. Upon this slight clue, the Baroness de -Sternberg set off to France, and began by visiting the little town of -Joinville, whose name her father bore. Here she learnt that Joinville -had once been an inheritance belonging to the Orléans family, and that -Duc Louis-Philippe-Joseph, who had been travelling in Italy in 1772, -had died upon the scaffold in 1793. - -Only his son, the Duc d'Orléans, was left (the two younger brothers -having died, the Duc de Montpensier in England and the Duc de -Beaujolais at Malta), the inheritor of the whole of his father's -wealth. He lived in Paris, and he was the only prince of the blood of -the house of Orléans. - -Maria-Stella left immediately for Paris, made useless efforts to gain -access to the duke himself, gave herself into the hands of intriguing -persons who exploited her cause, to business men who cheated her, and -ended by writing to the papers, stating that the Baroness de Sternberg, -who was the bearer of a communication of the greatest importance to -the heirs of the Comte de Joinville, had arrived in Paris, and desired -to acquaint them with this communication at the earliest possible -opportunity. - -The Duc d'Orléans did not wish to receive this communication direct; -neither did he desire to have recourse to the agency of a business man: -he commissioned his uncle, the old Abbé of Saint-Phar, to call on the -baroness.[1] Then everything was laid bare, and the duke discovered -the whole plot that was being weaved about him. Learning that, whether -from honest belief or from cupidity, Maria-Stella seriously meant to -pursue her cause, and that she was going to return to Italy to furnish -herself with documents wherewith to establish her identity, he hastened -to take the precaution of preparing a memoir, intended for his counsel, -to refute the fabrication by the aid of which Maria-Stella intended to -take away his rank and his fortune, or at all events to make him pay -for the right to keep them. In the meantime, she was appealing to the -Duchesse d'Angoulême as the likeliest person to harbour the liveliest -feelings of resentment against the Orléans family. - -It was this memoir that I was called upon to copy. I must own that I -did not transcribe it without reading it, although my total ignorance -of history left many points obscure to me in the prince's refutation. -Not only was this paper based upon fact, but it was written with that -customary power of reasoning which the Duc d'Orléans was noted for -exercising, even in minor matters of diplomacy. He employed counsel for -form's sake only, for he himself drew up not merely notes on the case -he wished to prove, but lengthy statements, which roused the admiration -of the celebrated barrister Me. Dupin, to whom they were always sent. - -I came to the end of the portion the duke had told me to write, after a -couple of hours' work; so I put down my work and waited. When the duke -returned, he came to the table at which I was writing, picked up my -copy, made a gesture indicative of his approval of my handwriting, but -almost immediately afterwards said-- - -"Oh! oh! you have a punctuation of your own, I see;" and taking a pen, -he sat down at a corner of the table and began to punctuate my copy -according to the rules of grammar. - -The duke flattered me highly by saying I had a punctuation of my -own. I knew no more about punctuation than about anything else: I -punctuated according to my fancy, or rather, I did not punctuate at -all. To this day, I only punctuate on my proofs: I believe you could -take up any of my manuscripts hap-hazard and run through a whole volume -without finding a single exclamation mark, or an acute accent or a -grave accent. After the duke had read the statement and corrected my -punctuation, he got up and, walking up and down, dictated to me the -part he wanted to correct. I wrote almost as quickly as he dictated, -which seemed to please him extremely. I reached this sentence: "And if -there were nothing else but the _striking resemblance which exists -between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis -XIV._, would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the -falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?" - -Although, as I have previously stated, I was not very well read in -history, yet in this matter I knew quite enough (as they say in -duelling of a man who has had three months' training in a fencing -school) to make a fool of myself--that is to say, I knew that M. le Duc -d'Orléans was descended from Monsieur, that Monsieur was the son of -Louis XIII. and brother of Louis XIV., and that, consequently, Louis -XIV., being Monsieur's brother, could not be the grandfather of the Duc -d'Orléans, who was honouring me by dictating to me a memorandum against -Maria-Stella's claim. So, when he came to these words, "And if there -were nothing else but the _striking resemblance which exists between -the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV."_ I looked -up. It was most impertinent of me! A prince is never mistaken, and in -this instance the prince did not allow himself to be taken in. - -So, the Duc d'Orléans stopped in front of me and said to me, "Dumas, -you should know this: when a person is descended from Louis XIV. even -if only through bastards, it is a sufficiently great honour to boast -about!... Proceed." - -And he resumed: "Would not that likeness alone be sufficient to -demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?..." - -I wrote this time without raising an eye, and I never looked up again -throughout the remainder of the sitting. - -At four o'clock the Duc d'Orléans set me free, asking me if I could -come to work in the evening. - -I replied that I was at His Highness's disposition. I picked up my hat, -I bowed, I went out, I took the stairs four at a time and I ran to find -Lassagne. He chanced to be still at his desk. - -"How can Louis XIV. be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans?" I asked -as soon as I got in, without any preliminary explanation. - -"Good gracious!" he said, "it is plain enough: because the regent -married Mademoiselle de Blois, who was Louis XIV.'s natural daughter by -Madame de Montespan--a marriage that procured him a sound smack in the -face when it was announced by him to the Princess Palatine, Monsieur's -second wife, who thus expressed her feelings at the _mésalliance._ ... -You will find all this in the memoirs of the Princess Palatine and in -Saint-Simon." - -I felt extinguished by the ready and accurate answer given me. - -"Oh!" I said, with downcast head, "I shall never be as learned as that!" - -I finished the copy of the statement by eleven o'clock that same -evening. It was sent next day to M. Dupin, who should have it still, -written in my handwriting. - -We will now finish the story of Maria-Stella. - -When she had threatened the Duc d'Orléans, she returned to Italy, to -hunt up evidence that would establish the authenticity of her birth, -and the substitution of the daughter of the Comtesse de Joinville for -the son of the gaoler Chiappini. - -She did, in fact, obtain the following decree from the Ecclesiastical -Court of Faenza, on 29 May 1824: we will give it for what it is worth, -or rather for what it was worth. This decree is followed by the -official rectification of the birth certificate:-- - - JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA - - "Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, - sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and - His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded - or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any - other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria - Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, - petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles - Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte - Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other - person not present having or claiming an interest in - the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also - the most excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at - Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before - the law;--whereas the petitioner, appearing before this - episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of - the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to - its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to - have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the - insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas - the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the - claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and - whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not - appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by - an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, - according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the - effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its - bearing on the case; - - "In virtue of the acta, etc.;--having heard the - respective defendants, etc.;--Considering that Laurent - Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, - by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after - the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said - petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to - her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of - a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; - that it has been clearly proved by experts that this - letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that - the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is - not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, - presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that - such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a - solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of - his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee - would essay in vain to impair the validity of the - evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention - is made therein as to who were the real father and mother - of the petitioner, seeing that--though such mention is - in effect wanting--recourse has nevertheless been had, - on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, - to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is - written proof, as in the present case, testimonial - proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when - it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a - case of identity, following on the principle of written - proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much - the more should it hold good in this case, where the - demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, - in the question of identity;--considering that it - clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of - the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters - Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte - and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective - children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter - and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in - effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come - to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of - the priory of Modigliana, in the name of _Maria-Stella_, - her parents being falsely declared to be the couple - Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the - date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the - birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons - in support of their cognisance, etc.;--considering that - it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood - of this evidence, since not only is there nothing - impossible in their statements, but they are, on the - contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large - number of other presumptions and conjectures; that - one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour - and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection - with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to - past events, having the value of truth and of full - cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only - by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, - but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique - de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of - Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which - were legally and judicially examined in their places of - origin and before their respective tribunals; that the - vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing - testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is - documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of - the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the - said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to - take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. - Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he - was arrested, and then, after having been detained some - time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken - by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. - le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that - M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial - examination, that, while sorting some old papers of - the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from - Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he - does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' - which stated that the changeling had died, and that any - scruple on its account was now removed;--considering - that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance - in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is - further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes - of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the - exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; - that the petitioner received an education suitable to - her distinguished rank, and not such as would have - been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it - results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, - and from several others contained in the pleadings, - that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of - birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, - and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame - la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, - a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of - the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said - Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead - of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy; - - "Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we - declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as - follows:--that the objections raised by the trustee, the - aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; - and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely - adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April - 1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory - church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, - in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that - Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and - of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and - that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter - of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de - Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also - order that the rectification in question be forthwith - executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, - by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, - Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, - to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and - rectified to all who may demand it, etc.; - - "Preambles pronounced by me:--domestic canon - - "_(Signed)_ VALERIO BORCHI, Pro-Vicar General - - "The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by - these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and - very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting - in public audience, and it has been read and published - by me, the undersigned prothonotary, in the year of our - Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 - May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in - the first year of his pontificate, there being present, - amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. - Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses. - - (_Signed_) ANGE MORIGNY - - "Episcopal Prothonotary General - - "Correction of the Certificate of Birth:-- - - "This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the - holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, - happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, - indiction XII, at Faenza;--the delay of ten days, the - time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the - day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the - Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,--in - the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de - Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that - town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis - and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others - absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, - or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as - well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in - the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered - an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers - given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded - to put the same judgment into execution--namely, the - rectification of the certification of birth produced in - the pleadings of the trial, as follows:-- - - "In the name of God, _Amen_, I the undersigned canon - chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of - Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of - Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese - of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth - book of the birth register, the following notice: - '_Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the - married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, - public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia - Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, - was baptized, on_ 17 _April_ 1773, _by me, Canon - François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather - and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and - Stella Ciabatti_.--Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April - 1824; (_signed_) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I - say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into - execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, - which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms - following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday - of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la - Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,--then - dwelling in the district of Modigliana,--was baptized on - April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the - chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François - Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.' - - "_(Signed)_ ANGE MORIGNY - - "Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"[2] - -Furnished with these documents, the Baroness de Sternberg returned -to Paris towards the close of the year 1824; but, it seems, neither -these documents nor the personages who had set her going inspired -great confidence; for, neither from Louis XVIII.,--who was not very -fond of his cousin, since, under no pretext, would he ever allow him -to be styled Royal Highness, while he reigned, saying that he would be -always quite close enough to the throne,--nor from Charles X., could -she obtain any support in aid of the restitution of her name and of her -estates. - -When Charles X. fell and the Duc d'Orléans became king, matters were -even worse for her. There was no means of appealing from Philip asleep -to Philip awake. Intimidation had no effect; the most determined -enemies of the new king did not wish to soil their hands with -this claim, which they regarded in the light of a conspiracy, and -Maria-Stella remained in Paris, without so much as the notoriety of the -persecution she expected to receive. She lived at the top of the rue -de Rivoli, near the rue Saint-Florentin, on the fifth floor; and in -the absence of two-footed, featherless courtiers, she held a court of -two-clawed feathered creatures which waked the whole rue de Rivoli at -five o'clock in the morning with their chatter. Those of my readers who -live in Paris may perhaps recollect to have seen flocks of impudent -sparrows swooping down, whirling by thousands about the balconied -windows: these three windows were those of Maria-Stella-Petronilla -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, who, in order not to give the lie to -herself, to the end of her life signed herself "Née Joinville." - -She died in 1845, the day after the opening of the Chambers. Her last -words were-- - -"Hand me the paper, that I may read the speech of that villain!" - -She had not been outside her door for five years, for fear, she said, -of being arrested by the king. The poor creature had become almost -mad.... - -About three weeks after I had made the copy of the memorandum -concerning her, M. Oudard called me into his office and informed me -that I had been _placed on the regular staff._ In other words, I was -given a berth at a salary of twelve hundred francs, in reward for my -good handwriting and my cleverness in the matter of making envelopes -and sealing. I had no reason to complain: Béranger had exactly the same -on his entry into the University. - -I sent my mother this good news the same day, begging her to get -ready to come to me as soon as I had received the first payment of my -increased salary. - - -[1] I do not know whether the Abbé de Saint-Phar saw or did not see -Maria-Stella. I merely transcribe the memoirs of that lady. - -[2] The translator is obliged to a legal friend for the version of the -above documents. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The "year of trials"--The case of Potier and the director of -the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin--Trial and condemnation -of Magallon--The anonymous journalist--Beaumarchais sent to -Saint-Lazare--A few words on censorships in general--Trial of -Benjamin Constant--Trial of M. de Jouy--A few words concerning the -author of _Sylla_--Three letters extracted from the _Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin_--Louis XVIII. as author - - -My anxiety to bring my readers along, without interruption, to the -moment when my lot and that of my mother was settled, by my being -placed on the staff as a copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs, has -caused me to pass over a host of events of far greater interest, no -doubt, to strangers, than those I have related, but which--if egotism -may be permitted me--in my own eyes, and to my mind, should take a -secondary place. - -The year 1823, which we might style the "year of trials," opened by the -trial of Potier on 7 January. Those who never saw Potier can form no -conception of the influence this great comedian, who was much admired -by Talma, had on the public; yet the damages and compensation that M. -Serres, the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin, demanded from him, may -give some idea of the value that was put upon him. One morning Potier, -faithful, as M. Étienne would have said, to his _first loves_, took it -into his head to return to the Variétés, a project which he carried -out, it appears, forgetting to ask M. Serres to cancel his engagement -before he left. Now Potier had been acting the part of old Sournois -in _Petites Dandaïdes_, with such success both in the way of applause -and in packed houses, that M. Serres not only refused to sanction this -desertion, but reckoning up the losses which he considered Potier had -caused him by his departure, and would cause him in the future, because -of this same departure, decided, after sending through the sheriffs -officer his account to the famous comedian, to send a duplicate copy -of it to the first Chamber of the Royal Court. The odd thing about the -account was that the manager of the theatre of Porte-Sainte-Martin -claimed absolutely nothing but what was due to him under the terms of -his contract. These are the particulars of his claim:-- - - 1. For each day's delay, reckoning at the - highest receipts taken in the theatre, - from 1 March 1822 to 1 April in - the same year, being at a rate - of three thousand six hundred and - eleven francs ... 144,408 fr. - 2. Restitution of money.. 30,000 " - 3. Amount paid in advance, forfeited. 20,000 " - 4. Damage and compensation.. 60,000 " - 5. For one hundred and twenty-two days - which have expired since the first claim.... 440,542 " - 6. For the seven years and ten months - which remain to run before the end of the - engagement.. 10,322,840 " - 7. Finally, as damages and compensation - in respect of this period of seven years.... 200,000 " - Total. 11,217,790 " - -If the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin had had the misfortune to win -his case, he would have been obliged to pay Potier, in order to notify -the sentence, a registration fee of three to four hundred thousand -francs. - -The Court condemned Potier to resume his engagement within a week's -time: as to damages and compensation, it condemned him, _par corps_, -to pay them according to the estimated scale. Three days later, it -was known that the matter had been settled, less a discount of eleven -million two hundred and seven thousand seven hundred and ninety francs -made by the manager. - -On 8 February it was the turn of Magallon, the chief editor of the -_Album._ Magallon appeared before the seventh Chamber of the Police -Correctional Court, accused of having hidden political articles under -the cloak of literature, with intent to incite hatred and contempt -towards the Government. The Court condemned Magallon to thirteen -months' imprisonment and to pay a fine of two thousand francs. - -It was a monstrous sentence, and it created great uproar; but a far -greater scandal still, or rather, what converted a matter of scandal -into an outrage, was that for this slight literary offence, and on the -pretext that the sentence exceeded one year, Magallon was taken to the -central prison of Poissy, on foot, with his hands bound, tied to a -filthy criminal condemned afresh to penal servitude, who, dead-drunk, -kept yelling unceasingly the whole way, "Long live galley slaves! -honour to, all galley slaves!" - -When they reached Poissy, Magallon was put into prison clothes. From -that evening he had to live on skilly and learn to pick oakum.... We -content ourselves with relating the bare facts; although we cannot -resist adding that they happened under the reign of a prince who -pretended to be a man of letters, since he had ordered a quatrain from -Lemierre and a comedy from Merville.... - -We have already related that M. Arnault, whose _Marius à Minturnes_ had -succeeded, in spite of Monsieur's prediction, paid, in all probability, -for this want of respect for the opinion of His Royal Highness by four -years of exile, on the return of the Bourbons. - -And this was not Louis XVIII.'s first attempt on his _confrères_, -the men of letters. Without mentioning M. de Chateaubriand, whom he -hounded out of the ministry as though he were a lackey,--an act which -caused that worthy gentleman to remark, on receiving his dismissal, -"It is strange, for I have not stolen the king's watch!"--without -counting Magallon, whom he sent to Poissy chained to a scurvy convict; -without counting M. Arnault, whom he banished from the country; there -was, besides, a little story of the same kind in connection with -Beaumarchais. - -More than once has M. Arnault related in my hearing the curious and too -little known history of Beaumarchais' imprisonment. These are the facts. - -There is always a public Censorship, except during the first two or -three months following the accession of princes to the throne, and the -two or three months after they are deposed; but when these three months -have elapsed, the Censorship reappears on the waters after its plunge, -and proceeds to discover some minister, preferably of Liberal or even -Republican tendencies, and to lay a snare for him. - -When the _Mariage de Figaro_ was running its course, M. Suard was -censor, and he was also a journalist. He was one of those who had most -bitterly opposed the representation of Beaumarchais' work, and he -was largely responsible for the fifty-nine journeys--_du marais à la -police_--that the illustrious author made without being able to obtain -leave for his play to be performed. - -At length, thanks to the intervention of the queen and the Comte -d'Artois, the _Folle Journée_, recovered intact out of the claws of -these gentlemen, was played on 27 April 1784. M. Suard was vindictive -both in his capacity as censor and as a journalist; so that if he -could not exercise the Censorship by the use of scissors, he had -recourse to his pen. M. Suard was on very familiar terms with the -Comte de Provence, and he served the Comte de Provence as a screen -when His Royal Highness wished to give vent, incognito, to some petty -literary spite. M. le Comte de Provence detested Beaumarchais almost -as much as did M. Suard himself; the result was that the Comte de -Provence hastened to unburden himself, by means of M. Suard, in the -_Journal de Paris_, against the unfortunate _Mariage de Figaro_, which -continued its successful run, in spite of M. Suard's signed articles -or the anonymous articles of His Royal Highness. In the meantime, -Beaumarchais handed over the sum of about thirty or forty thousand -francs which he received as author's rights in the _Mariage de Figaro_ -to the _association for helping poor foster-mothers._ - -Monsieur, who had not got a child (a less polite chronicler than myself -would say who was incapable of begetting one), and who consequently, -owing to his failing in this respect, had not much sympathy with -_foster-mothers_, indulged himself, always under the cloak of -anonymity, in attacking the man, after having attacked the play, and -wrote a letter against him in the _Journal de Paris_, overflowing with -venomous spleen. Beaumarchais, who thought he recognised this onslaught -as from the hand of M. Suard, proceeded to lash the pedant soundly. -As ill-luck would have it, it was His Royal Highness who received the -tanning intended for the censor's hide. Monsieur, smarting under the -stripes, went with the story of his grievances to Louis XVI., giving -him to understand that Beaumarchais was perfectly well aware that he -was not replying to the royal censor, but to the brother of the king. -Louis XVI.; offended on behalf of Monsieur, commanded the citizen who -dared to take the liberty of chastising a royal personage, regardless -of his rank, to be arrested and taken to a house of correction--not -to the Bastille, that prison being considered too good for such a -worthless scamp; and as His Majesty was playing loo when he made this -decision, it was on the back of a seven of spades that the order was -written for Beaumarchais' arrest and his committal to Saint-Lazare. - -Thus we see that, when Louis XVIII. had Magallon taken to Poissy, he -remained faithful to Monsieur's traditions. - -... Apropos of the Censorship, a good story of the present censor is -going the rounds this 6th of June, 1851. We will inquire into it and, -if it be true, we will relate it in the next chapter. - -This excellent institution furnishes so many other instances of a like -nature that its facts and achievements have to be registered regardless -of chronological order, where and when one can, lest one run the risk -of forgetting them, and that I would indeed be a sad pity!... - -_Revenons à nos moutons!_ our poor _moutons_ shorn to the quick, like -Sterne's lamb. - -I have remarked that the year 1823 was the "year of trials"; let us see -how it earned that name. - -During the week that elapsed between the Magallon affair and the -sentence passed on him, Benjamin Constant appeared before the Royal -Court, on account of two letters: one addressed to M. Mangin, -procurator-general at the Court of Poitiers, and the other to M. -Carrère, sub-prefect of Saumur. As it was a foregone conclusion that -Benjamin Constant was to be condemned, the Court sentenced him to pay a -fine of a thousand francs and costs. - -On 29 January--a week before this happened--the Correctional Police -sentenced M. de Jouy to a month's imprisonment, a fine of a hundred -and fifty francs and the costs of the trial, for an article in the -_Biographie des contemporains_ which had been recognised as his. This -article was the biography of the brothers Faucher. The sentence created -a tremendous sensation. M. de Jouy was then at the height of his fame: -the _Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin_ had made him popular, the hundred -representations of _Sylla_ had made him famous. - -I knew M. de Jouy well: he was a remarkably loyal man, with a -delightful mind and an easy pen. I believe he had been a sailor, -serving in India, where he knew Tippo-Sahib, upon whom he founded a -tragedy, commissioned, or very nearly so, by Napoleon, which was acted -on 27 January 1813. The work was indifferent and did not meet with much -success. - -On the return of the Bourbons, the Court was half-heartedly willing -to encourage men of letters, M. de Jouy in particular, who held one -of the highest positions among them. It was the more easily managed -since M. de Jouy was an old Royalist, and I believe a soldier of -Condi's army; it was not a case of making a convert but retaining an -old partisan. His articles in the _Gazette_, signed "l'Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin," had an enormous success. I heard it said at the -time that M. de Jouy was called up before M. de Vitrolles and asked to -mention what it was he wanted. What he wanted was the due recognition -of his services, namely, the Cross of Saint-Louis,--for, as a rule, -straightforward men only desire things they are entitled to;--desiring -the Cross, and having deserved it, he asked for it. But they wished to -force conditions upon him: they desired that he should not merely be -satisfied with refraining from pointing fun at the absurdities of the -Restoration; they wanted him to emphasise the glories of the Empire. -They wanted him to do a base action before he, a loyal soldier, a -clean-handed man, a poet of considerable repute among his _confrères_, -could obtain the Cross. What happened? The noted poet, the loyal -soldier, the honest man, said that the Cross should go to Hades first, -and he showed the person who came to propose these conditions to the -door. It was the right way to treat the minister, but it was unlucky -for the Cross, which would not have honoured M. de Jouy, but which M. -de Jouy would have honoured! And behold M. de Jouy in the Opposition, -behold M. de Jouy writing articles in the _Biographie_ which cost him a -month's imprisonment, and which increased his popularity twofold. What -fools Governments are to refuse a man the Cross he asks, and to grant -him the persecution he does not desire, the persecution which will be -far more benefit to him, in honour and in worldly goods, than the bit -of ribbon which nobody would have noticed! Moreover, M. de Jouy did not -write anything so very reprehensible. No; on the contrary, M. de Jouy -was distinguished for the suavity of his criticism, the urbanity of his -opposition, the courtesy of his anger. The manner adopted by this good -Ermite has long since been forgotten; and the generation which followed -ours has not even read his works. Heigho! if the said generation reads -me, it will read him; for I am about to open his works and to quote -some pages from them at hap-hazard. They go back to the first months -of the second return of the Bourbons, to the period when all the world -lived out in the squares, to the time when everybody seemed eager after -I know not what: after a Revolution, one has need to hate men; but -after a Restoration, one can do nothing but despise them! - -M. B. de L---- is overwhelmed with requests for positions and writes -to the Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin to beg him to insert the following -letters in his paper:-- - - "MONSIEUR,--We have neither of us time to spare, so I - will explain to you the object of my letter in a very few - words. I formerly had the honour to be attached to one - of the princes of the house of Bourbon; I may even have - been so fortunate as to show some proofs of my devotion - to that august family at a time when, if not meritorious, - it was at least dangerous to allow one's zeal to leak - out; but I endeavour not to forget that the Mornays, - the Sullys, the Crillons would modestly style this the - fulfilment of one's duty. I am unaware upon what grounds - people in my province credit me with what I do not enjoy, - and to which I am indebted for the hosts of solicitations - I receive, without being able to be of service to those - who apply to me. I have only discovered one method of - escaping from this novel form of persecution--that is, to - publish a letter of one of my relatives and the answer I - thought fit to make to it. The first is in some measure - a résumé of three or four hundred letters that I have - received on the same topic. I am the less reluctant to - make it public since I reserve to myself the right of - holding back the writer's name, and besides, this letter - reflects as much credit on the heart of the writer as it - displays the good sense of the mind that dictated it. - - "B. DE L----" - -This is the relative's letter:-- - - "How glad I am, my friend, that events have brought back - our illustrious princes to the throne! What good fortune - it is! You have no notion what reputation these events - and your stay in Paris give me here. The prefect is - afraid of me, and his wife, who never used to bow to me, - has invited me twice to dinner. But there is no time to - be lost, and we rely on you. Would you believe that my - husband has not yet taken any steps whatever to regain - his position, pretending that it exists no longer, and - that the commission was made up to him in assignats? - There isn't a more apathetic man in the whole of France. - - "My brother-in-law has laid claim to the Cross of - Saint-Louis: he had been waiting for it for nine years - when the Revolution broke out. It would be unjust of - them not to compensate him for the twenty years of - his services, the troubles and the misfortunes he has - undergone on his estates; he is counting on you to hasten - the prompt despatch of his patent. - - "I append a memorandum to my letter, from my oldest son, - the marquis; he had the right to his uncle's reversion, - and it will be easy for you to obtain it for him. I am - anxious that his brother, the chevalier, shall be placed - in the navy, but in a rank worthy of his name and the - past services of his family. And as my grandson, Auguste - de G----, is quite old enough I to become a page, you - have only to speak a word on his behalf. - - "We are coming to Paris early next month. I shall bring - my daughter with me, as I wish to present her at Court. - They will not refuse you this favour if you solicit it - with sufficient perseverance and willingness. - - "Think of poor F----. He failed us, it is true, at the - time of the Revolution; but he has made ample amends - during the past month: you know he is penniless, and - is ready to sacrifice everything for our rulers. His - devotion goes even so far as to be willing to take a post - as prefect, and he is well fitted for it. Do you not - remember the pretty song he made about me? - - "M. de B----, son of the late intendant of the province, - is coming to see you; try and be useful to him; he - is a friend of the family. If they are not going to - re-establish intendancies, he will be satisfied with a - post as receiver-general; it is the least they can do for - a man devoted to his sovereign, one who was imprisoned - for six months during the Terror. - - "I must not forget to recommend M---- to your notice. He - has been blamed for having served all parties, because - he has been employed in every Government in France for - the last twenty years; but he is a good fellow--you can - take my word for it: he was the first to don the white - cockade; besides, all he asks is to be allowed to keep - his place as superintendent of the posting service. Be - sure and write to me under cover of his frank. - - "I append my father-in-law's papers: a sum of forty-five - thousand francs is still owing to him from the estates - of Languedoc; I hope they will not keep you waiting for - its reimbursement, and that you will not hesitate to - make use of the money if you are under any temporary - embarrassment, though this is very unlikely in your - present situation. Adieu, my dear cousin. With greetings - in which the whole family unite, and expecting the - pleasure of seeing you soon in Paris. - - "J. DE P----" - -_[Answer]_ - - "PARIS, 15 _June_ 1814 - - "MY DEAR COUSIN,--You can hardly conceive with what - interest I have read the letter you have done me the - honour to send me, or with what zeal I have tried to - further the just and reasonable demands of all the - persons you recommend to my notice. You will, not be - more astonished than I have been myself at the obstacles - placed in my way, which you would deem insurmountable if - you knew as well as I the people with whom we have to - deal. - - "When I spoke of your son, who has long been desirous - of service, and asked for a berth as major in his - father's old regiment, they urged, as a not unreasonable - objection, that peace was concluded, and that before - thinking of a position for the Marquis de V----, they - must consider the lot of 25,000 officers, some of whom - (would you believe it?) press for the recognition of - their campaigns, their wounds, and even go so far - as to urge the number of battles in which they were - engaged; whilst others more directly associated with the - misfortunes of the royal family had returned to France - without any fortune beyond the goodwill and complaisance - of the king. I then asked, with a touch of sarcasm, what - they meant to do for your son and for the multitude of - brave Royalists who have suffered so much through the - misfortunes of the realm, and whose secret prayers for - the recall of the royal family to the throne of its - ancestors had been unceasing. They replied that they - rejoiced to see the end of all our afflictions and the - fulfilment of our prayers. - - "Your husband is a very extraordinary man. I can well - understand, my dear cousin, all you must be suffering - on account of his incredible apathy. To be reduced at - the age of sixty-five, or sixty-six at the outside, to - a fortune of 40,000 livres income, to bury himself in - the depth of a château, and to renounce all chance of an - ambitious career, as though a father had no duty towards - his children, as though a gentleman ought not to die - fighting! - - "I am sorry your brother-in-law should have laid claim - to the Cross of Saint-Louis before it had been granted - to him; for it may happen that the king will not readily - part with the right to confer this decoration himself, - and that he will not approve of the honour certain - persons are anxious to have conferred upon them. You will - realise that it would be less awkward not to have had the - Cross of Saint-Louis than to find oneself obliged to give - it up. - - "I did not forget to put forward the claims of your - son, the chevalier, and I do not despair of getting him - entered for the examination of officers for the Royal - Marines. We will then do our utmost to get him passed - into the staff of one hundred officers, who are far too - conscious of their worth, of the names they bear and of - the devotion they profess to have shown at Quiberon. - - "Your grandson Auguste is entered for a page; I cannot - tell you exactly when he will be taken into the palace, - my dear cousin, as your request followed upon three - thousand seven hundred and seventy-five other requests, - made on behalf of the sons of noblemen or officers slain - on the field of battle, though they cannot show the - slightest claim on account of services rendered to the - State or to the princes. - - "You are well advised in wishing to place your daughter - at Court, and it will not be difficult when you have - found a husband for her whose rank and fortune will - entitle her to a position there. If this is not arranged, - I do not quite see what she would do there, or what - suitable post she could occupy there, however able she - may be: maids of honour are not yet reinstated. - - "I have presented a petition in favour of F, to which I - annexed the pretty song he composed for you; but they - have become so exacting that such claims no longer - suffice to obtain a post as prefect. I will even go so - far as to tell you that they do not think much of your - protégé's conversion and of the sacrifices he is prepared - to make; his enemies persist in saying that he is not a - man who can be relied upon. - - "I witnessed his powers of work in former times, and I am - convinced that if he would serve the good cause nowadays - with half the zeal he formerly exerted on behalf of the - bad cause, they would be able very usefully to employ - him. But will this ever be put to the test? - - "I have not learnt whether intendances are to be - re-established, but they seem to think that public - receiverships will be diminished, if only in the number - of those which exist in departments beyond our bounds. - This makes me fear that M. de B---- will have to be - satisfied with the enormous fortune his father made - in the old revenue days, which he found means to hide - during the Revolutionary storms: he must learn to be - philosophical. - - "Do not be in the least uneasy over the lot of M----. I - know him: he has considerable elasticity of character - and of principle--for twenty years he has slipped in and - out among all parties, without having offended any. He - is a marvellously clever fellow, who will serve himself - better than anyone else ever will be served: he is no - longer superintendent of the posting bureau, having just - obtained a more lucrative post in another department of - the Government. Do you always take such great interest in - his affairs? - - "I return you your father-in-law's papers, dear cousin, - relative to the debt on the Languedoc estates. From - what I can gather, the liquidation does not seem likely - to take place yet a while, in spite of the justice of - your claim. They have decided that arrears of pay due - to troops, the public debt, military pensions and a - crowd of other objects of this nature shall be taken - into consideration--this measure is evidently the fruit - of some intrigue. You should tell F---- to draw up a - pamphlet upon the most urgent needs of the State and to - endeavour to refer to this debt in the first line of his - pamphlet. You have no idea how much the Government is - influenced by the multitude of little pamphlets which are - produced every day by ill-feeling, anger and hunger with - such commendable zeal. - - "You will see, my dear cousin, that, at the rate things - are going, you must possess your soul in patience. I - would even add that the journey you propose to take - to Paris will not advance your affairs. According to - the police reckoning, there are at this present moment - a hundred and twenty-three thousand people from the - provinces, of all ranks, of all sexes, of all ages, who - are here to make claims, furnished with almost as good - credentials as yours, and who will have the advantage - over you in obtaining a refusal of being first in the - field to put forward their cases. Finally, as I know you - are acquainted with philosophy and the best things in - literature, I beg you to read over again a chapter in - the English _Spectator_, on the just claims of these who - ask for posts: it is in the thirty-second section of the - seventh volume in the duodecimo edition: history repeats - itself. - - "Accept, my dear cousin, an expression of my most - affectionate greetings, coupled with my sincere regrets. - - "B. DE L----" - -In 1830, after the Revolution of July, Auguste Barbier produced a poem -on the same subject, entitled the _Curée._ When one re-reads those -terrible verses and compares them with work by M. de Jouy, the writings -of the latter seem a model of that Attic wit which was characteristic -of the old school, and Barbier an example of the brutal, fiery, -unpremeditated writing I so typical of his Muse. - -Meanwhile, at about the period we have reached, whilst Louis XVIII. was -hunting down men of letters with that ruthlessness of which we have -just cited a few examples, he was laying claim to a place in their -midst. Through the foolish advice of his sycophants, the regal author -published a little work entitled _Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles._ I do -not know whether it would be possible to-day to procure a single copy -of the royal brochure, wherein were to be found not only such errors -in French grammar as "J'étais déjà un peu gros, à cette époque, pour -_monter et descendre de cabriolet_," but, worse still, revelations of -ingratitude and heartlessness. - -A poor widow risks her head to take in fugitives, and sacrifices her -last louis to give them a dinner; Monsieur relates this act of devotion -as though it were no more than the fugitives' due, and ends the chapter -by saying, "The dinner was execrable!" - -It was written in kitchen French, as Colonel Morisel observed to M. -Arnault. - -"That is easily explained," replied the author of _Germanicus_, "since -the work was by a _restaurateur"_. - -The _Miroir_, ordered to review the _Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles_, -contented itself by saying, "If the work is by the august personage to -whom it is attributed, it is above the region of criticism; if it is -not by him, it is beneath criticism." - -Let us revert to Colonel Morisel, one of the most interesting -characters of the time. They could not get up the same kind of trial -against the author of the _Messéniennes_, of the _Vêpres siciliennes_, -of the _Comédiens_ and of _Paria_, as they did against M. de Jouy and -Magallon; they could not imprison him in Sainte-Pélagie or send him to -Poissy, bound hand to hand and side by side with a filthy convict; but -they could reduce him to poverty, and that is what they did. - -On 15 April we read in the Liberal papers: "We hear that M. Ancelot, -author of _Louis IX._ and of _Maire du Palais_, has just received -letters patent of nobility, and that M. Casimir Delavigne, author -of _Vêpres siciliennes_, of _Paria_ and of the _Messéniennes_, has -just lost his post in the Library of the Minister of Justice." It was -quite true: M. Ancelot had been made a baron, and M. Casimir Delavigne -was turned out into the street! It was at this juncture that, on the -recommendation of Vatout, who had just published the _Histoire de la -Fille d'un Roi_, the Duc d'Orléans appointed Casimir Delavigne to the -post of assistant librarian at the Palais-Royal, where, six years -later, I became his colleague. - -Vatout was an excellent fellow, a trifle conceited; but even his vanity -was useful as a spur which, put in motion by the example of others, -goaded him to do the work he would otherwise not have attempted. One -of his conceits was to pretend he was a natural son of a prince of the -House of Orléans--a very innocent conceit, as it did not harm anyone, -and nobody considered it a crime; for he used the influence he acquired -by his post at the Palais-Royal in rendering help to his friends, and -sometimes even to his enemies.... Just at this moment the information -I have been seeking concerning the last act of the Censorship has been -brought me. - -Ah! my dear Victor Hugo, you who are busy trying to wrest from the -jury, before whom you are defending your son, the entire abolition -of the death penalty; make an exception in favour of the censor, and -stipulate that he shall be executed twice over at the next Revolution, -since once is not nearly enough. - -I wish here to swear on my honour that what I am about to state is -actual truth. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The house in the rue Chaillot--Four poets and a doctor--Corneille and -the Censorship--Things M. Faucher does not know--Things the President -of the Republic ought to know - - -In the year III of the Second French Republic, on the evening of 2 -June, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon Faucher minister, M. -Guizard director of the Fine Arts, the following incident occurred, -in a salon decorated with Persian draperies, on the ground floor of a -house in the rue de Chaillot. - -Five or six persons were discussing art--a surprising fact at a time -when the sole topics of conversation were dissolution, revision and -prorogation. True, of these five persons four were poets, and one a -doctor who was almost a poet and entirely a man of culture. These four -poets were: first, Madame Émile de Girardin, mistress of the house in -the rue de Chaillot where the gathering took place; second, Victor -Hugo; third, Théophile Gautier; fourth, Arsène Houssaye. The doctor's -name was Cabarus. - -The gentleman indicated under number four held several offices: perhaps -he was rather less of a poet than were the other three, but he was far -more of a business man, thus equalizing the balance; he was manager of -the Théâtre-Français, the resignation of which post he had already sent -in three times, and each time it had been refused. - -You may perhaps ask why M. Arsène Houssaye was so ready to send in his -resignation. - -There is a very simple answer: the members of the Théâtre-Français -company made his life so unendurable that the poet was ever ready -to send to the right about his demi-gods, his heroes, his kings, -his princes, his dukes, his marquises, his counts and his barons of -the rue de Richelieu, in order to re-engage his barons, his counts, -his marquises, his dukes, his princes, his kings, his heroes and -his demi-gods of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whom he -knew and whose strings he could pull as though he were the Comte de -Saint-Germain, who was their familiar friend. - -Now why should the members of the Théâtre-Français company make their -manager's life so hard? Because he made money, and nothing irritates a -member of the Théâtre-Français company so much as to see his theatre -_make money._ This may seem inexplicable to sensible folk: it is indeed -a mystery; but I have not set myself to explain the fact; I state it, -that is all. - -Now, in his capacity as manager of the Théâtre-Français, M. Arsène -Houssaye thought of something which had not occurred to anyone else. -This was that as the day in question was 2 June 1851, in four days' -time--that is to say, on 6 June--it would be the two hundred and -forty-fourth anniversary of the birth of Corneille. - -He translated his thought into words, and turning to Théophile Gautier, -he said, "Come now! my dear Théo, you must write for me some sixty -lines, for the occasion, upon the Father of Tragedy: it will be much -better than what is usually given us on such anniversaries, and the -public will not grumble." - -Théophile Gautier pretended not to hear. - -Arsène Houssaye repeated his request. - -"Good gracious! no," said Gautier. - -"Why not?" - -"Because I do not know anything more tiresome to write than an official -panegyric, were it on the greatest poet in the world. Besides, the -greater the poet, the more difficult is it to praise him." - -"You are mistaken, Théophile," said Hugo; "and if I were in a position -at this moment to do what Arsène asks, I would undertake it." - -"Would you think of passing in review Corneille's twenty or thirty -plays? Would you have the courage to speak of _Mélite_, of _Clitandre_, -of the _Galerie du Palais_, of _Pertharite_, of _Œdipe_, of _Attila_, -of _Agésilas_?" - -"No, I should not mention any one of them." - -"Then you would not be extolling Corneille: when a poet is praised, you -must praise his bad work loudest of all; when one does not praise, it -savours of criticism." - -"No," said Hugo, "I do not mean anything like that: I would not -undertake a vulgar eulogy. I would describe the agèd Corneille, -wandering through the streets of old Paris, on foot, with a shabby -cloak on his shoulders, neglected by Louis XIV., who was less generous -towards him than his persecutor Richelieu; getting his leaky shoes -mended at a poor cobbler's, whilst Louis XIV., reigning at Versailles, -was promenading with Madame de Montespan, Mademoiselle de la Vallière -and Madame Henriette, in the galleries of Le Brun or in the gardens of -Le Nôtre; then I would pay compensation to the poet's shade by showing -how posterity puts each one in his proper place and, as days are added -unto days, months to months and years to years, increases the poet's -fame and decreases the power of the king...." - -"What are you looking for, Théophile?" asked Madame de Girardin of -Gautier, who had got up hastily. - -"I am looking for my hat," said Gautier. - -"Girardin is asleep on it," replied Cabarus drily. - -"Oh, don't wake him," said Madame de Girardin. "It will make an -article!" - -"Nevertheless, I cannot go without my hat," said Gautier. - -"Where are you off to?" asked Arsène Houssaye. - -"I am going to write you your lines, of course; you shall have them -to-morrow." - -They pulled Théophile's hat from under Girardin's shoulders. It had -suffered by reason of its position; but what cared Théophile for the -condition of his hat? - -He returned home and set to work. The next day, as he had promised, -Arsène Houssaye had the verses. - -But both poet and manager had reckoned without the Censorship. - -These are Théophile Gautier's lines on the great Corneille,--they were -forbidden by the dramatic censor, as I have said, in the year III -of the Second Republic, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon -Faucher minister and M. Guizard director of the Fine Arts:-- - - "Par une rue étroite, au cœur du vieux Paris, - Au milieu des passants, du tumulte et des cris, - La tête dans le ciel et le pied dans la fange, - Cheminait à pas lents une figure étrange. - C'était un grand vieillard sévèrement drapé, - Noble et sainte misère, en son manteau râpé! - Son œil d'aigle, son front, argenté vers les tempes - Rappelaient les fiertés des plus mâles estampes; - Et l'on eut dit, à voir ce masque souverain, - Une médaille antique à frapper en airain. - Chaque pli de sa joue, austèrement creusée, - Semblait continuer un sillon de pensée, - Et, dans son regard noir, qu'éteint un sombre ennui, - On sentait que l'éclair autrefois avait lui. - Le vieillard s'arrêta dans une pauvre échoppe. - - Le roi-soleil, alors, illuminait l'Europe, - Et les peuples baissaient leurs regards éblouis - Devant cet Apollon qui s'appelait Louis. - A le chanter, Boileau passait ses doctes veilles; - Pour le loger, Mansard entassait ses merveilles; - Cependant, en un bouge, auprès d'un savetier, - Pied nu, le grand Corneille attendait son soulier! - Sur la poussière d'or de sa terre bénie, - Homère, sans chaussure, aux chemins d'Ionie, - Pouvait marcher jadis avec l'antiquité, - Beau comme un marbre grec par Phidias sculpté; - Mais Homère, à Paris, sans crainte du scandale, - Un jour de pluie, eut fait recoudre sa sandale. - Ainsi faisait l'auteur d_'Horace_ et de _Cinna_, - Celui que de ses mains la muse couronna, - Le fier dessinateur, Michel-Ange du drame, - Qui peignit les Romains si grands, d'après son âme. - O pauvreté sublime! ô sacré dénûment! - Par ce cœur héroique accepté simplement! - - Louis, ce vil détail que le bon goût dédaigne, - Ce soulier recousu me gâte tout ton règne. - A ton siècle en perruque et de luxe amoureux, - Je ne pardonne pas Corneille malheureux. - Ton dais fleurdelisé cache mal cette échoppe; - De la pourpre où ton faste à grands plis s'enveloppe, - Je voudrais prendre un pan pour Corneille vieilli, - S'éteignant, pauvre et seul, dans l'ombre et dans l'oubli. - Sur le rayonnement de toute ton histoire, - Sur l'or de ton soleil c'est une tache noire, - O roi! d'avoir laissé, toi qu'ils ont peint si beau, - Corneille sans souliers, Molière sans tombeau! - Mais pourquoi s'indigner! Que viennent les années, - L'équilibre se fait entre les destinées; - A sa place chacun est remis par la mort: - Le roi rentre dans l'ombre, et le poëte en sort! - Pour courtisans, Versaille a gardé ses statues; - Les adulations et les eaux se sont tues; - Versaille est la Palmyre où dort la royauté. - Qui des deux survivra, génie ou majesté? - L'aube monte pour l'un, le soir descend sur l'autre; - Le spectre de Louis, au jardin de Le Notre, - Erre seul, et Corneille, éternel comme un Dieu, - Toujours sur son autel voit reluire le feu, - Que font briller plus vif en ses fêtes natales - Les générations, immortelles vestales. - Quand en poudre est tombé le diadème d'or, - Son vivace laurier pousse et verdit encor; - Dans la postérité, perspective inconnue, - Le poëte grandit et le roi diminue!" - -Now let us have a few words on this matter, Monsieur Guizard, for you -did not reckon things would end here; you did not hope to escape at -the cost of a few words written with a double meaning, inserted in a -newspaper printed yesterday, published to-day and forgotten on the -morrow. - -No, when such outrages are perpetrated upon art, it is meet that the -culprit should be deprived of his natural judges and taken to a higher -court, as your models carried Trélat and Cavaignac to the House of -Peers, as your friends carried Raspail, Hubert and Sobrier to the Court -of Bourges. And I call upon you to appear, Monsieur Guizard, you who -took the place of my friend Cavé, as superintendent of the department -of Fine Arts. - -Look you, now that things are being cut down all round, has not -a letter been economised in the description of your office? and -instead of being responsible for the _department_, are you not really -responsible for the _departure_ of the Fine Arts? Moreover, I have -something to relate that passed between us, three months ago. Do you -remember I had the honour of paying you a visit, three months ago? I -came to give you notice, on behalf of the manager of the Cirque, that -while we were waiting for the _Barrière de Clichy_ we were going to put -the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ in rehearsal. - -"The _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_!" you exclaimed. - -"Yes." - -"But is not the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ a drama written by -yourself?" - -"Yes." - -"Is it not in the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ that the famous chorus -occurs-- - - 'Mourir pour la patrie'?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then, we will not allow the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ to be -played." - -"You will not allow the _Chevalier de Maison-Rouge_ to be played?" - -"No, no, no, no, no!" - -"But why not?" - -Then you looked me in the face and you said to me-- - -"Do you mean to tell me you do not know that the _Chevalier de -Maison-Rouge_ contributed to the establishment of the Republic?" - -You said that to me, Monsieur Guizard! You made that extraordinary -avowal to me, in the year III of the Republic! M. Léon Faucher being -minister of the Republic! you, Monsieur Guizard, being director of the -Fine Arts of the Republic! - -I was so astounded at the reply that I could find nothing else to say -than "How the devil does it come about that I, who lost nearly 200,000 -francs by the coming of the Republic, am a Republican, whilst you, who -gained thereby a post bringing you in 12,000, are a Reactionary?" - -True, you did not condescend to explain this anomaly: I left your -office without discovering a reason, and now, as I write these lines, I -am still at a loss for one! - -Now, in the hope that someone more clever than I at guessing riddles -might be found, I decided to print what happened to me, three months -ago, side by side with what happened to Gautier to-day! - -What can one expect? Every man makes use of the tool or of the -instrument he has in his hand: some have scissors, and they cut; others -have an engraver's tool, and they etch. - -What I write, I warn you, M. Guizard, is translated into eight or nine -different languages. So we shall have the assistance of learned men in -many lands to help us in our researches, and the archæologists of three -generations; for, suppose my works live no longer than the time it -will take for rats to devour them, it will take those creatures quite -a hundred years to eat my thousand volumes. You may tell me that the -order to stop M. Théophile Gautier's verses came from a higher source, -from the minister. To that I have nothing to say: if the order came -from the minister, you were obliged to obey that order. And I must in -that case wend my way to M. Léon Faucher. So be it! - -O Faucher! is it really credible that you, who are so halfhearted a -Republican, you who were so ill-advised, according to my opinion, as to -pay a subsidy to the Théâtre-Français to have the dead exhumed and, the -living buried,--is it really credible, I repeat, that so indifferent -a Republican as yourself, did not wish it said, on the stage that -Corneille created, that genius is higher than royalty, and that -Corneille was greater as a poet than Louis XIV. was as a monarch? - -But, M. Faucher, you know quite as well as I that Louis XIV. was only a -great king because he possessed great ministers and great poets. - -Perhaps you will tell me that great ministers and poets are created by -great kings? - -No, M. Faucher, you will not say that; for I shall retort, "Napoleon, -who was a great emperor, had no Corneille, and Louis XIII., who was a -pitiable king, could boast a Richelieu." - -No, M. le ministre, Louis XIV., believe me, was only great as a king -because (and Michelet, one of the greatest historians who ever lived, -will tell you exactly the same) Richelieu was his precursor, whilst -Corneille's precursor was ... who? Jodelle. - -Corneille did not need either Condé, or Turenne, or Villars, or de -Catinat, or Vauban, or Mazarin, or Colbert, or Louvois, or Boileau, -or Racine, or Benserade, or Le Brun, or Le Nôtre, or even M. de -Saint-Aignan to help him to become a great poet. - -No; Corneille took up a pen, ink and paper; he only had to lean his -head upon his hand and his poetry came. - -Had you but read Théophile Gautier's lines, M. le ministre,--but I am -sure you have not read them,--you must have seen that these verses are -not merely the finest Théophile Gautier ever penned, but the finest -ever written since verses came to be written. You must have seen that -their composition was excellent and their ideas above reproach. A -certain emperor I knew--one whom apparently you did not know--would -have sent the officer's Cross of the Legion of Honour and a pension to -a man who had written those verses. - -You, M. le ministre, sent orders that Théophile Gautier's lines were -not to be read on the stage of the Théâtre-Français! - -But perhaps this order came from higher authority still? Perhaps it -came from the President of the Republic? - -If it came from the President of the Republic, it is another matter -... and it is with the President of the Republic that I must settle my -grievance. - -I shall not take long in dealing with the President of the Republic. - -"Ah! M. le président de la République," I shall say to him, "you -who have forgotten so many things in the overwhelming rush of state -affairs, have you, by any chance, forgotten what Monsieur your uncle -said of the author of the _Cid_, 'If Corneille had lived in my time, I -would have made him a prince.'" - -Now that I have said to the President of the Republic, to M. le -Ministre de l'Intérieur, and to M. le Chef de Division Chargé du -Département des Beaux-Arts, what I had it in my mind to say, let us -return to the year 1823, which also possessed its Censorship, but one -that was much less severe than that of 1851. - - - - -BOOK V - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Chronology of the drama--Mademoiselle Georges Weymer--Mademoiselle -Raucourt--Legouvé and his works--Marie-Joseph Chénier--His letter -to the company of the Comédie-Française--Young boys _perfectionnés_ ---Ducis--His work - - -Now the Royalist reaction of which we were speaking--before we -interrupted ourselves to address the high public functionaries who had -the honour of appearing before our readers in the last chapter--did -not only strike at literary men, but it hit out cruelly, bitterly and -mortally at public men. It began by the expulsion of Manuel from the -Chamber; it closed with the execution of Riégo. But I must confess I -was not so much occupied at that time with the quarrels of the Chamber, -or the Spanish War, or the fête that Madame de Cayla (who was very -kind to me later) gave to Saint-Ouen to celebrate the return of Louis -XVIII., or the death of Pope Pius VII.; there were two events which -were quite as important to my thinking: the first production of Lucien -Arnault's _Pierre de Portugal_, and that of the _École des Vieillards_, -by Casimir Delavigne. Although the dramatic statistics for the year -1823 showed a total production of 209 new plays and of 161 authors -acted, the best theatres, especially during the first nine months of -the year, presented but a sorry show, and were very far removed from -reaching the level of the preceding year. - -Thus, on 26 April, 1822, the Odéon had produced _Attila_ by M. -Hippolyte Bis. On 5 June the Théâtre-Français played Lucien Arnault's -_Régulus._ On 14 June the Odéon played the _Macchabées_ by M. Guiraud: -Frédérick Lemaître, who belonged to the Cirque, played one of the -brothers Macchabées. On 7 November the Théâtre-Français produced M. -Soumet's _Clytemnestre_, in which Talma gave a realistic representation -of the tragic and unhappy fate of Orestes. On 9 November the Odéon put -on its boards the same author's _Saül,_ in which Joanny first began -to make his reputation. Finally, on 21 December, the Théâtre-Français -produced _Valérie_, by MM. Scribe and Mélesville. As against all these -new plays, the year 1823 only offered us the comedy of l'_Éducation -ou les Deux Cousines_ by M. Casimir Bonjour, and _Comte Julien_ by M. -Guiraud. - -_L'Éducation ou les Deux Cousines_ is M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy; -but M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy had the option of being a feeble -production, and it exercised that option. - -While _Comte Julien_ was honest, careful work, as were all the -author's plays, its principal attraction was that the company acting -it contained Mademoiselle Georges, who made her reappearance in Paris -after an absence of four or five years. Mademoiselle Georges was -extremely beautiful at that period, and still had _all her diamonds._ -Those who knew Harel and the fantastic posters he invented know -the part which Mademoiselle Georges' diamonds played in the rôles -Mademoiselle Georges acted. - -I have told my readers that as celebrated characters appear in these -Memoirs I will describe them all as clearly as I can, in the light of -contemporary knowledge; some of them only shone for a very short time -and their light is now extinguished for ever. But what I have to say -about them will be all the more interesting on that account, for what -follows describes my first impressions of them, when they were in the -zenith of their popularity. - -We have remarked that the age of any living actress is not to be -known; but reckoning from the year when Mademoiselle Georges made -her début--that is to say, from 29 November 1802--she must have been -thirty-eight in 1823. Just a word to explain how Mademoiselle Georges -gained access to the theatre and how she managed to remain on the -boards. Loved by Bonaparte, and retained in his favour when he became -Napoleon, Mademoiselle Georges, who begged to be allowed to accompany -Napoleon to Saint-Helena, is almost a historical personage. - -Towards the close of the year 1800 and the beginning of 1801 -Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was leading lady in tragedy at the -Théâtre-Français, went on tour in the provinces. This was at a time -when although Government had plenty to do, it was not ashamed to -concern itself with the arts in its spare moments. Mademoiselle -Raucourt had therefore received orders from the Government to look out -for any pupil during her tour whom she might think worth instruction, -and to bring her back to Paris. This young lady was to be considered -the pupil of the Government, and would receive a grant of 1200 francs. - -Mademoiselle Raucourt stopped at Amiens. There she discovered a -beautiful young girl of fifteen years of age who looked to be eighteen; -you might have thought that the Venus of Milo had descended from her -pedestal. Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was almost as classic in her -tastes as the Lesbian Sappho, admired statuesque beauty immensely. When -she saw the way this young girl walked--her gait that of the goddess, -to use Virgil's phrase--the actress made inquiries and found that her -name was Georges Weymer; that she was the daughter of a German musician -named Georges Weymer, manager of the theatre, and of Mademoiselle -Verteuil the actress who played the chambermaid parts. - -This young lady was destined for tragedy. Mademoiselle Raucourt -made her play Élise, with her, in _Didon_, and Aricie in _Phèdre._ -The experiment succeeded, and the very night of the performance of -_Phèdre,_ Mademoiselle Raucourt asked the young tragédienne's parents' -leave to take her. - -The prospect of being a Government pupil, and, better still, the pupil -of Mademoiselle Raucourt, was, with the exception of some slight -drawbacks in the way of regulations to which the young girl had -perforce to agree, too tempting an offer in the eyes of her parents to -be refused. The request was granted, and Mademoiselle Georges departed, -followed by her mother. The lessons lasted eighteen months. During -these eighteen months the young pupil lived in a poor hotel in the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs, which, probably ironically, was named the -_hôtel du Pérou._ - -Mademoiselle Raucourt lived at the end of the allée des Veuves, in a -magnificent house which had belonged to Madame Tallien and which, no -doubt also ironically, was called _The Cottage (la Chaumière)._ We have -called Mademoiselle Georges' residence "a magnificent house": we should -also have said "a small house," for it was a perfect specimen of a -bijou villa in the style of Louis XV. - -Towards the end of the eighteenth century--that strange epoch when -people called things by their right names--Sapho-Raucourt enjoyed a -reputation the originality of which she took not the least pains to -hide. - -Mademoiselle Raucourt's attitude towards men was more than -indifference, it was hatred. The writer of these lines has in his -possession a memorandum signed by this famous actress which is a -regular war-cry against the masculine sex, and in which the modern -Queen of the Amazons calls upon every lovely warrior enrolled under her -orders to open rupture with men. - -Nothing could be more odd than the form and, above all, the -subject-matter of this manifesto. And yet, strange to relate, in -spite of this contempt towards us, Mademoiselle Raucourt, whenever -the costume of her sex was not indispensable to her, adopted that of -our sex. Thus, very often, in the morning, Mademoiselle Raucourt gave -lessons to her beautiful pupil in trousers, with a dressing-gown over -them,--just as M. Molé or M. Fleury would have done,--a pretty woman by -her side who addressed her as "dear fellow," and a charming child who -called her "papa." - -We did not know Mademoiselle Raucourt,--she died in 1814, and her -funeral created a great sensation,--but we knew her mother, who died -in 1832 or 1833; and we still know the _childy_ who is to-day a man of -fifty-five. - -We were acquainted with an actor whose whole career was blighted by -Mademoiselle Raucourt on account of some jealousy he had the misfortune -to arouse in the terrible Lesbian. Mademoiselle Raucourt appealed to -the Committee of the Théâtre-Français, reminded them of her rights of -possession and of priority in respect of the girl whom the impertinent -comedian wished to seduce from her, and, the priority and the -possession being recognised, the impudent comedian, who is still living -and is one of the most straightforward men imaginable, was hounded -out of the theatre, the members of the company believing that, as in -the case of Achilles, Mademoiselle Raucourt, because of this modern -Briseis, would retire in sulks. - -Let us return to the young girl, whose mother never left her a -single instant during the visits she paid to her teacher: three -times a week had she to traverse the long distance between the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs and the allée des Veuves in order to take -her lessons. Her first appearances were fixed to take place at the -end of November. They were to be in _Clytemnestre_, in _Émilie,_ in -_Aménaïde_, in _Idamé_, in _Didon_ and in _Sémiramis._ - -A début at the Théâtre-Français in 1802 was a great affair both for -the artiste and for the public; it was a still greater matter to be -received into the company; for if one joined the troupe, it meant, -in the case of a man, becoming a colleague of Monvel, of Saint-Prix, -of Baptiste senior, of Talma, of Lafond, of Saint-Phal, of Molé, of -Fleury, of Armand, of Michot, of Grandménil, of Dugazon, of Dazincourt, -of Baptiste junior, of la Rochelle; in the case of a woman, one became -the companion of Mademoiselle Raucourt, of Mlle. Contat, of Mlle. -Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. -Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars. - -The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre -Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: -Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and -Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in -due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but -who detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I -came to Paris. - -Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. He it was who, -when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance, was directing the -débuts of Mademoiselle Duchesnois with an almost fatherly affection; -he had produced the _Mort d'Abel_ in 1793, a patriarchal tragedy which -owed its success, first to the talent of the author, secondly and more -especially, to its opposition to current events. It was played between -the execution of Louis XVI. and that of Marie-Antoinette, between the -September Massacres and the execution of the Girondists; it distracted -people's minds for the moment from the sight of the blood which flowed -down the gutters. When they had witnessed all day long bodies hanging -from the lamp-posts and heads carried on the ends of pikes, they were -not sorry to spend their evening with shepherds and shepherdesses. Nero -crowned himself with roses and sang Ionic verses after watching Rome -burn. - -In 1794 Legouvé had produced _Épicharis._ The last act contained a very -fine monologue, which he certainly had not created himself, but which -he had borrowed from a page of Mercier. This final act made the success -of the play. I heard Talma declaim the monologue in his pompous style. - -Finally, in 1799, Legouvé had produced _Étéocle. Étéocle_ was a -failure, or nearly so; and, seeing this, instead of providing a fresh -tragedy for the Théâtre-Français, Legouvé introduced a new tragic -actress. Mademoiselle Duchesnois had just completed her exceedingly -successful début when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance. - -As I have promised to speak in due course of Lemercier, Alexandre Duval -and Picard, I will now finish what I have to say about Chénier and -Ducis, of whom I shall probably not have occasion to speak again. - -Marie-Joseph Chénier possessed singular conceit. I have a dozen of his -letters before me, written about _Charles IX._; I will pick out one -which is a model of naïvete: it will show from what standpoint men whom -certain critics have the audacity to call masters, and who probably -are masters in their eyes, look upon historic tragedy. - -The letter was addressed to French comedians: it was intended to -make them again take up _Charles IX.,_ which those gentlemen refused -absolutely to play. Why did not French comedians want to play _Charles -IX.,_ since _Charles IX._ made money? Ah! I must whisper the reason in -your ear, or rather, say it out loud: it was because Talma's part in it -was such an enormous success. Here is the letter:-- - - "Pressed on all sides, gentlemen, by the friends - of liberty, several of whom are of the number - of confederated deputies, to give at once a few - representations of _Charles IX.,_ I ask you to announce - the thirty-fourth appearance of this tragedy on your - play-bills, for one day next week, independently of - another work that I have composed to celebrate the - anniversary of the Federation. - - You may like to know that I intend to add _several lines - applicable to this interesting event,_ in the part of the - Chancellor of the Hospital, for I am always anxious to - pay my tribute as a citizen; and you, gentlemen, could - not show your patriotism on this occasion in a better - way than by playing the only _truly national_ tragedy - which still exists in France, a tragedy philosophical in - subject, and worthy of the stage, even in the opinion of - M. de Voltaire, who, you will admit, knew what he was - talking about. In this tragedy I have made a point of - _sounding the praises of the citizen king_ who governs us - to-day.--Accept my sincere regards," etc. - -Can you imagine the Chancellor of the Hospital lauding the Fete of the -Federation, and Charles IX. singing the praises of Louis XVI.? - -Ah well!... - -Chénier had made his début in _Charles IX.,_ which he wanted to have -reproduced, and its reproduction caused Danton and Camille Desmoulins -to be taken before the police magistrate, accused of having got up -conspiracies in the pit. _Henri VIII._ followed _Charles IX._ with -similar success. Two years after _Henri VIII., Calas_ was produced. -Finally, on 9 January 1793, at the height of Louis XVI.'s trial, and -some days before that poor king's death, Chénier produced _Fénélon,_, -a rose-water tragedy, of the same type as the _Mort d'Abel_, which had -that kind of success one's friends term a triumph, and one's enemies a -failure. - -Chénier counted on reviving his success by _Timoléon_. But Robespierre, -who had heard the work talked of, read it and stopped it. Listen, you -wielders of the Censorship! Robespierre trod in your footsteps; he -stopped _Timoléon_ as your confrères, before him, had stopped _Tartufe_ -to no purpose; _Mahomet_, to no purpose; _Mariage de Figaro_, to no -purpose; and so we come at last to you, who have stopped _Pinto_ to no -purpose, _Marion Delorme_ to no purpose, and _Antony_ to no purpose. - -Robespierre, we repeat, stopped _Timoléon_, declaring that, as long as -he was alive, the piece should never be played. Yes, but Robespierre -proved himself ignorant of the temper of the age in which he and his -contemporaries lived; he counted without 9 Thermidor.... Robespierre -followed Danton to the scaffold, and _Timoléon_ was played. - -Unfortunately, two days before Robespierre, death claimed the -sweet-voiced swan whom men called André Chénier, a poet even as his -brother, though of a different make, and no writer of tragedies. - -How was it that Marie-Joseph Chénier found time to look after the -rehearsals of his tragedy, so soon after Thermidor, and immediately -upon the death of his brother? - -Ah! André was only his brother, and _Timoléon_ was his child. - -But many-headed Nemesis was watching over the forgotten poet and -preparing a terrible vengeance. _Timoléon_ killed his brother, and -Chénier was accused of not having saved his. - -Cries were raised for the name of the author. - -"No need!" cried a voice from the pit. "The author's name is _Cain_!" - -From that day Chénier renounced the theatre, although there were -rumours of two plays lying waiting to come forth some day from his -portfolio, called _Tibère_ and _Philippe II._ - -Ducis succeeded Chénier. - -After the death of Beaumarchais--who had written two charming comedies -of intrigue and three poor dramas--Ducis became the patriarch of -literature. - -There was in Rome, under all the popes down to the days of Gregory -XVI., who had them removed, a sign over certain surgeon's doors with -the inscription-- - -"Ici on _perfectionne_ les petits garçons." - -The reader will understand what that means: parents who desired that -their boys should remain beardless, and possess pretty voices, took -their children to these establishments, and by a twist of the hand they -were ... _perfectionnés_. - -Ducis did to Sophocles and to Shakespeare pretty much what Roman -surgeons did to small boys. Those who like smooth chins and sweet -voices may prefer the _Œdipe-roi, Œdipe à Colone, Hamlet, Macbeth, -Roméo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ of Ducis, to the _Œdipus_ of -Sophocles and the _Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ -of Shakespeare; but we must confess that we like Nature in all her -virility, that we think the stronger a man is, the more beautiful he -is and that we prefer entire dramas to castrated ones: this being -so, whether in the case of small boys or of tragedies, we hold all -_perfectionnement_ to be sacrilege. But let us give Ducis his due. He -led the way to Sophocles by a poor road, to Shakespeare by a narrow -path; but, at all events, he left those guide-posts by the way, -which Voltaire had taken such pains to remove. When Voltaire made a -veil for Zaire out of Desdemona's handkerchief, he was very careful -to obliterate the mark on the linen he stole. This was more than -imitation--it was theft. - -In the period that elapsed between 1769 and 1795, Ducis produced -_Hamlet, Œdipe chez Admète, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello_ and _Abufar._ -This was the condition of the Théâtre-Français, this was the state of -French literature, in the year of grace 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte -was First Consul, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were assistant consuls. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets--Luce de Lancival ---Baour-Lormian--_Lebrun-Pindare_--Lucien Bonaparte, the author--Début -of Mademoiselle Georges--The Abbé Geoffroy's critique--Prince -Zappia--Hermione at Saint-Cloud - - -Let us here insert a word or two about Bonaparte's little Court. We are -writing memoirs now, and not novels; we must therefore replace fiction -by truth, plot by digressions and intrigue by desultory pages. - -Oh! if only some man had left us information about the sixteenth, -seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such as I have attempted to leave -about the nineteenth, how I should have blessed him, and what hard work -he would have spared me! - -A few words, therefore, as I have hinted, about Bonaparte and his -little Court. - -The début of Mademoiselle Georges had made a great sensation at Paris -and at la Malmaison. Formerly, one would have said at Paris and at -Versailles,--but Versailles was no more in 1802. - -The First Consul and his family were greatly interested in literature -at that time. Bonaparte's favourite poets were at the two extremes of -art, Corneille and Ossian: Corneille as representative of the powers of -the intellect, Ossian in the realms of imagination. So Corneille and -Ossian took the most prominent place among the poets who figured in the -catalogue of his Egyptian library. This partiality for the Scottish -bard was so well known that Bourrienne, when he organised the library, -guessed who was meant, though Bonaparte had written the word "_Océan_." - -It was not Bonaparte's fault if poets failed him, although he had -proscribed three of the greatest of his time: Chateaubriand, Madame -de Staël and Lemercier. Bonaparte demanded poets from the Chancellor -of the University, just as he demanded soldiers from his Minister for -War. Unhappily, it was easier for M. le Duc de Feltre to find 300,000 -conscripts than for M. de Fontanes to find a dozen poets. So Napoleon -was obliged to hang on to all he could find, to Lebrun, to Luce de -Lancival, to Baour-Lormian: they all had posts and incomes as though -they were true poets--in addition to compliments. - -"You have written a fine tragedy," Napoleon once said to Luce de -Lancival, about his _Hector_: "I will have it played in one of my -camps." And on the night of the representation he authorised a pension -of six thousand francs to be granted Luce de Lancival, with the -message, "seeing that poets are always in need of money," he should be -paid a year in advance. Read _Hector_ and you will see that it was not -worth the first payment of six thousand francs. Napoleon also placed -Luce de Lancival's nephew, Harel, under Cambacérès, and made him a -sub-prefect in 1815. - -Baour-Lormian also received a pension of six thousand livres; but -according to the witty complaint he laid before the Bourbons concerning -the persecutions of the usurper, despotism had been pushed "to the -extreme of punishing him with a pension of two thousand crowns," which, -he adds, admitting his weakness, he had not dared to decline. - -One day--during the rumours of war that were spread abroad in the year -1809--an ode fell into Napoleon's hands which began with this strophe:-- - - "Suspends ici ton vol.... D'où viens-tu, Renommée? - Qu'annoncent tes cent voix à l'Europe alarmée?... - --Guerre!--Et quels, ennemis veulent être vaincus? - --Russe, Allemand, Suédois déjà lèvent la lance; - Ils menacent la France! - --Reprends ton vol, déesse, et dis qu'ils ne sont plus!" - -This beginning struck him, and he asked-- - -"Whose verses are these?" - -"M. Lebrun's, sire." - -"Has he a pension already?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"Add a second pension of one hundred louis to that which he already -has." - -And they added one hundred louis to the pension already drawn by -Lebrun, who went by the name of _Lebrun-Pindare_, because he turned out -ten thousand lines of this kind of thing:-- - - "La colline qui vers le pôle - Domine d'antiques marais,[1] - Occupe les enfants d'Éole[2] - A broyer les dons de Cérès;[3] - Vanvres, qu'habite Galatée,[4] - Du nectar d'Io, d'Amalthée, - Epaissit les flots écumeux; - Et Sèvres, de sa pure argile, - Nous pétrit l'albâtre fragile - Où Moka nous verse ses feux."[5] - -But something happened that no one had foreseen: there lived another -poet called Pierre Lebrun--not Lebrun-Pindare. The ode was written -by Pierre Lebrun, not by Lebrun-Pindare. So it came to pass that -Lebrun-Pindare enjoyed for a long time the pension earned by Pierre -Lebrun. Thus we see that Napoleon did his utmost to discover poets, and -that it was not his fault if they were not found. - -When Casimir Delavigne published his first work in 1811, a dithyrambic -to the King of Rome, it began with this line:-- - - "Destin, qui m'as promis l'empire de la terre!" - -Napoleon scented a poet, and, although the lines smacked of the -schoolboy, he bestowed the academic prize and a post in the excise on -the author. - -Talma was poetry personified. So, since 1792, Napoleon had allied -himself with Talma. Where did he spend his evenings? In the wings -of the Théâtre-Français; and more than once, pointing out the man -who, twenty years later, was to send from Moscow his famous decree -concerning comedians, the porter asked Talma-- - -"Who is that young officer?" - -"Napoleon Bonaparte." - -"His name is not down on the free list." - -"Never mind; he is one of my friends: he comes with me." "Oh, if he is -with you, that is another matter." - -Later, Talma had, in his turn, the run of the Tuileries, and more than -one ambassador, more than one prince, more than one king asked the -emperor-- - -"Sire, who is that man?" - -And Napoleon would reply-- - -"He is Talma, one of my friends." - -Once, when noticing the ease with which Talma draped himself in his -toga, Napoleon said, "That man will be able to teach me one day how to -wear the imperial mantle." - -It was not all joy to have a First Consul who liked Corneille and -Ossian; this First Consul had brothers who tried to become poets. -They did not succeed; but, at all events, they made the attempt. We -must give credit to good intentions. Lucien wrote poetry. The fierce -Republican--who refused kingships, and who ended by allowing himself -to be made a Roman prince: a prince of what? I ask you! Prince de -Petit-Chien (_Canino_),--wrote poetry. A poem of his, entitled -_Charlemagne_, remains to remind us of him, or rather, it does not -remain, for it is dead enough. Louis took up another line: he wrote -blank verse, finding it easier than to compose rhymed verse. He -travestied Molière's _l'Avare_ in this fashion. Joséphine, the creole -coquette, with her nonchalant grace and her adaptable mind, welcomed -everyone, letting the world spin as it liked around her, like Hamlet -and, like Hamlet, praising everybody. - -Talma was a privileged guest in the little bourgeois Court. He talked -of the débutante, Mademoiselle Georges; he spoke of her beauty and -promising talent. Lucien became excited over her, and for all the -world like John the Baptist in the rôle of a precursor, he managed to -have a peep at the subject of the talk of the day, through a keyhole -somewhere, or mayhap through a wide open door, and he returned to -Malmaison, with a rather suspicious enthusiasm, to report that the -débutante's physical beauty was certainly below the praises sung -concerning it. - -The great day arrived--Monday, 8th Frimaire, year XI (29 November -1802). There had been a crowd waiting outside the Théâtre de la -République since eleven o'clock in the morning. - -Here, with the reader's permission, we will introduce Geoffroy's -account. Geoffroy was a worthless, shallow, unconscientious critic, who -had won his reputation at the time of the Terror, and who handed on his -pen to a wretch of his own kidney, to whom justice had several times -been dealt by the police courts;-a way of dealing with things which -seems to me to be a great improvement on the times of our forefathers. -We cannot possibly have degenerated in everything! - -Geoffroy did not spoil débutants, male or female, especially if they -were not wealthy. Hear what this sometime prince of critics had to say -about Mademoiselle Georges. - -There has always been a man called the prince of critics in France. -It is not the rank that is called in question, but the dignity of the -particular holder of it. - - THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE - _Iphigénie en Aulide_ - Pour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymer - élève de Mademoiselle Raucourt - - "Sufficient measures were not taken to control the - extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. - All the police were busily engaged at the box offices - during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors - were almost unprotected and sustained a terrific siege. - Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic - account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary - actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I - was acquainted with the danger. - - ... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi, - Et quorum pars magna fui!' - - "The assailants were inspired with the desire to see - the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a - celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity - is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such - scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, - suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot - all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent - only on opening a passage at the expense of all who - surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than - such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and - philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among - a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have - better plays and better actors than the Athenians,--that - is not yet sufficiently established,--but it is certain - that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility - at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress - of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for - frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since - history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of - intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is - also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends - countenance to the theory that the plays most run after - must necessarily be the best...." - -Would my readers have suspected that the famous Geoffroy could write in -such a style?--No?--Well, neither would I. - -Let us proceed. As we advance, its dulness ceases: it becomes almost -fanciful. - - "When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they - exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth - fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace - is more to be desired.' - - "And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be - wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order - to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible - for her to be more beautiful than she is, it would still - be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; - for spectators will be more severely critical in their - estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a - sight of her. - - "Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly - extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does - not fall below expectation. Her features combine the - regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; - her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she - walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, - her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect - model for Guérin's chisel...." - -Ah, Geoffroy, I do not know whether the critics of the time of Pericles -were better than those of the age of Bonaparte, first of that name; -but I do know that at least one or two of ours can write in a better -style.... - -You think not? - -Well, then, here is a portrait of the same person, written by a critic -in 1835. Notice the progress in style made in the thirty-three years -between Geoffroy's time and that of Théophile Gautier. - - "If I mistake not, Mademoiselle Georges is like a - medallion from Syracuse or an Isis from an Æginæan - bas-relief. The arch of her eyebrows, traced with - incomparable fineness and purity, extends over dark eyes - which are full of fire and flashes of tragic lightning. - Her nose is thin and straight, with obliquely cut - nostrils which dilate when she is passionately moved; her - whole profile is grand in its simple uniformity of line. - The mouth is strong, superbly haughty and sharp at its - corners, like the lips of an avenging Nemesis, who awaits - the hour to let loose her iron-clawed lion; yet over her - lips flickers a charming smile, full of regal grace; and - it would be impossible to believe, when she chooses to - express the tender passions, that she has hurled forth, - but a short while before, a classic imprecation or a - modern anathema. Her chin is full of character and of - determination; it is firmly set, and its majestic curves - relieve a profile that belongs rather to a goddess than - to a mortal. Mademoiselle Georges possesses, in common - with all the beautiful women of pagan ages, a broad - forehead, full at the temples, but not high, very like - that of the Venus de Milo, a wilful, voluptuous, powerful - forehead. There is a remarkable peculiarity about her - neck: instead of rounding off inwardly from the nape, it - forms a full and unbroken curve and unites the shoulders - to the base of her head without the slightest flaw. The - set of her arms is somewhat formidable by reason of the - strength of the muscles and the firmness of contour; one - of her shoulder-straps would make a girdle for the waist - of a medium-sized woman; but they are very white, very - clear, and they end in a wrist of childlike fragility - and tiny dimpled hands--hands which are truly regal, - fashioned to hold the sceptre and to clasp the dagger's - hilt in the plays of Æschylus and Euripides." - -Thank you, my dear Théophile, for allowing me to quote that splendid -passage, and pardon me for placing you in such bad company. Faugh! - -I now return to Geoffroy. He continues:-- - - "Talent responded to beauty. The theatre was packed - throughout and thoroughly excited; the First Consul - and all his family were in the box to the right of the - proscenium; he clapped his hands several times, but this - did not prevent some signs of opposition breaking out at - the line-- - - 'Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit.' ..." - -Excuse me! I must again interrupt myself, or rather, I must interrupt -Geoffroy. - -The reader knows that it was the custom for the audience to look -forward to the way in which debutantes delivered this line. - -Why so? the reader may inquire. - -Ah! truly, one does not know these things unless one is compelled to -know them. - -I will explain. - -Because that line is too simple, and unworthy of tragedy. - -You may not, perhaps, have been aware of that, monsieur? Perhaps it -is news to madame, who does me the honour to listen to me? But your -servant Geoffroy, who is obliged to read everything, knew it. - -Now, listen carefully; for we have not reached the end. This line -being, from its simplicity, unworthy of tragedy, the audience wanted to -see how the actress, correcting the poet, would treat it. - -Mademoiselle Georges did not pretend to possess greater genius than -Racine: she delivered the line simply, and with the most natural -intonation imaginable, since it was written with the simplicity of -passion. The audience dissented; she repeated it with the same accent; -again they demurred. - -Fortunately, Raucourt was present, in spite of an accident she had met -with; she had had herself carried to the theatre, and encouraged her -pupil from a little box, concealed behind a harlequin's cloak. - -"Be bold, Georgine! Stick to it!" she cried. - -And Georgine--it will appear odd to you, I imagine, that Mademoiselle -Georges should ever have been called _Georgine_ repeated the line for -the third time in the same simple and natural accent. The audience -applauded. From that moment her success was assured, as they say in -theatrical parlance. - -"The only thing that marred the play (said Geoffroy) was _Talma's lack -of intelligence, proportion and nobility in the part of Achilles._" - -I begin to think we must have been deceived in the matter of worthy M. -Geoffroy's impartiality and that he had received before the play a very -significant message from one of the members of the Bonaparte family who -was in the box of the First Consul. - -Mademoiselle Georges played the part of Clytemnestra three times -running. It was an immense success. Then she went on to the part of -Aménaïde,--_that maiden attacked with hysterical vapours_, as Geoffroy -said later,--and her popularity went on increasing. Then, after the -rôle of Aménaïde, she took the part of Idamé in _l'Orphelin de la -Chine._ - -If men wondered how debutantes in the part of Clytemnestra would -deliver the famous line so unworthy of Racine-- - - "Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit...." - -women waited just as impatiently for the appearance of debutantes in -the part of Idamé to see how they would dress their hair. - -Mademoiselle Georges' hair was arranged very simply _à la -chinoise_--that is to say, with her locks arranged on the top of -her head and tied with a golden ribbon. This arrangement suited her -admirably, so I was told, not by Lucien but by his brother King Jérôme, -a keen appreciator of beauty in all its forms, who, like Raucourt, kept -the habit of calling Georges, _Georgine._ - -The night that the _Orphelin de la Chine_ was to be played, whilst -Georgine, about whom, at that hour, the whole of Paris was talking, -was partaking of a lentil supper at the _hôtel du Pérou_,--not -because, like Esau, she was fond of this fare, but because there was -nothing else in the house,--Prince Zappia was announced. Who might -Prince Zappia be? Was he, too, a prince among critics? Not so: he was -a real prince, one of those art-loving princes whose line died out -with the Prince de Ligne, a Prince Hénin, one of those princes who -frequented the lounge of the Comédie-Française, as Prince Pignatelli -did the lounge of the Opéra. The lounge of the Comédie-Française was, -apparently, a wonderful place in those days--I only saw the remains of -it. - -After each great representation--and every time such actors as Talma, -Raucourt, Contat, Monvel or Molé played was a great occasion--all the -noted people in the artistic, diplomatic or aristocratic circles went -to have a few minutes' chat in the box of the hero or of the heroine of -the evening; then they returned to the lounge and joined the general -company there. - -Bonaparte's budding Court, which made such efforts to establish -itself as a Court, was rarely as brilliant as the lounge of the -Théâtre-Français. - -We were privileged to witness the fading light of those brilliant days -when it shone on the box of Mademoiselle Mars. - -All came to these assemblies in full dress. There were scarcely -any who had not their own footstools, chairs and lounges. These -were very formal occasions and, indeed, to be called a "_dame de la -Comédie-Française_" meant a great deal; people still remember the -occasion of the first attack upon this crusted etiquette. - -It was Mademoiselle Bourgoin who broke through it, by asking for some -cakes and a glass of Alicante. The old members of the company raised -their hands to Heaven in that day and cried out at such an abomination -of desolation. And their dismay was quite logical: a breach, if not -repaired, is ever apt to grow larger, especially in a theatre. And that -very infraction is responsible for the beer and fried eggs of to-day. - -Well, as Georgine was eating her lentils, Prince Zappia was announced -to her. What did Prince Zappia want at such an hour? He came to offer -the key of a suite of rooms in the rue des Colonnes, which he had -furnished since the previous evening at a cost of over fifty thousand -francs. He assured the fair Georgine, as he handed her this key, that -it was the one and only key that existed. - -An oath was needed to induce the débutante to leave the _hôtel du -Pérou._ This oath Prince Zappia took. On what did he swear? We don't -know. We inquired of Mademoiselle Georges herself; but she replied to -us, with the magnificent naïvete of a Lucrezia Borgia-- - -"Why do you wish to know that, my dear fellow? Many people have sworn -oaths to me which they have not kept." - -Lucien was not at all pleased at this change of residence. Lucien was -not a prince at that time; Lucien was not wealthy; Lucien made love to -her as a scholar; Lucien laid claim to the position of lover, which is -always a rather difficult matter when one's apartments are dingy and -cupboards bare: he was present one evening, I repeat, when Hermione's -chambermaid came into her apartment, thoroughly scared, and told her -that the First Consul's valet de chambre had come. - -The First Consul's valet de chambre? he who had dressed him on the -morning of 18 Brumaire? No! quite another person than Prince Zappia! -They showed the First Consul's valet de chambre in with as much -deference as they would have shown in 1750 to M. Lebel when he visited -Madame Dumesnil. - -The First Consul awaited Hermione at Saint-Cloud. Hermione was to come -as she was: she could change her clothes there. The invitation was -curt, but quite characteristic of the First Consul's manners. - -Antony, it will be remembered, bade Cleopatra join him in Cilicia. -Bonaparte might well beg Hermione to join him at Saint-Cloud. The -Grecian princess was not prouder than the Queen of Egypt; Hermione -was not less beautiful than Cleopatra, and ought to have been taken -down the Seine in a gilded galley, just as the Queen of Egypt ascended -the Cydnus. But that would have taken too long: the First Consul was -impatient to pay his addresses and, admitting the weakness artistes -have for flattery, the débutante was probably in no less hurry to -receive them. - -Hermione reached Saint-Cloud half an hour after midnight, and left -it at six in the morning. She came out victorious as Cleopatra: like -Cleopatra, she had had the conqueror of the world at her feet. But the -conqueror of the world, who thought it astonishing that a débutante, -whom his brother had told him lived in the _hôtel du Pérou_, drank -water and lived on lentils, should possess an English veil worth a -hundred louis and a cashmere shawl worth a thousand crowns, tore in -pieces, in a fit of jealousy, both the cashmere shawl and the English -veil. - -I have often argued with Georges that this was not done out of -jealousy, but simply for the fun of the thing. She always persisted it -was done out of jealousy, and I had not the desire to contradict her. - -Some days after Georgine's little nocturnal journey, the rumour of her -triumph leaked out; she was playing the part of Émilie, and when she -declaimed, in accents of true Roman pride, the line-- - -"Si j'ai séduit Cinna, j'en séduirai bien d'autres...." the whole -audience turned towards the First Consul's box and burst into applause. - -From that night there sprang up two dramatic, and almost political, -factions in the Théâtre-Français: the partisans of Mademoiselle -Georges, and the partisans of Mademoiselle Duchesnois--the _Georgians_, -and the _Carcassians._ The word _Carcassians_ was doubtless substituted -for _Circassians_ as being more expressive. But what is the meaning of -the word? Upon my word, I dare not say: I leave it to the investigation -of savants and the research of etymologists. Lucien Bonaparte, Madame -Bacciochi and Madame Lætitia were at the head of the _Georgians_; -Joséphine flung herself headlong into the _Carcassian_ party; -Cambacérès remained neutral. - - -[1] Montmartre. - -[2] Le vent. - -[3] Le blé. - -[4] Galatée ayant été nymphe, _Vauvres, qu'habite Galatée_, signifie: -Vauvres où il y a des bergers. - -[5] Façon poétique de dire qu'il y a une manufacture de porcelaines à -Sèvres. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Imperial literature--The _Jeunesse de Henri IV_.--Mercier -and Alexandre Duval--The _Templiers_ and their author--César -Delrieu--Perpignan--Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the -Théâtre-Français--Her flight to Russia--The galaxy of kings--The -tragédienne acts as ambassador - - -In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français -under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at -a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were -practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour -that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of -Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that -this double result was attained. - -"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day. - -"He left me to become an emperor," she replied. - -Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges -and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as -emperor. - -This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; -but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his -usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until -the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his -audience with him. - -Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course. - -In 1803, Hoffmann's _Roman d'une heure_ was played. In 1804, -_Shakespeare amoureux_ by Alexandre Duval, _Molière avec ses amis_ -by Andrieux, and the _Jeune Femme colère_ of Étienne were played. -In 1805, the _Tyran domestique_ and the _Menuisier de Livonie_ of -Alexandre Duval were played; Charon's _Tartufe de mœurs_, Bouilly's -_Madame de Sévigné_ and the _Filles à marier_ of Picard; and in 1806 -appeared Picard's _Marionnettes_, Alexandre Duval's _Jeunesse de Henri -V._ _Omasis_ or _Joseph en Égypte_ by Baour-Lormian and the _Templiers_ -by Raynouard. - -The two greatest successes of this last period were the _Templiers_ -and the _Jeunesse de Henri V._ The _Jeunesse de Henri V._ was borrowed -from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and -published but not played, was called _Charles II, dans un certain -lieu._ One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier -had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its -offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the -theatre of the rue de Richelieu. - -On the night of the representation of the _Jeunesse de Henri V_., -Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to -him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the -Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, -the idiots!" - -Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and -wrote nothing for two years. - -But the real success of the year, the literary success, was the -_Templiers._ This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic -work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous -success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at -one bound into the Academy. - -The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had -created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. -At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. -Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy of _Télémaque._ Who -ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out of _Télémaque_? - -A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in -danger of deluding myself. Was it _Lebrun-Pindare_? Was it Lebrun the -ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun the future Academician, peer of France, -director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I -do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and -whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound -as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of -Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined -talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did the -_Cid d'Andalousie,_ twenty years later, in spite of the combined -efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars. - -As we were present at the first representation of the _Cid -d'Andalousie_, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. -Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of the _Templiers._ He -continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts -from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the -University. - -He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. -Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on -Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more -than three tragedies: the _Templiers_, of which we have spoken; the -_États de Blois_, which was not so good as the _Templiers_; and _Caton -d'Utique_, which was not so good as the _États de Blois_. Napoleon -was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand -conscripts and his poet. - -In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and -M. Baour-Lormian, the author of the _Templiers_ and the author of -_Omasis_. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of -fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad. - -We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the -Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets -of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who -counted only the dukes of his own creation. - -It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes -began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just -discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. -This poet's name was Luce de Lancival. We have already spoken of him, -when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy -M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions -called _Mucius Scævola_ and ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten -the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall -had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them. - -Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store by _Hector._ He was -appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." -This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands. - -A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the -preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy of -_Artaxercès._ There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time -Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" -This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him -thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less -talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings -of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the -archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called -Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended -by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals -of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the -actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which -might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of -the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece -performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection -with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the -expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play -was called the _Oncle d'Amérique_, and by inscribing Perpignan upon -the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow -with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to -add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this -privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did -take advantage of it. - -One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase -that led to the lounge of the Odéon. - -"Good-evening, confrère," he said. - -"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu. - -"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded -Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable. - -When _Artaxercès_ was again put on the stage, at the time when we saw -it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, -the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what -is called in theatrical parlance _a dead failure (un four complet)._ - -A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him-- - -"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?" - -"With them? Never!" - -"What have they done to you now?" - -"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know -my _Artaxercès_, a chef-d'œuvre?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its -emptiest!" - -And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the -Comédie-Française. - -But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from -the revival of _Artaxercès_ to its first performance, which will bring -us to 30 April 1808. - -Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played -it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous -rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the -town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had -carried her off--His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias. - -The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than -ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk -much better French than we do. - -The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. -In tragedy queens alone it could boast Mademoiselle Raucourt, -Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges. - -The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should -lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz -and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The -business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian -diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand -Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, -to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. -Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were -busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of -Mademoiselle Georges. - -But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français -fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever -been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the -news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection -the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful -Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not -stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; -but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred -himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, -in diplomatic terms, to a _casus belli_, and Mademoiselle Georges -received an invitation to continue her journey. - -If the reader does not know what a _casus belli_ is, he can learn it -from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. -Thiers presented two or three _casus belli_ to the Powers, to which the -Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to -him, quite fresh and unused. - -Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of -Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause -from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout -the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly -scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, -unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was -in St. Petersburg. - -When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before -his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning -empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded -by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in -St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. -Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might -carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his -poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on -those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great -poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic -poets. - -So _Mérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, Iphigénie_ and _Andromaque_ were played -in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. -Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, -kept to the front. - -Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree -concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother -Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his -brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of -Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he -deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded -her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful -strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever -a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his -footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden -behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave -birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose -fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, -Antony had offered to Cæsar. - -Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a -few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think -of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave -a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old -and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this -sumptuous entertainment. - -Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings -and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, -princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the -rendezvous. - -On 28 September 1808, _Cinna_ was performed before the Emperor -Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the -following day, the 29th, _Britannicus_ was played. In that interval of -twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William -of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, -who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the -death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, -mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost -that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre called _the sceptre of -the world._ - -On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to -present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned -(without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de -Grenelle) the name of the author of _Faust_ is perhaps the only one -which will survive. - -On the 3rd, _Philoctète_ was played. It was during this performance -that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line-- - - "L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!" - ---the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want -of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to -Waterloo. During the second act of _Philoctète_ the King of Wurtemberg -arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on -one of the seats reserved for kings. - -On 4 October, _Iphigénie en Aulide_ was played. The King and the Queen -of Westphalia arrived during the piece. - -Next day, _Phèdre_ was performed. The King of Bavaria and the -Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée. - -On the 6th, the _Mort de César_ was represented. The crowned audience -was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one -queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes. - -After the play, the emperor said to Talma-- - -"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I -have made you play before an audience of kings." - -On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left -Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe. - -Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of -the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree -from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, -regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. -Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at -Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were -called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the -world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East -and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five -years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the -other on the shores of the Sea of Azov. - -The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news -of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's -capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which -they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges. - -A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the -head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time -being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his -fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in -Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. -They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. -On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly -staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be -utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from -Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. -This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know -how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. -Hermione hid the letter among the busks of her corset. The busk of a -woman's corset is the sheath of her sword. - -M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn -from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left -in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She -held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred -thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns -without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, -and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within -two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of -Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the -diamonds were such a source of fear! - -Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, -and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting -arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd -of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young -Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful -in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect -the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their -knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than -before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly -escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached -the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, -Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. -King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick. - -King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was -hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great -haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not -know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know -that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be -readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest -after such an adventurous journey. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -The Comédie-Française at Dresden--Georges returns to -the Théâtre-Français--The _Deux Gendres_--_Mahomet -II._--_Tippo-Saëb_--1814--Fontainebleau--The allied armies enter -Paris--Lilies--Return from the isle of Elba--Violets--Asparagus -stalks--Georges returns to Paris - - -Mademoiselle Georges left for Dresden the day after her arrival -at Brunswick. The giant who had been confounded at Beresina had, -Anteus-like, recovered his strength as he neared Paris. Napoleon left -Saint-Cloud on 15 April 1813. He stopped on the 16th at Mayence, left -it on the 24th, and reached Erfürt the same day. - -Napoleon was still in command of forty-three millions of men at this -time, and had as his allies against Russia all the kings who had been -present at the theatrical entertainments recently mentioned by us. But -Napoleon had lost his prestige. The first bloom of his glory had been -smirched; the invincible one had been proved vulnerable. The snowy -campaign of 1812 had chilled all the friendships professed towards him. -Prussia set the example of defection. - -On 3 May--that is to say, eighteen days after his departure from -Paris--Napoleon despatched couriers to Constantinople, Vienna and Paris -from the battlefield of Lutzen, where slept twenty thousand Russians -and Prussians, to announce a fresh victory. Saxony had been won back in -a single battle. On 10 May, the emperor installed himself at Dresden, -in the Marcolini Palace. On the 12th, the King of Saxony, who had taken -refuge on the frontiers of Bohemia, returned to his capital. On the -18th, Napoleon proposed an armistice. - -As it was ignored, he fought and won the battles of Bautzen and of -Lutzen on the 20th and 21st. On 10 June, the emperor returned to -Dresden, still in hopes of the desired armistice. - -On 16 June, MM. de Beausset and de Turenne were appointed to look after -the Comédie-Française. M. de Beausset's work was to see to the stage -management of the theatre, to obtain lodgings for the actors and to -arrange the repertory. M. de Turenne took upon him the invitations and -all matters connected with court etiquette. On 19 June, the company of -the Comédie-Française arrived. It consisted of the following actors and -actresses: MM. Fleury, Saint-Phal, - -Baptiste junior, Armand, Thénard, Vigny, Michot, Bartier; and Mesdames -Thénard, Émilie Contat, Mézeray, Mars and Bourgoin. We have followed -the observances of etiquette _à la_ M. de Turenne, and placed these -gentlemen and ladies in the order of their seniority. - -All was ready to receive them by 15 June. Lodgings, carriages and -servants had all been hired in advance. An hour after their arrival, -the thirteen artistes were duly installed. At midnight, on the -following day, Mademoiselle Georges also arrived in Dresden. By one -o'clock the Duc de Vicence had taken up his residence with her. The -next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, she was received by the -emperor. That very day, a courier was sent off to command Talma -and Saint-Prix to set out for Dresden instantly, no matter in what -part of France they might be when the order reached them. The order -reached Saint-Prix in Paris, and found Talma in the provinces. Twelve -days after, Talma and Saint-Prix arrived, and the company of the -Comédie-Française was complete. - -A theatre had been arranged for comedy in the orangery belonging to the -palace occupied by the emperor. - -Tragedies, which require far more staging and much more scenery, were -to be performed in the town theatre. The first representation of comedy -took place on 22 June; it consisted of the _Gageure imprévue_ and -the _Suites d'un bal masqué._. The first representation of tragedy -was _Phèdre_, played on the 24th. But these entertainments were very -different from those at Erfürt! A veil of sadness had crept over the -past; a cloud of fear hung over the future. People remembered Beresina; -they foresaw Leipzig. Talma looked in vain among the audience for the -kings who had applauded him at Erfürt. There was only the old and -faithful King of Saxony, the last of those crowned heads who remained -true to Napoleon. - -The performances lasted from 22 June until 10 August. The emperor -invited either Talma or Mademoiselle Mars or Mademoiselle Georges to -lunch with him most mornings. They talked of art. Art had always filled -an important place in Napoleon's mind. He was in this respect not -only the successor, but also the heir to Louis XIV. It was on these -occasions that he gave expression to those incisive appreciations -peculiar to himself, and to his opinions on men and on their works. -It must have been fine indeed to listen to Napoleon's appreciation of -Corneille and his criticism of Racine. And it should be remembered -that, to be able to speak of Corneille or of Racine, his powerful mind -had to put aside for the moment all thought of the material world -which was beginning to press heavily upon him. It is true that he was -continually being deluded by hopes of peace; but on the evening of 11 -August all hopes of that nature were dispelled. - -On the 12 th, at three o'clock in the morning, M. de Beausset received -the following letter from Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel:-- - - "MY DEAR BEAUSSET,--The emperor commands me to tell you - that the French actors who are here must leave either - to-day or to-morrow morning at the latest, to return to - Paris. Have the goodness to inform them of this.--Yours, - etc., - - "ALEXANDRE" - -The actors left, and then the battle of Leipzig took place. The -Empire's dying struggle had begun. The actors meanwhile returned -to Paris. Mademoiselle Georges resumed her ascendency at the -Comédie-Française, after an absence of five years. Raucourt, though -still alive, had practically abandoned her career. For a long time -past the theatrical life had weighed upon her; she only acted when -obliged, and remained almost all the year round in the country. When -Mademoiselle Georges was reinstalled, it was arranged that she should -become a full member of the company, and her absence was reckoned -as though she were present. She reappeared as Clytemnestre when she -was still only twenty-eight years of age. Her success was immense. -There had not been many changes during those last five years at the -Théâtre-Français. The important pieces played during the absence of -Mademoiselle Georges were, _Hector_ and _Christophe Colombo_ to which -we have referred; the _Deux Gendres,_ by M. Étienne; _Mahomet II_., by -M. Baour-Lormian; and _Tippo-Saëb,_ by M. de Jouy. - -The success of the _Deux Gendres_ was not contested, and it could not -be contested. But since people must always contest some point or other -in the case of an author of any merit, the paternity of M. Étienne's -comedy was contested. - -A worm-eaten manuscript written by a forgotten Jesuit was dragged out -of some bookcase or other, and it was said that M. Étienne had robbed -this unlucky Jesuit. It should be stated that the plot of the _Deux -Gendres_ was the same that Shakespeare had utilised two centuries -before, in _King Lear_, and that M. de Balzac made use of twenty-five -years later, in _Père Goriot._ All these polemical discussions greatly -annoyed M. Étienne, and probably hindered him from writing a sequel to -the _Deux Gendres. Mahomet II._ met with but indifferent success: the -play was lifeless and dull. - -Nevertheless, M. Baour-Lormian was a meritorious writer: he left, or -rather he will leave, a few poems charged with melancholy feeling, all -the more striking as such a sentiment was entirely unknown during the -Empire, which can offer us, in this respect, nothing save the _Chute -des Feuilles_ by Millevoie, and the _Feuille de Rose_ by M. Arnault. -Besides, the _Chute des Feuilles_ was written before, and the _Feuille -de Rose_ after, the Empire. - -Let me quote a few of M. Baour-Lormian's pleasant lines:-- - - "Ainsi qu'une jeune beauté - Silencieuse et solitaire, - Du sein du nuage argente - La lune sort avec mystere.... - Fille aimable du ciel, à pas lents et sans bruit, - Tu glisses dans les airs où brille ta couronne; - Et ton passage s'environne - Du cortège pompeux des soleils de la nuit.... - Que fais-tu loin de nous, quand l'aube blanchissante - Efface, à nos yeux attristés, - Ton sourire charmant et tes molles clartés? - Vas-tu, comme Ossian, plaintive et gémissante, - Dans l'asile de la douleur - Ensevelir ta beauté languissante? - Fille aimable du ciel, connais-tu le malheur?" - -We must now return to Mademoiselle Georges. - -Mademoiselle Georges, as we have remarked, found, it seems, the -Théâtre-Français pretty much as she had left it. She resumed her old -repertory. Is it not curious that during the nine years she was at the -Théâtre-Français Mademoiselle Georges, who has created so many rôles -since, only created those of Calypso and of Mandane there?... - -All this time, the horizon in the North was growing darker and darker: -Prussia had betrayed us; Sweden had deserted us; Saxony had been -involved in the rout at Leipzig; Austria was recruiting her forces -against us. On 6 January 1814, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, signed -an armistice with England, the expiration of which had to be notified -three months in advance. On the 11th, he promised the Emperor of -Austria to go to war against France with thirty thousand men; in -exchange for which the Austrian monarch guaranteed the throne of Naples -to him and his heirs. - -Napoleon then began the marvellous campaign of 1814, that titanic -struggle in which a single man and one nation faced two emperors, four -kings and six nations of the first rank, including Russia, England, -Prussia and Spain. - -If we turn over the pages of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français -for the whole of the year 1814, the only new play we shall find is the -_Hôtel garni_, a comedy in one act, and in verse, by Désaugiers. - -Meanwhile, at each fresh victory, Napoleon lost a province. Driven-to -bay at Fontainebleau, he abdicated. Three days later, the allied forces -marched into Paris, and Napoleon left for the isle of Elba. There were -still two factions at the Comédie-Française, as there had been during -the time of the Revolution. Talma, Mars and Georges remained loyally -faithful to the emperor. Raucourt, Mademoiselle Levert, Madame Volnais -espoused the Royalist cause. Raucourt was the first to tear down the -eagle which decorated the imperial box. Poor soul! she little knew that -those whom she helped to recall would refuse her Christian burial, one -year later! - -The same kings who had been present at the Erfürt representations, -as Napoleon's guests and friends, came as enemies and conquerors to -see the same plays in Paris. Everybody knows the terrible reaction -that took place at first against the Empire. The actors who remained -faithful to the emperor were not persecuted, but they were made to -exclaim as they came on the stage, "Vive le roi!" - -One day Mademoiselle Levert and Madame Volnais outdid even the -exacting demands of the public: they came on the stage, in the _Vieux -Célibataire_, with huge bouquets of lilies in their hands. - -So things went on until 6 March 1815. On that day a strange, -incredible, unheard-of rumour spread through Paris, and, from Paris, to -all the four quarters of the earth. Napoleon had landed. Many hearts -trembled at the news; but few were more agitated than those of the -faithful actors who had not forgotten that once, when he was master of -the world and emperor he had conversed upon art and poetry with them. - -Nevertheless, nobody dared express his joy: hope was faint, the truth -of the rumour uncertain. - -According to the official newspapers, Napoleon was wandering, hunted -and beaten, among the mountains, where he could not avoid being -captured before long. Truth, like everything that is real, makes -itself seen in the end. A persistent rumour came from Gap, from -Sisteron, from Grenoble; the fugitive of the _Journal des Débats_ was -a conqueror round whom the people rallied in intoxicated delight. -Labédoyère and his regiment, Ney and his army corps rallied round him. -Lyons had opened its gates to him, and from the heights of Fourvières -the imperial eagle had started on the flight which, from tower to -tower, was to bring it at last to the towers of Nôtre Dame. - -On 19 March, the Tuileries was evacuated: a courier was sent to carry -this news to Napoleon, who was at Fontainebleau. People expected him -all day long on the 20th; they felt confident that he would make a -triumphal entry along the boulevards. Mars and Georges had taken a -window at Frascati's. They wore hats of white straw, with enormous -bunches of violets in them. They attracted much notice, for it was -known that they had been persecuted for a year at the Comédie-Française -on account of their attachment to the emperor. - -The bouquets of violets symbolised the month of March: the King of -Rome's birthday was in the month of March, and also the return of -Napoleon. From that day violets became a badge. People wore violets in -all sorts of fashions--in hats, hanging by their sides, as trimmings -to dresses. Some, more fanatic than others, wore a gold violet in -their buttonholes, as an order of chivalry. There was quite as great a -reaction against the Bourbons as there had been in their favour a year -before. - -When Talma, Mars and Georges appeared, they were overwhelmed with -applause. Georges saw the emperor again at the Tuileries. By dint of -his powerful character, Napoleon seemed to have put everything behind -him. One might have said he had not left the château of Catherine de -Médicis save, as had been his custom, to bring back news of a fresh -victory. The only thing that distressed him was that they had taken -away some of his favourite pieces of furniture. - -He missed greatly a little boudoir, hung with tapestry that had been -worked by Marie-Louise and the ladies of the Court. - -"Would you believe it, my dear," he said to Georges, "I found asparagus -stalks on the arm-chairs!" This was the worst with which he reproached -Louis XVIII. - -The return of the god was of as short duration as the apparition of a -ghost. Waterloo succeeded Leipzig; Saint-Helena, the isle of Elba. It -was a more terrible, a more melancholy counterpart! Leipzig was but a -wound, Waterloo was death; the isle of Elba was but exile, Saint-Helena -was the tomb! - -One might almost say that he carried everything away with him. We again -turn over the leaves of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français and we do -not find any play of importance produced throughout the year 1815. The -lilies reappeared and the poor violets were exiled;--with the violets, -Georges exiled herself. She went to the provinces, where she remained -for several years; she reappeared in 1823, more beautiful than she had -ever been. She was then thirty-eight. - -I will find an opportunity to pass in review the men of letters and -the literary works of the Empire, to which, on account of my callow -youth, I have scarcely referred, during the period in which these men -and their works flourished. Indeed, when Georges made her début, the -two men who were to add to her reputation by means of _Christine, -Bérengère_ and _Marguerite de Bourgogne, Marie Tudor_ and _Lucrèce -Borgia_, were still wailing at their mothers' breasts. Taken all round, -whatever people may say, these five rôles were Georges' greatest -successes. Meanwhile, on 12 April 1823, the great actress played in -_Comte Julien_ at the Odéon. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of a great -actor--Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de Portugal upon Talma declining -it--Lafond--His school--His sayings--Mademoiselle Duchesnois--Her -failings and her abilities--_Pierre de Portugal_ succeeds - - -The great day for the representation of _Pierre de Portugal_ came at -last. Talma, preoccupied with his creation of the part of Danville in -the _École des Vieillards_, had declined to take the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal. Lafond had accepted it, and he and Mademoiselle Duchesnois -had to bear the brunt of the whole play. Herein lay the indisputable -test pointed out by Lassagne: could the play possibly succeed without -Talma? The great inconvenience of that _rara avis_, as Juvenal puts -it, or, in theatre parlance, the actor who brings in the receipts, is -that on days when he does not play the theatre loses heavily; plays in -which he does not figure are judged beforehand to be unworthy of public -notice, since they have not been honoured by the actor's concurrence. - -At the time to which we are referring the Théâtre-Français was better -off than it is now. One day it made money by Talma's tragic acting; the -next, it made money by Mademoiselle Mars in comedy. Casimir Delavigne -began its downfall by making the two eminent artistes appear together -in the same play and on the same day. As for Lafond and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois, neither apart nor together did they bring in sufficient -receipts. - -Lafond would be about forty then: he came out first in 1800, at the -Théâtre-Français, in the part of Achilles. Later, when supported by -Geoffroy, in _Tancrède_, in _Adélaïde Duguesclin_ and in _Zaire_, he -became as successful as Talma. The scurvy race of sheep which we -have always with us, which takes its nutriment in the pastures of -poetry and which is too feeble to form its own opinion based on its -own mental capacity, adopts a judgment ready made wherever it can. It -bleated concerning Lafond, "Lafond is inimitable in the rôle of French -cavalier." - -There was always, at this period of the drama, a part called the -French cavalier. This part was invariably played by a person decorated -with a plumed toque, clad in a yellow tunic braided with black, -ornamented with representations of the sun, or of golden palms when -the cavalier was a prince, and wearing buff-leather boots. It was not -imperative that the hero should be French, or wear golden spurs, to -be a French cavalier: the rôle was designed on well defined lines, -and belonged to a particular school. Zamore was a French cavalier, -Orosmane was a French cavalier, Philoctètes was a French cavalier. -The only distinctions between them were as follows: Zamore played in -a cap decorated with peacock feathers, and in a cloak of parrot's -feathers, with a girdle of ostrich plumes. Orosmane played in a long -robe of white taffeta dropping with spangles and trimmed with minever, -in a turban opening out wide like a blunderbuss and decorated with a -crescent of Rhine stones, in red foulard trousers and yellow slippers. -Philoctètes played in a loose coat of red horse-hair, a cuirass of -velvet embroidered with gold, and was furnished with a warlike sword. - -Vanhove, in order to play Agamemnon, had a cuirass which cost him a -small fortune, two hundred louis, I believe; it was ornamented by two -trophies, hand-worked--a magnificent bit of work, representing cannons -and drums. - -I once said to Lafond-- - -"M. Lafond, why do you play Zamore in such a shabby girdle? Your -feathers look like fish-bones; they are positively indecent!" - -"Young man," replied Lafond, "Zamore is not rich; Zamore is a slave; -Zamore could not afford to buy himself a new girdle every day; I am -true to history." - -What was perhaps less true to history was the expansive Stomach which -the girdle enclosed. - -Lafond's triumphs in these cavalier parts made Talma nearly die of -envy. One day Geoffroy's articles exasperated him to such a degree -that, on meeting the critic in the wings, he flew at him and bit -him--at the risk of poisoning himself. But as the law of universal -stability decrees that every bullet shall find its billet, the -populace, by degrees, grew tired of Lafond's redundant declamation and -emphatic gestures, which, at the time of which we are speaking, being -used only by a few old-fashioned members of the school of Larive, drew -receipts no longer, even when they played the parts of _chevaliers -français._ - -Lafond was an odd fellow in other ways besides. Thanks to his Gascon -accent and to his way of saying things, one never knew whether he were -talking nonsense or saying something witty. - -He once came into the lounge of the Théâtre-Français when Colson (an -indifferent actor who was often hissed) was blurting out his caricature -of Lafond's trick of over-acting. Colson pulled himself up; but it was -too late: Lafond had heard his voice in the corridor. He made straight -for Colson. - -"Eh! Colson, my friend," he said, in that Bordelais accent of which -none but those who have heard and followed it could form any idea, -"they tell me you have been taking me off?" - -"Oh! M. Lafond," Colson replied, trying to recover himself, "take you -off?... No, I swear I...." - -"All right! all right! that was what I was told.... Come, Colson, do me -a favour." - -"What is it, M. Lafond?" - -"Act my part before me." - -"Oh, M. Lafond...." - -"I beg you to do it; I shall really be extremely obliged to you." - -"The deuce!" said Colson. "If you really wish it...." - -"Yes, I do wish it." - -Colson yielded, and began Orosmane's tirade-- - - "Vertueuse Zaire, avant que l'hyménée...." - -and declaimed it from the first line to the last, with such fidelity -of imitation that one might have thought Lafond himself were declaiming. - -Lafond listened to the end with the deepest attention, nodding his head -up and down and expressing his approbation by frequent and obvious -signs. - -Then, when Colson had finished, he said, "Well! why ever don't you act -like that, my dear fellow? The public would not hiss you if you did!" - -In the interval between the first and second acts of _Pierre de -Portugal_, Lucien Arnault was in the wings; during the second act, -Pierre de Portugal, disguised as a soldier of his army, insinuates -himself unrecognised into the house of Inès de Castro, who takes him -for a common soldier. - -Lucien saw Lafond advance in a costume resplendent with gold and jewels. - -He ran up to him. "Ah! my dear Lafond," he said, "your costume is all -wrong!" - -"Have you anything to say against my costume?" - -"Rather, I should just think so." - -"But it is blatantly new." - -"That is precisely what I take exception to: you have put on the garb -of a prince, not that of a common soldier." - -"Lucien," replied Lafond, "listen to this: I would rather arouse envy -than pity." Then, turning haughtily on his heels, no doubt in order -to show the back of his costume to Lucien, since he had shown him the -front, he said, "They can ring: Pierre de Portugal is ready." - -When, five years later, I read _Christine_ before the Théâtre-Français, -whether or not Lafond was a member of the committee, or whether he -did not care to trouble himself to listen to the work of a beginner, -I had the misfortune to read it in his absence. Although, as we shall -see in its proper place, the play was rejected, the reading excited -some interest, and it was thought that a drama might be made out of it -sooner or later. - -One day I saw the door of my humble office open and M. Lafond was -announced. I raised my head, greatly surprised, unable to imagine -why I should be favoured by a visit from the viceroy of the tragic -stage: it was indeed he! I offered him a chair; but he refused it -with a nod of the head, and stopping close to the door, with his -right foot forward and his left hand resting on his hips, he said, -"Monsieur Dumas, do you happen to have, by any chance, in your play, -a well-set-up gallant who would say to that queer queen Christine, -'Madame, your majesty has no right to kill that poor devil of a -Monaldeschi, for this, that, or any other reason'?" - -"No, monsieur, no! I have no such gallant in my play." - -"You are quite sure you haven't?" - -"Yes." - -"In that case I have nothing to say to you.... Good-day, M. Dumas." -And, turning on his heel, he went out as he had entered. He had come -to ask me for the part of this well-set-up gallant, as he called it. -Unfortunately, as I had been compelled to acknowledge, I had no such -part in my play. - -In the heyday of his popularity M. Lafond never spoke of Talma, or of -M. Talma: he said, _the other person_. - -The Comte de Lauraguais, who had been Sophie Arnould's lover, and who, -like the Marquis de Zimènes, was one of the most constant visitors to -the actors' green-room, said one day to M. Lafond, "M. Lafond, I think -you are too often _the one_ and not often enough _the other?_" - -Mademoiselle Duchesnois was quite different from Lafond: she was really -kind-hearted, and her great successes never made her vain. She was -born in 1777, one year before Mademoiselle Mars, at Saint-Saulve, near -Valenciennes, and she changed her name, after her début in _Phèdre_, -in 1802, from Joséphine Ruffin to Duchesnois. We have said that she -was Mile. Georges' rival in everything: her rival on the stage, her -rival in love. Harel was the handsome Paris who was the object of this -rivalry. Harel, who was in turn manager of the theatre de l'Odéon and -of the théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, will play a great part in -these Memoirs--the part that a clever man, be it known, has the right -to play everywhere. - -Mademoiselle Duchesnois had had to struggle all her life against -her plain looks: she was like one of those china lions one sees -on balustrades; she had a particularly big nose which she blew -stentoriously, as befitted its size. Lassagne did not dare to go -into the orchestra on days when she acted; he was afraid of being -blown away. On the other hand, she had a marvellous figure, and her -body could have rivalled that of the Venus de Milo. She doted on the -part of Alzire, which allowed her and Lafond to appear almost naked. -She possessed a certain simplicity of mind which her detractors -called stupidity. One day--in 1824--people were busy talking about -the inundation of St. Petersburg, and of the various more or less -picturesque accidents that had occurred through this inundation. - -I was in the wings, behind Talma and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, to whom -an actress, who had just arrived from the first, or rather from the -second, capital of the Russian Empire, was relating how one of her -friends, overtaken by the flood, had only had time to climb up on a -crane. - -"What! on a crane?" said Mademoiselle Duchesnois, in great -astonishment. "Is it possible, Talma?" - -"Oh! my dear," replied the actor questioned so oddly, "no one ought to -know better than yourself that it is done every day." - -But, in spite of her ugliness, in spite of her simplicity, in spite of -her hiccough, in spite of her nose-blowing, Mademoiselle Duchesnois -possessed the most profoundly tender inflections in her voice, and -could express such pathetic sorrow, that most of those who saw her in -_Marie Stuart_ prefer her to-day to Mademoiselle Rachel. Especially did -her qualities shine when she played with Talma. Talma was too great an -artiste, too superb an actor to fear being outbidden. Talma gave her -excellent advice, which her fine artistic nature utilised, if not with -remarkable intelligence, at least with easy assimilation. - -The poor creature retired from the stage in 1830, after having -struggled as long as she could against the pitiless indifference of the -public, and the cruel hints from other actors which generally embitter -the later years of dramatic artistes. She reappeared once again before -her death in 1835, in _Athalie_ at the Opera, I believe. - -It was very sad to see her: it inevitably brought to mind the line from -_Pierre de Portugal_-- - - "Inès, vivante ou non, tu seras couronnée!" - -Alas! poor Duchesnois was crowned when she was more than half dead. She -had a son, a good honest lad. After the Revolution of July, Bixio and I -got him a sub-lieutenancy; but he was killed, I believe, in Algeria. - -The tragedy of _Pierre de Portugal_ was a success; it was even a great -success; but it only ran fifteen or eighteen nights, and did not bring -in any money. - -Lassagne was right. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -General Riégo--His attempted insurrection--His escape and flight--He is -betrayed by the brothers Lara--His trial--His execution - - -We have mentioned that the _École des Vieillards_ ought to have come -after _Pierre de Portugal_, but between the comedy and tragedy two -terrible dramas took place in Madrid and Paris. In Madrid they made a -martyr; in Paris they executed a criminal. The martyr's name was Riégo: -the guilty criminal's Castaing. - -Riégo was born, in 1783, in the Asturias, so he would be about forty: -he was of a noble but poor family and, since the invasion of 1808, he -had enlisted as a volunteer. He became an officer in the same regiment -in which he had enlisted; he was taken prisoner and led away to France. -Sent back to Spain, when peace was declared, he attained the rank of -lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment, and, leading this regiment -into insurrection, seduced by him, it proclaimed the constitution of -1812 at las Cabesas-de-San-Juan. It will be seen later that it was -desired that his head should be exposed, in order that his mute lips -and the eyes closed by death might bear witness to the fact that -royalty can be cruel for more than a day's span, and common people -ungrateful. On 27 September he was arrested at Cadiz. Let us say a few -words concerning his arrest and death,--the latter especially, for, -alas I it belongs almost to French history. After his last defeat, -General Riégo wandered in the mountains with a score of his comrades, -all of whom belonged, like himself, to the Liberal party. Fifteen of -these fugitives were officers. They were all exhausted by fatigue and -hunger, and did not know either where to look for shelter or from whom -to beg food, when they caught sight of two men. They made straight for -them. These two men were the hermit of the district of Pédrogil and a -native of Valez named Lopez Lara. The general took them aside. - -"My friends," he said to them, "you have a chance to win a fortune for -yourselves and your families." - -"What must we do to gain it?" the two men asked. - -"Conduct me safe and sound to Carolina, to Carboneras and to Novas de -Tolosa." - -"And there...?" - -"There I shall find friends who will take me on to Estremadura, where I -have business to transact." - -Whether the journey appeared to them too long, or whether they fancied -they had to deal with outlaws, the hermit and his companion declined. -So Riégo arrested them, put them on a couple of mules, and told them -that, whether willingly or under compulsion, they would have to act as -guides to his band. The party waited until nightfall and then set forth. - -During the march in the darkness, Riégo talked with his comrades -concerning various events that had recently occurred, from which the -hermit and Lopez Lara soon guessed that they were in the company of -the notorious Riégo. From that moment Lopez Lara's whole thoughts were -filled with the idea of handing Riégo over to the Royalist authorities. -When daytime came, they had to stop. They were near the farm of -Baquevisones: Riégo announced that he meant to ask for shelter there, -so he ordered Lara to knock at the door. Lara obeyed. By chance, his -own brother Matéo opened it. Lara perceived that chance had brought him -the assistance he needed. Riégo, realising that too large an escort -might betray him, would only allow three of his comrades to go in with -him. One of these companions was an Englishman, even more daring than -Riégo. He at once locked the door of the farm behind him and put the -key in his pocket. When they had given the horses fodder, they rested -in the stable, each with his naked sword by his side. Three slept, -while the fourth mounted guard. When Riégo awaked, he discovered -that his horse was unshod. He ordered Lopez Lara to shoe the horse -immediately. - -"All right," replied he; "but I must take him to Arguillos to get him -shod." - -"No," returned Riégo; "you shall stay here and Matéo shall have him -shod. But the farrier shall come here; the horse shall not go to him." - -Lopez appeared to conform with indifference to this order; but, as he -transmitted it to his brother, he managed to say-- - -"The man who owns the horse is General Riégo." - -"So ho!" said Matéo; "arrange for him to be at breakfast by the time I -return; do not leave the place where they are or let them out of your -sight." - -Matéo returned, and made a sign to his brother that the commission was -executed. Then to Riégo he said-- - -"Señor, as the farrier will be here in five minutes, you had better -breakfast, if you wish to proceed on your journey directly your horse -is shod." - -Riégo went to breakfast without making any objection. But not so the -Englishman. - -The Englishman searched the high road with his field-glasses from a -window as far as he could see. Suddenly a score of armed men came into -sight, headed by an _alcade_ (magistrate). - -"General," he exclaimed, "we have been betrayed! There are soldiers -coming." - -"To arms!" cried Riégo, rising. He had time to utter this cry, but not -to accomplish its fulfilment. Lopez and Matéo seized their guns and -covered the outlaws with them. - -"The first man who moves is dead!" cried Lopez. - -"All right," said Riégo, "I surrender; but warn the soldiers who are -coming not to harm us, since we are your prisoners." - -The soldiers entered, led by the alcade. - -"Shake hands, brother, and do us no harm," said Riégo to the alcade. - -After some objection, the alcade greeted Riégo. But, in spite of this, -he told him he must bind his hands. Whereupon, Riégo took out of his -pocket all the money he had with him and distributed it among the -soldiers, asking them to treat him mercifully. The alcade, however, -forbade the soldiers to accept anything. A quarter of an hour later, -the civil commandant arrived from Arguillos with a guard, and they took -the prisoners to Andujar. - -When the captives entered that town, the people wanted to tear them -limb from limb. Riégo was accompanied by a French officer. When he -arrived in front of the same balcony from which, a year ago, he had -harangued the people, he pointed to the crowd which surrounded him -howling and shaking their fists and knives at him, and in a tone of -profound sadness he said to the officer, "These people whom you see -so relentless towards me, these people who if I had not been under -the protection of your escort would have butchered me long since, -these people carried me here in triumph only last year; the town was -illuminated the whole night through, and the very same individuals whom -I recognise surrounding me here, who then deafened me with cries of -'Vive Riégo!' now shout 'Death to Riégo!'" - -He was taken to the seminary of nobles; his trial lasted over a month. -A decree dated 1 October, the very day on which he was freed from -prison and reached the port of Sainte-Marie, degraded the general of -all his honours; consequently, he was tried by a civil court. The King -of Spain gained a twofold advantage by depriving the general of a -military court martial. - -First he knew that the civil court would condemn Riégo to death. -Second, if the sentence were pronounced by a civil court, the death -would be ignominious. Vengeance is such a sweet mouthful that it must -not be permitted to lose any of its flavour. - -On 4 November they led Riégo from the seminary of nobles to the -prison of la Tour. The court had not obtained all it demanded. The -attorney-general requisitioned that Riégo should be condemned to -the gallows; that his estate should be confiscated and given to the -Commune; that his head should be exposed at las Cabesas de San-Juan; -that his body should be quartered and one quarter sent to Seville, -another to the isle of Leon, the third to Malaga and the fourth -exposed in Madrid, in the usual places for such exhibitions,--"these -towns being," the attorney-general added, "the principal places where -the traitor Riégo scattered the sparks of revolt." - -The alcades decided that the mode of death should be by hanging and -that the goods should be confiscated; but they refused the request -concerning the four quarters. - -Once, towards the end of the fifteenth century, the inhabitants of -Imola, a small town in the Romagna, found, on waking up, the four -quarters of a man hanging each by a hook at the four corners of -the square. They recognised the man cut into four quarters for a -Florentine, and wrote to the worshipful Republic to advise them of -the unforeseen accident that had overtaken one of its citizens. The -Republic learnt of this by means of Machiavelli, its ambassador to -the Legations. Machiavelli's only reply was as follows: "Noble lords, -I have but one thing to say to you apropos of the corpse of Ramiro -d'Orco, which was found cut up into four quarters in the square of -Imola, and it is this: the illustrious Cæsar Borgia is the prince who -best knows how to deal with men according to their deserts." - -It riled the King of Spain not to be able to deal with Riégo as Borgia -had dealt with Ramiro d'Orco; but he had to content himself with the -prisoner being borne to the gibbet on hurdles and with the confiscation -of his property. Even that would be quite a pretty spectacle. - -On 5 November at noon Riégo's sentence was read to him: he listened -to it very calmly. This calmness disturbed the judges for it would -set a bad example if Riégo died bravely. They took him to the chapel, -and under pretence that fasting induced penitence sooner than -anything else, they gave him nothing to eat from that time. Two monks -accompanied him to his cell and never left him. At the prison door, -in the street, he could see a table with a crucifix thereon, and -passers-by placed their alms on the table. These alms were destined to -pay the expenses of his mass and funeral. - -On the 7th, at nine in the morning, the prison was besieged by over -thirty thousand curious spectators; a much greater number than that -lined the whole of the route, and formed a double line from the prison -square to the square where the execution was to take place. - -Riégo had asked that only Spanish troops should be present during his -last moments. This favour was granted him, because France did not wish -to dip one corner of its white flag in the blood of the unlucky Riégo. - -At half-past twelve, after fifty hours of fasting, the general was -led forth to the prison door. He was pale and weak. They had stripped -him of his uniform and they had clothed him in a dressing-gown with -a girdle fastened round his waist; his hands and feet were likewise -bound. He was laid on a hurdle, with a pillow under his head. Monks -walked on both sides of this hurdle to administer spiritual consolation -to him. An ass drew the hurdle, led by the executioner. The victim was -preceded and followed by a corps of cavalry. - -It was difficult to get a good sight of the general, so great was the -curiosity of the crowd: his head fell forward on his breast, and he had -only sufficient strength to raise it two or three times to reply to the -exhortations of the priests. - -The cortège took nearly an hour to get from the prison to the place of -execution. When the foot of the gallows was reached, the general was -raised from the hurdle, covered with dust, and placed on the first step -of the scaffold. There he made his last confession. Then they dragged -him up the ladder; for, his feet being bound, he could not mount it -himself. All the while a priest kept beseeching God to forgive him his -sins, as he forgave those who had trespassed against him. When they -had hauled him a certain height, those who raised the condemned man -stopped. The act of faith was begun and, at the last word, the general -was hurled from the top of the ladder. At the very instant that the -priest pronounced the word _Jésus-Christ_, which was the signal, the -executioner leapt on the shoulders of the martyr, while two men hung -from his legs, completing the hideous group. Twice the shout of "Vive -le roi!" went up, first from the rows of spectators near by; the -second time from a few individuals alone. Then a man leapt from out the -crowd, stepped towards the scaffold, and struck Riégo's body a blow -with his stick. That night they carried the corpse into the nearest -church, and it was interred in the Campo-Santo by the Brothers of -Charity. - -Nothing is known of Riégo's last moments, as no one was allowed to come -near him; the monks, his bitterest enemies, being desirous of throwing -all possible odium on his dying moments. - -"The last of the Gracchi," according to Mirabeau, "in the act of death, -threw dust steeped in his own blood into the air. Thence was born -Marius." - -Riégo left a song; from that song was born a revolution, and from that -revolution the Republic. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The inn of the _Tête-Noire_--Auguste Ballet--Castaing--His trial--His -attitude towards the audience and his words to the jury--His execution - - -The second drama which happened in Paris, and which was to have its -denouement on the place de Grève, on the same day that the _École des -Vieillards_ was played, was the poisoning of Auguste Ballet. - -We have spoken of the death of poor little Fleuriet, who was as -pretty, fresh and flower-like as her name, and who was carried off in -twenty-four hours without any apparent reason for her death. May I be -forgiven the accusation implied in this statement, for it may be a -calumny; but when the facts cited below are considered, the cause of -her death may be guessed. - -On 29 May, two young people arrived in what at that period was -called "une petite voiture," and drew up at the _Tête-Noire_ inn, at -Saint-Cloud. They had set off without leaving word where they were -going. Towards nine o'clock in the evening they were installed in a -double-bedded chamber. One of the couple paid a deposit of five francs. -The two friends walked about together the whole of the next day, -Friday, the 30th; they only appeared at the hotel at dinner-time, and -went out again immediately after their repast for another walk. It was -nine o'clock at night before they returned for the second time. When -going upstairs, one of them asked for a half-bottle of mulled wine, -adding that it need not be sugared, as they had brought sugar with -them. The wine was taken up a few minutes after nine, sugared with -the sugar that they had brought, and made tasty with lemons bought in -Saint-Cloud. The same young man who made the five francs deposit for -the room, who ordered the dinner, and forbade the sugar to be brought -upstairs, mixed the sugar and lemon juice in the bowl of warmed wine. - -One of the two seemed to be a doctor; for, having heard that one of -the servants of the house was ill, he went upstairs to see him, before -tasting the prepared wine, and felt his pulse. However, he did not -prescribe anything for him, and returned to his friend's room after an -absence of a quarter of an hour. The said friend had found the wine -very nasty, and had only drunk about a tablespoonful of it. He had -stopped short because of the bitter flavour of the beverage. In the -midst of all this, the chambermaid entered. "I must have put too much -lemon in this wine," said the young man, holding the bowl towards her: -"it is so bitter I cannot drink it." The servant tasted it; but she -spat it out as soon as she had had a mouthful of it, exclaiming, "Oh -yes!... rather, you have made it bitter!" Upon which she left the room. -The two friends went to bed. - -Throughout the night the young man who had tasted the wine was seized -with violent spasms of nervous shivering, which did not give him a -moment's rest; he complained to his companion several times that he -could not keep himself still. Towards two o'clock, he had fits of -colic and, at daybreak, about half-past three in the morning, he -said he did not think he would be able to get up, that his feet were -on fire and that he could not possibly put on his boots. The other -young man said he would take a turn in the park, and recommended his -friend to try and sleep in the meantime. But, instead of going for a -walk in the park, the young man whose visit to the sick servant led -people to suppose him a doctor, took a carriage, returned to Paris, -bought twelve grains of acetate of morphine from M. Robin, rue de la -Feuillade, and one drachm from M. Chevalier, another chemist, obtaining -them readily in the capacity of a medical man. He returned to the inn -of the _Tête-Noire_ at eight o'clock, after four hours' absence, and -asked for some cold milk for his friend. The sick man felt no better; -he drank the cup of milk prepared by the young doctor, and almost -immediately he was taken with fits of vomiting which rapidly succeeded -each other. Soon he was seized by colic. Strange to say, in spite of -the attack becoming worse, the doctor again left the patient alone, -without leaving any instructions and without appearing to be uneasy -at a condition of things which was arousing the anxiety of strangers. -While he was absent, the hostess of the hotel and the chambermaid went -up to the sick man and did what they could for him. He was in great -agony. The young doctor returned in about half an hour's time. He found -the patient in an alarming condition; he was asking for a doctor, -insisting that one should be fetched from Saint-Cloud, and he opposed -his friend's suggestion that one should be fetched from Paris. He felt -so ill, he said, that he could not wait. - -So they ran for the nearest available; but nevertheless it was not -until eleven o'clock in the morning that the doctor whom they went to -seek arrived. His name was M. Pigache. - -The sick man was a little easier by that time. M. Pigache asked to -see the evacuations, but he was told that they had been thrown away. -He ordered emollients, but the emollients were not applied. He came -back an hour later and prescribed a soothing draught. The young doctor -administered it himself to the invalid; but the effect it produced -was prompt and terrible: five minutes after, the patient was seized -by frightful convulsions. In the midst of these convulsions he lost -consciousness, and from that moment never regained it. - -Towards eleven o'clock at night, the young doctor, weeping bitterly, -informed a servant that his friend could not survive the night. The -servant ran for M. Pigache, who decided, in spite of the short time he -had attended him, to pay the dying man one more visit. He found the -unhappy youth lying on his back, his neck rigidly strained, his head -uncovered, hardly able to breathe; he could neither hear nor feel; -his pulse was slow, his skin burning; his limbs were stiff and rigid, -his mouth clenched; his whole body was running with a cold sweat and -marked with bluish spots. M. Pigache decided he must at once bleed -the patient freely, and he bled him twice--with leeches and with the -lancet. It made the sick man a little easier. M. Pigache pointed this -out to his young confrère, saying that the condition of the dying -man was desperate and that, as the good effect produced by the two -bleedings was so noticeable, he did not hesitate to propose a third. -But this the young doctor opposed, saying that the responsibility was -too great, and that, if the third bleeding ended badly, the whole of -the responsibility for the ending would rest on M. Pigache. Upon this, -the latter peremptorily demanded that a doctor should be sent for from -Paris. - -This course would have been quite easy, for, during that very day, -as the result of a letter despatched by the young doctor couched in -the following terms, "M. Ballet being ill at Saint-Cloud, Jean must -come to him at once, in the gig, with the grey horse; neither he nor -mother Buvet must speak a word of this to a single soul; if anybody -makes inquiry, they must say he is going into the country by order of -M. Ballet," Jean, who was a negro servant, arrived with the grey horse -and the gig. In spite of this facility of communication, the young -doctor made out that it was too late to send for a doctor from Paris. -They waited, therefore, until three o'clock, and at three o'clock Jean -started off with two letters from M. Pigache to two of his medical -friends. - -M. Pigache left the house, and as the young doctor accompanied him, -he said, "Monsieur, I think no time should be lost in sending for -the priest of Saint-Cloud; your friend is a Catholic and I think so -badly of his condition that you ought to have the last sacraments -administered to him without delay." - -The young man recognised the urgency of the advice, and, going himself -to the house of the curé, he brought him back with the sacristan. - -The priest found the dying man in the same unconscious condition. "What -is the matter with your unfortunate friend, monsieur?" asked the priest. - -"Brain fever," replied the young man. - -Then, as the curé was preparing to administer extreme unction, the -young doctor knelt down, and remained in that position, with clasped -hands, praying to God with such fervour that the sacristan could not -refrain from remarking when they had both left, "What a very pious -young man that was!" The young doctor went out after the priest, and -remained away for nearly two hours. - -Towards three o'clock, one of the two doctors that had been sent for -arrived from Paris. It was Doctor Pelletan junior. M. Pigache, informed -of his arrival, came and joined his confrère at the bedside of the sick -man. But, after a rapid examination, both concluded that the patient -was beyond human aid. - -Nevertheless, they tried various remedies, but without success. All -this time the young doctor appeared to be overcome with the most -poignant grief--a grief that expressed itself in tears and sobs. These -demonstrations of despair impressed M. Pigache all the more because, in -course of conversation, the young doctor had said to him, "I am all the -more unhappy as I am my unfortunate friend's legatee." - -Thereupon M. Pelletan, addressing the weeping young man, said to him, -"Have you reflected, monsieur, on the peril of your position?" - -"What do you mean, monsieur?" - -"Well, listen! You come, with your friend, for a couple of days to -Saint-Cloud; you are a doctor; you are, anyway, his legatee...." - -"Yes, monsieur, I am his residuary legatee." - -"Very well: the man who has bequeathed you his entire fortune is dying; -the symptoms of his illness are extremely peculiar and, if he dies, as -is probable, you will find yourself in a very awkward position...." - -"What!" exclaimed the young man. "You think I shall be suspected?" - -"I think that, at any rate," replied M. Pelletan, "all imaginable -precautions will be taken to ascertain the cause of death. As far as M. -Pigache and myself are concerned, we have decided that there ought to -be a post-mortem examination." - -"Oh! monsieur," cried the young man, "you could not do me a greater -service; insist upon it, demand a post-mortem examination, and you will -play the part of a father to me if you do." - -"Very well, monsieur," replied Doctor Pelletan, seeing him so much -excited; "do not be troubled. Not only shall the matter be carried -through, but it shall be carried through as delicately as possible, and -we will pay our utmost attention to it." - -Between noon and one o'clock--that is to say, within thirty or forty -minutes of this conversation--the dying man expired. - -The reader will already have recognised the two principal actors in -this drama by the designation of the place where it happened, and by -the details of the victim's agony. - -The dead man was Claude-Auguste Ballet, lawyer, aged twenty-five, son -of a rich Paris solicitor. His friend was Edme-Samuel Castaing, who in -a few days' time would be twenty-seven, doctor of medicine, born at -Alençon, living in Paris, No. 31 rue d'Enfer. His father, an honourable -and universally respected man, was Inspector-General of Forests, and -Chevalier of the _Légion d'honneur._ - -One hour after the death of Auguste Ballet, M. Martignon, his -brother-in-law, warned by a letter from Castaing that Auguste Ballet -could not live through the day, hurried to Saint-Cloud, where he found -the sick man already dead. - -While they were proceeding to search every object in the inn that might -possibly throw some light on the cause of death, Castaing, still at -large, absented himself for nearly two hours. No one knew what he did -in his second absence. He pretended he wanted fresh air, and stated -that he was going for a walk in the bois de Boulogne. - -M. Pelletan returned at ten o'clock next morning to make the -post-mortem examination. - -He had left Castaing in full possession of his liberty, but when he -returned he found him under the surveillance of two policemen. Castaing -appeared very uneasy at the results to which a post-mortem examination -might lead; but he seemed to feel sure that if the body did not present -any trace of poison, he would be set at liberty immediately. - -The examination took place and an extremely circumstantial official -report was drawn up; but nowhere, either in tongue, or in stomach or in -intestines, could they detect the presence of any poisonous substance. -As a matter of fact, acetate of morphine, like brucine and strychnine, -leaves no more trace than is left by congestion of the brain or a bad -seizure of apoplexy. It was because of this, a fact which Castaing -knew well, that when the priest had asked him from what his friend was -suffering, he had replied, "He has brain fever." - -When the post-mortem was finished, without having revealed any material -proof against the suspected person, M. Pelletan asked the _procureur du -roi_ if he had any objection to Castaing being informed of the result. - -"No," replied _the procureur du roi_; "simply communicate the result to -him in general terms, without making him think it is going to be either -in his favour or to his detriment." - -M. Pelletan found Castaing waiting for him upon the staircase. - -"Well," he asked the doctor eagerly, "have you concluded and come to -release me?" - -"I am unaware," replied M. Pelletan, "whether they mean to release you -or to detain you; but the truth is we can find no trace of violent -death in the body of Auguste Ballet." - -In spite of the temporary absence of material proof, Castaing was kept -a prisoner. The preliminary investigation began: it lasted from the -month of June to the end of September. - -On 10 November, Castaing appeared at the prisoner's bar. The affair -had created a great sensation even before it was made public; and the -Assize Court presented the appearance usual when an important case is -on--that is to say, so many lovely women and fashionably dressed men -put in an appearance that one might have thought it the first night -of a new play which had been announced with great pomp. The accused -was brought in. An indefinable movement of interest agitated the -spectators: they bent forward and oscillated with curiosity, looking -like a field of corn tossed about by the wind. He was a handsome young -man, well set up, with a pleasant face, although there was something -rather odd in his expression as he looked at you. Without being -elegantly attired, he was dressed with care. - -Alas! the preliminary investigation had revealed terrible facts. -Auguste Ballet's death had caused judicial attention to be bestowed -upon this unlucky family, and it was discovered that, since Castaing -had known the family, the father, the mother, the uncle had all -disappeared, struck down mortally within five months of each other, -leaving the two brothers Hippolyte and Auguste a very considerable -fortune; and, finally, Hippolyte died in his turn in Castaing's arms, -without either his brother Auguste or his sister Madame Martignon being -able to get to him. All these deaths had successively concentrated -pretty nearly the whole of the family fortune on the head of Auguste -Ballet. - -On 1 December 1822, Auguste Ballet, aged twenty-four, in health of -mind and body at the time, made a will, constituting Castaing, without -any motive, his residuary legatee, with no reservations beyond a few -small bequests to two friends and three servants. Auguste Ballet died -in his turn on 1 June, seven months after his brother. Now this is -what the proceedings had elicited concerning the two points which in -similar cases are specially investigated by those in charge of the -case--namely, Castaing's intellectual and his physical life. With -regard to his intellectual life, Castaing was a hard worker, urged -on by ambition, burning with the desire to become rich; his mother -revealed horrible things concerning him, if a letter that was seized -at her house was to be believed; his father reproached him with his -licentious life and the sorrow with which he overwhelmed both his -parents. In the midst of all this, he worked on perseveringly: he -passed his examinations; he became a doctor. - -Anatomy, botany and chemistry were the subjects to which he devoted -most time. Especially chemistry. His note-books were produced, full -of observations, extracts, erasures. They attested the determination -shown in his researches and the profound study he had made of poisons, -of their various kinds, of their effects, of the palpable traces some -leave on different bodily organs, whilst some, quite as deadly and more -insidious, kill without leaving any vestiges perceptible to the eyes of -the most learned and experienced anatomist. - -These poisons are all vegetable poisons: brucine, derived from false -angostura; strychnine from Saint-Ignatius nut; morphine from pure -opium, which is extracted from the Indian poppy. Now, it was a strange -and terrible coincidence that on 18 September 1822, seventeen days -before the death of Hippolyte Ballet, Castaing bought ten grains of -acetate of morphine. Twelve days later, Hippolyte, suffering from a -serious pulmonary disease, but not yet in danger, was seized with a -deadly attack and died, as we have said, far from his sister and his -brother, after five days' illness! He died in Castaing's arms. - -Then Castaing's fortunes changed: he who had been very hard up -heretofore lent his mother thirty thousand francs and invested under -assumed names or in bearer stock the sum of seventy thousand francs. -The matter was further complicated by matters arising out of the will -of Hippolyte Ballet, questions which will never be properly cleared up, -even in the law courts, and which seemed to imply that Auguste Ballet -became Castaing's accomplice. Hence Auguste's weakness for Castaing; -hence that will in his favour; hence the intimacy between these two -men, who never separated from one another; all these things were -explained, from the moment when, instead of the ordinary bond of pure -and simple friendship, the link between them was supposed to be the -indestructible chain of mutual complicity. - -For--and this is the time to return to his outward life, that we have -put to one side in order to speak of the intellectual life--Castaing -was not wealthy: he lived on a moderate income allowed him by his -mother; his own efforts barely produced him five or six hundred francs -per annum; he had a mistress, also very poor, a widow with three -children; he had two other children by her, so the young doctor had to -keep a family of six persons whilst as yet he had no practice. It seems -that he adored his family, especially his children. Letters were found -showing warm fatherly affection in a heart that was consumed, even -more on behalf of others than on his own account, with that thirst of -ambition and that craving for riches which brought him to the scaffold. - -We have seen that Castaing's finances suddenly became easier, that he -lent his mother thirty thousand francs and that he invested seventy -thousand francs in assumed names or in bearer bonds. - -Then, next, we saw that on 29 May he arrived at Saint-Cloud with -Auguste Ballet, and that, on 1 June, Auguste Ballet died, leaving him -residuary legatee. Castaing was in Paris on the evening he was absent -under pretence of taking a walk: he bought twelve grains from one -chemist and one drachm from a second, of acetate of morphine, or, in -other words, of that vegetable poison which leaves no traces and of -which he had already bought ten grains, seventeen days before the death -of Hippolyte Ballet. - -The above is a résumé of the accumulated evidence brought against -Castaing, who had to face the jury under the weight of fifteen charges -relative to the poisoning of Hippolyte Ballet, of thirty-four connected -with the business of the will and of seventy-six relative to the -poisoning of Auguste Ballet. People will remember the different phases -gone through during that long and terrible trial; the steady denials of -the prisoner, and his bearing on receipt of the sentence condemning him -to death; a sentence decided by the turn of only one vote--that is to -say, by seven against five. - -The criminal stood, with bared head, and listened with frigid -resignation to the sentence, his hands clasped together, silent, his -eyes and hands raised to Heaven. - -"Have you anything to say why sentence should not be carried out?" -asked the judge. - -Castaing sadly shook his head, the head so soon to feel the chilly grip -of death. - -"No, monsieur," he said in a deep but gentle voice,--"no, I have -nothing to say against the carrying out of the sentence decreed against -me. I shall know how to die, although it is a great misfortune to die, -hurried to the grave by such a dire fate as has overtaken me. I am -accused of having basely murdered my two friends, and I am innocent.... -Oh! indeed, I repeat it, I am innocent! But there is a Providence: that -which is immortal in me will go forth to find you, Auguste, Hippolyte. -Oh yes, my friends" (and here the condemned man stretched out both his -arms to heaven most impressively),--"oh yes, my friends, yes, I shall -meet you again, and to me it will be a happy fate to rejoin you. After -the accusation brought against me, nothing human can affect me. Now I -look no longer for human pity, I look only for Heaven's mercy; I shall -mount the scaffold courageously, cheered by the thought of seeing you -again! Oh! my friends, this thought will rejoice my soul even when I -feel.... Alas!" continued the accused, passing his hand across his -neck, "alas! it is easier to understand what I feel than to express -what I dare not utter...." Then, in a lower tone, "You have decided -on my death, messieurs; behold, I am ready to die." Then, turning -to his counsel, Maître Roussel, he said, "Look, look, Roussel, turn -round, come here and look at me.... You believed in my innocence, and -you defended me believing in that innocence; well, it is even so, I -am innocent; take my farewell greetings to my father, my brothers, my -mother, my daughter!" Then, without any pause, he went on, addressing -the amazed spectators: "And you, young people, you who have been -present at my trial; you, my contemporaries, will be present also at my -execution; you will see me there animated with the same courage as now, -and if the shedding of my blood be deemed necessary to society, well, I -shall not regret that it has to flow!" - -Why have I related the details of this terrible trial in such fulness? -Is it in order to awake gloomy memories of the past in the hearts of -the members of those two unhappy families who may still be alive? -No! It was because, by reason of the reports connecting poor Fleuriet -with Castaing, I was present at the final tragedy; I begged a day's -holiday from M. Oudard in order to see the end; I was present among the -number of those young people whom the condemned man, in a moment of -exaltation, of delirium, perhaps, invited to his execution; and when -I saw that man so exuberantly young, so full of life, so eager after -knowledge, condemned to death, bidding farewell to his father, his -mother, his brothers, his children, society, creation, light, in those -poignant tones and miserable accents, I said to myself in inexpressible -anguish of heart, "O my God! my God! suppose this man should be another -Lesurques, another Labarre, another Calas!... O my God! my God! suppose -this man be not guilty!" - -And, then and there, before the tribunal which had just condemned a man -to death, I vowed that, no matter to what position I might attain, I -would never look upon it as justifiable to punish a sentient, suffering -human being like myself by the deprivation of life. - -No, I was not present at the execution; for, I must admit, I could not -possibly have borne such a spectacle; and now twenty-eight years have -flown by between Castaing's execution and Lafourcade's, and they have -been full of such cases, in spite of the penalty of death, which is -meant to be a deterrent and does not deter! Alas! how many wretched -criminals have passed along the route that led from the Conciergerie to -the place de Grève, and now leads from la Roquette to the barrière de -Saint-Jacques, during those twenty-eight years! - -On 6 December, at half-past seven in the morning, Castaing was led from -Bicêtre to la Conciergerie. A moment later, the gaoler entered his cell -and told him of the rejection of his petition. Behind the gaoler came -the abbé Montes. - -Castaing then turned his attention to his prayers, praying long and -earnestly. He did not utter a single word during the whole of the -time he spent in the vestibule of the Conciergerie, while they were -preparing him for his execution. - -When he looked round at the vast crowd that awaited his appearance as -he mounted into the cart, his cheeks grew suddenly purple, and then -gradually subsided to a deathly paleness. He only lifted his head at -the foot of the scaffold; it had remained sunk on his breast during the -journey; then, glancing at the crowd again as he had done on coming -out of the Conciergerie, he knelt at the foot of the ladder and, after -he had kissed the crucifix and embraced the worthy ecclesiastic who -offered it him, he climbed the scaffold, held up by the executioner's -two assistants. He raised his eyes twice quite noticeably to Heaven -while they pinioned him on the fatal block; then, at fifteen minutes -past two, as the quarter chimed, his head fell. - -Castaing had experienced the sensation of death that he had not dared -more clearly to define to the audience when he drew his hand across his -neck--Castaing had passed before his Creator--if guilty, to receive -forgiveness, if innocent, to denounce the real criminal. - -He had asked to see his father, to receive his benediction _in -extremis_; the favour was refused him. He next asked for this -benediction to be sent him in writing. It was sent to him thus, but was -first passed through vinegar before being handed to him. They feared -the paternal benediction might hide some poison by the aid of which -Castaing might find means to cheat the scaffold of its due. - -All was ended by half-past two, and those who wished to have comedy -after tragedy still had time to go from the place de Grève to take -their stand in the queue outside the Théâtre-Français. On that day, 6 -December 1823, the _École des Vieillards_ was played. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Casimir Delavigne--An appreciation of the man and of the poet--The -origin of the hatred of the old school of literature for the new--Some -reflections upon _Marino Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard_--Why -Casimir Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic poet--Where he -found the ideas for his chief plays - - -The first representation of the _École des Vieillards_ played by Talma -and Mademoiselle Mars was a great occasion. It was the first time -indeed that these two great actors had appeared together in the same -play. - -Casimir Delavigne had laid down his own conditions. Expelled from the -Théâtre-Français under pretext that _his work was badly put together_, -he had profited by the proscription. His _Messéniennes,_ his _Vêpres -siciliennes_, his _Comédiens_ and the _Paria,_ and perhaps even more -than all these, the need felt by the Opposition party for a Liberal -poet to set against Lamartine and Hugo, the Royalist poets of the -period, had made the author of the _École des Vieillards_ so popular -that, with this popularity, all difficulties were cleared away, perhaps -even too smoothly; for, like Richelieu in his litter, Casimir Delavigne -returned to the Théâtre-Français not through the door, but by means of -a gap. - -I knew Casimir Delavigne very well as a man, I studied him very much as -a poet: I never could get up much admiration for Casimir Delavigne as -a poet, but I have always had the greatest respect for him as a man. -As an individual, in addition to his uncontested and incontestable -literary probity, Casimir Delavigne was a man of pleasant, polite, even -affable demeanour. The first sight of him gave one the disagreeable -impression that his head was much too big for his small body; but his -fine forehead, his intelligent eyes, his good-natured mouth, very soon -made one forget this first impression. Although a man of great talent, -he was of the number of those who display it only when pen in hand. His -conversation, pleasant and affectionate, was colourless and insipid; -as he lacked dignity of expression and strength of intonation, so he -lacked strength and dignity of actual words. He attracted no notice at -a salon: people needed to have Casimir Delavigne pointed out before -they paid any attention to him. There are men who bear the stamp of -their kingly dignity about with them: wherever these people go they -instantly command attention; at the end of an hour's intercourse -they reign. Casimir Delavigne was not one of them: he would have -declined the power of commanding attention, had it been offered him; -had sovereignty been thrust upon him, he would have abdicated. All -burdens, even the weight of a crown, were embarrassing in his eyes. He -had received an excellent education: he knew everything that could be -taught when he left college; but since he left college he had learnt -very little by himself, had thought but little, had reflected but -little. - -One of the chief features of Casimir Delavigne's character--and, in -our opinion, one of his most unlucky attributes--was his submission -to other people's ideas, a submission that could only arise from -want of confidence in his own ideas. Oddly enough, he had created -among his friends and in his family a kind of censorship, a sort of -committee of repression, commissioned to watch over his imagination -and to prevent it from wandering; this was all the more futile since -Casimir Delavigne's imagination, enclosed in decidedly narrow limits, -needed stimulating much more than restraining. The result was that -this Areopagitica, inferior as it was in feeling and, above all, in -style to Casimir Delavigne himself, played sad havoc with what little -picturesqueness of style and imagination in plot he possessed. This -depreciatory cenacle often reminded him that Icarus fell because -he flew too near the sun; and I am sure he did not even dream of -replying, that if the sun melted Icarus's wings, it must have been -because Icarus had false wings fastened on with wax, and that the -eagle, which disappears in the flood of fiery rays sent forth by the -god of day, never falls back on the earth as the victim of a similar -accident. - -The result of this abdication of his own will was that just when -Casimir Delavigne's talent was at its best and his reputation was -at its height, he dared not do anything by himself, or on his own -initiative. The ideas that arose in his brain were submitted to this -committee before they were worked into proper shape; the plot decided -upon, he would again put himself in the hands of this commission, -which commented upon it, discussed it, corrected it and returned it -to the poet signed _examined and found correct._ Then, when the plot -became a play and was read before (of course) the same assembly, one -would take a pencil, another a pair of scissors, a third a compass, a -fourth a rule, and set to work to cut all vitality out of the play; to -such purpose that, during the sitting, the comedy, drama or tragedy -was lopped, trimmed and cut about not according to the notions of the -author but as MM. So and So, So and So, So and So thought fit, all -conscientious gentlemen after their own fashion, all talented men in -their own line, wise professors, worthy savants, able philologists, but -indifferent poets who, instead of elevating their friend's efforts by -a powerful breath of inspiration, only thought instead of keeping him -down on the ground for fear he should soar above them to realms where -their short-sighted glance could not follow him. - -This habit of Casimir Delavigne, of submitting his will to that of -others, gave him, without his being aware of it himself, a false -modesty, an assumed humility, that embarrassed his enemies and disarmed -those who were jealous of him. How indeed could anyone begrudge a man -his success who seemed to be asking everybody's leave to succeed and -who appeared surprised when he did succeed; or be envious of a poor -poet who, if they would but believe it, had only succeeded through -the addition to his feeble intelligence of abilities superior to his -own; or be vexed with such a quaking victor, who implored people, in -the moment of his triumph, not to desert him, as beseechingly as a -vanquished man might pray them to remain true to him under defeat? -And people were faithful to Casimir Delavigne even to the verge of -fanaticism: they extended hands of flattering devotion in homage to his -renown, the diverging rays of which, like the flame of the Holy Spirit, -became divided into as many tongues of fire as the Casimirian cult -could muster apostles. - -We have mentioned the drawbacks, now let us point out the advantages, -of his popularity. His plays were praised abroad before they were -finished, spoken highly of before they were received, in the three -classes of society to which Casimir Delavigne belonged by birth, and -I will even go so far as to say above all by his talent. Thus his -clientèle comprised: through Fortune Delavigne, who was an advocate, -all the law students in Paris; through Gustave de Wailly, professor, -all the students of the Latin quarter; through Jules de Wailly, chief -clerk in the Home Office, all the Government officials. - -This sort of family clientèle was extremely useful for the purpose of -doing battle with theatrical managers and publishers. - -It knew Casimir and did not allow him to undertake any business -arrangements: he was so modest that he would have unconditionally given -his plays to the comedians, his manuscripts to the publishers without -any agreements. Casimir was aware of his failing in this direction: he -referred publishers and managers to his brother Germain, his brother -Germain referred them to his brother Fortune, and his brother Fortune -managed the affair on a business footing. - -And I would point out that all this was done simply, guilelessly, in -kindly fashion, out of the admiration and devotion everybody felt -towards Casimir; without intrigue, for this assistance never prejudiced -anyone who rendered it; and I might even say without there being any -coterie; for, in my opinion, where there is conviction coteries do not -exist. - -Now, every friend of Casimir Delavigne was absolutely and perfectly -convinced that Casimir Delavigne was the first lyric poet of his -time, the first dramatic poet of his century. People who never came -in touch with him, and those who were stopped by the vigilant cordon -which surrounded him, acted for and praised him, might well believe -that these opinions emanated from himself, as from the centre to the -circumference; but if they did get to close quarters with him, they -were soon persuaded of the simplicity, the sincerity and the kindliness -of that talented man. - -I believe Casimir Delavigne never hated but one of his confrères. But -him he hated well. That man was Victor Hugo. When the author of _Odes -et Ballades_, of _Marion Delorme_ and of _Nôtre-Dame de Paris_ was -taken with the strange fancy of becoming the colleague of M. Droz, of -M. Briffaut and of M. Viennet, I took upon myself to go personally on -his account to ask for Casimir Delavigne's vote. I thought that such an -intelligent person as the author of the _Messéniennes_ would regard it -as the duty of one in his position to help as much as was in his power -in providing a seat for his illustrious rival, a candidate who had done -the Academy the honour of applying for a seat therein. - -I was quite wrong: Casimir Delavigne obstinately declined to give his -vote to Victor Hugo, and that with such vehemence and tenacity as I -should have dreamt him incapable of feeling, especially towards me, -of whom he was extremely fond. Neither entreaty nor supplication nor -argument could, I will not say convince, but even persuade him to -agree. And yet Casimir Delavigne knew well enough that he was rejecting -one of the eminent men of his time. I never found out the reason for -this antipathy. It was certainly not on account of their different -schools: I was most decidedly not of the school of Casimir Delavigne, -and he offered me the vote he withheld from Victor Hugo. - -The poor Academicians were in a sorry fix in my case; for, if I had put -myself up, I believe they would have elected me! They nominated Dupaty. - -Hugo comforted himself by one of the wittiest sayings he ever made. -"I believed," he said, "that one could enter the Academy _par le pont -des Arts_; I was mistaken, for it appears it is by the Pont Neuf that -entrance is effected." - -And now that I have criticised the man, perhaps it may be thought that -it will be a much more difficult matter still for me his confrère, his -rival, at times his antagonist, to criticise his poetry. No! my readers -are labouring under a misapprehension: nothing is difficult to whoso -speaks the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Moreover, -I have never written anything about a man that I was not ready to tell -him to his face. - -In order to judge Casimir Delavigne fairly, we must glance over the -period at which he was born and in which he lived. We must speak of the -imperial era. What occasioned the burst of hatred that made itself felt -after the appearance of _Henri III_., of _Marion Delorme_ and of the -_Maréchale d'Ancre_, between the new and the old school of poetry and -their representatives? - -People have stated the fact without inquiring into its causes: I can -tell you them. - -Because, during all the years that Napoleon was levying his toll of -300,000 conscripts, he did not perceive that the poets he looked for, -and looked for so vainly, had been compelled to change their calling, -and that they were in camp, sword, musket or sabre in hand, instead of -pen in hand in their studies. And this state of things lasted from 1796 -to 1815--a period of nineteen years. - -For nineteen years the enemy's cannon swept down the generation of men -from fifteen to thirty-six years of age. So it came about that when the -poets of the end of the eighteenth century and those of the beginning -of the nineteenth confronted one another, they found themselves hemmed -in on each side by an immense ravine which had been hollowed out by the -grapeshot of five coalitions: at the bottom of this ravine a million of -men were stretched, and among this million of men, snatched away before -they had added to the population, were those twelve poets that Napoleon -had so insistently demanded of M. de Fontanes, without being able to -obtain them from him. - -Those who escaped were consumptive poets, considered too feeble to -undertake soldiers' duties, who died young, like Casimir Delavigne and -Soumet. These were bridges thrown across the ravine of which we have -just spoken, but quite unequal to the task allotted them. - -Napoleon, with his eighteen years of warfare and his ten years' reign, -the re-constructor of religion, the re-builder of society, he who -established legislation on a firm basis, was foiled in the matter of -poetry. Had it not been for the two men whom we have named--Soumet and -Casimir Delavigne--the thread of continuity would have been broken. - -So it came about that Casimir Delavigne, the connecting link between -the old and the new schools, showed always in his poetry a little of -that anæmic quality which was evident in his person; in any work by -Casimir (which never exceeded the limits of one, three or five acts -ordained by the old theatrical régime) there was always something -sickly and airless; his plays lacked breath, as did the man; his work -was as consumptive as the poet. - -No one ever made three acts out of his one; no one ever made five acts -out of his three; no one ever made ten acts out of his five. But it was -a simple task to reduce five of his acts to three; three of his acts to -one. - -When imagination failed him, and he appealed to Byron or Shakespeare, -he could never attain their sublime heights; he was obliged to stop -short a third of the way up, midway at the very utmost, like a child -who climbs a tree to gather apples and finds he cannot reach the -ripest, which always grow on the highest branches, and are the most -beautiful because they are nearest the sun, save at the risk of -breaking his neck--a risk he is wise enough not to venture to take. - -We will make our meaning clearer by a couple of instances: _Marino -Faliero_ and the _Enfants d'Édouard._ - -In Byron's _Marino Faliero_, the doge plots to revenge himself on the -youthful satirist, who has insulted him by writing on his chair "Marin -Falier, the husband of the fair wife; others kiss her, but he keeps -her." This was a calumny: the fair Angiolina is as pure as her name -implies, in spite of being but eighteen and her husband eighty. It is -therefore to defend a spotless wife, and not to avenge the husband's -outraged honour, that Byron's Marino Faliero conspires, and we hardly -need say that the play gains in distinction by the passage across it of -a sweet and lofty figure, inflamed with devotion, rather than suffused -with repentance. - -Now, in Casimir Delavigne's imitation, on the contrary, the wife is -guilty. Héléna (for the poet, in degrading her, has not ventured to -keep her heavenly name) deceives her husband, an old man! She deceives -him, or rather she has deceived him, before the rising of the curtain. -The first lines of the tragedy are concerned with a scarf that she is -embroidering for her lover--a serious blunder in our opinion; for there -could be only one means of making Héléna interesting, if she were to -be made guilty, and that would be to show the struggle in her between -passion and virtue, between love and duty; in short, to have done, only -more successfully, what we did in _Antony._ - -But we reiterate that it was far better to make the wife innocent, as -Byron does; far better to put a faithful wife alongside the old man -than an adulterous one; far better in the fifth act, where the wife -seeks out her husband, to let him find devotion and not repentance -when his prison doors are opened. When Christ was bowed down under His -bloody agony, God chose the purest of His angels, not a fallen one, to -carry Him the cup of bitterness! - -We will pass over the conspiracy which takes place in Venice at -midnight, in the middle of the square of Saint Mark, where fifty -conspirators cry in eager emulation, "Down with the Republic!" In -Venice and at midnight! in Venice, the city of the Council of Ten! in -Venice, the city that never really sleeps, where at least half the -populace is awake while the other half sleeps! - -Casimir Delavigne did not venture to borrow anything from Shakespeare's -_Richard III._ but the death of the two princes: instead of that -magnificent historical play by the Elizabethan poet, he substituted -an insignificant little drama, replete with infantine babblings and -maternal tears; of the great figure of Richard III., of the marvellous -scene between the murderer and the wife of the murdered man and of the -assassination of Buckingham, of the duel with Richmond and Richard's -remorse, nothing is left. - -The gigantic statue, the Colossus of Rhodes, between whose legs the -tallest galleys can pass, has become a bronze ornament suitable for the -top of a timepiece. - -Did Casimir Delavigne even take as much of the subject of the _children -of Edward_ as he might have taken? Has he not turned aside from his -model, Shakespeare, with regard to the dignified way in which the -characters of the heir to the throne and his gentle brother the Duke of -York are treated? We will adduce one example to demonstrate this. - -In Casimir Delavigne, when the young Richard takes refuge in -Westminster Abbey, the church possessing the right to offer sanctuary, -the author of the _Messéniennes_, in order to compel the young prince -to come out of the church, causes a letter to be written, apparently -from his brother, inviting him to come back to him at the palace. The -poor fugitive, although surprised at receiving it, puts reliance on -this letter, and comes out of his place of safety. When he reaches the -palace, Richard III. immediately arrests him. - -In Shakespeare, the young prince also seeks this refuge. What does -Richard III. do? He sends for the archbishop and says to him, "Has the -crown prince sought refuge in your church?" - -"Yes, monseigneur." - -"You must give him up to me." - -"Impossible, monseigneur." - -"Why so?" - -"Because the church is a place of sanctuary." - -"For guilty men, idiot!" replies Richard, "but not for innocent -ones...." - -How small, to my thinking, is Mézence, that scoffer at men and at -gods, by the side of Richard III., who kills his innocent enemies -just as another would kill his guilty enemies. It will be understood -that, since Casimir Delavigne was devoid both of picturesqueness and -dignity, he succeeded much better in comedy than in tragedy; and we -think his two best productions were the two comedies, _Les Comédiens_ -and the _École des Vieillards._ It should be clearly understood that -all we have to say is said from the point of view of a rigid standard -of criticism, and it does not therefore follow that Casimir Delavigne -was not gifted with very genuine qualities. These good qualities were: -a facile aptitude for versification which only occasionally rises to -poetic expression, it is true, but which on the other hand never quite -descends to flabbiness and slackness; and, indeed, from the beginning -to the end of his work, from the first line to the last, whatever -else his work may be, it is careful, presentable and particularly -honest; and please note that we have used the word "honest" as the most -suitable word we could choose; for Casimir Delavigne was never the kind -of man to try and rob his public by stinting the work he had in hand -in order to use similar material in his next piece. No; in the case of -Casimir Delavigne, _one got one's money's worth_, as the saying is: -he gave all he possessed, to the last farthing. The spectators at the -first production of each of his new plays had everything he had at that -time to give them. When midnight arrived, and, amidst the cheering of -the audience, his signature was honoured--that is to say, what he had -promised he had performed--he was a ruined man. But what mattered it to -be reduced to beggary! He had owed a tragedy, a drama, a comedy, he had -paid to the uttermost farthing; true, it might perhaps mean his being -compelled to make daily economies of mind, spirit and imagination, -for one year, two years, three years, before he could achieve another -work; but he would achieve it, cost what it might, at the expense of -sleepless nights, of his health, of his life, until the day came when -he died worn out at fifty-two years of age, before he had completed his -last tragedy. - -Well, there was no need for the poet of the _Messéniennes_, the -author of the _École des Vieillards_, of _Louis XI._ and of _Don -Juan_ to commiserate himself. He who does all he can does all that -can be expected of him. Nevertheless, we shall always maintain that -Casimir Delavigne would have done better still without his restraining -body-guard; and we need not seek through his long-winded works for -proof of what we assert; we will take, instead, one of the shorter -poems, which the poet wrote under stress of sadness--a similar effort -to M. Arnault's admirable _Feuille_--M. Arnault, who was not only far -less of a poet but still less of a versifier than Casimir Delavigne. - -Well, we will hunt up a little ballad which Delavigne relegated to -notes, as unworthy of any other place and which we, on the contrary, -consider a little masterpiece. - - "La brigantine - Qui va tourner, - Roule et s'incline - Pour m'entraîner ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Provence, adieu! - - Mon pauvre père - Verra son vent - Pâlir ma mère - Au bruit du vent ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Mon père, adieu! - - La vieille Hélène - Se confira - Dans sa neuvaine, - Et dormira ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Hélène, adieu! - - Ma sœur se lève, - Et dit déjà: - 'J'ai fait un rêve, - Il reviendra!' - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Ma sœur, adieu! - - De mon Isaure - Le mouchoir blanc - S'agite encore - En m'appelant ... - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Isaure, adieu! - - Brise ennemie, - Pourquoi souffler, - Quand mon amie - Veut me parler? - O Vierge Marie! - Pour moi priez Dieu. - Adieu, patrie! - Bonheur, adieu!" - -Scudo, the author of that delightful melody, _Fil de la Vierge_, -once asked Casimir Delavigne for some lines to put to music. Casimir -seized his pen and dashed off _Néra._ Perhaps you do not know _Néra_? -Quite so: it is not a poem, only a simple song: the _Brigantine_ was -relegated to the notes; _Néra_ was excluded from his works. - -A day will come--indeed, we believe that day has already come--when the -_Messéniennes_ and _Néra_ will be weighed in the same balance and we -shall see which will turn the scale. - -This is _Néra_:-- - - "Ah! ah!... de la montagne - Reviens, Néra, reviens! - Réponds-moi, ma compagne, - Ma vache, mon seul bien. - La voix d'un si bon maître, - Néra, - Peux-tu la méconnaître? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Reviens, reviens; c'est l'heure - Où le loup sort des bois. - Ma chienne, qui te pleure, - Répond seule à ma voix. - Hors l'ami qui t'appelle, - Néra, - Qui t'aimera comme elle? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Dis-moi si dans la crêche, - Où tu léchais ma main, - Tu manquas d'herbe fraîche, - Quand je manquais de pain? - Nous n'en avions qu'à peine, - Néra, - Et ta crêche était pleine! - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Hélas! c'est bien sans cause - Que tu m'as délaissé. - T'ai-je dit quelque chose, - Hors un mot, l'an passé? - Oui, quand mourut ma femme, - Néra, - J'avais la mort dans l'âme, - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - De ta mamelle avide, - Mon pauvre enfant crira; - S'il voit l'étable vide, - Qui le consolera? - Toi, sa mère nourrice, - Néra, - Veux-tu donc qu'il périsse? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Lorsque avec la pervenche - Pâques refleurira, - Des rameaux du dimanche - Qui te couronnera? - Toi, si bonne chrétienne, - Néra, - Deviendras-tu païenne? - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Quand les miens, en famille, - Tiraient les Rois entre eux, - Je te disais: 'Ma fille, - Ma part est à nous deux!' - A la fête prochaine, - Néra, - Tu ne seras plus reine. - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Ingrate! quand la fièvre - Glaçait mes doigts roidis, - Otant mon poil de chèvre, - Sur vous je l'étendis ... - Faut-il que le froid vienne, - Néra, - Pour qu'il vous en souvienne - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Adieu! sous mon vieux hêtre - Je m'en reviens sans vous; - Allez chercher pour maître - Un plus riche que nous ... - Allez! mon cœur se brise, - Néra!... - Pourtant, Dieu te conduise - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Je n'ai pas le courage - De te vouloir du mal; - Sur nos monts crains l'orage - Crains l'ombre dans le val. - Pais longtemps l'herbe verte, - Néra! - Nous mourrons de ta perte, - Ah! ah! - Néra! - - Un soir, à ma fenêtre, - Néra, pour t'abriter, - De ta come peut-être - Tu reviendras heurter; - Si la famille est morte, - Néra, - Qui t'ouvrira la porte? - Ah! ah! - Néra!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Talma in the _École des Vieillards_--One of his letters--Origin of his -name and of his family_--Tamerlan_ at the pension Verdier--Talma's -début--Dugazon's advice--More advice from Shakespeare--Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant--Talma's passion for his art - - -The _École des Vieillards_ was very successful. A fatal Dud, which had -recently taken place under pretty nearly similar conditions to those -that operated between Danville and the duke, gave the piece just that -appropriate touch which captivated the Parisian public. We ought also -to add that Talma had perhaps never looked finer; the play of emotions -in the part of the old and betrayed lover could not have been rendered -in more moving accents. It was a part that interested the audience from -an entirely different point of view than that of the part of Marino -Faliero, who shares with Danville the lot of a betrayed lover. - -Oh! what an inestimable gift a good voice is to the actor who knows -how to use it! How tender were Talma's tones in the first act, how -impatient in the second, uneasy in the third, threatening in the -fourth, dejected in the fifth! The part is gracious, noble, pleasing -and harmoniously consistent throughout. How the old man's heart goes -out to Hortense partly from paternal feeling, partly as a lover! And, -while complaining of the wife who allows herself to be snared, like a -foolish lark, by the mirror of youth and the babblings of coquetry, how -he despises the man who has in some inexplicable way managed to catch -her fancy! Alas! there is in every maiden's heart one vulnerable place, -open to unscrupulous attack. - -The wife's part is very much below that of the man. Does Hortense love -the duke or does she not? Is she a flirt or is she not? It is a serious -flaw that the situation is not more clearly defined, and the following -passage shows it: in the fourth act, while Hortense is conversing -with the duke in a salon at one o'clock in the morning, she hears her -husband's footsteps, and hides the duke. - -Now, I appeal to all wives: would any wife hide a man whom she did not -love when surprised by her husband, no matter at what hour of the day -or night it might be? - -Hortense must love the duke, since she hid him. If Hortense loves the -duke, she cannot escape from an accusation of ingratitude; for it is -impossible to comprehend how an honourable wife, who had a good and -thoughtful husband, young-hearted in spite of his white hairs, could -for one moment fall in love with such a colourless creature as the Duke -Delmas. - -With what moving accents does Talma utter the words - - "Je ne l'aurais pas cru! C'est bien mal! C'est affreux!" - -as he gets up and traverses the stage in despair. No human anguish was -ever more clearly revealed than in this sob. - -Vulgar amateurs and second-rate critics praised exceedingly the -character of one of Danville's college chums, in this comedy by Casimir -Delavigne, played with much humour by an actor called Vigny. It is the -part of an old bachelor, who, after remaining in single blessedness -for sixty years, decides to marry on the strength of the description -Danville draws of conjugal happiness, and comes to tell his friend of -his decision at the very moment when he is racked with jealous pangs. - -No, indeed, a hundred times no, it is not here where the real beauty -of the _École des Vieillards_ lies. No, it is not that scene wherein -Danville repeats incessantly: "_Mais moi, c'est autre chose!"_ that -should be applauded. No, the matter to be applauded is the presentation -of the deep and agonising torture of a broken heart; what should be -applauded is the situation that gives scope for Talma to display both -dignity and simplicity at the same time, and that shows how much -suffering that creature, born of woman, cradled in grief and brought up -to grief, whom we call _man_, is capable of enduring. - -Talma's friends blamed him for playing the part in a frock-coat; he -told them he had been sacrificed to Mademoiselle Mars. They asked him -why he had so easily allowed himself to be made the footstool of an -actress placed above him, the pedestal for one whose renown rivalled -his own: Talma let them say. - -He knew well enough that in spite of all Mademoiselle Mars' talent, -all her winsomeness, all her ease of manner on the stage, all the -pretty things she said in her charming voice, everything was eclipsed, -effaced, annihilated, by a single utterance, a sob, a sigh of his. It -must have been a proud moment for the poet when he saw his work thus -finely interpreted by Talma; but it must have been quite a different -matter to Talma, for he felt that the limits of art could be extended -farther, or rather that art has no boundaries. For Talma had been -educated in the spacious school of Shakespeare, which intermingles -laughter with tears, the trivial with the sublime, as they are -intermingled in the pitiful struggle which we call life. He knew what -the drama should aim at: he had played tragedy all his life and had -never ventured to attempt comedy. We will briefly relate how he came to -be the man we knew. - -Talma was born in Paris, in the rue des Ménétriers, on 15 January 1766. -When I became acquainted with him he would be about fifty-seven. He -received from his godfather and godmother the names François-Joseph -and from his father that of Talma. In a letter from Talma which I have -by me, it is stated that the name of Talma, which became celebrated by -the deeds of the great artiste, was several times made the subject of -investigation by etymologists. - -This autograph letter by Talma is the copy of one in which he replies -in 1822 to a savant of Gruningen, named Arétius Sibrandus Talma, who, -after giving details of his ancestry, asks the modern Roscius if he -cannot lay claim to the honour of relationship with him. This is -Talma's reply:-- - - "I do not know, monsieur, and it would be a difficult - matter for me to find out, whether you and I are of the - same family. When I was in Holland, more than fifteen - years ago, I learnt that there were many people bearing - the same name as myself in the land of Ruyter and of Jan - de Witt My family mainly inhabited a little strip of - country six leagues from Cambrai, in French Flanders. - This is not the first time, monsieur, that my name has - given rise to discussion with regard to my origin, on the - part of foreigners. About forty or fifty years ago, a son - of the Emperor of Morocco staying in Paris and hearing - mention of my father's name came and asked him if it were - not of Arabian derivation--a question that my father was - unable to answer. Later, an Arab merchant whom I met in - Paris in my youth put the same question to me: I could - not answer him more explicitly than could my father, the - son of His Majesty of Morocco. - - "M. Langlais, a distinguished savant, who had made a very - profound study of Oriental languages, told me, at that - time that the word Talma, in the Arabic tongue, meant - _intrepid_, and that it was a very customary name among - the descendants of Ishmael, to distinguish the different - branches of the same family. You may be sure, monsieur, - that such an interpretation ought to make me very proud, - and I have ever done my utmost not to fall short of it. - I have consequently given rein to my imagination and - conjecture that a Moorish family remained in Spain, - embraced Christianity and wandered from that kingdom to - the Netherlands, which were formerly under allegiance to - the Spaniards, and that by degrees members of this family - wandered into French Flanders, where they settled. But, - on the other hand, I have been informed that our name has - a Dutch ending and that it was once very common in one of - the provinces of Holland. This new version has completely - upset my castle in Spain, and conveyed me from the - African deserts to the marshes of the United Netherlands. - Now, monsieur, you ought to be able to decide better than - anyone, certainly better than I, since you speak Dutch, - whether we really came from the North or from the South, - whether our ancestors wore turbans or hats, whether they - offered their prayers to Mahomed or to the God of the - Christians. - - "I have omitted to give you another piece of information, - which is not without its relevancy--namely, that the - Count de Mouradgea d'Olisson, who lived in the East - for some years, and who has brought out a work on the - religious systems of Oriental peoples, quotes a passage - from one of their authors which tells us that the king, - or rather the pharaoh, who drove the Israelites out of - Egypt, was called Talma. I have to admit that that king - was a great scoundrel, if the account given of him by - Moses (surely a reliable authority) be correct; but we - must not look too closely into the matter if we wish to - claim so illustrious an origin. - - "You see, monsieur, there is not a single German baron - who boasts his sixteen quarterings, not even a king, - throughout the four quarters of the globe, were he - even of the house of Austria, that oldest of all royal - families, who can boast such a lofty descent as mine. - However it may be, monsieur, believe me, I hold it a - much greater honour to be related to so distinguished - a savant as yourself than to be the descendant of a - crowned head. Such men as you work only for the good of - men, whilst others--and by others I mean kings, pharaohs - and emperors--think only of driving them mad. I trust, - monsieur, that, since you seem to have made up your - mind on this matter, you would be so good as to inform - me whether the name we bear is Dutch or Arabian. In any - case, I congratulate myself, monsieur, upon bearing the - name that you have made celebrated.--Believe me, etc. etc. - - "TALMA" - -This letter serves to give us both positive information concerning -Talma's family and a good idea of his way of looking at things. - -Talma often told me that his remotest recollections carried him back to -the time when he lived in a house in the rue Mauconseil, the windows of -which looked towards the old Comédie-Italienne theatre. He had three -sisters and one brother; also a cousin whom his father, who was a -dentist by profession, had adopted. - -One day, Lord Harcourt came to Talma's father to have a troublesome -tooth extracted, and he was so pleased with the way the operation was -performed that he urged Talma's father to go and live in London, where -he promised to procure him an aristocratic clientèle. Talma's father -yielded to Lord Harcourt's pressure, crossed the Channel and set up -in Cavendish Square. Lord Harcourt kept his promises: he brought the -French dentist such good customers that he soon became the fashionable -dentist, and included the Prince of Wales,--afterwards the elegant -George IV.,--among his clients. - -The whole family followed its head; but Talma's father, considering a -French education better than any other, sent his son back to Paris in -the course of the year 1775. He was then nine years old and, thanks -to having spent three years in England at the age when languages are -quickly picked up, he could speak English when he reached Paris as -well as he could speak French. His father chose M. Verdier's school -for him. A year after he joined the school, great news began to leak -out. M. Verdier, the head of the school, had composed a tragedy -called _Tamerlan._ This tragedy was to be played on Prize Day. Talma -was hardly ten at that time, so it was probable that he would not be -allotted a leading part, even if he were allowed to take any part in it -at all. The assumption is incorrect. M. Verdier gave him the part of -a confidential friend. It was like all such parts,--a score of lines -strewn throughout the play and a monologue at the end. - -In this peroration the bosom-friend expatiates on the death of his -friend, who was condemned to death, like Titus, by an inexorable -father. The beginning of this recitation went like a charm; the bulk -of it was successfully delivered also; but, towards the end, the -child's emotion grew to such a pitch that he burst into tears, and -fainted away. This fainting fit marked his destiny, for the child was -an artiste! Ten years later, on 21 November 1787, Talma made his first -appearance at the Théâtre-Français, in the part of Séide. - -On the previous day, he paid a visit to Dugazon, and Dugazon gave him -a paper containing the following advice. I copy it from the original, -which is now in my possession. - - "Aim at greatness, from your first entry, or at any - rate at something above the common. You must try to - leave your mark and to make an appeal to the spirit of - curiosity. Perhaps it may be better to hit straight than - to strike hard; but amateurs are legion and connoisseurs - are scarce. However, if you can unite both truth and - strength, you will have the suffrages of all. Do not - be carried away by applause; nor allow yourself to be - discouraged by hissing. Only fools allow themselves to - be disconcerted by cat-calls; none but idiots are made - dizzy by applause. When applause is lavished without - discrimination, it injures talent at the very outset of - its career. Some artistes have failed, instead of having - passed through their careers with distinction, because of - faults which genuine criticism might have pointed out or - hissing punished. - - "Lekain, Peville, Fleury were all hissed and they are - immortal. A. and B. and C. have succumbed beneath the - hail of too much applause. What has become of them? - - "Fewer means and more study, less indulgence and more - discipline, are all pledges of success; if not immediate - and striking, at least permanent and substantial. Do - you want to captivate women and young people? Begin in - the _genre sensible._ 'Tout le monde aime,' as Voltaire - says, 'et personne ne conspire.' At the same time, what - may have been good advice in his day may not be worth - very much in ours. If you want chiefly to delight the - multitude, which feels much and reasons but little, adopt - either a magnificent or an awe-inspiring style: they will - instantly take effect. How is it possible to sustain the - dignified part of Mahomed, the condescension of Augustus, - the remorse of Orestes? The impression to be made by - such parts as Ladislas, Orosmane and Bajazet should be - carefully prepared and it will then be ineffaceable. - - "True talent, well supported, and a fortunate début are - a guarantee of immediate popularity; but the artiste - should strive to perpetuate them; he must compel the - public to go on appreciating. After having applauded - from conviction, people should be made to continue their - applause from habit. That collective body of people whom - we call the public has its caprices like any ordinary - individual; it must be coaxed; and (may I go so far as - to say that) if it be won over by good qualities, it is - not impossible to keep its favour by faults; you may - use defects, then, to that end! Nevertheless, you must - be careful that they are those with which your judges - will be in sympathy. Should the case be otherwise, you - may still have defects; but they will be poor relations - dogging the footsteps of your talent and welcomed only - by reason of its greater authority. Molé stammered and - slurred, Fleury staggered and I have been reproached with - over-acting; but Molé had indescribable charms, Fleury an - alluring delivery, and I make people laugh so heartily - that the critic who tries to be solemn at my expense is - never given a hearing. - - "There are débutants who shoot up like rockets, shine for - a few months and fall back into utter darkness. There are - several causes for such disasters: their talents were - either forced, or without range, or immature; as the - English say, a few exhibitions have used them up; one or - two efforts have exhausted them. Perhaps, too, deviating - from the path trodden by the masters, they have entered - the crooked labyrinths of innovation, wherein only genius - can lead temerity aright. Perhaps also, and this is more - hopeless still, they have been bad copies of excellent - originals. And the public, seeing that they have aped - defects rather than copied excellences, has taken them - for parodists and called their efforts caricatures. When - a comedian has reached this point, the best thing for - him to do is to escape out of it by the prompters side - door, and fly to Pan to amuse the Basques, or to Riom to - entertain the Auvergnats. But Paris lays claim to you, my - dear Talma, Paris will cleave to you, Paris will possess - you; and the land of Voltaire and of Molière, of which - you will become the worthy interpreter, will not be long - in giving you letters of naturalisation. - - "DUGAZON - - "20 _November_ 1787" - -It is interesting to read the advice that Shakespeare gave two -centuries before, through the mouth of Hamlet, to the players of his -time. It was as follows:-- - - "Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to - you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as - many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier - spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with - your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very - torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your - passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that - may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to - hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion - to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the - groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of - nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would - have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it - out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. - - "Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be - your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the - action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep - not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is - from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first - and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up - to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her - own image, and the very age and body of the time his - form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, - though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the - judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in - your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, - there be players that I have seen play, and heard others - praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that - neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of - Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, - that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made - men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so - abominably. - - "And let those that play your clowns speak no more than - is set down for them; for there be of them that will - themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren - spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, some - necessary question of the play be then to be considered: - that's villanous, and shows' a most pitiful ambition in - the fool that uses it." - -Let the successors of Lekain and of Garrick, of Molé and of Kemble, of -Talma and of Kean, compare this last advice with the first, and profit -by both! - -Talma succeeded, but there was nothing extraordinary about his success. -The débutant was marked out rather by amateurs than by the general -public. It was agreed that his acting was simple and natural. The -account books of the Comédie-Française show that the receipts at -Talma's first appearance amounted to three thousand four hundred and -three francs, eight sous. - -Now shall we hear the opinion of the critics on Talma's début? The -_Journal de Paris_ wrote thus: "The young man who has just made his -début in the character of Séide gives promise of most pleasing talents; -he possesses, besides, every natural advantage that it is possible to -desire, in the rôle of a _jeune premier_,--figure, grace, voice,--and -the public were justified in their applause." - -We will next see what Bachaumont had to say about him. "The débutant -possesses besides his natural gifts, a pleasing face, and a sonorous -and expressive voice, a pure and distinct pronunciation; he both feels -and can express the rhythm of his lines. His deportment is simple, his -movements are natural; moreover, his taste is always good and he has no -affectation; he does not imitate any other actor, but plays according -to his own ideas and abilities." - -Two months later, _Le Mercure_ said, apropos of the revival of Ducis' -_Hamlet_: "We mean soon to speak of a young actor, M. Talma, who has -caught the fancy of playgoers; but we will wait until he has played -more important parts. His taste lies in the direction of tragedy." - -It will readily be understood that the appearance of Mademoiselle -Rachel met with a very different reception from these mild -approbations. And the explanation is not far to seek. Mademoiselle -Rachel was a kind of fixed star, which had been discovered in the -high heavens, where she dwelt unmoved, shining brilliantly. Talma, -on the contrary, was a star destined to shine during a definite -period, to describe the gigantic arc that separates one horizon from -another horizon, to have his rising, his zenith, his setting--a -setting equivalent to that of the sun in mid-August, more fiery, more -magnificent, more splendid in his setting than during the noontide of -his brightness. And indeed what a triumphant progress his was! from -Séide to Charles IX., from Charles IX. to Falkland, from Falkland -to Pinto, from Pinto to Leicester, from Leicester to Danville, from -Danville to Charles VI.! - -But in spite of the brilliant career that was Talma's lot, he always -regretted that he did not see the full dawn of the modern drama. I -spoke to him of my own hopes several times. "Make haste," he would say -to me, "and try to succeed in my time." - -Well, I saw Talma play what very few people outside his own intimate -circle were privileged to see him play--the _Misanthrope_, which he -never dared to put upon the boards of the Théâtre-Français, though he -was anxious to do so; a part of _Hamlet_ in English, particularly the -monologue; also some farcical scenes got up at the Saint-Antoine for M. -Arnault's fête. - -Art was Talma's only care, his only thought, throughout his life. -Without possessing a brilliant mind, he possessed fine feeling, much -knowledge and profound discernment. When he was about to create a new -part, he spared no pains in investigating what history or archæology -might have to offer him in the way of assistance; every gift, good -or indifferent, that he possessed, qualities as well as defects, -was utilised by him. A fortnight before his death, when he rallied -a little, and the rally gave rise to the hope that he might again -reappear at the Théâtre-Français, Adolphe and I went to see him. - -Talma was having a bath; he was studying Lucien Arnault's _Tibère_, in -which he hoped to make his reappearance. Condemned by a disease of the -bowels to die literally of starvation, he was terribly thin; but he -seemed to find consolation even in his emaciated state and to derive -hope of a success from it. - -"Well, my boys," he said to us, as he pressed his hanging cheeks -between his hands, "won't these be just right for the part of old -Tiberius?" - -Oh! how great and glorious a thing art is! It shows more devotion than -a friend, is more faithful than a mistress, more consoling than a -confessor! - -END OF VOL. II - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's My Memoirs, Vol. II (of 6), by Alexandre Dumas - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MEMOIRS, VOL. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: My Memoirs, Vol. II (of 6) - 1822 to 1825 - -Author: Alexandre Dumas - -Translator: E. M. Waller - -Release Date: October 2, 2015 [EBook #50113] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MEMOIRS, VOL. II (OF 6) *** - - - - -Produced by Laura Natal Rodriguez & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h1>MY MEMOIRS</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2> - - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4> - -<h4>E. M. WALLER</h4> - -<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY</h4> - -<h4>ANDREW LANG</h4> - - -<h4>VOL. II</h4> - -<h4>1822 TO 1825</h4> - -<h5>WITH A FRONTISPIECE</h5> - - -<h5>NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5> - -<h5>1907</h5> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/img_front.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<blockquote> - -<h5>CONTENTS</h5> - - - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_I">BOOK I</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>An unpublished chapter from the <i>Diable boiteux</i>—History -of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza <span class="content"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians -had done me—The young girls of Villers-Cotterets—My -three friends—First love affairs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe de Leuven—His family—Unpublished details -concerning the death of Gustavus III.—The Count de -Ribbing—The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon <span class="content"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe's quatrain—The water-hen and King William—Lunch -in the wood—The irritant powder, the frogs and the -cock—The doctor's spectre—De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy -and I are exiled from the drawing-room—Unfortunate -result of a geographical error—M. Paroisse <span class="content"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>Amédée de la Ponce—He teaches me what work is—M. -Arnault and his two sons—A journey by diligence—A -gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him -with my fists—I learn the danger from which I escaped <span class="content"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>First dramatic impressions—The <i>Hamlet of Ducis</i>—<i>The -Bourbons en 1815</i>—Quotations from it <span class="content"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The events of 1814 again—Marmont, Duc de Raguse, -Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's—The -<i>Journal des Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i>—Lyrics -of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons—End -of the Maubreuil affair—Plot against the life of the -Emperor—The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money -and jewels <span class="content"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction -of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de -Maubreuil—Chamber of the Court of Appeal—The sitting of -17 April, 1817 <span class="content"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ia">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>The last shot of Waterloo—Temper of the provinces in -1817, 1818 and 1819—The <i>Messéniennes</i>—The <i>Vêpres -siciliennes—Louis IX.</i>—Appreciation of these two -tragedies—A phrase of Terence—My claim to a similar -sentiment—Three o'clock in the morning—The course of -love-making—<i>Valeat res ludrica</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIa">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Return of Adolphe de Leuven—He shows me a corner of the -artistic and literary world—The death of Holbein and the -death of Orcagna—Entrance into the green-rooms—Bürger's -<i>Lénore</i>—First thoughts of my vocation <span class="content"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIa">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>The Cerberus of the rue de Largny—I tame it—The -ambush—Madame Lebègue—A confession <span class="content"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVa">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>De Leuven makes me his collaborator—The <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i>—My first <i>couplet-Chauvin</i>—The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>—The <i>Abencérages</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Va">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the -Duc de Berry. <span class="content"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIa">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>Carbonarism <span class="content"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIa">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>My hopes—Disappointment—M. Deviolaine is appointed -forest-ranger to the Duc d'Orléans—His coldness -towards me—Half promises—First cloud on my -love-affairs—I go to spend three months with my -brother-in-law at Dreux—The news waiting for -me on my return—Muphti—Walls and hedges—The -summer-house—Tennis—Why I gave up playing it—The -wedding party in the wood <span class="content"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIa">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third -clerk at Crespy—M. Lefèvre—His character—My -journeys to Villers-Cotterets—The <i>Pélerinage -d'Ermenonville</i>—Athénaïs—New matter sent to Adolphe—An -uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris—How -this desire was accomplished—The journey—Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins—Adolphe—<i>Sylla</i>—Talma <span class="content"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXa">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>The theatre ticket—The <i>Café du Roi</i>—Auguste -Lafarge—Théaulon—Rochefort—Ferdinand Langlé—People -who dine and people who don't—Canaris—First sight of -Talma—Appreciation of Mars and Rachel—Why Talma has no -successor<i>—Sylla</i> and the Censorship—Talma's box—A -cab-drive after midnight—The return to Crespy—M. -Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels—I hand in my resignation as his -third clerk <span class="content"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_III">BOOK III</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>I return to my mother's—The excuse I give concerning my -return—The calfs lights—Pyramus and Cartouche—The -intelligence of the fox more developed than that of the -dog—Death of Cartouche—Pyramus's various gluttonous -habits <span class="content"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Hope in Laffitte—A false hope—New projects—M. -Lecomier—How and on what conditions I clothe myself -anew—Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du Helder—Bamps at -Villers-Cotterets—I visit our estate along with -him—Pyramus follows a butcher lad—An Englishman who -loved gluttonous dogs—I sell Pyramus—My first hundred -francs—The use to which they are put—Bamps departs for -Paris—Open credit <span class="content"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house—The -residu—The Piranèses—An architect at twelve hundred -francs salary—I discount my first bill—Gondon—How -I was nearly killed at his house—The fifty -francs—Cartier—The game of billiards—How six hundred -small glasses of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to -Paris <span class="content"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy—M. Danré -of Vouty advises my mother to let me go to Paris—My -good-byes—Laffitte and Perregaux—The three things -which Maître Mennesson asks me not to forget—The Abbé -Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him—I leave -Villers-Cotterets <span class="content"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>I find Adolphe again—The pastoral drama—First -steps—The Duc de Bellune—General Sébastiani—His -secretaries and his snuff-boxes—The fourth floor, small -door to the left—The general who painted battles <a href="#Page_223">223</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p><i>Régulus</i>—Talma and the play—General Foy—The letter of -recommendation and the interview—The Duc de Bellune's -reply—I obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc -d'Orléans—Journey to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother -the good news—No. 9—I gain a prize in a lottery <span class="content"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>I find lodgings—Hiraux's son—Journals and journalists -in 1823—By being saved the expense of a dinner I am -enabled to go to the play at the Porte-Saint-Martin—My -entry into the pit—Sensation caused by my hair—I am -turned out—How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one—A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>My neighbour—His portrait—The <i>Pastissier françois</i>—A -course in bibliomania—Madame Méchin and the governor of -Soissons—Cannons and Elzevirs <span class="content"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>Prologue of the <i>Vampire</i>—The style offends my -neighbour's ear—First act—Idealogy—The rotifer—What -the animal is—Its conformation, its life, its death and -its resurrection <span class="content"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></p> - -<p>Second act of the <i>Vampire</i>—Analysis—My neighbour -again objects—He has seen a vampire—Where and -how—A statement which records the existence of -vampires—Nero—Why he established the race of hired -applauders—My neighbour leaves the orchestra <span class="content"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></p> - -<p>A parenthesis<i>—Hariadan Barberousse</i> at -Villers-Cotterets—I play the rôle of Don Ramire as an -amateur—My costume—The third act of the <i>Vampire</i>—My -friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment—He is expelled from the theatre—Madame -Allan-Dorval—Her family and her childhood—Philippe—His -death and his funeral <span class="content"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_IV">BOOK IV</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ic">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>My beginning at the office—Ernest Basset—Lassagne—M. -Oudard—I see M. Deviolaine—M. le Chevalier de -Broval—His portrait—Folded letters and oblong -letters—How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters—I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac -and whistler <span class="content"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIc">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Illustrious contemporaries—The sentence written on my -foundation stone—My reply—I settle down in the place -des Italiens—M. de Leuven's table—M. Louis-Bonaparte's -witty saying—Lassagne gives me my first lesson in -literature and history <span class="content"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIc">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase—M. -Dormeuil—<i>Kenilworth Castle</i>—M. Warez and -Soulié—Mademoiselle Lévesque—The Arnault family—The -<i>Feuille—Marius à Minturnes</i>—Danton's epigram—The -reversed passport—Three fables—<i>Germanicus</i> -—Inscriptions and epigrams—Ramponneau—The young -man and the tilbury<i>—Extra ecclesiam nulla est -salus</i>—Madame Arnault <span class="content"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVc">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses -of the various plays, sung as prologues and -epilogues—Transformation of the vaudeville—The Gymnase -and M. Scribe—The <i>Folie de Waterloo</i> <span class="content"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vc">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with -him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to -gain rank—Her history—The statement of the Duc -d'Orléans—Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of -Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of -birth <span class="content"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIc">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>The "year of trials"—The case of Potier and the -director of the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin—Trial -and condemnation of Magallon—The anonymous -journalist—Beaumarchais sent to Saint-Lazare—A few -words on censorships in general—Trial of Benjamin -Constant—Trial of M. de Jouy—A few words concerning -the author of <i>Sylla</i>—Three letters extracted from the -<i>Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i>—Louis XVIII. as author <span class="content"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIc">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The house in the rue Chaillot—Four poets and a -doctor—Corneille and the Censorship—Things M. Faucher -does not know—Things the President of the Republic ought -to know <span class="content"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption2"><a href="#BOOK_V">BOOK V</a></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Id">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p>Chronology of the drama—Mademoiselle Georges -Weymer—Mademoiselle Raucourt—Legouvé and his -works—Marie-Joseph Chénier—His letter to the -company of the Comédie-Française—Young boys -<i>perfectionnés</i>—Ducis—His work <span class="content"><a href="#Page_398">398</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IId">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p>Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets—Luce de -Lancival—Baour-Lormian—<i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>—Lucien -Bonaparte, the author—Début of Mademoiselle Georges—The -Abbé Geoffroy's critique—Prince Zappia—Hermione at -Saint-Cloud <span class="content"><a href="#Page_407">407</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIId">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p>Imperial literature—The <i>Jeunesse de Henri IV</i>—Mercier -and Alexandre Duval—The <i>Templiers</i> and their -author—César Delrieu—Perpignan—Mademoiselle Georges' -rupture with the Théâtre-Français—Her flight to -Russia—The galaxy of kings—The tragédienne acts as -ambassador <span class="content"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVd">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p>The Comédie-Française at Dresden—Georges returns -to the Théâtre-Français—The <i>Deux Gendres—Mahomet -II.</i>—<i>Tippo-Saëb</i>—1814—Fontainebleau—The allied -armies enter Paris—Lilies—Return from the isle of -Elba—Violets—Asparagus stalks—Georges returns to Paris <span class="content"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vd">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p>The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of -a great actor—Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal upon Talma declining it—Lafond—His school—His -sayings—Mademoiselle Duchesnois—Her failings and her -abilities-<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> succeeds <span class="content"><a href="#Page_438">438</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VId">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p>General Riégo—His attempted insurrection—His escape -and flight—He is betrayed by the brothers Lara—His -trial—His execution <span class="content"><a href="#Page_445">445</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIId">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p>The inn of the <i>Tête-Noire</i>—Auguste -Ballet—Castaing—His trial—His attitude towards the -audience and his words to the jury—His execution <span class="content"><a href="#Page_452">452</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIId">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne—An appreciation of the man and of the -poet—The origin of the hatred of the old school of -literature for the new—Some reflections upon <i>Marino -Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard</i>—Why Casimir -Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic -poet—Where he found the ideas for his chief plays <span class="content"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></span></p> - -<p class="caption"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXd">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p>Talma in the <i>École des Vieillards</i>—One of his -letters—Origin of his name and of his family—<i>Tamerlan</i> -at the pension Verdier—Talma's début—Dugazon's -advice—More advice from Shakespeare—Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant—Talma's passion for -his art <span class="content"><a href="#Page_480">480</a></span></p></blockquote> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3><a name="THE_MEMOIRS_OF_ALEXANDRE_DUMAS" id="THE_MEMOIRS_OF_ALEXANDRE_DUMAS">THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS</a></h3> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I">BOOK I</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>An unpublished chapter from the <i>Diable boiteux</i>—History -of Samud and the beautiful Doña Lorenza</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>About a fortnight after that wonderful night, during which I had -experienced such new and unknown emotions, I was busy in Maître -Mennesson's office,—as Niguet was absent seeing after a marriage -settlement at Pisseleu, and Ronsin had gone to collect debts at -Haramont,—sadly engrossing a copy of a deed of sale, when M. Lebègue, -a colleague of my patron, entered the office and, after gazing at -me with an amused expression on his face, went into the next room, -which was the private office, and took a seat by the side of Maître -Mennesson. The cause of my sadness shall be discovered presently.</p> - -<p>Maître Mennesson's door, which separated the two offices, I was -generally left open, so that he could answer our questions, save when -a client closed it to discuss private matters with him; and when this -door was left open, we could hear in our office everything that was -said in M. Mennesson's room, as he could hear in his office all that -went on in ours.</p> - -<p>This M. Lebègue, some months before, had married one of M. Deviolaine's -daughters by his first marriage: her name was Éléonore. The eldest -daughter, Léontine, had been married to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> a tax collector named Cornu -some time before her sister's wedding. The singularity of the name -had not prevented the marriage from coming off. The sharp-tongued -young girl feared to be jeered at in her turn, and the wittier she -became, the more she dreaded even the appearance of being ridiculous. -But Cornu was such a good-natured, honest-hearted fellow, everybody -was so used to the name, which had been borne by several families -in Villers-Cotterets, he was so used to it himself, he responded so -naïvely and triumphantly to the remarks of his <i>fiancée,</i> that the -matter was settled.</p> - -<p>When she was married to him she made up her mind to raise the -unfortunate name which fate had given her above even the suspicion of -any banter naturally connected with it: she was the most chaste of -wives, the tenderest of mothers I have ever known, and her husband, a -happy man himself, made her happy too.</p> - -<p>But it was not so with her sister, Madame Lebègue, who was three -or four years younger, prettier, and far more of a flirt than she -was. Her flirtations were innocent enough, I have no doubt, but they -were as a rule looked upon maliciously by the gossips of the little -town—a matter to which Madame Lebègue in her innocence paid little -heed; concerning which, in her indifference to such calumnies, she -simply teased her husband. He was a stout, rotund fellow, pockmarked, -rather ugly, with a somewhat common-looking face, but a good fellow at -heart—although I have been told since that he ruined himself, not from -having lent at too low interest, but from an entirely opposite reason. -I am wholly ignorant as to the truth of this accusation: I take it to -be a calumny similar to the more pleasing and certainly more human -accusation levelled against the wife.</p> - -<p>It was this man who had just come in, who sat down by M. Mennesson -and who was at that moment holding a whispered conversation with him, -interspersed with guffaws of laughter. Thanks to the extremely delicate -hearing with which I was gifted by nature, and which I had cultivated -during hunting, I thought I could distinguish my own name; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> I -supposed I had not heard correctly, not flattering myself that two -such grave personages could be doing me the honour of talking about -me. Unluckily for my pride,—and I have indicated to what a pitch this -feeling was developed in me, a height that would have been absurd if -it had not been painful,—unluckily for my pride, then, I was not kept -long in doubt that the discussion was about me.</p> - -<p>I have said that M. Mennesson was very fond of a joke and very witty; -wherever he could find a joke he would fasten upon it, no matter -whether it happened to concern a woman's virtue or a man's reputation. -When the frenzy of joking seized him he gave himself up to it -unreservedly, heart and soul. Finding nothing, probably, on this day, -better to chew, he set upon me; the pasture was poor, but it was far -better to crack my sorry bones than to chew at nothing or gulp only -the air. After several of those whispered remarks, then, and bursts -of stifled laughter, which had disturbed my equanimity, M. Mennesson -raised his voice.</p> - -<p>"My dear friend," he said, "it is a chapter out of the <i>Diable boiteux</i> -re-discovered and still unpublished, which I mean to have printed the -next time I go to Paris, to complete Lesage's work."</p> - -<p>"Ah! tell it me," Lebègue replied; "I will tell it to my wife, who will -pass it on to her sisters, who will tell it to everybody; then our -publication will be disposed of in advance."</p> - -<p>M. Mennesson began:—</p> - -<p>"There was once upon a time at Salamanca a scholar who was descended -from a race of Arabs and who was called Samud.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> He was still so young -that if anyone had pulled his nose, milk would most certainly have come -out: this did not prevent him from being absurd enough to fancy himself -a man; perhaps also—for, to be fair, we must say all there is to -say—this ridiculous fancy would not have entered his head had not that -happened which we are about to relate."</p> - -<p>It may be imagined that I was listening attentively. I had recognised -from the very first words that I was undoubtedly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> person in -question, and I wondered uneasily where the story was going to lead -after this beginning—a beginning which, so far as I was concerned, I -found more impertinent than graphic.</p> - -<p>M. Mennesson went on, and I listened with my ears open, my pen idle in -my hand.</p> - -<p>"On the day of the feast of Whitsuntide in the year ... I cannot -say the exact date of the year, but, any way, it was on the day of -the feast of Whitsuntide, which is also the town's feast-time, two -beautiful senoras arrived from Madrid and put up at the house of a -worthy canon who was the uncle of one of these ladies. It chanced that -this canon was the same with whom Samud had learnt the bit of Latin he -knew, and as the two lovely Madrid ladies wanted a cavalier who would -not put their virtue to the blush, the canon cast his eyes on his -pupil, and requested him to place both his arms at the disposal of the -new arrivals, to show them the park of Salamanca, which is very wide, -very beautiful, and belongs to the Duke of Rodelnas.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I will not -dwell on the adventures of the first day, beyond just briefly touching -upon two events: the first was the meeting between our scholar and -an elegant senor from Madrid, who was noticed at once by the Sefiora -Lorenza, with whom our scholar was walking arm in arm, dressed, as -people of the provinces often are, about a decade behind the fashions -of the capital. This young gallant was called Audim. The second was a -most serious accident, which happened to the scholar's breeches, just -when, in order to give the fair Lorenza a proof of his agility, he had -leaped across a ditch fourteen feet wide."</p> - -<p>It can be imagined what I suffered as I listened to this secondhand -recital of my lovelorn tribulations, which, according to his method of -procedure, would not stop short at the two misadventures of the first -day. M. Mennesson continued:—</p> - -<p>"The beautiful Lorenza was specially impressed by the young gallant's -get-up. In complete contrast to the scholar, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> muffled up in a -Gothic costume borrowed from the wardrobe of his ancestors, Señor Audim -was dressed in the latest fashion, in tight-fitting breeches, ending -in charming little heart-shaped shoes, and a dark-coloured doublet -turned out by one of the best tailors in Madrid. The scholar had not -been unconscious of the particular notice his companion had paid to the -handsome Audim's attire, and as it began to dawn on him what influence -a coat of a certain cut or trousers of a special shade of colour might -have upon a woman, he decided during the night following the fête -to please Lorenza no matter at what price, and to have a suit made -exactly like the one worn by the young man who seemed destined by fate -to become his rival. The most vital part of the costume, and moreover -the most expensive, was in the matter of the boots. So he turned his -attention to them first of all. On the opposite side of the square -where Samud's mother lived, a square called the place de la Fontaine, -was the best boot-maker in the town: he had always shod the scholar, -but hitherto he had only made shoes for him, the lad's tender years not -having put the idea into anyone's head, not even into his own, that -he could wear any other covering for his feet than shoes or sandals -without risking a too close resemblance to Perrault's venerable Puss in -Boots. Great therefore was M. Landereau's<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> surprise when his customer -came and boldly asked the price of a pair of boots. He stared at Samud.</p> - -<p>'A pair of boots?' he asked. 'For whom?'</p> - -<p>'Why, for myself,' the scholar proudly replied.</p> - -<p>'Has your mother given you leave to order boots?' 'Yes.'</p> - -<p>"The bootmaker shook his head dubiously: he knew Samud's mother was not -well off and that it would be foolish of her to allow such extravagance -in her son.</p> - -<p>'Boots are dear,' he said.</p> - -<p>'That does not matter. How much are they?'</p> - -<p>'They would cost you exactly four dollars.'</p> - -<p>'Good.... Take my measure.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<p>'I have told you I can do nothing without leave from your mother.'</p> - -<p>'I will see you have it.'</p> - -<p>"Returning home, the scholar ventured to ask for a pair of boots. -The request struck Samud's mother as so extraordinary that she made -him repeat his inquiry twice. It was all the more strange as it was -the first time the scholar had troubled about his dress. When he was -ten they had the greatest difficulty in the world to get him to give -up a long pinafore of figured cotton, which he considered far more -comfortable than all the breeches and all the doublets on earth; -then, from the age of ten to the age of fifteen, he had worn with -indifference any garments his mother had thought good to put him in, -always preferring dirty and old ones to clean and new, because in them -he was allowed to go out in all weathers and to roll about in all kinds -of places. So the demand for a pair of boots seemed to his poor mother -altogether most unprecedented, and she was alarmed for her son's reason.</p> - -<p>'A pair of boots!' she repeated. 'What will you wear them with?'</p> - -<p>'A pair of tight-fitting breeches, mother.'</p> - -<p>'A pair of tight-fitting breeches! But you must know your legs are as -spindle-shaped as a cock's.'</p> - -<p>"'Excuse me, mother,' the schoolboy replied, with some show of logic; -'if I have good enough calves to wear short breeches, they are good -enough to wear tight-fitting breeches.'</p> - -<p>"The mother admired her son's wit, and, half conquered by the repartee, -she said,'We might perhaps manage to find the tight-fitting trousers in -the clothes-press; but the boots ... where will you find the boots?'</p> - -<p>'Why, at Landereau's!'</p> - -<p>'But boots would be expensive, my child,' said the poor lady, -sighing,'and you know we are not rich.'</p> - -<p>'Bah! mamma, Landereau will allow you credit.'</p> - -<p>'It is all very fine taking credit, my boy; you know one has to pay -some day, and that the longer one puts off paying the more it costs.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<p>'Oh, mother, please do let me!'</p> - -<p>'How much will the boots cost?'</p> - -<p>'Four dollars, mother.'</p> - -<p>'That is six months' school-money at the rate good Canon Gregorio -charges me.'</p> - -<p>'You can pay for it in four months' time, mother,' the schoolboy -pleaded.</p> - -<p>'Still ... tell me what advantage you think this pair of boots and the -tight-fitting trousers will bring you?'</p> - -<p>'I shall be able to please Doña Lorenza, the canon's niece.' 'How is -that?'</p> - -<p>'She raves over boots and tight-fitting trousers ... it seems they are -the very latest thing in Madrid.'</p> - -<p>'But what does it matter to you what the niece of Don Gregorio raves or -does not rave over, I want to know?'</p> - -<p>'It matters a great deal to me, mother.'</p> - -<p>'Why?'</p> - -<p>"The schoolboy looked supremely foolish.</p> - -<p>'Because I am paying her attentions,' he said."</p> - -<p>This dialogue was word for word what had passed between my mother and -myself after I returned from Landereau's shop, so I grew hot with anger.</p> - -<p>"At the words <i>Because I am paying her attentions</i>," continued the -narrator, "Samud's mother was overcome with intense astonishment: her -son, whom she still pictured as running about the streets in his long -print pinafore, or renewing his baptismal vows taper in hand; her son -paying attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza!—why, it was one of -those absurd things she had never even imagined. And her son, seeing -she was unconvinced, drew his hand out of his breast pocket and showed -her a bracelet of hair with a mosaic clasp. But he took care to keep it -to himself that he had taken this bracelet from Doña Lorenza; she had -not given it him, and she was very much distressed at not knowing what -had become of it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<p>Although this account was not very creditable to my honesty, it was -dreadfully accurate. I had had that bracelet in my possession for three -days; during those three days I had, if not exactly shown it, at least -let it be seen by several people, and, among others, by my mother and -my cousins the Deviolaines, before whom I posed as a gallant youth; but -at length I had been moved by Laure's distress, as she had thought it -lost. I gave it back to her, humbly confessing my fault; she forgave -me, in consideration, no doubt, of her delight in recovering her -trinket, but she would not have let me off so easily had she known my -indiscretions.</p> - -<p>So the perspiration which had beaded my brow at the beginning of the -story, ran down over my face in big drops; yet wishing to learn how -far M. Mennesson had been coached in the matter of my sentimental -escapades, I had the courage to stay where I was—or rather, I had not -the strength to fly. M. Mennesson went on:—</p> - -<p>"At this juncture Samud's mother raised her hands and eyes to heaven, -and as the poor woman never could refuse her son, she said to him, with -a sigh—</p> - -<p>'Very well, be it so; if a pair of boots will make you happy, go and -order the boots.'</p> - -<p>"The schoolboy leapt at one bound from his house to the bootmaker's; -he arranged the price at three and a half dollars, to be paid for in -four months' time. Next they paid a visit to the clothes-press: they -extracted a pair of bright blue trousers striped with gold; they sold -the gold lace to a goldsmith for a dollar and a half, which dollar and -a half were given to the scholar for pocket-money, his mother guessing -that his budding love affairs would naturally bring extra expenses -in their train. They decided that the suit he had worn at his first -communion should be altered to a more up-to-date cut, on fashionable -lines.</p> - -<p>"While all these preparations for courtship were going on, the -schoolboy continued, in the phrase he had used to his mother, to pay -attentions to the beautiful Doña Lorenza; but although he was brave -in words and very clever in theory behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> her back, he was extremely -timid in practice and very awkward when actually before her face. While -apparently filled with impatience to be near her, he dreaded nothing -so much as being left alone with her; at such times he would lose his -wits completely, become dumb instead of talkative, and be still when -he should have been active: the most favourable opportunities were -given him, and he let them escape. In vain did the impatient lady from -Madrid give him to understand that he was wasting time, and that time -wasted is never regained; he agreed with her from the very depths of -his soul; he was furious with himself every night when he returned -home, and in going over the opportunities of the day he vowed not to -let these opportunities slip by on the morrow if they occurred again. -Then he would read a chapter of <i>Faublas</i> to warm his blood: he would -sleep on it, and dream dreams in which he would be astonishingly bold. -When day broke, he would vow to himself to carry out his dreams of -the previous night. Then, while he was waiting for the boots and the -tight-fitting suit, which were being fashioned with a truly provincial -slowness, he returned to his short breeches, his bombazin vest, his -bottle-blue coat, and resumed his fruitless walk in the forest. He -looked with a melancholy eye on the mossy carpet under their feet, not -even venturing to suggest to his companion that they should sit down -upon it; he gazed sadly on the beautiful green heights above them, -under which she delighted to hide herself with him. He would get as far -as trembling and sighing, even to pressing her hand, but these were the -extreme limits of his boldness. Once only did he kiss the hand of Doña -Lorenza,—on the night before he was to introduce himself to her in his -suit of conquest,—but it cost him such a tremendous effort to perform -this bold act that he felt quite ill after its accomplishment.</p> - -<p>"It was on this day that the lovely Doña Lorenza arrived at the -conclusion that she must give up all hope of seeing the boy develop -into a man, and without saying a word to her clumsy admirer, she took -a decisive step. They parted as usual after having spent the evening -playing at those innocent games<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> which Madame de Longueville detested -so greatly. The next day, as we have said, was to be the vital one. -The tailor and the bootmaker kept their word. The young people usually -met between noon and one o'clock, and then went for a walk: Senora -Vittoria with a young bachelor, from whom I have gathered most of my -information; and the schoolboy with Senora Lorenza. Unluckily, the -tight-fitting trousers were so tight that they had to have a piece put -in at the calf of the leg: this addition took time, and Samud was not -quite ready before one o'clock. He knew he was late; he flew hurriedly -along to Canon Gregorio's house, where the daily rendezvous took place. -His new toilette produced an excellent effect as he passed through the -streets: people ran to their doors; they leant out of their windows, -and he bowed to them, saying to himself—</p> - -<p>'Yes, it is all right, it is I! What is there wonderful in this, pray? -Did you think no one else could have boots, tight-fitting trousers and -a fashionably collared coat like M. Audim? You are much deceived if you -thought anything of the kind!'</p> - -<p>"And he went on his way, holding his head higher and higher, persuaded -he was nearing a sensational triumph. But, as we have said, the unlucky -alteration at the calves had made him nearly an hour late, and when the -scholar reached the canon's house both the senoras had gone out! This -was but a slight misfortune: the schoolboy had been brought up in the -forest of Salamanca, as Osmin in the seraglio of Bajazet, and he knew -its every turn and twist. He was therefore just going to rush out in -pursuit of the lady of his thoughts, when the canon's sister handed him -a letter which Doña Lorenza had left for him when she went out. Samud -never doubted that this letter would enjoin upon him to hurry on with -all diligence. And it was the first he had received: he felt the honour -most keenly; he kissed the letter tenderly, broke the seal, and with -panting breath and bounding heart he read the following:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>'<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR BOY</span>,—I have been blaming myself during the past -fortnight for imposing upon your good-nature by letting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -you fulfil the obligation you had most injudiciously -promised my uncle in undertaking to be my cavalier. -In spite of your efforts to hide the boredom that an -occupation beyond your years caused you, I have seen -that I have much interfered with your usual habits, and -I blame myself for it. Go back to your young playmates, -who are waiting for you to play at prisoners' base and -quoits. Let your mind be quite at ease on my account; -for I have accepted M. Audim's services for the short -time longer I remain with my uncle. Please accept my best -thanks, my dear child, for your kindness, and believe me, -yours very gratefully, <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LORENZA</span>.'</p></blockquote> - -<p>"If a thunderbolt had fallen at our schoolboy's feet he could not have -been more crushed than he was on receiving this letter. On the first -reading he realised nothing beyond the shock; he re-read it two or -three times, and felt the smart. Then it dawned on him that, since he -had taken no pains to prove to the lovely Lorenza that he was not a -child, it now remained to him to prove that he was a man, by provoking -Audim to fight a Dud with him; and forthwith, upon my word, our -outraged schoolboy sent this letter to his rival:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"'<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIR</span>,—I need not tell you upon what provocation I wish -to meet you in any of the forest avenues, accompanied by -two seconds: you know as well as I do. As you may pretend -that you have not insulted me and that it is I who have -provoked you, I leave the choice of weapons to you.—I -have the honour to remain,' etc.</p> - -<p>"'<i><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">P.S.</span></i>—-As you will probably not return home till -late to-night, I will not demand my answer this evening, -but I wish to receive it as early as possible to-morrow -morning.'</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Next morning, on waking, he received a birch rod with Don Audim's -card. That was the weapon selected by his rival."</p> - -<p>The reader can judge the effect the conclusion of this story had upon -me. Alas! it was an exact account of all that had happened to me. Thus -had terminated my first love affair, and so had ended my first duel! I -uttered a shriek of rage, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> dashing out of the office, I ran home to -my mother, who cried out aloud when she saw the state I was in.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later I was lying in a well-warmed bed and Doctor Lécosse -had been sent for: he pronounced that I was in for brain fever, but -as it was taken in time it would not have any serious consequences. I -purposely prolonged my convalescence, be it known, so as not to go out -until the two Parisians had left Villers-Cotterets. I have never seen -either of them since.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> hardly need point out that "Samud" is the anagram of -"Dumas."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Rodelnas" is the anagram of "d'Orléans," as "Samud" is -the anagram of "Dumas," and as "Audim," to be used shortly, is that of -"Miaud."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The narrator did not trouble to give an anagram for the -name this time.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The good my flouting at the hands of the two Parisians -had done me—The young girls of Villers-Cotterets—My -three friends—First love affairs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Still, like François I. after the battle of Pavia, I had not lost -everything by my defeat. First there remained to me my boots and my -tight-fitting trousers, those two dearly coveted articles, which -became the envy and admiration of those young companions upon whom -the lovely Laure had so cruelly thrown me. Besides, in the fortnight -spent in the company of those two smart girls, I had learnt the first -lesson that only the society of women can give. This lesson had taught -me to realise the need for that care of my personal appearance which -had hitherto never presented itself to my mind as a thing to be daily -attended to. Beneath the ridiculous if vanity in changing my mode of -dress, underneath the unlucky attempt that I, a poor country lad, had -made to attain to the elegant style of a Parisian, there appeared the -first dawnings of true elegance—that is to say, of neatness.</p> - -<p>I had rather good hands, my nails were well shaped, my teeth were large -but white, and my feet were singularly small considering my size. I had -been ignorant of all these possessions until they had been pointed out -to me by the two Parisian girls, who gave me advice as to how I could -enhance the value of my natural gifts. And I continued to follow their -advice for my own personal satisfaction, after at first following it to -please them, to such purpose that by the time they left I had really -stepped across the boundary which separated childhood from youth. The -crossing had certainly been a rough one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> and I had accomplished it -with tears in my eyes, coquetry holding one of my hands and chagrin -the other. Then—as jaded travellers, when they enter a fresh country, -suck bitter fruits, which, however much they set the teeth on edge, -leave behind them an irresistible desire to suck other fruits,—when -my lips had touched the apple of Eve that men call love, I yearned to -make another attempt, even though it should be more painful than the -first, and so far as its young girls were concerned, few towns could -boast themselves as well favoured as Villers-Cotterets. Never was -there such a large park as ours, not even at Versailles; no lawns were -greener, not even those at Brighton; nor were any studded with more -exquisite flowers than the park of Villers-Cotterets, with its lawns -and flower-beds. Three very distinct classes disputed among themselves -for the crown of beauty—the aristocracy, the middle classes, and a -third class for which I cannot find a name, a pleasant intermediary -between the middle class and the people, which belongs to neither, and -to which class the dressmakers, seamstresses, and women-shopkeepers of -a town belong.</p> - -<p>The first class was represented by the Collard family, to whom I have -already alluded in connection with my childhood. Of the three madcap -young girls who roamed the forest of Villers-Cotterets as free as the -butterflies and swallows, two had become wives: one, Caroline, had -married the Baron Capelle; the other, Hermine, had married the Baron -de Martens; Louise, the third, who was but fifteen, was the most -captivating little maiden imaginable. Their mother—whose birth and -history as the daughter of Madame de Genlis and the Duc d'Orléans I -have related—and her three children were the aristocratic centre round -which the young men and maidens of the neighbouring castles revolved; -and among the former of these were some of the best blood in the -country—the Montbretons, the Courvals, and the Mornays. None of these -families lived in Villers-Cotterets itself: they lived in the castles -around. Only on great occasions did the hives swarm and then we saw -these golden-winged bees flying about the streets of the town and down -the avenues of the park.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>The second class was represented by the Deviolaine family. Two out -of the five daughters of M. Deviolaine were married, as I have -said—namely, Léontine and Éléonore; three remained, Cécile, Augustine -and Louise. Cécile was twenty years of age, Augustine sixteen; Louise -was still a mere child. Cécile had preserved her whimsical and -capricious spirits, the same mocking and animated features; her actions -were more masculine than feminine; her complexion was tanned by the -sun, as she never took the trouble to protect herself from its rays. -Augustine, on the contrary, had a skin as white as milk, large tranquil -blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, forming an admirable framework round -her face, sloping shoulders charmingly moulded, and a figure that was -not too slender; unlike her sister Cécile, she was gracefully feminine -in all her ways. Raphael would have been puzzled to choose between her -and Louise Collard for a model for his Madonna, and like the Greek -sculptor, he would have selected beautiful points from them both to -reach that perfect standard to which Art everywhere attains when it -surpasses Nature.</p> - -<p>The other young girls of the middle class grouped themselves round the -Deviolaine family. The two Troisvallet girls, Henriette and Clementine: -Clementine, dark with beautiful black hair, strangely attractive eyes, -a Roman complexion, of the type of Velletri or Subiaco, and a head like -one of Augustine Carrachi's. Henriette was tall, fair, rosy, slender, -gracious, and as pliant in her gentle youthfulness as a rose, as a -blade of corn, as a willow tree: she had that type of face which is -half sad, half merry; the transition between angel and woman, showing -all the common needs of earth, yet full of heavenly aspirations too. -Then the two charming girls Sophie and Pélagie Perrot; Louise Moreau, -a sweet young girl, who has since become the admirable mother of a -family; Éléonore Picot, of whom I have spoken—an excellent woman, -saddened by the death of her brother Stanislas, and the shameful charge -that had weighed for a short time upon her brother Auguste. Then there -were others, too, whose names I have forgotten, but whose fresh faces -still appear in my mind's eye like the phantoms of a dream or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> like the -apparitions which glide out of German streams or are reflected in the -lochs of Scotland as they pursue their nocturnal rounds.</p> - -<p>Lastly, after the middle classes, came, as I have said, the group of -young girls which I cannot class in the social hierarchy, but which -held the same place in that small world of ours shut in by the green -girdle of its beautiful forest, that lilies of the valley, Easter -daisies, cornflowers, hyacinths and pompon roses hold among flowers. -Oh! but it was a pretty sight to see them on Sunday, in their summer -dresses, with pink and blue sashes, their tiny bonnets trimmed by their -own hands and put on in a hundred varieties of coquettish ways—for -in those days not one of them dare wear a hat; it was a delight to -see them free of all constraint, ignorant of any etiquette, playing, -racing, lacing and interlacing their charming round bare arms in long -chains. What exquisite creatures they were! What delightful young -things! It is of little interest to my readers, I am well aware, to -know their names; but I knew them, I loved them, I spent my earliest -years among them, those gentle opening days in the morning of life; I -wish to tell their names, I wish to paint their portraits, I wish to -describe their different charms, and then I hope they will pardon my -indiscretions for my very indiscretions' sake.</p> - -<p>I must mention first and foremost two charmingly romantic and -coquettish damsels—Joséphine and Manette Thierry: Joséphine dark, -rosy, with an ample figure and regular features, a perfect creature, -whose beautiful teeth completed a ravishing whole. Manette, a dessert -apple, a girl who was always singing to make herself heard, always -laughing to show off her teeth, ever running to let her feet, her -ankles, even the calves of her legs, be seen; Virgil's Galatea, whose -very name she was ignorant of, flying to be pursued, hiding so as to be -seen before she hid.</p> - -<p>What has become of them? I have seen them since, looking very -miserable: one was at Versailles, the other in Paris—the fallen, faded -fruits of that rosary on which I spelled out the first phrases of -love. They were the daughters of an old tailor, and lived close to the -church, which was only separated from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> them by the town hall. Louise -Brézette lived nearly opposite them; I have already mentioned her. -She was the niece of my dancing-master; a sturdy flower of fifteen, -whom I had in my mind while I wrote my fictitious history of that -<i>Tulipe noire</i>, the masterpiece of horticulture vainly sought after, -vainly pursued, vainly expected by Dutch amateur gardeners. The hair -of beautiful Madame Ronconi, which inspired one of Théophile Gautier's -most wonderful articles, and which made coal look grey and the wings -of a crow pale, when placed side by side with it, was not more black, -more blue, more shiny than Louise Brézette's hair when it reflected -the sun's rays from its dark and sombre depths as from the heart of -polished metal. Oh! what a lovely blooming brunette she was, with her -flesh as firm and bright as a nectarine's; her pearly teeth lighting -up her face from under the faint ebony down on her coral lips! One -could feel life and love bubbling up beneath, needing only the first -passion to make everything burst forth into flame! This luxuriant young -girl was religious, and, as such an organisation as hers must love -something, she loved God.</p> - -<p>If you took a few steps towards the square, a little farther up the -rue de Soissons, bearing to the left, there was a door and a window, -comprising the whole frontage of a tiny house. In the window hung hats, -collars, bonnets, lace, gloves, mittens, ribbons—the whole arsenal, -in short, of womanly vanity; behind the door floated certain curtains, -intended to prevent inquisitive glances from looking into the shop, but -which, whether by some strange mischance, or from the obstinacy of the -rod upon which they slid, or from the caprices of the wind, always left -on one side or the other some impertinent aperture through which the -passer-by could see into the shop and at the same time allowed those -inside the shop to see out into the street. Above this door and this -window the following inscription was painted in large letters:—</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Mesdemoiselles Rigolot, Milliners</i></p> - -<p>Truly those who stopped in front of the opening which I have indicated, -and who managed to cast a glance inside the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> shop, did not lose their -time nor regret their pains. What we mean by this has no sort of -connection with the two proprietors of the establishment, who were -both old maids, having long since passed their fortieth year, and, I -presume, having lost all pretension to inspire any other sentiment than -respect.</p> - -<p>No, what we have in view concerns two of the most adorable faces you -can imagine, placed side by side as though to set one another off: one -was a blonde, and the other a brunette. The brunette was Albine Hardi; -the blonde was Adèle Dalvin. The brown head,—do you know the lovely -Marie Duplessis, that charming courtesan full of queenly grace, upon -whom my son wrote his romance <i>la Dame aux camélias</i>?—well, she was -Albine. If you do not know her, I will describe Albine to you. She was -a young girl of seventeen, with a dead brown complexion, large brown -velvety eyes, and eyebrows so black that they seemed as though they -had been drawn with a pencil, the curve was so firm and so regular. -She was a duchess, she was a queen; better still than either, if you -will, she was after the fashion of a nymph of Diana's train: slight, -slender, straight and finely built, a huntress whom it would have -been a splendid sight to see with a plumed helmet on her head, an -Amazon flying before the wind, leading a troop of clamorous pikemen, -guiding a baying hound. Upon the stage her appearance would have -been magnificent, almost supernatural. In ordinary life, people were -tempted to think her too beautiful, and for some time nobody dared to -make love to her, it seemed so likely that their love would be wasted -and that she would not make any response to it. The other, Adèle, was -fair and pink-complexioned. I have never seen prettier golden hair, -sweeter eyes, a more winning smile; she was more inclined to be gay -than melancholy, short rather than tall, plump rather than thin: she -was something like one of Murillo's cherubs who kiss the feet of his -Virgins—half veiled in clouds; she was neither a Watteau shepherdess, -nor one of Greuze's peasant girls, but something between the two. One -felt it would be a sweet and easy thing to love her, although it might -not be so easy to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> loved by her. Her father and her mother were -worthy old farmer folk, thoroughly honest but vulgar, and it was all -the more surprising that so fresh and sweet-scented a flower should -have sprung from such a stock. But this is always the case when folks -are young: it is youth that lends distinction, as it is spring which -lends freshness to the rose.</p> - -<p>Round these young people whom I have just described, smiled and pouted -a bevy of young girls, the smallest being mere infants, whom I have -since seen succeed the youthful generation in which I lived. I have -sought in vain to find in these later children the virtues I found in -those who preceded them.</p> - -<p>Until the arrival of the two strangers in Villers-Cotterets I had not -even noticed the springtide crown of stars and flowers to which all -ranks of society contribute. When the two strangers had left, the -bandage that had sealed my eyes fell off, and I could say not merely "I -see" but "I live." I found myself placed by my years exactly between -the children who still played at prisoners' base and at quoits—as -the abba's niece had aptly put it—and youths beginning to turn into -men. Instead of returning to the former, as my beautiful Parisian had -advised me, I attached myself to the latter, and drew myself up to my -full height to prove my sixteen years. And when anyone asked my age, I -told them I was seventeen.</p> - -<p>The three youths with whom I was most intimate were, first, Fourcade, -director of the school of self-improvement, sent from Paris to -Villers-Cotterets; he was my <i>vis-à-vis</i> in my début as a dancing man. -He was a thoroughly well-bred, well-educated young fellow, son of a man -very honourably known in foreign affairs; his father had lived in the -East for many years and had been Consul at Salonica. His affections -were fixed upon Joséphine Thierry, and he spent with her all the time -he could spare from his teaching. My second companion was Saunier; -he had been a fellow-pupil with me under the Abbé Grégoire; he was -second clerk of M. Perrot the lawyer; his father and grandfather were -blacksmiths, and in the idle period of my early youth I spent a large -portion of my time in their forge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> notching their files and making -fireworks out of iron filings. Saunier divided his leisure-time between -two passions—one, which I verily believe came before the other, was -for the clarionette; the other was for Manette Thierry. The third of -my intimate friends was called Chollet; he served as a link, in the -matter of age, between Fourcade and Saunier. He lived with one of my -cousins, called Roussy, the father of the child of whom I had been -godfather, when nine months old, along with Augustine Deviolaine. He -was studying the cultivation of forest-land. I know nothing about his -relations; they were probably wealthy, for whenever I called on him -there were five-franc pieces scattered about on the mantelpiece and -two or three gold pieces always shone out ostentatiously from the -midst of them, dazzling my eyes and impressing me profoundly with his -riches. But my admiration was entirely devoid of envy—I have never -envied either a man's money or his possessions. I know not whether this -arose from pride or from simpleness of mind. I might have taken for my -motto <i>Video nec invideo.</i> Chollet had had no education at all, but -he was not wanting in a certain natural quick-wittedness, and he was -a fine-looking young fellow, his magnificent eyes and splendid teeth -redeeming an otherwise common-looking face, pitted with smallpox. He -did his best to make Louise Brézette change her love for the Creator -into love for the creature.</p> - -<p>These were my three most intimate friends. The upshot was, that when -it became necessary for me in my turn to make a choice, although I -had been brought up half with M. Deviolaine's family and half with M. -Collard's, it was neither in aristocratic society nor in middle-class -circles, which would have made fun of me, that I sought my initiation -in the delightful mystery of life we call falling in love, but in -that society to which my three friends almost exclusively addressed -themselves. And I had no difficulty in understanding their preference. -I do not hesitate to state fully and freely that they were very wise in -their choice. There was but one step to take to follow in their path. I -needed only someone upon whom to fasten my affections: the wish to love -was not wanting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Every one of the young girls I have mentioned had -some love affair on hand of a more or less serious character. They all -enjoyed most delightful liberty, the result no doubt of the confidence -their parents placed in their good sense; but for some reason or other -we had quite an English custom in Villers-Cotterets—a free and easy -association between young people of both sexes, which I have never seen -in any other French town; a liberty all the more surprising, since -all the parents of these maidens were perfectly respectable people -and had a profound conviction in the depths of their hearts that all -the barques launched upon the flood of the Tender Passion were decked -with white sails and crowned with orange blossoms. And what was more -singular still, it was true in the case of the majority of the ten or -twelve couples of lovers which formed our circle.</p> - -<p>I waited patiently for one of these knots to be untied or severed. -While I waited, I went to every party and took part in all the -walks and all the dances; it was an excellent apprenticeship, which -familiarised me beforehand with that monster whom Psyche touched -without seeing and whom I, on the contrary, had seen but not touched. -Chance favoured me, after six weeks or two months of playing second -fiddle. One of these engagements was hardly made before it was broken: -a farmer's son, named Richou, wished to marry his neighbour, Adèle -Dalvin. The parents of the young man, who were better off than those -of the young girl, opposed these budding loves, and the fair one was -released.</p> - -<p>I had learnt much during those six weeks by watching others; besides, -this time, I was not entangled with a sarcastic and exacting Parisian -girl, who knew the world so much better than I did. No, my love affair -was with a young girl more shy than myself, who mistook my pretended -courage for genuine, and who, like the frog in the fable that jumped -in the pond when a frightened hare passed by it, was good enough to -fear me and to prove to me that it was possible to come across someone -even more timid than myself. It can be seen how such a change in the -position of things gave me assurance. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> rôles were now completely -reversed. This time I was the attacking party and someone else was on -the defensive, and this someone was making such an obstinate resistance -that I soon realised my attack was useless and that I should only -succeed in breaking down the serious resistance offered me after, -maybe, a long and patient wooing: the citadel was not to be stormed. -Then began for me those first days, the reflection of which has lasted -throughout the whole of my life: that delicious struggle of love, which -asks unceasingly and is not discouraged by an eternity of refusal; the -obtaining of favour after favour, each of which, when gained, fills the -soul with ecstasy; the early fleeting dawn of life which hovers above -the earth, shaking down handfuls of flowers upon the heads of mortals, -and then, under the influence of the rising sun, adds consciousness to -its joy and is soon enveloped in the ardent heat of passion.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it was a happy time for me. In the morning, when I awoke, my -mother's smile greeted me and her lingering kisses hung on my lips; -from nine to four o'clock came my work—work, it is true, which would -have been tiresome if I had been obliged to understand what I wrote, -but which was easy and welcome, for while my hands and eyes were -copying, my mind was free to commune with my own happy thoughts; then, -from four till eight o'clock, I was with my mother; and after eight, -joy, love, life, hope, happiness!</p> - -<p>At eight in summer evenings, at six in winter, our young friends, also -free when I was, came to join us at some convenient meeting-place; -held out their faces or their cheeks to be kissed, pressed our hands, -without taking pains, out of mistaken coquetry or hypocritical -make-belief, to conceal their delight at meeting us once more; then, -if it were summertime, and fine weather, the park invited us with its -mossy sward, its dusky avenues, the breeze trembling among the leaves, -and on moonlight nights there were wide spaces of alternate light -and darkness; at these times a solitary passer-by could have seen -five or six couples walking, at duly specified distances, to ensure -isolation without loneliness, heads inclined towards one another, hands -clasped in hands, talking in low<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> tones, modulating their words to -sweet intonations, or preserving a dangerous silence; for during such -silences the eyes often spoke what the lips did not dare to utter. If -it were winter or bad weather, we all met at Louise Brézette's: her -mother and her aunt nearly always withdrew to the back room, giving up -to us the two front ones, which we seized upon for ourselves; then, -lit by a single lamp in the third room, near which Louise's mother -would sew while her aunt read the <i>Imitation of Christ</i> or <i>The Perfect -Christian</i> we chatted, squeezed against one another, generally two on -one chair, repeating the same story we had said the night before, but -finding what we had to say ever new.</p> - -<p>At ten o'clock our <i>soirées</i> broke up. Each boy took his particular -girl home. When they reached the house door, she granted her cavalier -another half-hour, sometimes an hour, as sweet to her as to him, as -they sat together on the bench outside the door, or stood in the garden -path which led to the maternal parlour, from the interior of which from -time to time a grumbling voice might be heard calling—a voice that -was answered ten times before being obeyed, "I am coming, mamma." On -Sundays we met at three o'clock, after vespers; and we walked, danced, -waltzed, not going home until midnight.</p> - -<p>Then there were fêtes in the neighbouring villages, less grand, -less aristocratic, less fashionable, certainly, than those of -Villers-Cotterets, to which we went in happy bands, and from which we -returned in silent separate pairs.</p> - -<p>It was at one of these fêtes that I met a young man a year younger than -myself. I must ask permission to speak of him fully, for he had an -immense influence over my life.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Adolphe de Leuven—His family—Unpublished details -concerning the death of Gustavus III.—The Count de -Ribbing—The shoemakers of the château de Villers-Hellon</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I first met Leuven at a fête in the beautiful village of Corey, a -league's distance from Villers-Cotterets—a village buried in the -centre of great woods, like a nest among high branches. I had left my -companions for an instant in the course of the dance, and I had gone to -some distance to pay a visit to an old friend of my father, a farmer, -whose farm was nearly a quarter of a league from the village. I took a -pretty path at the foot of a hill to get there, hedged on both sides -by hawthorn in full blossom, and studded with daisies, their golden -centres fringed by pink-tipped petals.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, at a bend in the path, I saw three people coming towards me, -in a ray of sunlight which bathed them in light; two were well known to -me, but the third was a complete stranger. The two I knew were Caroline -Collard, who, as previously related, had become Baroness Capelle. The -other was her daughter, Marie Capelle, then only three years old, who -to her misfortune was to become Madame Lafarge. The third person, the -stranger, looked at first sight like a German student; he was a youth -of between sixteen and seventeen, and was dressed in a grey jacket, an -oilskin cap, a waistcoat of chamois leather and bright blue trousers, -almost as tight-fitting as mine, but with this difference, that while -my topboots covered up my breeches, his, on the contrary, were covered -up by his trousers. This young man was tall, dark and gaunt, his black -hair cut as short as bristles; he had good eyes and a strikingly -defined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> nose; his teeth were as white as pearls, and he had a -carelessly aristocratic bearing; he was the Viscount Adolphe Ribbing de -Leuven, future author of <i>Vert-Vert</i> and of <i>Postilion de Long-jumeau</i> -son of Count Adolphe-Louis Ribbing de Leuven, one of the three Swedish -noblemen who were inculpated in the murder of Gustavus III., King of -Sweden.</p> - -<p>These Counts Ribbing de Leuven were of an old and noble family, used -to carrying on royal intrigues and to treat on equal terms with the -powerful ones of earth. It was a Ribbing who rose in 1520 against the -tyrant Christiern who had caused his two children to be murdered. -There was a sad and melancholy legend in the family, connected with -the beheading of these two children, the one aged twelve and the other -only three. The executioner had cut off the head of the eldest and had -seized hold of the second to execute him too, when the poor mite said -in childish accents, "Oh, please do not soil my collar as you have -soiled my brother Axel's, for mamma would scold me." The executioner -had two children of his own just the same ages as these. Moved by the -words, he flung down his sword and ran off, overwhelmed with remorse. -Christiern sent soldiers after him and he was killed.</p> - -<p>Adolphe's father, with whom I have since become very friendly and -who loves me like a father, was then a man of fifty; extremely -distinguished in appearance, with a charming nature, although -perhaps a little too sarcastic, and of indomitable courage. He had -been educated at the Military School in Berlin, and had come to -France when quite young as a captain in one of Louis XVI.'s foreign -mercenary regiments—those regiments which did him far more harm than -any good their loyal services rendered him. He had been presented -to Marie-Antoinette by the Count de Fersen and, under the patronage -of that illustrious favourite, the queen gave him a most favourable -reception. He remembered poor. Marie-Antoinette with most respectful -veneration, and thirty years after her death I often heard him speak of -her with a voice full of tears. He was recalled to Sweden towards the -close of the year 1791. He was betrothed to one of his cousins, whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -he worshipped, and, intending to marry her on his return, he learnt on -his arrival at Stockholm that, by the order of King Gustave III., her -hand had been disposed of and she was the wife of the Count d'Essen. -In his first transport of despair, Count Ribbing provoked a quarrel -with her husband. A duel ensued, and the Count d'Essen fell with a -sword-wound through his chest which kept him chained for six months to -his bed.</p> - -<p>Sweden was greatly disturbed at this period: the king insisted upon -enforcing his Diet to accept the deed of union and of security, and at -Geft the <i>coup d'état</i> took place which invested the king with sole -power in the making of peace and war. A tremendous strife had been -waged for a long period between the regal power and the nobility. -Though the king was married in 1766 to Sophie-Madeleine of Denmark, -he had no heir to his crown even in 1776. And the Swedish nobility -attributed the queen's sterility to the same cause as that of Louise de -Vaudemont, Henri III.'s wife. As in the case of the last of the house -of Valois, Gustavus had his favourites, and their familiarity with him -led to their making the most extraordinary suggestions to their prince. -After a time, the courtiers made up their minds to remonstrate with the -king about the queen's barrenness and to tell him he ought to try to -remedy this deficiency by every means in his power. Gustavus promised -to see what could be done in the matter. Then, so folks said, a curious -thing happened. The evening of the day on which he had pledged his word -to the Swedish lords, he took his equerry Monck to the queen's chamber -and, in the presence of the confused and blushing queen, he explained -to the equerry the service he required of him; then he withdrew and -shut the door of the royal chamber upon the pair. Some time later the -queen's pregnancy was proclaimed, and she gave birth to a prince, who -after his father's death reigned under the title of Gustavus IV., until -the Swedish Parliament proclaimed his deposition in 1809. I knew his -son very well in Italy, where he travelled under the name of the Count -de Wasa.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1770, Gustavus III., then twenty-four years of age, came to France -as the Count de Haga. He had an interview with a kind of sorceress -who predicted future events in her hypnotic trances; she had scarcely -touched his hand before she told him to beware of the year 1792, as -he would incur danger of death from firearms during the course of it. -Gustavus was a brave man; he had often exposed himself to danger. He -several times repeated the prediction laughingly, but it never troubled -him.</p> - -<p>Inconsequence of the Diet of 1792, by which the nobles had lost the -rest of their privileges, there arose a conspiracy. The principal -ringleaders were Ankarström, Count de Ribbing, Count de Horn, Baron -d'Erenswaerd and Colonel Lilienhorn. Ankarström and Ribbing had private -reasons for hatred against the king, besides the general grievances -which embittered the aristocracy against the sovereign. Through the -king's intervention Ankarström had lost a lawsuit which had deprived -him of half his fortune. Count de Ribbing, as we have seen, owed a -grudge against the king for a far more grievous loss than that of a -lawsuit, namely, the loss of his lady-love. In the case of the other -nobles the projected murder of Gustavus was simply an incident in the -life of a clan. They decided to perpetrate the murder at a masked ball, -which was to take place in the Opera House, on the night of 15 and 16 -March 1792. On the night before, the king received an anonymous letter, -warning him of the plot and telling him that he was to be assassinated -on the following night.</p> - -<p>"Ah yes," said Gustavus, "the very same thing was predicted twenty-two -years ago to the Count de Haga; but he put no more faith in the -prophecy than the King of Sweden does to-day;" and, shrugging his -shoulders, he crumpled the note between his hands and threw it into the -fireplace. Nevertheless, people averred that Gustavus went disguised -on the night of the 14-15 to consult the famous sibyl Arfredson, -who confirmed the French somnambulist's prediction and the warning -contained in the anonymous letter, telling him he would be murdered -before three days had gone by. Whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> from actual courage or from -incredulity, Gustavus would not change any of his previously arranged -plans nor take any precaution: at eleven o'clock that night he went to -the masked ball. Lots had been drawn the night before to settle which -of the conspirators should kill the king, and Gustavus was so greatly -detested by his nobles that each one was eager to have the dangerous -honour of firing the fatal shot. The lot was drawn by Ankarström.</p> - -<p>It is said that one of the conspirators offered to give him all the -wealth he then possessed, as well as all that which he was to inherit -at a future date, if he would change places with him; but Ankarström -refused. When the time came, Ankarström suddenly bethought him that he -might mistake one of the nobles for the king, as several of them were -dressed in similar costumes. But the Count de Horn reassured him. "Fire -boldly," said he, "at the one to whom I shall say, '<i>Good-day, handsome -masquerader</i>.' He will be the king."</p> - -<p>At two in the morning Gustavus was strolling about, leaning on the arm -of the Count d'Essen, whom he had married to de Ribbing's <i>fiancée</i>, -when the Count de Horn approached him and said, "<i>Good-day, handsome -masquerader</i>."</p> - -<p>The next moment a dull report was heard, and Gustavus tottered, crying -out—</p> - -<p>"I am killed!"</p> - -<p>Except those who were round about the king no one had perceived what -had happened. The pistol was concealed in a muff; the report had -been drowned amidst the buzz of conversation and the strains of the -orchestra, and the smoke remained buried in the muff. But at the king's -exclamation, and on seeing him fall back fainting in the arms of -d'Essen, everyone ran up; in the commotion that followed it was quite -easy for Ankarström to put himself at a distance from the king and even -to leave the hall; but in his flight he dropped one of his pistols. The -pistol was picked up, hot and still smoking. Next day every gun-seller -in Stockholm was questioned, and one of them recognised the pistol as -one he had sold to Ankarström. An hour later, Ankarström was arrested -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> his own house, and a special commission was appointed to try him. -He confessed to, but gloried in, his crime. As to his accomplices, he -declined under any conditions whatever to reveal their names. The trial -dragged on slowly; it was hoped against hope that Ankarström would give -away the conspirators; finally, on 29 April 1792, forty-four days after -the murder, he was condemned. The sentence was that he was to be beaten -with rods for three days, then beheaded. In spite of the length and -the ignominy of the punishment, Ankarström remained firm to the very -end. While being taken in the cart to his execution, he looked with -perfect equanimity upon the thousands of spectators who thronged round -the scaffold. When he mounted the scaffold he asked for a few minutes -in which to make his peace with God. It was granted him. He knelt down, -prayed and then gave himself up to the executioners. He was not quite -thirty-three years of age.</p> - -<p>Ribbing, who had been arrested at the same time as Ankarström, was but -twenty-one: it was intended to condemn him to death like Ankarström, -and the Duke of Sudermania, regent over the kingdom during the minority -of Gustavus IV., was urging forward the trial, when a mystic, a -disciple of Swedenborg, sought him out and told him that the <i>master</i> -had appeared to him, and had declared that not only was Ribbing -innocent, but that every hair which fell from his head would cost a -day of the life of the Duke of Sudermania. The duke, a Swedenborgian -himself, was terrified at this warning, and Ribbing, instead of sharing -Ankarström's fate, was condemned to perpetual exile. And as less -could not be done for the Count de Horn and for Lilienhorn than was -done in the case of Ribbing, they both obtained the same favour. The -confiscation of their property followed upon the sentence of exile. -Fortunately, in the case of the Count de Ribbing, the confiscation of -property could not be put into execution until after the death of his -mother: she enjoyed the property in her own right, during her lifetime, -and she was still quite young.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>The count left for France, where the Revolution was then at its height, -and he arrived in time to witness the events of 2 and 3 September -and 21 January. His adoration for the queen made him loud in his -denunciation of the events of those dreadful days. He was arrested and, -although already a regicide, was on the point of being delivered up to -the revolutionary tribunal as too sympathetic with royal misfortunes, -when Chaumette set him free, gave him a passport and helped him to -escape from Paris. The count then went to Switzerland; he was so -young and so good-looking that he went by the name of "the beautiful -regicide." He was introduced to Madame de Staël, who took him much into -her confidence. The letters (some two or three hundred) which the Count -de Ribbing received from Madame de Staël during the lifetime of the -illustrious authoress of <i>Corinne</i>, proved that this friendship was not -of a temporary nature. Madame de Staël was surrounded by a circle of -friends, several of whom already knew the Count de Ribbing. This little -court was half political and half literary; its chief purpose at that -time was to rescue, hide and protect emigrants against the persecutions -of the magistrates in the Swiss cantons whose hands were continually -being forced by the demands of the Revolutionary Government of Paris.</p> - -<p>After 9 thermidor, the Count de Ribbing could return to France, where -he bought three or four châteaux and two or three abbeys at a very low -price. Among these châteaux were Villers-Hellon, Brunoy and Quincy. The -count had acquired all these properties simply on the recommendations -either of friends or of his solicitor. Villers-Hellon was, among -others, quite unknown to him. One day he made up his mind to pay a -visit to the lovely estate people had praised so much. Unluckily, the -time was ill-chosen for seeing all its charms: the communal authorities -of Villers-Hellon had handed over the château to an association of -shoemakers who made shoes for the army, consequently the worthy -disciples of St. Crépin had taken possession of the domain, had set -up their workrooms in the salons and in the bedrooms and, the better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> -to communicate with one another, they had made openings through the -ceilings. When they had any oral communication to make, they made it -by means of these peep-holes without having to leave their seats; if -they had to come up or downstairs to see one another, they put ladders -through these holes and so saved the turns and twists of the proper -staircase. One can imagine how greatly such tenants would detract from -the appearance of the château the count had just bought. The sights, -and above all the smells, about the place so disgusted him that he -fled precipitately back to Paris. Some days later he recounted his -misadventure in his own witty way to M. Collard, then connected with -the commissariat department of the army. M. Collard was more accustomed -to the value of material goods than the noble exile, and he then and -there offered to take over his purchase. M. de Ribbing consented, and -Villers-Hellon became from that moment the property of M. Collard. -Happily, the Count de Ribbing had still two or three other châteaux -where he could reside instead of in the one he had just sold. He -chose Brunoy, which later he gave up to his friend Talma, as he had -Villers-Hellon to his friend Collard, and then he established himself -in the château of Quincy.</p> - -<p>During the whole of Napoleon's reign the Count de Ribbing lived very -quietly, spending his winters in Paris and his summers in the country, -devoting himself to agriculture and to fishing in his ponds, in -which, once, he caught such an enormous pike that when it was put in -the scales with Adolphe at the other end, the pike was actually the -heavier. Napoleon offered M. de Ribbing military positions more than -once—offers which he I declined, on account of the Conqueror's love of -invasion, fearing he might one day be compelled to carry arms against -Sweden.</p> - -<p>On the second return of the Bourbons to power, their revenge for past -political events pursued M. de Ribbing to his private retreat. He -was obliged to exile himself again, crossed the frontier, and under -an assumed name went to live in Brussels with his wife and son. But -the incognito of the Count de Ribbing was soon to betray him under -circumstances that will give some idea of his character. In Brussels, -the count found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> himself at the same table with some foreign officers -who, inflated with pride at the victory of Waterloo, abused France -and Frenchmen right and left. One colonel, who was covered with -decorations, especially distinguished himself by his exaggerated -attacks. The conversation was carried on in German, but as the Count -de Ribbing had been brought up in Berlin, German was almost like -his mother tongue; he did not therefore lose a single word of the -conversation, although he pretended he was not taking any notice. -Suddenly he rose, and, advancing with his usual coolness to the -colonel, he slapped him right and left across the face, accompanying -the blows with a statement of his name and titles, and then he quietly -returned to his seat. Cauchois-Lemaire, then only a young man, was at -the same table, so was the poet Arnault, who was already an old man; -both, at great risk to themselves, offered their services to the Count -de Ribbing as seconds. Happily these services were not required: the -colonel would not fight.</p> - -<p>The roll of <i>the Thirty Eight</i> enriched Brussels at the expense -of France,—Arnault, Excelmans, Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angély, -Cambacérès, Harel, Cauchois-Lemaire were all exiled. M. de Ribbing -attached himself to them, and, with them, founded <i>le Nain Jaune</i>—a -journal that soon earned itself a European reputation.</p> - -<p>Following upon an article published by the count in this journal, the -Prussian Government demanded that the author of it should be handed -over to them. This meant nothing less than imprisonment for life in a -castle—Prussia is still, as one knows, the land of castles, and it -has long been the land of imprisonments. However, King William left -the Count de Ribbing the choice of being delivered over to Prussia or -to France—somewhat after the fashion of the cook who gives a fowl its -choice between being boiled or roasted. M. de Ribbing chose France. He -was taken prisoner, flung into a post-chaise with his son, and driven -to the borders of Condé. There he looked about him, to discover from -which of his old friends he could ask hospitality. The nearest happened -to be M. Collard, so he took his way towards Villers-Hellon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<p>It need hardly be said that he was received with open arms. He had been -living but three days in that lovely place—changed so greatly since -the days of the bootmakers that it was almost beyond recognition—when -I met his son, Adolphe de Leuven, with Madame Capelle on his arm, and -holding little Marie by the hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Adolphe's quatrain—The water-hen and King William—Lunch -in the wood—The irritant powder, the frogs and the -cock—The doctor's spectre—De Leuven, Hippolyte Leroy -and I are exiled from the drawing-room—Unfortunate -result of a geographical error—M. Paroisse</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had not come across any members of the Collard family for a long -time. Madame Capelle I adored, as she took pity on my youthfulness -when people made fun of my peculiarities—peculiarities which I will -not hide from myself I possessed to a certain extent. She introduced -me to de Leuven as a young friend of hers and asked me to lunch with -them next day in the forest to improve our acquaintance; it was also -arranged that, following upon the lunch, I should spend two or three -days at the château of Villers-Hellon. Of course I accepted the -invitation. The fête of Corey was on the way, with its delightful -entertainments of dancing and merriment. I can think of nothing more -delightful than returning home, at ten or eleven o'clock at night, -under the dense moving vault of the tall trees: in the solemn stillness -of the night it seemed like some ancient Elysium, with mute shades -walking under in the darkness; for the shades that pace our terrestrial -Elysiums speak so low, so very low, that we swear they are dumb. I had -been obliged to return to Villers-Cotterets to take back Adèle, and to -make her understand, without hurting her feelings, how important it was -that I should maintain friendly intercourse with the Collard family. -She was such an excellent, good-hearted, straightforward girl, that she -soon understood, and although feeling a little jealous at lending me -to that group of aristocratic and beautiful young girls, who were fine -enough to inspire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> jealousy in the heart of a princess, she gave me up -for three days.</p> - -<p>I set off at nine next morning to reach the arranged meeting-place by -ten o'clock. Everybody had spent the night at Corey, at M. Leroy's -house, and I also should have done the same had I not been urgently -recalled to Villers-Cotterets by the necessity above stated. But what -was a distance like that? I had strong legs and boots which could defy -those of Tom Thumb's giant himself. In less than three-quarters of an -hour, I caught sight of the first houses in the village, and the pond -as it lay quiet and shining like a mirror at the foot of the valley. -Adolphe de Leuven was walking on its banks. I did not expect that -anyone would be up at the farm so early, and I joined Adolphe. He had -a pencil and tablets in his hand, and he who was usually so phlegmatic -was gesticulating in such a fashion that I should have trembled for his -reason, had I not imagined he was practising a fencing exercise. When -he saw me he stopped and blushed slightly.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing there?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Why, I am composing poetry," he said, with some confusion. I looked -him in the face as though I could hardly believe my ears.</p> - -<p>"Poetry!... do you really write poetry?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes, sometimes," he answered, laughing.</p> - -<p>"To whom are you writing verses?"</p> - -<p>"To Louise."</p> - -<p>"What! Louise Collard?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, I never!"</p> - -<p>The notion of composing poetry to Louise Collard, charming though she -was, had never come into my head. Louise seemed to me still the same -pretty child in short frocks with lace-trimmed drawers—nothing more.</p> - -<p>"Ah! so you are making verses to Louise, are you: what for?" I went on.</p> - -<p>"You know she is going to be married."</p> - -<p>"Louise? No, I did not know that. To whom?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To a Russian. Therefore the marriage must be prevented." "Prevented?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; such a delightful girl must not be allowed to leave France."</p> - -<p>"True, true; I shall be very sorry if she leaves France. I am very fond -of her; aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"I? I have only known her three days."</p> - -<p>"It would be a good thing to hinder her from leaving France; but how -shall we do it?"</p> - -<p>"I have written my verses; you write some too."</p> - -<p>"I!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you. You have been brought up with her, and it will please her."</p> - -<p>"But I do not know how to write poetry. I have never done anything but -crambo with the Abbé Grégoire and he always told me I did badly."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nonsense! when you are in love it comes of itself."</p> - -<p>"But I am in love and it hasn't come; so let me see your verses."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is just a quatrain."</p> - -<p>"Well, let me see it."</p> - -<p>Adolphe drew his tablets forth and read me these four lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Pourquoi dans <i>la froide Ibérie</i>,<br /> -Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits?<br /> -Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie,<br /> -Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I stood astounded. This was real poetry—poetry after the style of -Demoustier. So a poet stood before me: I felt as though I ought to bow -down before him.</p> - -<p>"How do you like my quatrain?" asked de Leuven.</p> - -<p>"Heavens! it is beautiful."</p> - -<p>"Good!"</p> - -<p>"And you are going to give it to Louise?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no; I dare not do that. I shall write it in her album without -saying anything to her, and when she turns over the leaves she will -come across my lines."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Bravo!"</p> - -<p>"Now what shall you do?"</p> - -<p>"What about?"</p> - -<p>"About this marriage."</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, as I am quite unable to make a quatrain as good as yours, -I shall say to her, 'Are you really going to marry a Russian, my poor -Louise? I tell you, you are making a great mistake.'"</p> - -<p>"I do not fancy that will have so much effect as my quatrain," said -Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Neither do I; but what else can I do? One can only use one's own -weapons. Now, if the Russian would meet me in a pistol Dud, I am quite -sure he would never marry Louise!"</p> - -<p>"You are a sportsman, then?"</p> - -<p>"Rather. How could you imagine one would not be, surrounded by such a -forest? Oh, stop! there is a water-hen!"</p> - -<p>I pointed it out to him with my finger, flushing it with my stick as it -swam among the reeds of the pond.</p> - -<p>"Shoo!"</p> - -<p>"Is that a water-hen?"</p> - -<p>"Of course it is. Where do you come from not to know a water-hen?"</p> - -<p>"I come from Brussels."</p> - -<p>"I thought you were a Parisian."</p> - -<p>"I was indeed born in Paris; but in 1815 we left Paris, and we lived in -Brussels until three years ago, when my father and I were compelled to -leave."</p> - -<p>"Who compelled you to go?"</p> - -<p>"Why, William!"</p> - -<p>"Who is William?"</p> - -<p>"William? He is King of the Netherlands. Didn't you know that the King -of the Netherlands was called William?"</p> - -<p>"Not I."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, it oughtn't to seem so odd to you now that I do not know a -water-hen."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>Indeed, as it appeared, we were both ignorant on some points; and my -ignorance was more culpable than de Leuven's.</p> - -<p>He grew another cubit taller in my estimation. Not only was he a poet, -but he was of sufficient importance in the world for this King William -to be uneasy about him and his father, to the extent of banishing them -both from his realms.</p> - -<p>"And now you are living at Villers-Hellon?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes. M. Collard is an old friend of my father."</p> - -<p>"How long shall you live here?"</p> - -<p>"As long as the Bourbons will allow us to remain in France."</p> - -<p>"Ah! then you have fallen out with the Bourbons too?"</p> - -<p>"We have quarrelled with most kings," said Adolphe, with a laugh.</p> - -<p>This phrase, uttered with magnificent indifference, quite finished -me off. Luckily, at that moment, our fair companions appeared on the -threshold of the farm, a bevy of pink and white damsels. Two or three -<i>chars-à-bancs</i> were in readiness to take them to the appointed place. -The gentlemen were to go on foot. The rendezvous was barely a quarter -of a league's distance from the village. A long table of thirty covers -was laid under a leafy canopy, ten paces off a limpid, clear purling -spring called the <i>Fontaine-aux-Princes.</i> All these young folks, -maidens, mothers, children, seemed like so many woodland flowers -opening to the sweet-breathed breeze: some pale, that sought for shade -and solitude; others of brilliant hues, seeking light and stir and the -sunshine of admiration.</p> - -<p>Oh! those glorious woods, those shady depths, the haunts of my -cherished moods of solitude, I have revisited you since; but no shade -glides now beneath your green vaults and in your dark alleys.... What -have you done with all that delightful world which vanished with my -youth? Why have not other generations come in their turn, pale or rosy, -lively or careless, noisy or silent like ours? Has that ephemeral -efflorescence disappeared for ever? Is it really wanting, or is it that -my eyes have lost the power of seeing?</p> - -<p>We returned that night to Villers-Hellon. Everything was so beautifully -arranged in that luxurious little château that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> each of us had a -separate room and bed, and sometimes there were as many as thirty or -forty of us there.</p> - -<p>I have related what nocturnal persecutions poor Hiraux was made a -victim of when he came to see us at les Fossés. It was now our turn to -undergo the like. Our rooms were prepared beforehand for the pantomime -that followed. The family doctor, Manceau, was the stage manager. He -had replaced an old doctor from Soissons named M. Paroisse. I will -explain presently why this change took place. The assistant stage -managers were Louise, Cécile and Augustine. The appointed victims were -Hippolyte Leroy, de Leuven and myself. Hippolyte Leroy was at this -period a young man of between twenty-five and twenty-six. He was a -cousin of M. Leroy de Corey. He had been one of the body-guard, and was -now Secretary to the Inspection at Villers-Cotterets. Later, he became -my cousin, by his marriage with Augustine Deviolaine. Our three rooms -communicated with one another. We retired to our rooms about half-past -twelve. De Leuven was the first to get into bed. He had scarcely lain -down before he began to complain of a most intolerable tickling: his -bed was sprinkled with the stuff charlatans sell which they call -scratching powder. Those unacquainted with this powder should recall -the famous scene in <i>Robert Macaire</i>, where the two heroes of the book -find a trunk, and in that trunk a quantity of tiny packets, containing -some unknown substance, whose property was revealed when they touched -it. In about five minutes' time Adolphe de Leuven began to scratch -himself like both Robert Macaire and Bertrand put together. We offered -de Leuven our sincere sympathy. We advised him to rub it off as best he -could, to wrap himself in his bed-curtain and to sleep on a couch. Then -we went to our own beds, quite convinced that we should find them like -Adolphe's. But we searched them in vain: they seemed perfectly free -from any preparation of the like nature. We lay down. In five minutes' -time Hippolyte Leroy uttered a sharp cry. In stretching himself, he -felt a piece of string at the foot of the bed; he pulled this thread, -and in doing so, he untied a bag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> full of frogs. The frogs, gaining -their liberty, hastened to disport themselves about the bed, and it was -the contact of his human flesh with their animal hide which produced -Hippolyte's yell above mentioned. He flung off the bed-clothes and -leapt out of bed. The frogs leaped out after him. He had been given -good measure; there were quite two dozen of them.</p> - -<p>I was beginning to think I was the only one spared, when I thought I -heard a great stirring inside a cupboard against which the head of my -bed had been put. I looked at the lock. It was keyless. However, I -felt no doubt that some sort of animal was shut up in that cupboard. -Only, what sort of an animal was it? I was not kept long in suspense: -as one o'clock struck a cock crowed at the head of my bed, and renewed -his crowing every hour till day came. I did not deny Christ, like St. -Peter, but I confess I took His name in vain. We fell asleep by seven -o'clock,—de Leuven in spite of his itching powder, Hippolyte Leroy in -spite of his frogs, and I in spite of my cock,—when Manceau entered -our rooms and woke us by telling us that as he had heard in roundabout -ways we had spent a bad night, he had come to offer us his professional -services: Manceau denounced his own handiwork!</p> - -<p>We had slept so badly, through that horrible night, that, with terrible -imprecations, we had consigned our persecutor, whoever he might be, -to the infernal regions. Manceau, as I have said, denounced himself: -expiation must follow the crime; our sworn oath must be fulfilled. At -a sign, de Leuven shut the door: I fell upon Manceau, Hippolyte gagged -him; we stripped him naked, we wrapped him in a sheet off Adolphe's -bed, we tied him up like a sausage, we took him down a disused -staircase and we deposited him in the most unfrequented part of the -park, in the very middle of the little river, at a place where he could -stand, but where, entangled as he was, he ran great risk of losing his -foothold at the first step he took. We then quietly returned to our -beds, and resumed our interrupted sleep.</p> - -<p>We went down to the morning meal at ten o'clock. Our arrival was -eagerly expected. Everybody burst out laughing when we came within -view. The young ladies each played a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> part: some pretended to scratch, -others imitated in a low voice the croaking of frogs, and others -simulated the crowing of a cock. We were quite imperturbable: we merely -asked carelessly where Manceau was. Nobody had seen him. We sat down -to table. The fowl was tough, Cécile remarked; one would have said it -was an old cock which had crowed all the night. Augustine asked where -the frogs were that she had seen, she said, in the kitchen the night -before. Had they been moved?... Were the frogs lost?... The frogs -must be found again. Louise asked Adolphe if he was not attacked by a -contagious affection; for since he had offered her his arm to lead her -into the dining-room, her skin had felt fearfully irritable.</p> - -<p>"If Manceau were here," I said to Louise, "you could ask him for a -prescription to allay it."</p> - -<p>"But, joking apart, where is Manceau?" asked Madame Collard.</p> - -<p>Silence again, as at the first inquiry. Matters were becoming serious, -and folks began to be uneasy about the dear doctor: it was not his -custom to absent himself at meal-times. They sent to ask the porter if -Manceau had gone out to attend some sick person in the village. The -porter had not seen Manceau.</p> - -<p>"I believe he is drowned!" I said.... "Poor fellow!"</p> - -<p>"Why should he be?" asked Madame Collard.</p> - -<p>"Because yesterday evening he proposed a bathing party to us; but we -slept so well we missed meeting him in his room as arranged. As we did -not turn up, he must have gone alone to bathe."</p> - -<p>"Oh, good gracious!" exclaimed Madame Collard, "the poor doctor! he -cannot swim."</p> - -<p>A chorus of lamentations went up from the ladies at these words, by the -side of which the wailing of the Israelites in exile was a trifle. It -was settled that Manceau should be searched for immediately after the -meal was over.</p> - -<p>"Good!" said de Leuven in a whisper to me,—"I will take the -opportunity while everybody is out to write my verses in Louise's -album."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And I," I replied, "I will stand sentinel at the door to prevent your -being disturbed."</p> - -<p>Everything happened as had been arranged. The whole beehive of the -castle swarmed into the garden. The older men—M. de Leuven the -father, M. Collard, M. Méchin—stayed in the drawing-room to read the -newspapers. Hippolyte played billiards with Maurice. De Leuven and I -went upstairs to Louise's room, which was next to M. Collard's, and -whilst I watched on the landing, he wrote his four lines in the album.</p> - -<p>He had scarcely finished the last, when we heard loud shouts, and upon -going to look out of the window, we saw Louise and Augustine running -towards the castle. Cécile, who was braver, had remained stoutly where -she was, and had looked towards the river with more curiosity than -alarm.</p> - -<p>"Bravo!" said I to Adolphe, "Manceau has made his appearance."</p> - -<p>We quickly went down.</p> - -<p>"A ghost! a ghost!" cried Louise and Augustine; "there is a ghost in -the river!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! my God," said de Leuven—"can it be that the spirit of poor -Manceau is already borne down below?"</p> - -<p>It was not his spirit, but his body. By dint of struggling with his -cords, Manceau had freed one arm, then both; his two arms freed, he -had taken the handkerchief off his mouth: when ungagged, he had called -out for help; unfortunately, the gardener was at the opposite end of -the garden. He had tried hard to untie the cords which bound his legs, -as he had done those binding his hands; but, to do so, he would have -to put his head under the water; and, as Madame Capelle had said, -the unlucky doctor did not know how to swim, and was restrained from -any such attempt by the fear of being suffocated. At last his cries -attracted the attention of the young girls; but at sight of the figure -wrapped in a sheet and making despairing gesticulations, fear had taken -possession of them, and not having the least notion that Manceau would -be discovered in the middle of the river, shrouded in such a garment, -they had shrieked at the apparition and had flown away. They sent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -the unhappy Manceau the gardener for whom he had called so loudly. He -clamoured vehemently for his clothes. He had been in the river from -seven in the morning until noon, and although it was towards the end of -July, the bath was infinitely too protracted, and had made him somewhat -chilly. He was put to bed with a hot bottle. From that moment Manceau -was the object of general pity, and we of universal execration. For, -God be merciful to him a sinner, Manceau had been cowardly enough to -denounce us. It was in vain for de Leuven to show his hands as red as -crabs and to offer to show the rest of his body, which was as red as -his hands; in vain did Hippolyte collect the frogs scattered about his -room and bring them into the drawing-room; in vain did I fetch the -cock, with which I had held discourse all the night, from the barnyard: -nothing moved our judges; we were banished from society, for deliberate -attempted homicide in the matter of Doctor Manceau. So we promised -ourselves to drown him out and out the first chance we got.</p> - -<p>Banished from the society of the ladies, I took refuge in the -billiard-room, where Maurice gave me my first lesson in billiards. -We shall see that this lesson stood me in good stead, and that, four -years later, at a solemn occasion in my life, I practised the art of -cannoning, wherein I had made some progress. Our punishment lasted -throughout that evening, which the young ladies spent in Louise's room, -as it was raining. De Leuven made several attempts to get into that -chamber, but was repulsed each time. A great change had come over him -since four o'clock in the afternoon, after a conversation he had had -with his father, in which the elder man had seemed to me to sneer at -him strangely.</p> - -<p>Adolphe grew very restless, almost gloomy, and although he was -determinedly kept out of Louise's room—where she was holding a -gathering of her girl-friends, as I have mentioned—he went back -persistently again and again. "Ah! I see," I said to myself, after a -moment's reflection, "he wants to obtain news of his quatrain and to -know how it has succeeded." And, satisfied with my reasoning, I did -not look any farther for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> cause of de Leuven's insistence. But I -regretted I had not the means with which partial nature had endowed -Adolphe, to cause my shortcomings to be forgiven. I was pursued by this -regret when in Hippolyte's room, where we withdrew, questioning each -other what had become of de Leuven, who had not been seen for an hour, -when suddenly we heard a great noise in the midst of which we could -make out the words, "<i>Stop thief!</i>" echoing through the castle. As we -were still dressed, we dashed out of our room and quickly descended -the staircase. At the foot of the staircase was M. Collard in his -nightshirt, holding Adolphe by his coat collar. It was an extraordinary -sight. M. Collard looked furious and Adolphe exceedingly penitent. In -the meantime, M. de Leuven, who had not yet gone to bed, arrived on the -scene, as imperturbable as ever, his hands in his trousers pockets, -chewing a toothpick, after his usual fashion. This toothpick was an -indispensable item in M. de Leuven's life.</p> - -<p>"Well, well! What is the matter now, Collard? What have you against my -boy?"</p> - -<p>"What have I? what have I?" shrieked M. Collard, growing more and more -exasperated. "I have something that cannot be overlooked."</p> - -<p>"Ah! what has he done, then?"</p> - -<p>"What has he done?... I'll tell you what he has done!—--"</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, father," said Adolphe, trying to get in a word or two of -justification,—"forgive me, father, but M. Collard is mistaken.... He -believes——"</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel!" yelled M. Collard, kicking him.</p> - -<p>Then, turning to the Count de Ribbing, he said—</p> - -<p>"Listen, my dear de Leuven, and I will tell you where I have found this -son of yours."</p> - -<p>"But I must protest, dear M. Collard, it was solely and simply to——"</p> - -<p>"Be quiet!" interrupted M. Collard. "Come with us: you shall clear -yourself if you can."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Adolphe, "that will not be difficult."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<p>"We shall see!"</p> - -<p>Pushing the youth before him, he signed to the count to go inside his -room, and, following himself, shut the door and double-locked it.</p> - -<p>We withdrew in silence, Hippolyte, myself and the other spectators -of that curious scene. Adolphe returned at the end of a quarter of -an hour. He looked so crestfallen that we dared not question him -for details. We went to bed in ignorance of the cause of all the -disturbance.</p> - -<p>But after Hippolyte had fallen asleep de Leuven came to me and told me -the whole story. This was what had happened.</p> - -<p>As I have said above, Adolphe had written the wonderful quatrain in -Louise's album that morning. When it was finished he left the young -lady's room as fast as possible. Towards four o'clock, Adolphe, who had -not been able to contain the news, drew his father aside and repeated -his quatrain to him.</p> - -<p>M. de Ribbing listened gravely until the last syllable of the fourth -line, and then he said—</p> - -<p>"Say it over again, please."</p> - -<p>Adolphe repeated it obediently:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Pourquoi dans la froide Ibérie,<br /> -Louise, ensevelir de si charmants attraits?<br /> -Les Russes, en quittant notre belle patrie,<br /> -Nous juraient cependant une éternelle paix!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>"There is but one slip," then said M. de Ribbing.</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing much ... you have mistaken the South for the North—Spain -for Russia."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Adolphe, aghast, "upon my word, so I have! ... I have put -Ibérie for <i>Sibérie</i>."</p> - -<p>"I understand," said the count, "it makes a better rhyme, but is less -accurate." And, shrugging his shoulders, he went off humming a little -air and chewing his toothpick.</p> - -<p>Adolphe stood dumbfounded. He had signed his unlucky quatrain with -his full name. If the album were opened and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the quatrain were read -he would be disgraced! This sword of Damocles, hung over the unlucky -poet's head, had distracted him all the evening. It was to get hold of -Louise's album that he had made the obstinate efforts to enter her room -I have detailed. But, as we have seen, his attempts had been fruitless.</p> - -<p>When night came, Adolphe took a desperate resolve: he would go into -Louise's room when she was asleep, seize her album and destroy the -tell-tale page.</p> - -<p>This resolution he put into execution about eleven o'clock. The door -opened without creaking too much, and Adolphe, who squeezed himself -through as softly as possible on tiptoe, with but the one end, one -hope and one desire of reaching the album, had thus invaded his young -friend's maiden chamber. All went well as far as the album. It was -on the table and Adolphe took it, put it in his vest, determined to -regain possession by hook or by crook of the four lines which had made -their author so unhappy, when suddenly he ran against a little table, -which fell and in falling awakened Louise. Louise, startled, cried out, -"Thief, thief!" At the cry of "Thief, thief!" M. Collard, whose room -adjoined his daughter's, rushed out of bed in his nightshirt, flung -himself on de Leuven on the landing, collared him, and, as we have -seen, suspecting poor innocent Adolphe of quite another crime, dragged -him into his chamber. His father followed them and closed the door -behind him. There, everything was explained, thanks to the album, which -Adolphe had been careful not to let go. M. Collard was convinced <i>de -visu</i> of the geographical error Adolphe had committed; he thoroughly -understood the importance of that error, and, reassured in the matter -of motive, he was soon satisfied about the deed. So neither Louise's -reputation nor Adolphe's suffered any blemish from this occurrence.</p> - -<p>As they continued to punish Hippolyte and me next day, for Manceau's -little adventure, we left Villers-Hellon without saying a word to -anyone, and took the road to Villers-Cotterets. Strange to say, I have -never re-entered Villers-Hellon since. The young girls' ostracism -lasted thirty years. Only once have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> I since seen Hermine, and that -was at the rehearsal of <i>Caligula</i>, when she was Madame la Baronne de -Martens. Only once have I since seen Louise, and that was at a dinner -given at the Bank, when she was Madame Garat. Only once have I since -seen Marie Capelle, a month before she became Madame Lafarge. I never -saw either Madame Collard or Madame Capelle again. Both are now dead. -But when I close my eyes, in spite of those thirty years of absence, I -can still see them all, the dead and the living.</p> - -<p>I promised to tell the story of the old doctor who was Manceau's -predecessor, and it would be unfair to my readers to break my word. M. -Paroisse lived at Soissons. A thinly scattered practice allowed him to -dine once a week at Villers-Hellon, where he was always made heartily -welcome. This lasted for ten years. One day M. Collard received a -large manuscript signed by the worthy doctor. It was the bill for his -visits. He had charged twenty francs for each visit, and the sum total -was something alarming. M. Collard paid him, but told M. Paroisse from -henceforth not to come to Villers-Hellon unless he were specially sent -for. It was in consequence of this incident that Manceau was installed -in the castle as the regular medical attendant to the family. I forget -what became of Manceau ... I fancy the poor devil is dead. Happily, -this was not in consequence of the enforced bath we gave him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Amédée de la Ponce—He teaches me what work is—M. -Arnault and his two sons—A journey by diligence—A -gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him -with my fists—I learn the danger from which I escaped</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>After the unjust sentence that was passed upon us in Villers-Hellon, I -returned to Villers-Cotterets, and, disgusted with my sojourn in the -aristocratic regions whence I had just been cast forth, I returned -with delight to the world I preferred to theirs, wherein I could find -complete satisfaction for all my heart-longings and all my proud -cravings. Adèle at first received me back very coldly, and I had to -endure a fit of the sulks for some hours. At the end of that time, -little by little her pretty face cleared, and she ended by smiling upon -me with the freshness and sweetness of an opening flower. One might -have said of this lovely child that her smile itself was like a rose. -While these youthful love affairs were in progress—all of them, alas! -of the ephemeral character of love at sixteen—there were friendships -taking root in my heart that were to last the whole of my life.</p> - -<p>I have already spoken of Adolphe de Leuven, who suddenly took a -prominent place in my life, apart from my childish friendships. Here -let me also be allowed to say a word about another friend, who was -to finish in certain other directions the work of opening out future -vistas before me that had been begun by the son of Count de Ribbing. -One day we saw a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven go along -the streets of Villers-Cotterets, wearing the uniform of an officer -of Hussars with an unusually stately grace. No one could possibly -have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> been handsomer or more distinguished in appearance than this -young man. His face perhaps might have been criticised as a trifle -too feminine-looking, if it had not been for a fine sword-cut which, -without spoiling in any way the regularity of his features, began -at the left side of his forehead and ended at the right corner of -his upper lip, adding a touch of manliness and courage to his gentle -features. His name was Amédée de la Ponce. I do not know what chance -or whim or necessity led him to Villers-Cotterets. Had he come as an -idle tourist, to spend his income of five or six thousand livres in our -town? I do not know.... It is probable. He liked the country, he stayed -among us and, at the end of a year of residence, he became the husband -of a charmingly pretty young girl, Louise Moreau, a friend of my -sister. They had a beautiful fair-haired child, whom I should much like -to see to-day: we nicknamed it <i>Mouton</i>, on account of its gentleness, -the whiteness of its skin and its flaxen hair.</p> - -<p>I lost sight of you such a long while ago, my dear de la Ponce! -Whatever part of the world you may be in, if you read these pages, you -will find therein a testimony of my ever living, sincere and lasting -friendship for you. For, my friend, you did a great deal for me. You -said to me: "Believe me, my dear boy, there are other things in life -besides pleasure and love, hunting and dancing, and the silly ambitions -of youth! There is work. Learn to work ... that is the true way to be -happy." And you were right, dear friend. Apart from the death of my -father, the death of my mother and the death of the Duc d'Orléans, -how is it I have never experienced a sorrow that I have not crushed -beneath my feet or a disappointment that I have not overcome? It is -because you introduced me to the only friend who can give comfort by -day and by night, who is ever near, who hastens to console at the first -sigh, who lends healing balm at the first tear: you made me acquainted -with <i>work.</i> O dear and most excellent Work,—thou who bearest in thy -strong arms that heavy burden of humanity which we call sorrow! Thou -divinity, with hand ever stretched open and with face ever smiling!... -Oh! dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> and most excellent Work, thou hast never cast the shadow of -deception on me ... my blessings upon thee, O Work!</p> - -<p>De la Ponce spoke Italian and German as fluently as his own language; -he offered to teach them to me in my leisure moments—and God knows I -had plenty of spare moments at that time.</p> - -<p>We started with Italian. It was the easiest language—the honey of -which Horace speaks, the gilding that clothes the outside of the cup -of bitter drink given to a sick child. One of the books out of which -I learnt Italian was Ugo Foscolo's fine novel, which I have since -translated under the title of the <i>Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis.</i> -That book gave me an idea of, an insight into and a feeling for -romantic literature of which previously I had been totally ignorant. -In two months' time I could talk Italian fairly correctly, and I -began to translate poetry. I much preferred this to my sales and my -marriage contracts and the drawing up of bonds and transfers at Maître -Mennesson's. Furthermore, a change took place in the office greatly to -the advantage of my literary education, but not to my legal education. -Niguet, that precious head clerk who had told tales to M. Mennesson -of my love-disappointments, had bought in a neighbouring village a -lawyer's practice, which I believe Lafarge had been obliged to sell -as he had not been able to find the wherewithal to take it up; and -Paillet, a friend of mine, who was six or eight years my senior, had -succeeded Niguet as head clerk over me. Paillet was well-to-do; he had -a delightful property two leagues from Villers-Cotterets; his tastes -were luxurious; consequently, he let me off more readily than Niguet -(who was an old Basochian<a name="FNanchor_1_4" id="FNanchor_1_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_4" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> without any fun in him and entirely -wrapped up in his business) to pursue the simple luxuries I could -indulge in, namely, shooting, flirting and dancing.</p> - -<p>So it came about that instead of encouraging me in treading the narrow -and difficult path of a provincial solicitor, Paillet allowed me to -cast my eyes abroad, instinctively understanding, doubtless, that -the work they had put me to was not what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> was cut out for. It can -easily be seen that Paillet exercised material influence over my future -destiny, apart from the moral influence exercised by de la Ponce and -de Leuven. I was then perfectly happy in the love of my mother, and in -a younger and sweeter love growing up side by side with hers without -injuring it, and in the friendship of de la Ponce and of de Paillet, -when de Leuven came to complete my happiness: I lacked nothing save -that golden mean of which Horace speaks; had I had that too, I should -have had scarcely aught to wish for.</p> - -<p>Suddenly we heard that M. Deviolaine was going to retire with -his family to his estate of Saint-Remy, and let his house at -Villers-Cotterets to the Count de Ribbing. So the house wherein I had -been brought up, the house peopled for me with a host of memories, -was to pass from the hands of a relative into the hands of a friend -The beautiful garden had taken M. de Leuven's special fancy; he hoped -to give vent in it to his hobby for gardening interrupted by the -successive sales of Brunoy and Quincy. Furthermore, the count had not -met with any more persecution, and whether it was because Louis XVIII. -did not know of his being in France, or whether the king closed his -eyes to the fact, he was left in undisturbed peacefulness.</p> - -<p>De Leuven and his father settled, then, in Villers-Cotterets, where -Madame de Leuven joined them in a fortnight's time. As for de la -Ponce, he rented a house at the end of the rue de Largny, the first -house on the left as you come from Paris: it had a large garden and -a fine courtyard. My time was soon divided into three portions—one -was devoted to my friendships, another to love-makings, and the third -to my legal work. The reader may suggest that my mother was perhaps a -little neglected in all this. Is a mother ever forgotten? Is she not -always there, whether present or absent? Did I not go in and out of -my home ten or twenty times a day? Did I not kiss my mother each time -I went in? Every day de Leuven, de la Ponce and I managed to meet. -Generally it was at de la Ponce's house: we transformed the courtyard -which I have mentioned into a shooting range, and every day we used -up twenty or thirty balls. De Leuven had excellent German pistols -(<i>Kukenreiter</i>).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> These pistols were marvellously true, and we soon -were able to shoot with such precision, all three of us, that when -anyone doubted our powers, we would take it in turn to hold the piece -of cardboard which served as a target, whilst the others fired. And -we never any of us received a single graze! I remember one day after -heavy rain we found I do not know how many frogs in that gloomy, damp -courtyard. Here was novel game for us to pot at, and we exterminated -every frog with our pistols. Every little while de Leuven read us a -fable or an elegy of his own composition; but he was cured of making -geographical errors by the nocturnal misadventure at Villers-Hellon -and no longer mistook the South for the North, or Spain for Siberia. -One morning great news spread through the town. Three strangers had -just come to stay with M. de Leuven: M. Arnault and his two sons, -Telleville and Louis Arnault. M. Arnault, the author of <i>Germanicus</i> -and of <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>, was at that time a splendid-looking old -man of sixty, still full of life in spite of his curling white locks, -which were as fine as silk. He had a most superabundant flow of spirits -and excelled at repartee; he could strike as rapidly at his object -as the most accomplished fencing-master could parry a blow or deal a -right-handed stroke. The only fault one could find with this wit was -its keen, biting edge; but, like bites made by healthy teeth, the -poet's bites never left poison behind them. M. Arnault had made the -acquaintance of the Count de Ribbing at that famous <i>table d'hôte</i> -where the latter had struck the foreign colonel in the face. Since -that day, M. de Leuven, Frenchman at heart, and M. Arnault, Frenchman -in mind, had struck up a friendship which though broken by death was -continued between their children. Telleville Arnault was a handsome -young officer of a charming disposition and of tested valour. He had -fought a Dud over <i>Germanicus</i> with Martainville which had made a great -sensation in the literary world. Louis was still a young lad of about -my own age.</p> - -<p>I prudently kept from visiting Adolphe all the time M. Arnault and his -sons were staying with his father; but M. Deviolaine having invited -them to a rabbit shooting in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> Tillet woods, I was present, and the -acquaintance which began by chance during the walks in the park was -sealed gun in hand. Telleville had a little gun made by Prélat, with -which he did wonders. This gun had a barrel not fourteen inches long, -which filled me with wonder, for I still believed in length of barrel -and hunted with siege-guns.</p> - -<p>When M. Arnault left Villers-Cotterets, he took de Leuven with -him. It was heart-breaking to me to see Adolphe depart. I had two -memories of visits to Paris, one in 1806, the other in 1814. These two -recollections sufficed to make me passionately envious of the lot of -every favoured being who was going to Paris. I remained behind with de -la Ponce, and I redoubled my devotion to the study of Italian. I was -soon sufficiently far advanced in the language of Dante and of Ariosto -to be able to pass on to that of Schiller and of Goethe; but this was -quite a different matter. After three or four months' work, de la -Ponce put one of Auguste Lafontaine's novels in my way: the task was -too difficult, I soon had enough of it. German was dropped, and I have -never had the courage to take it up again. My first serious dramatic -impression dates from this period. Some nabob who had done business -through M. Mennesson, out of unheard-of generosity, left a hundred and -fifty francs to be divided among the lads in the office. M. Mennesson -distributed it in the following way: thirty-seven francs fifty cents -each to Ronsin and myself, seventy-five francs to Paillet. It was the -first time I had found myself possessed of so much money. I wondered -what I should do with it.</p> - -<p>One of the four great fêtes of the year was approaching, when we should -have Sunday and Monday as holidays. Paillet proposed we should both -club our thirty-seven francs fifty cents to his seventy-five francs, -and that we should go and sink this fabulous sum of fifty crowns in -the delights that Soissons, the seat of the <i>sous-prefecture</i>, could -offer us. The suggestion was hailed with joy. Paillet was deputed -cashier, and we boldly took seats on the diligence for Paris, which -passes through Villers-Cotterets at half-past three in the morning, -and arrives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> at Soissons at six o'clock. Paillet and Ronsin each took -a place in the coupé, where one was already taken, and I went inside, -where there were four other passengers, three of whom got out at la -Vertefeuille, a post three leagues away from Villers-Cotterets, the -fourth continuing his journey to Soissons. From la Vertefeuille to -Soissons, therefore, I was left alone with this person, who was a man -of forty years or thereabouts, very thin of body, pale of face, with -auburn hair and well groomed. He had laid great stress on my sitting -near him, and, in order to leave me as much room as possible, squeezed -himself as closely into a corner of the coach as he could. I was much -touched by this attention, and felt sensibly drawn to the gentleman, -who had condescended to treat me with so much consideration.</p> - -<p>I slept well and anywhere in those days. So, as soon as we got out of -the town I fell asleep, only to wake when the horses were changed, -and I should most certainly not have waked up then if the three -passengers who left us had not trodden on my toes as they got out, with -the habitual heavy-footed tread travellers indulge in at the expense -of those who remain behind. When the passenger saw I was awake, he -began to talk to me, and asked me, in a kindly, interested way, my -age, my name and my occupation. I made haste to supply him with full -particulars, and he seemed much interested therein. I told him the -object of our journey to Soissons; and, as I coughed while I related -my tale, he good-naturedly offered me two different sorts of cough -lozenges. I accepted both, and in order to get the full benefit of -them I put them both in my mouth together; then, although I found the -gentleman's conversation agreeable and his manners fascinating, there -was something even more seductive and pleasing than that conversation -and those manners, namely sleep, so I wished him a good-night, and, -with plenty of room to dispose myself in, I settled down in the corner -parallel with his, with my back upon one seat and my feet on the -other. I do not know how long I had slept when I felt myself awakened -in the oddest fashion in the world. My sleeping fellow-traveller had -apparently passed from mere interest to a more lively expression of -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> sentiments, and was embracing me. I imagined he had a nightmare, -and I tried to awake him; but as I saw that the more soundly he slept, -the worse his gesticulations became, I began to strike him hard, and -as my blows had no effect, I cried aloud with all my might. Unluckily, -they were descending the hill of Vaubuin and they could not stop -the coach; the struggle therefore lasted ten minutes or more, and -without in the least knowing what danger I was combating, I was just -about to succeed in getting the better of my enemy, by turning him -over under my knee, when the door opened and the conductor came to -my rescue. Paillet and Ronsin were sleeping as I should have slept -if my travelling-companion had not waked me up by his overpowering -friendliness. I told the conductor what had happened and blamed him -for having put me along with a somnambulist or a madman, begging him -to put me in any other corner of the coach convenient to him, when, -to my intense astonishment, whilst the traveller was readjusting his -toilet, which had been considerably damaged by my struggle with him, -without uttering any sort of complaint against me, the conductor began -apostrophising him in the severest terms, made him get down out of the -coach, and told him that, as there only remained three-quarters of a -league from where we were to the <i>hôtel des Trois-Pucelles</i>, where -the coach stopped, he must have the goodness to do it on foot, unless -he would consent to mount up on the roof, where he could not disturb -anybody else. The gentleman of the auburn locks hoisted himself on -the roof, without opening his lips, and the diligence started off -again. Although I was now alone once more and consequently more at -my ease inside the coach, I was too much excited by the struggle I -had just gone through, to think of going to sleep again. I could hear -the conductor, in the cabriolet, relate my story to my two fellow -travelling-companions, and apparently he presented it to them under -a gayer light than that in which I had looked at it myself, for they -roared with laughter. I did not know what there could be to laugh at in -an interchange of fisticuffs with a somnambulist or a maniac. A quarter -of an hour after the gentleman had been installed on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> the imperial, and -I reinstated in the carriage, I heard by the heavy sound of the coach -wheels that we were crossing under the drawbridge. We had reached our -destination.</p> - -<p>Five minutes after we had left the coach, Paillet and Ronsin told me -why they had laughed, and it sounded so ridiculous that I rushed off -in search of my gentleman of the cough lozenges almost before they -had finished; but I searched the imperial in vain in every corner and -cranny:—he had disappeared.</p> - -<p>This nocturnal struggle upset me so greatly that I felt dazed the whole -of the day.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_4" id="Footnote_1_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_4"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Translator's note.—Member of the Society of Law Clerks.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>First dramatic impressions—The <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis<i>—The -Bourbons en 1815</i>—Quotations from it</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Among the pleasures we had promised ourselves in the second capital -of the department of Aisne we had put the theatre in the first rank. -A company of pupils from the Conservatoire, who were touring in the -provinces, were that night to give a special performance of Ducis's -<i>Hamlet.</i> I had absolutely no idea who <i>Hamlet</i> was; I will go farther -and admit that I was completely ignorant who was Ducis. No one could -have been more ignorant than I was. My poor mother had tried to induce -me to read Corneille's and Racine's tragedies; but, I confess it to my -shame, the reading of them had bored me inexpressibly. I had no notion -at that time what was meant by style or form or structure; I was a -child of nature in the fullest acceptance of the term: what amused me I -thought good, what wearied me—bad. So I read the word <i>tragedy</i> on the -placard with some misgivings.</p> - -<p>But, after all, as this tragedy was the best that Soissons had to offer -us to pass away the evening, we put ourselves in the queue waiting -outside; in good time, and in spite of the great crowd, we succeeded in -getting into the pit.</p> - -<p>Something like thirty-two years have rolled by since that night, but -such an impression did it make upon my mind that I can still remember -every little detail connected with it. The young fellow who took the -part of Hamlet was a tall, pale, sallow youth called Cudot; he had fine -eyes, and a strong voice, and he imitated Talma so closely, that when I -saw Talma act the same part, I almost thought he imitated Cudot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> - -<p>As I have said, the subject of literature was completely unknown to -me. I did not even know that there had ever existed an author named -Shakespeare, and when, on my return, I was instructed by Paillet that -<i>Hamlet</i> was only an imitation, I pronounced, before my sister, who -knew English, the name of the author of <i>Romeo</i> and of <i>Macbeth</i> as -I had seen it written, and it cost me one of those prolonged jokings -my sister never' spared me when occasion offered. Of course on this -occasion I delighted her. Now, as the <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis could not lose -in my estimation by comparison, since I had never heard Shakespeare's -spoken of, the play seemed to me, with Hamlet's grotesque entrance, -the ghost, visible only to himself, his struggle against his mother, -his urn, his monologue, the gloomy questionings concerning the fear of -death, to be a masterpiece, and produced an immense effect upon me. -So, when I returned to Villers-Cotterets, the first thing I did was to -collect together the few francs left over from the trip to Soissons and -to write to Fourcade (who had given up his place to Camusat, of whom I -spoke in connection with old Hiraux, and who had returned to Paris) to -send me the tragedy of <i>Hamlet.</i></p> - -<p>For some reason or other Fourcade delayed sending it to me for five -or six days: so great was my impatience that I wrote him a second -letter, filled with the keenest reproaches at his negligence and want -of friendliness. Fourcade, who would never have believed anyone could -accuse a man of being a poor friend because he did not hurry over -sending <i>Hamlet</i>, sent me a charming letter the gist of which I did -not appreciate until I had studied more deeply the question of what -was good and what was bad, and was able to place Ducis's work in its -due rank. In the meantime I became demented. I asked everybody, "Do -you know <i>Hamlet</i>? do you know Ducis?" The tragedy arrived from Paris. -At the end of three days I knew the part of Hamlet by heart and, worse -still, I have such an excellent memory that I have never been able to -forget it. So it came to pass that <i>Hamlet</i> was the first dramatic work -which produced an impression upon me—a profound impression, composed -of inexplicable sensations, aimless longings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> mysterious rays of light -which only made my darkness more visible. Later, in Paris, I again -saw poor Cudot, who had played Hamlet. Alas! the grand talent that -had carried me away had not obtained him the smallest foothold, and -I believe he has long since given up hope—that daughter of pride so -hard to kill in the artist's soul—the hope of making a position on the -stage.</p> - -<p>Now—as if the spirit of poetry, when wakened in me, had sworn never to -go to sleep again and used every means to that end, by even succeeding -in making Maître Mennesson himself his accomplice—scarcely had I -returned from Soissons, when, instead of giving me a deed of sale to -copy out or a bond to engross, or sending me out on business, Maître -Mennesson gave me a piece of poetry of which he wanted three copies -made. This piece of poetry was entitled <i>Les Bourbons en 1815.</i></p> - -<p>M. Mennesson, as I have said, was a Republican; I found him a -Republican in 1830, and when I saw him again in 1848 he was still a -Republican. And to do him justice, he had the courage of his opinions -through all times and under all regimes; so freely did he express -his opinions that his friends were frightened by them and made their -observations thereon with bated breath. He only shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"What the devil will they do to me?" he would exclaim. "My office is -paid for, my clientèle flourishing; I defy them to find a flaw in any -of my contracts; and that being the case, one can afford to mock at -kings and parsons."</p> - -<p>Maître Mennesson was right, too; for, in spite of all these -demonstrations, all these accusations of imprudence made by timid -souls, his practice was the best in Villers-Cotterets and improved -daily. At this very moment he was in the seventh heaven of delight. -He had got hold of a piece of poetry, in manuscript, against the -Bourbons—I do not know how. He had read it to everybody in the town, -and then after reading it to everybody, when I came back from Soissons, -he, as I have said, ordered me to make two or three copies of it, for -those of his friends who, like himself, were anxious to possess this -poetical pamphlet. I have never seen it in print, I have never read it -since the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> I copied it out three times, but such is my memory that -I can repeat it from beginning to end. But lest I alarm my readers, I -will content myself with quoting a few lines of it.</p> - -<p>This was how it began:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Où suis-je? qu'ai je vu? Les voilà donc ces princes<br /> -Qu'un sénat insensé rendit à nos provinces;<br /> -Qui devaient, abjurant les prejugés des rois,<br /> -Citoyens couronnés, régner au nom des lois;<br /> -Qui venaient, disaient-ils, désarmant la victoire,<br /> -Consoler les Français de vingt-cinq ans de gloire!<br /> -Ils entrent! avec eux, la vengeance de l'orgueil.<br /> -Ont du Louvre indigné franchi l'antique seuil!<br /> -Ce n'est plus le sénat, c'est Dieu, c'est leur naissance,<br /> -C'est le glaive étranger qui leur soumet la France;<br /> -Ils nous osent d'un roi reprocher l'<i>échafaud</i>:<br /> -Ah! si ce roi, sortant de la nuit du <i>tombeau</i>,<br /> -Armé d'un fer vengeur venait punir le crime,<br /> -Nous les verrions pâlir aux yeux de leur victime!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then the author exclaims—in those days authors all -exclaimed—abandoning general considerations for the detailed drawing -of individuals, and passing the royal family in review:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"C'est d'Artois, des galants imbécile doyen,<br /> -Incapable de mal, incapable de bien;<br /> -Au pied des saints autels abjurant ses faiblesses,<br /> -Et par des favoris remplaçant ses maîtresses;<br /> -D'Artois, dont rien n'a pu réveiller la vertu,<br /> -Qui fuit a Quiberon sans avoir combattu,<br /> -Et qui, s'il était roi, monterait à la France<br /> -Des enfants de Clovis la stupide indolence!<br /> -C'est Berry, que l'armée appelait à grands cris,<br /> -Et qui lui prodigua l'insulte et le mépris;<br /> -Qui, des ces jeunes ans, puisa dans les tavernes<br /> -Ces mœurs, ce ton grossier, qu'ignorent nos casernes.<br /> -C'est son frère, avec art sous un masque imposteur,<br /> -Cachant de ses projets l'ambitieuse horreur!<br /> -Qui, nourri par son oncle aux discordes civiles,<br /> -En rallume les feux en parcourant nos villes;<br /> -Ce Thersite royal, qui ne sut, à propos,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>Ni combattre ni fuir, et se croit un héros!<br /> -C'est, plus perfide encor, son épouse hautaine,<br /> -Cette femme qui vit de vengeance et de haine,<br /> -Qui pleure, non des siens le funeste trépas,<br /> -Mais le sang qu'à grands flots elle ne verse pas!<br /> -Ce sont ces courtisans, ces nobles et ces prêtres,<br /> -Qui, tour à tour flatteurs et tyrans de leur maîtres,<br /> -Voudraient nous ramener au temps où nos aieux<br /> -Ne voyaient, ne pensaient, n'agissaient que par eux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then the author ends off his discourse with a peroration worthy of the -subject and exclaims once more in his liberal enthusiasm:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ne balonçons done plus, levons-nous! et semblables<br /> -Au fleuve impétueux qui rejette les sables,<br /> -La fange et le limon qui fatiguaient sous cours,<br /> -De notre sol sacré rejetons pour toujours<br /> -Ces tyrans sans vertu, ces courtisans perfides,<br /> -Ces chevaliers sans gloire et ces prêtres avides,<br /> -Qui, jusqu'à nos exploits ne pouvant se hausser,<br /> -Jusques à leur néant voudraient nous abaisser!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Twelve years later the Bourbons were hounded out of France. It is -not only revolutionary bullets which overturn thrones; it is not -only the guillotine that kills kings: bullets and the guillotine are -but passive instruments in the hands of principles. It is the deadly -hatred, it is the undercurrent of rebellion, which, so long as it is -but the expression of the desires of the few, miscarries and spends -its fury; but which, the moment it becomes the expression of general -requirements, swallows up thrones and nations, kings and royal families.</p> - -<p>It is easy to understand how the <i>Messéniennes</i> of Casimir Delavigne, -which appeared in print the same time as these manuscript pamphlets, -seemed pale and colourless. Casimir Delavigne was one of those men who -celebrate in song revolutions that were accomplished facts, but who do -not help revolutions in the making. The Maubreuil trial was the outcome -of the piece of poetry from which I have just quoted these brief -extracts—a most mysterious and ill-omened business, in which names, -if not the most illustrious in Europe, yet at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> least the best known -at that time, were mixed up with acts of thievery and premeditated -assassination.</p> - -<p>Probably I am the only person in France who now thinks of the -"affaire Maubreuil." Perhaps also I am the only person who has kept a -shorthand account of the sittings of that terrible trial, during which -the horrors of the dungeon and secret torture were employed in the -endeavour to drive a man mad whom they dare not kill outright, to whom -they could not succeed in giving the lie. I made a copy at the time -from a manuscript in a strange and unknown hand, which gave an account -of the sittings. Later, I read the account the illustrious Princess of -Wurtemberg took down in her own writing, first for her husband, Marshal -Jérôme Bonaparte, and then intended to be included in her Memoirs, -which are in the hands of her family, and are still unpublished.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The events of 1814 again—Marmont, Duc de Raguse, -Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's—The -<i>Journal des Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i>—Lyrics -of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons—End -of the Maubreuil affair—Plot against the life of the -Emperor—The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money -and jewels</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Let us now try to clear away the litter left by the events of the -year 1814. When the Almighty prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, -He said to Ezekiel, "I will make thee eat thy bread prepared with -cow-dung" (Ezek. iv. 15). Oh! my God, my God! Thou hast served us more -hardly than Thou didst the prophet, and hast made us eat far worse than -that at times!</p> - -<p>Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, the empress at Blois; a Provisional -Government, occult and unknown, carried on its operations on the ground -floor of a house in the rue Saint-Florentin. Is it necessary that I -should add that the house in the rue Saint-Florentin belonged to M. de -Talleyrand? On 16 March Napoleon had written from Rheims:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">DEAR BROTHER</span>,—In accordance with the verbal -instructions I gave you, and the wishes expressed in all -my letters, you must on no account allow the Empress and -the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy. You -will not have any news from me for several days. If the -enemy advances upon Paris in such force that you decide -any resistance to be useless, send away my son and the -regent, the grand dignitaries, ministers, officers of the -Senate, presidents of the State Council, chief officers -of the Crown, Baron de la Bouillerie and the treasure, -towards the Loire. Do not desert my son, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> remember -that I would rather know that he was in the Seine than -that he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of -France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner of the Greeks, has -always seemed to me the unhappiest in history.</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">NAPOLEON</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter was addressed to Joseph. The treasure referred to by -Napoleon was, be it understood, his own private possessions. On 28 -March the departure of the empress was discussed. MM. de Talleyrand, -Boulay (de la Meurthe), the Duc de Cadore and M. de Fermon were of -opinion that the empress should remain. Joseph, with the emperor's -letter in his hand, insisted upon her departure. It was decided -that she should leave on the following day, at nine o'clock in the -morning. Afterwards M. de Talleyrand was blamed for having urged that -Marie-Louise should stay in Paris. A pale and cold smile flitted over -the vast chasm which served the diplomatist for a mouth.</p> - -<p>"I knew that the empress would defy me," he said, "and that, if I -advised her going, she would stay. I urged that she should stay to -further her departure."</p> - -<p>O monseigneur, Bishop of Autun! you put into the mouth of Harel, in -<i>le Nain Jaune</i>, the famous epigram, "Speech was given to man to -conceal his thoughts." And, monseigneur, you were eminently capable of -exemplifying the truth of the saying yourself.</p> - -<p>On the morning of 29 March, through the uncurtained windows of the -Tuileries, the empress's women could have been seen in the dubious -light of the growing dawn, by the still more dubious light of lamps -and dying candles, running about, pale with fatigue and fear, after a -whole night spent in preparing for the journey. The departure, as we -have said, was fixed for nine o'clock. At ten o'clock the empress had -not yet left her apartments. She was hoping to the last that a counter -order would arrive either from the emperor or from Joseph. At half-past -ten the King of Rome clung to the curtains of the palais des Tuileries -in tears; for he too, poor child, did not want to go.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>Alas! at a distance of seventeen years between, three children, all -suffering through the mistakes of their fathers, clung in vain to -those same curtains: for sixty years the Tuileries was little more -than a royal hostelry wherein the fleeting dynasties put up in turn. -By a quarter to eleven, the empress, clad like an amazon in brown, -stepped into a carriage with the King of Rome, surrounded by a strong -detachment of the Imperial Guard. On the same day and at the same hour, -the emperor set off from Troyes for Paris with his flying squadrons. -It is well known that the emperor was arrested at Fromenteau, but what -follows is not known, or but imperfectly known.</p> - -<p>When time and occasion serve—<i>apropos</i> of the July Revolution, -probably—we shall revert to one of the men whom fate, for some unknown -reason, branded with a fatal seal. We refer to Marmont. We will show -what he was, rather than what he did: he was superb, during that -retreat, in which he left neither gun nor prisoner in the hands of -the enemy; superb when—like a lion at bay against the walls of the -customhouse at Paris, surrounded by Russians and Prussians, in the -main street of <i>Belleville</i>, his right arm still in a sling, after the -battle of Arapiles, holding his sword in his left hand, mutilated at -Leipzig, his clothes riddled with bullets, wedged in between the dead -and the wounded who fell all round him, with only forty grenadiers -behind him—he forced his way to the barrier where he abandoned, -pierced with wounds, the fifth horse that had been killed under him -since the beginning of the campaign! Alas! why did he not cross Paris -from the barrier of Belleville to the barrier of Fontainebleau? Why -did he stop at his house in the rue Paradis-Poissonnière? Why did he -not go to Napoleon, with his coat in shreds and his face blackened -with powder? How determinedly fate seemed to oppose him! How different -would have been the verdict of the future! But we, who are now a part -of that future, and well-nigh disinterested spectators of all those -great events, we who by nature are without private hatreds, and by -position have nothing to do with political animosities, it is for us to -enlighten posterity, for we are poised between the worlds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> aristocratic -and democratic, the one in its decadence and the other in its -adolescence: it is ours to seek for truth wherever it may be buried, -and to exalt it wherever it may be found.</p> - -<p>And now, having defined our position, let us return to Napoleon and -Marie-Louise. Let us pass over several days and say naught of great -betrayals and shameful dishonour; even so we are not, unhappily, at -the end of these things. From 29 March to 7 April the following events -happened:—</p> - -<p>On 30 March, Paris capitulated. On the 31st, the Allied armies entered -the capital. On I April, the Senate appointed a Provisional Government. -On the 2nd, the Senate declared Napoleon to have forfeited the throne. -On the 3rd, the Legislative Body confirmed the forfeiture. On the -4th, Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son. On the 5th, Marmont -treated with the enemy. On the 6th, the Senate drew up a scheme for -a constitution. On the 7 th, the troops of the Duc de Raguse rose in -insurrection and refused to obey his orders. Also, Napoleon made his -plans for withdrawing across the Loire.</p> - -<p>It will be seen that the Government of the rue Saint-Florentin had been -quick about its work. The empress remained at Blois, where she learnt -in rapid succession the declaration of dethronement by the Senate, the -emperor's first abdication and the defection of the Duc de Raguse. On -the 7th, she learned in the morning of the recall of the Bourbons.</p> - -<p>Until that moment, as a cloud hid the future from sight, the -self-seekers watching and waiting had not yet ventured to show their -hands in her presence. But at the news of the return of the Bourbons -everyone sought to make his peace with the new power. The same thing -that happened to Napoleon happened to Marie-Louise. It was a race as to -who could most openly and with the greatest speed desert her; it was a -race of ingratitude, it was a steeplechase of treason.</p> - -<p>She had left Paris a week before, the daughter of an emperor, the wife -of an emperor, the mother of a king! Orléans had saluted her, as she -passed through, with the pealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> of its bells and the firing of its -artillery. She had a court around her, a treasure in her arms; two -peoples, those of France and Italy, some forty millions of souls, were -her subjects. In a week she lost rank, power, inheritance, kingdom; -in an hour she found herself left alone with a poor deserted child, -and treasure that was speedily taken away from her. God forbid that I -should pity the lot of this woman! But those who betrayed her, those -who deserted her, those who immediately robbed her could not plead the -excuse of an unknown future still hid from them.</p> - -<p>On the 7th, as we have said, the whole court fled. On the morning of -the 8th, the two kings, Jérôme and Joseph, also left. On the evening of -the 8th, General Schouwaloff arrived with orders from the sovereigns -to take her from Blois to Orléans and from Orléans to Rambouillet. -Finally, on the morning of the 9th, this announcement appeared in the -<i>Moniteur</i>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The Provisional Government having been informed that by -order of the sovereign whose dethronement was solemnly -pronounced on 3 April, considerable funds were taken away -from Paris, during the days which preceded the occupation -of that city by the allied troops:</p> - -<p>It is decreed—</p> - -<p>"That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, -in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be -deposited immediately in the nearest bank."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This order was elastic: it did not make any distinction between the -public treasure of the nation and the emperor's private property. -Moreover, they confided the execution of this order to a man whose -hatred for the fallen house would naturally incline him to the most -violent measures. They chose M. Dudon. I am happily too young to be -able to say who this M. Dudon was; I have therefore asked the Duc -de Rovigo, whose accuracy is well known. Here is his reply to my -questions:—</p> - -<p>"M. Dudon was imprisoned at Vincennes, for having deserted his post, -for having left the army of Spain and, full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> cowardly fears himself, -for having communicated them to whomsoever he met."</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, M. Dudon hesitated; he looked about for an intermediary; -he did not dare to put his hand directly upon this wealth, which was so -much needed to pay for past treacheries and defections to come.</p> - -<p>Again, what has M. le Duc de Rovigo to say? Let him be unto us the -bronze mouthpiece of truth: I write under his dictation.</p> - -<p>"An officer of the special police corps, M. Janin de Chambéry, who is -now a general officer, was made use of. He had been charged to escort -the money. This young man, seeing the way to make his fortune, gave -himself up to M. Dudon. He collected his regiment, carried off, with -a very high hand, the coffers which contained the Emperor Napoleon's -treasure (for they had not yet been unloaded) and set off for Paris, -which he reached without striking a blow."</p> - -<p>But even all this did not satisfy them: they had robbed the empress, -they would now kill the emperor. "Only the dead do not return," said -the man who was felicitously styled the "Anacreon of the guillotine."</p> - -<p>So many sayings have been attributed to M. de Talleyrand that we -may well borrow one from Barère for a change. Moreover, it must be -acknowledged that the question what to do with Napoleon, on 31 March, -was a very awkward one. We must not be too angry with the people who -wished to rid themselves of him. Who were these people? Maubreuil -himself shall name them. A conference was being held in the house in -the rue Saint-Florentin.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the president to someone who had not yet opened his -lips,—"yes, you are right; we must rid ourselves of this man."</p> - -<p>"We must!" cried the other members in concert.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, that is decided: we will get rid of him."</p> - -<p>"Only one other thing is lacking," said one of the members of the -conventicle.</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The principal thing: the man who will deal the blow."</p> - -<p>"I know the man," said a voice.</p> - -<p>"A trustworthy man?"</p> - -<p>"A ruined man, an ambitious man—one who has fallen from a high -position and would do anything for money and a position."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p>"Maubreuil."</p> - -<p>This took place on the evening of 31 March. That same day, Marie-Armand -de Guerry, Count de Maubreuil, Marquis d'Orvault, had fastened the -cross of the Legion of Honour, which he had won bravely in Spain, to -his horse's tail, and showed himself thus in the boulevards and on the -place Louis XV. He even did better than this in the place Vendôme. He -tied a rope round the neck of the emperor's statue, and, with a dozen -other worthy men of his kidney, pulled with might and main; then, -seeing that his forces were not strong enough, he attached the rope to -his horse. Even that was not enough. They then asked for a relay of -horses from the Grand-duke Constantin, who refused, saying, "<i>It is no -business of mine."</i></p> - -<p>Now, who went to seek this relay? Who made himself Maubreuil's -emissary? A very great lord, upon my word, a most excellent name, -renowned in history! True, this most puissant seigneur, the bearer of -this honourable name, had to forget a slight obstacle—namely, that he -owed everything to the emperor. You ask his name. Ah! indeed, search -for it as I have done. Maubreuil had indeed fallen from a high rank, as -his patron Roux-Laborie had said. There! I see I have named his patron, -though I did not mean to name anyone. Never mind! let us continue.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil, who was of an excellent family, had fallen indeed. His -father, who had married, for his second wife, a sister of M. de la -Roche-jaquelein, was killed in the Vendéean Wars, together with thirty -other members of his family. M. Roux-Laborie, then Secretary to the -Provisional Government, answered for Maubreuil. He did more: he said -to M. de Talleyrand, "Come, come! here I am tearing off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> another mask -without thinking what I am doing; upon my word, so much the worse! -Since that pale face is unmasked, let it remain!" He did much more: -he said to M. de Talleyrand, "I will bring him to you." But M. de -Talleyrand, who was always cautious, exclaimed, "What are you thinking -of, my dear sir? Bring M. de Maubreuil to me! Why so? He must be -conducted to Anglès, he must go to Anglès! You know quite well it is -Anglès who is attending to all this." "Very well, be it so; I will -take him there," replied the Secretary to the Provisional Government. -"When?" "This very evening." "My dear fellow, you are beyond price." -"Take back that word, monseigneur." And Roux-Laborie bowed, went out -and ran to Maubreuil's house. Maubreuil was not at home.</p> - -<p>When Maubreuil was not at home, everyone knew where he was. He was -gaming. What game was it? There are so many gambling hells in Paris!</p> - -<p>Roux-Laborie ran about all night without finding him, returned to -Maubreuil's house and, as Maubreuil had still not returned, he left -word with his servant that he would expect Maubreuil at his house the -next day, 1 April. He waited for him the whole day. Evening came and -still no Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>It is distracting to a man of honour to fail in his word. What would M. -de Talleyrand think of a man who had promised so much and performed so -little? Twice during the day he wrote to Maubreuil: his second note was -as pressing as time was. This is what he said—</p> - -<p>"Why have you not come? I have expected you all day. You are driving me -to desperation!"</p> - -<p>Maubreuil returned to change his dress at six o'clock that evening. He -found the note: he ran off to Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"You can make your fortune."</p> - -<p>"I am your man, then!"</p> - -<p>"Come with me."</p> - -<p>They entered a carriage and went to M. Anglès'. M. Anglès was at the -house in the rue Saint-Florentin. They rushed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> the house in the rue -Saint-Florentin; M. Anglès had just gone out. They asked to see the -prince.</p> - -<p>"Impossible! the prince is very busy: he is in the act of betraying. -True, he is betraying in good company,—he is betraying along with the -Senate." The Senate was next day going to declare that the emperor had -forfeited his throne.</p> - -<p>Be it remembered that it was this same Senate—<i>Sénat -conservateur</i>—which, on the return from the disastrous Russian -campaign, fifteen months earlier, had said to the emperor—</p> - -<p>"Sire, the Senate is established for the purpose of preserving the -fourth dynasty; France and posterity will find it faithful to this -<i>sacred duty</i>, and every one of its members will be ever ready to -perish in defence of this <i>palladium</i> of the national prosperity."</p> - -<p>We must admit that it was drawn up in very bad French. It is also true -that it was drawn up by very poor specimens of Frenchmen.</p> - -<p>The next day, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie returned. The prince was -no more visible than on the previous evening; the prince was at the -Luxembourg. But it did not matter: they could be introduced into his -cabinet presently, which was occupied at the moment. Besides, perhaps -he might return. "We will wait," said Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<p>And they waited a short while in the green salon,—that green salon -which became so famous, you will remember, in history,—they waited, -reading the papers. The newspapers were very amusing. The <i>Journal des -Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i> above all vied with each other in -being facetious and witty.</p> - -<p>"To-day," said the old <i>Journal de l'Empire</i>, which since the previous -evening had donned a new cassock and now called itself the <i>Journal des -Débats</i>,—"to-day <i>His Majesty</i> passed in front of the colonne Vendôme -..."</p> - -<p>Forgive me if I pause a moment: I am anxious that there should not be -any confusion. <i>His Majesty</i>! You would imagine that this meant the -Emperor Napoleon, to whom a week before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the <i>Journal de l'Empire</i> had -published these beautiful lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -I<br /> -<br /> -"'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière!<br /> -Disait <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">AJAX</span>, et combats contre nous!'<br /> -Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux,<br /> -De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière:<br /> -Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats;<br /> -Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!<br /> -Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.'<br /> -<br /> -II<br /> -<br /> -Il a parlé, le monarque, le père;<br /> -Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix?<br /> -Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois,<br /> -Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière.<br /> -Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats,<br /> -Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!<br /> -Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de Victoire.<br /> -<br /> -III<br /> -<br /> -Napoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle,<br /> -Tu veux borner la course de ton char;<br /> -Tu nous montras <i>Alexandre</i> et <i>César;</i><br /> -Oui, nous verrons <i>Trajan</i> et <i>Marc-Aurèle</i>!<br /> -Nous sommes tous <i>tes enfants, tes soldats</i>,<br /> -Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats,<br /> -Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire,<br /> -La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire."<br /> -</p> - -<p>For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days -before his abdication and a <i>monarch</i> and a <i>father</i> whom one has just -addresssed as <i>Ajax, Alexander, Cæsar, Trajan</i> and <i>Marcus Aurelius.</i> -Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; -as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or -rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return -from the isle of Elba. After having been a <i>monarch,</i> a <i>father, -Ajax, Alexander,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> Cæsar, Trajan</i> and <i>Marcus Aurelius</i>, he has become -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TEUTATÈS</span>. Ah! what a villainous fall was there!</p> - -<p>Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in -getting over this word <i>Majesty</i> than Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon.</p> - -<p>"To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, -and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded -him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So -philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius."</p> - -<p>Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is -it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus -Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are -like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will -relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked -so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his -tricoloured skin for a white skin and the <i>Journal de l'Empire</i> became -the <i>Journal des Débats</i>. It has to be admitted, however, that during -the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin -which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up.</p> - -<p>Now let us pass on to the <i>Journal de Paris</i>. "It is a good thing to -know," quoth the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, "that Bonaparte's name is not -<i>Napoleon</i>, but <i>Nicolas</i>."</p> - -<p>Really, Mr. Editor, what an excessively sublime apotheosis you make of -yesterday's poor emperor! Instead of showing base ingratitude, like -your contemporary, you flatter outrageously. Bonaparte did no more -than presume to call himself <i>Napoléon</i>,—that is, the <i>lion of the -desert</i>,—and here you make him Nicolas, which means <i>Conqueror of the -peoples</i>. Ah! my dear Mr. Editor, if your <i>Journal de Paris</i> had been -a literary paper, like the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, you would have known -Greek like your <i>confrère</i>—that is to say, like an inhabitant, and -you would not have made such blunders. But you did not know Greek. Let -us see if you are better acquainted with French. We will complete the -quotation.</p> - -<p>"It is a good thing to know that Bonaparte's name is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> <i>Napoléon</i>, -but <i>Nicolas</i>; not Bonaparte, but Buonaparte; he cut out the U in order -to connect himself with a distinguished family of that name."</p> - -<p>"You know that the Balzacs of Entraigues make out that you do not -belong to their family," said someone once to M. Honoré de Balzac, the -author of <i>Père Goriot</i> and of <i>les Parents pauvres.</i></p> - -<p>"If I do not belong to their family," retorted M. Honoré de Balzac, "so -much the worse for them!"</p> - -<p>We will return to the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, and let it have its say:—</p> - -<p>"Many people have amused themselves by making different anagrams from -the name of <i>Buonaparte</i> by taking away the U. The following seems to -us to depict that personage the best: <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">NABOT PARÉ</span>."<a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>What a misfortune, Mr. Editor, that in order to arrive at such a -delightful conclusion you have been obliged to sacrifice your U, like -the tyrant himself!</p> - -<p>Now, as a sequel to the verses in the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, we must -quote some lines from the <i>Journal de Paris</i>; they only amount to a -single strophe, but it alone, in the eyes of all lovers of poetry, is -fully equal to three. Besides, these lines are of great importance: M. -de Maubreuil actually waxes prophetic in the last line.</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TESTAMENT DE BONAPARTE</span><br /> -<br /> -"Je lègue aux enfers mon génie,<br /> -Mes exploits aux aventuriers,<br /> -A mes partisans l'infamie,<br /> -Le grand-livre à mes créanciers,<br /> -Aux Français l'horreur de mes crimes,<br /> -Mon exemple à tous les tyrans,<br /> -La France à ses rois légitimes,<br /> -<i>Et l'hôpital à mes parents</i>."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Finally, to conclude our series of quotations, we promised to return -once more to the <i>Journal des Débats.</i> There shall be no cause for -complaint: we will return to it twice. We will place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> a double-columned -account, with its <i>Doit</i> and its <i>Avoir</i>, before our readers' eyes. -There was only an interval of fourteen days between the two articles, -as can be seen from the dates.</p> - - -<pre> -"JOURNAL DES DÉBATS "JOURNAL DE L'EMPIRE -PARIS, 7 <i>mars</i> 1815 PARIS, 21 <i>mars</i> 1815 -(PEAU BLANCHE) (PEAU TRICOLORE) - -DOIT AVOIR - -Buonaparte s'est evade de l'île La famille des Bourbons est partie -d'Elbe, où l'imprudente magnanimité cette nuit; on ignore encore en -des souverains alliés lui avait route qu'elle a prise. Paris offre -donne une souveraineté, pour prix l'aspect <i>de la sécurité et de la joie</i>; -de la désolation qu'il avait portée les boulevards sont couverts d'une -dans leurs États. foule immense, impatiente de voir - l'armée et LE HÉROS <i>qui lui est -Cet homme, qui, en abdiquant le rendu.</i> Le petit nombre de troupes -pouvoir, n'a jamais abdiqué son qu'on avait eu l'espoir <i>insensé</i> de -ambition et ses fureurs, cet homme, lui opposer s'est rallié <i>aux aigles</i>, et -<i>tout couvert du sang des générations,</i> toute la milice française, devenue -vient, au bout d'un an, essayer de nationale, marche sous les drapeaux -disputer, au nom de l'usurpation, la <i>de la gloire et de la patrie.</i> SA -légitime autorité du roi de France; MAJESTÉ L'EMPEREUR a traversé -à la tête de quelques centaines deux cents lieues de pays avec la -d'ltaliens et de Polonais, <i>il ose rapidité de l'éclair, au milieu d'une -mettre le pied sur une terre qui le population <i>saisie d'admiration</i> et de -repoussa pour jamais.</i> respect, pleine du bonheur présent - et de la certitude du bonheur à -Quelques pratiques ténébreuses, venir. -quelques manœuvres dans l'ltalie, -excitée par son aveugle beau-frère, <i>Ici, des propriétaires se félicitant -ont enflé l'orgueil du LACHE GUERRIER de la garantie réelle que leur assure -de Fontainebleau. Il s'expose ce retour miraculeux;</i> là, des -à mourir de la mort des héros: Dieu hommes bénissant l'evènement inespéré -permettra qu'il meure de la mort qui fixe irrévocablement la -des traîtres. La terre de France liberté des cultes; plus loin, de -l'a rejeté. Il y revient, la terre de braves militaires pleurant de joie de -France le dévorera. revoir leur ancien général; des - plébéiens, convaincus que l'honneur -Ah! toutes les classes le repoussent, et les vertus seront redevenus le -tous les Français le repoussent premier titre de la noblesse, et -avec horreur, et se réfugient dans le qu'on acquerra, dans toutes les -sein d'un roi qui nous a apporté la carrières, la splendeur et la gloire -miséricorde, l'amour et l'oubli du pour les services rendus à la patrie. -passé. - Tel est le tableau qu'offrait cette -Cet <i>insensé</i> ne pouvait donc marche ou plutôt cette course triomphale, -trouver en France de partisans que dans laquelle L'EMPEREUR -parmi les artisans éternels de troubles n'a trouvé d'autre ennemi que le -et de révolutions. <i>misérables libelles</i> qu'on s'est vainement - plu à répandre sur son passage, -Mais nous ne voulons ni de troubles contraste bien étrange avec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -ni de révolutions. Ils désigneront les sentiments d'enthousiasme qui -vainement des victimes pour leur éclataient à son approche. Ces sentiments, -TEUTATÈS; un seul cri sera le cri justifiés par la lassitude des -de toute la France: onze mois qui viennent de s'écouler, - ne le sont pas moins par les garanties -MORT AU TYRAN! VIVE LE ROI! que donnent à tous les rangs les - proclamations de SA MAJESTÉ, et -Cet homme, qui débarqua à Fréjus qui sont lues avec une extrême -contre tout espoir, nous semblait avidité. Elles respirent la modération -alors appelé de Dieu pour rétablir qui accompagne aujourd'hui la -en France la monarchie légitime; force, et qui est toujours inséparable -cet homme, entrant par sa <i>noire de la véritable grandeur. -destinée</i>, et comme pour mettre le -dernier sceau à la Restauration, <i>P.S</i>.—Huit heures du soir -revient aujourd'hui pour peser -comme un rebelle sur cette même L'empereur est arrive ce soir au -terre où il fut reçu, il y a quinze palais des Tuileries, <i>au milieu des -ans, par un peuple abusé, et détrompé plus vives acclamations.</i> Au moment -depuis par douze ans de où nous écrivons, les rues, les -tyrannie." places, les boulevards, les quais, - sont couverts d'une foule immense, - et les cris de VIVE L'EMPEREUR! - retentissent de toutes parts, depuis - Fontainebleau jusqu'à Paris. Toute - la population des campagnes, ivre - de joie, s'est portée sur la route de - Sa Majesté, que cet empressement - a forcée d'aller au pas." -</pre> - - -<p>M. de Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie had no need to feel bored with such -entertainment as the above before their eyes! Therefore, although they -were in the green salon nearly an hour, they thought they had hardly -been in it ten minutes when the door of the cabinet of the Prince de -Talleyrand opened. They entered.</p> - -<p>Now do not fancy we are writing a romance: it is history, the record, -not of fair and pleasant events, but of sad and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> ugly ones. If you -doubt it, consult the report drawn up by MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, deputies of the <i>procureur impérial</i>, in the month of June -1815, about this affair, and laid before one of the Chambers of the -Court of First Instance of the Seine. If Napoleon had returned but -to restore unto us this official paper, it would have been almost -sufficient to justify his return.</p> - -<p>M. de Maubreuil was taken inside M. de Talleyrand's study. Roux-Laborie -made him sit down in the prince's own armchair, and said to him—</p> - -<p>"You are anxious to recover your position, to retrieve your broken -fortunes; it depends upon yourself whether you obtain far more than -even that which you desire."</p> - -<p>"What must I do?" asked Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>"You have courage, resolution: rid us of the emperor. If he were dead, -France, the army, everything would be ours, and you would receive an -income of 200,000 livres; you would be made a duke, lieutenant-general -and governor of a province."<a name="FNanchor_2_6" id="FNanchor_2_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_6" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>"I do not quite see how I could accomplish it."</p> - -<p>"Nothing easier."</p> - -<p>"Tell me how."</p> - -<p>"Listen."</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>"It is not unlikely that there may be a great battle fought near here -in a couple of days. Take a hundred determined men, whom you can clothe -in the uniform of the Guards, mingle with the troops at Fontainebleau, -and it will be quite easy, either before or during or after the battle, -to render us the service I am commissioned to ask of you."</p> - -<p>Maubreuil shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Do you refuse?" asked Roux-Laborie quickly.</p> - -<p>"Not so. I am only thinking that a hundred men would be difficult -to find: luckily one would not need a hundred; a dozen would be -sufficient. I shall perhaps be able to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> them in the army, but I -must have power to advance them two or three ranks, and to give them -pecuniary recompense, in proportion to the service they will have to -undertake."</p> - -<p>"You shall have whatever you want. What do ten or a dozen colonels, -more or less, matter to us?"</p> - -<p>"That's all right."</p> - -<p>"You therefore accept?"</p> - -<p>"Probably ... but I ask until to-morrow to think it over."</p> - -<p>And Maubreuil went out, followed by Roux-Laborie, who was very uneasy -because of the delay requested. However, Maubreuil reassured him, -promising to give him a definite answer next day. We can understand -Maubreuil's hesitation: he had been introduced into the prince's study, -he had sat in the prince's chair, but, after all, he had not seen the -prince. Now, when one stakes one's head at another's bidding, one -prefers to see the person who holds the cards.</p> - -<p>Next day they returned to the house. Maubreuil accepted. Roux-Laborie -breathed again.</p> - -<p>"But," added Maubreuil, "on one condition."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"I do not look upon your word alone as sufficient authority. I want -solid security for your promises. I wish to see M. de Talleyrand -himself and to receive my commission from him."</p> - -<p>"But, my dear Maubreuil, can't you see how difficult that would be?..."</p> - -<p>"I can quite see that; but it must be thus or not at all."</p> - -<p>"Then you wish to see M. de Talleyrand?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to see M. de Talleyrand and to receive my orders <i>direct</i> from -him."</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh!" said the lawyer, striking his friend on the chest, "one might -think you were afraid!"</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid, but I wish to see M. de Talleyrand."</p> - -<p>"Very well, so be it," said Roux-Laborie: "you shall see him, and since -you demand his guarantee, you shall be satisfied. Wait a few minutes in -this salon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>And he went in to M. de Talleyrand. A moment later, he came out.</p> - -<p>"M. de Talleyrand is going out; M. de Talleyrand will make you a sign -with his hand; M. de Talleyrand will smile upon you. Will that satisfy -you?"</p> - -<p>"Hum!" returned Maubreuil; "never mind! we will see."</p> - -<p>M. de Talleyrand passed out, made the prearranged gesture, and smiled -graciously upon Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>It is Maubreuil, be it understood, who relates all this.</p> - -<p>The gesture seduced Maubreuil, the smile carried him away; but -Maubreuil wanted something else—he wanted 200,000 francs. They -hesitated, they chaffered, they had not the money—there were so many -betrayals to pay for! But, thanks to the decree of the 9th, they made -a haul of 13 millions—the private moneys of Napoleon. They did it -conscientiously, not leaving anything to Marie-Louise, either money or -jewellery: she was reduced to the point of being obliged to borrow a -little china and silver from the bishop, with whom she stayed. So they -had 13 millions—without reckoning the 10 millions in bullion deposited -in the cellars of the Tuileries, on which they had already laid violent -hands. This made 23 millions they had already borrowed of Napoleon. -What the deuce did it matter? They were quite justified in taking two -hundred thousand francs from this sum in order to assassinate him! So -they took two hundred thousand francs, and they gave them to Maubreuil.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil rushed off to a gambling-house and lost a hundred thousand -francs that night. Was he going to assassinate Napoleon for a hundred -thousand francs? Not he, indeed!... It was not enough. He had recourse -to M. A——. M. A—— was a man of imagination. An idea came into his -head.</p> - -<p>"The Queen of Westphalia is following in Napoleon's wake ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"We may suppose that the Queen of Westphalia carries the crown jewels -with her?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, seize what she has and you will have a good catch."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but I want authority to do that."</p> - -<p>"Authority? What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"A written order."</p> - -<p>"Signed by whom?"</p> - -<p>"Signed by you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if that is all, here goes!"</p> - -<p>And M. A—— took a pen and signed the following order.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, you say, who is M. A——?"</p> - -<p>Good gracious! you have but to read, the signature is at the foot of -the order:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICE OF THE POLICE</span></p> - -<p>"It is ordered that all officials under orders of the -police générale of France, prefects, superintendents and -officers, of whatsoever grade, <i>shall obey the commands</i> -that M. de Maubreuil shall give them; <i>they shall carry -out his orders and fulfil his wishes without a moments -delay</i>, M. de Maubreuil <i>being charged with a secret -mission of the highest importance.</i></p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">"ANGLÈS"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This was not enough. Maubreuil wanted another order, a similar one, -signed by the Minister of War: he had settled with the civil power, it -remained to put himself right with the military. He went to look up -the Minister of War. He obtained a similar order to the one we have -just given. The Minister of War was General Dupont. There are some very -ill-fated signatures! On 22 July 1808 this signature was at the foot of -the capitulation treaty of Baylen. On 16 April 1814 it was at the foot -of Maubreuil's commission! The one handed over to the enemy, without -striking a blow, the liberty of fourteen thousand men; the other gave -up the life and the gold of a queen to a thief and an assassin!</p> - -<p>In the face of such <i>errors</i> one is proud to be able to boast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> that one -has never put one's name save in the forefront of a play, be it good or -bad, save at the end of a book, be it bad or good!</p> - -<p>Besides these two orders, Maubreuil possessed himself of three others -in the same terms: one from Bourrienne, Provisional Director of the -Posting Arrangements ... de Bourrienne, do you understand?—But this -was not the Bourrienne who was the emperor's secretary?... Excuse -me, even the same ... where would have been the infamy of the thing, -had it not been so? He placed the posts at the disposition of M. de -Maubreuil: one from General Sacken, Governor of Paris; one from General -Brokenhausen. Thanks to these two last orders, Maubreuil, who had the -police already at his disposal through Anglès' order, the army through -Dupont's, the posts through Bourrienne's, got possession also of the -allied troops under command of the Russian and Prussian generals.</p> - -<p>True, on 3 April, the day following that on which the <i>Journal des -Débats</i> and the <i>Journal de Paris</i> issued those clever articles with -which the reader is already acquainted, two charming verses, which we -propose to bring before your notice, were sung at the Opera, by Laïs, -to the tune of <i>Vive Henri IV.,</i> national air though it was:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -Vive Alexandre!<br /> -Vive ce roi des rois!<br /> -Sans rien prétendre,<br /> -Sans nous dicter des lois,<br /> -Ce prince auguste<br /> -A le triple renom,<br /> -De héros, de juste,<br /> -De nous rendre un Bourbon.<br /> -<br /> -Vive Guillaume!<br /> -Et ses guerriers vaillants!<br /> -De ce royaume,<br /> -Il sauva les enfants;<br /> -Par sa victoire,<br /> -Il nous donne la paix,<br /> -Et compte sa gloire<br /> -Par ses nombreux bienfaits.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> - -<p>Really, it gives one a certain amount of pleasure to see that these -lines are almost as poor as the prose of the <i>Journal des Débats</i> and -of the <i>Journal de Paris</i>!</p> - -<p>So Maubreuil had his five orders all correct, in his pocket. Armed with -these, he could act, not against Napoleon direct,—that was too risky -a business,—but against the Queen of Westphalia. And, on the whole, -was it not a good stroke of business to have made them pay the price of -assassinating Napoleon, and then not to assassinate him?</p> - -<p>This is what Maubreuil proposed to do. First of all, he allied himself -with a person called d'Asies, who, in virtue of his plenary powers, he -appointed <i>Commissioner Royal.</i> Next, he put himself on the watch at -the corner of the rue du Mont-Blanc and the rue Saint-Lazare. The Queen -of Westphalia was lodging at Cardinal Fesch's house. Her departure -was fixed for the 18th. The orders were signed on the 16th and 17th. -Maubreuil was well informed of the Princess Catherine de Wurtemberg's -movements. On the 18th, at three o'clock in the morning, the ex-Queen -of Westphalia entered her coach and started off <i>en route</i> for Orléans. -Princess Catherine was cousin of the Emperor of Russia, and travelled -with a passport signed by him and by the Emperor of Austria. Two great -names, were they not? Alexander and Francis! Maubreuil had gone on in -advance. He learnt from the post-master at Pithiviers (now you see -how useful was M. de Bourrienne's authorisation) that the princess -would take the road which ran by the Bourgogne. Then he hid himself at -Fossard, the posting-house a half-league from Montereau. There was not -the slightest danger that Maubreuil would make any mistake, he knew the -princess too well for that—he had been her equerry. On the 21 st, at -seven o'clock in the morning, the princess's carriage came into sight -on the road. Maubreuil rushed out, at the head of a dozen cavaliers, -stopped the carriage, obliged the ex-queen to enter a kind of stable, -into which all her luggage was removed, piecemeal. There were eleven -boxes, and cases: Maubreuil demanded the keys of them. The princess -had no means of resistance: she gave him them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> without appearing to -recognise him in any way, without deigning to address a word to him. -Maubreuil saw this, but took no notice: he sat down quietly to his -breakfast, with d'Asies, in a room on the ground floor of the inn, -waiting for a detachment of troops which, taking advantage of his -powers, he had requisitioned from Fontainebleau.</p> - -<p>Let us, however, be just to Maubreuil. As the weather was bad, as it -rained, as it was very cold, he invited his past sovereign to come -into the inn; but as she would have been compelled to share the same -room with him, she preferred to remain in the courtyard. A woman who -had compassion on her fellow-woman brought her a chair, and she sat -down. Maubreuil finished his breakfast, and a lieutenant arrived from -Montereau, with a dozen men, Mamelukes and infantry. Some sort of -explanation had to be given to this officer and to these soldiers; -callous though Maubreuil was, it was not to be supposed that he would -say, "You see me for what I am—a robber."</p> - -<p>No, it was Princess Catherine who was a thief. Princess Catherine -had been stopped by Maubreuil because she was carrying off the crown -jewels. Four sentries were posted to prevent any travellers coming -near—unless such travellers came in a carriage; in which case, willy -nilly, the carriage must be requisitioned. Some merchants came from -Sens leading a stage-waggon. The stage-waggon and the two horses -harnessed thereto were confiscated by Maubreuil. They loaded this -stage-waggon with the princess's trunks. Only then did she deign to -address a word to Maubreuil, who had been apologising to her for <i>his -mission.</i></p> - -<p>"For shame, monsieur!" she said; "when a man has shared bread with -another, he should not undertake such a mission to their detriment.... -You are doing an abominable act!"</p> - -<p>"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I am but the commander of the armed -force. Speak to the commissioner: I will do whatever he orders."</p> - -<p>The commissioner, as we know, was d'Asies. It was a case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> of Robert -Macaire and Bertrand. But the poor princess did not know this, and took -d'Asies for a real commissioner.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," she said, "you are robbing me of all I possess. The king -has never given any such orders.... I swear to you, on my honour and -by my faith as a queen, I have nothing that belongs to the Crown of -France."</p> - -<p>D'Asies drew himself up.</p> - -<p>"Do you take us for thieves, madame?" he said. "Let me tell you that we -are acting as ordered. All those boxes must be taken."</p> - -<p>As he said that, d'Asies caught sight of a small square box tied round -with tape. He put his hand under it. The little case was very heavy.</p> - -<p>"So ho!" he said.</p> - -<p>"That little chest, monsieur," said the princess, "contains my gold."</p> - -<p>D'Asies and Maubreuil exchanged glances which said as well as words -could say, "Your gold, princess; that is exactly what we are looking -for."</p> - -<p>They withdrew and made a pretence of deliberating. Then, after this -cogitation, they came up, and gave orders to the commander of the -Mamelukes to take this box away with the others. The princess still -disbelieved her eyes and ears.</p> - -<p>"But," she cried, "you cannot possibly be taking my private jewels and -money! You will leave me and my suite stranded on the highway!"</p> - -<p>Then her courage failed this noble creature, the daughter of a king, -the wife of a king, the cousin of an emperor. Tears came into her eyes: -she asked to be allowed to speak to Maubreuil. Maubreuil came to her.</p> - -<p>"What is to become of me, monsieur?" she said. "At least give me back -this money: I need it to continue my journey."</p> - -<p>"Madame," replied Maubreuil, "I do but carry out the orders of the -Government: I must give up your luggage in Paris intact. I can only -give you the hundred napoleons in my own purse."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<p>Acting upon the Count de Furstenstein's advice, the princess accepted -this offer, thinking it a last token of devotion from a man who had -been in her service. Besides, she thought he would give her leave -to return to Paris, where she would regain possession of her money. -But this was not to be: they made her re-enter her carriage, and the -princess continued her journey to Villeneuve-la-Guyare, under the -escort of two soldiers, while her boxes, her gold, her jewels, piled on -the post-waggon, were sent back to Paris. Had the princess resisted, -the two infantry men were ordered to use violence in compelling her to -continue her journey. She then asked at least to be allowed to send one -of her own servants along with her boxes, as escort. But as the demand -was considered outrageous, it was refused.</p> - -<p>So the princess's carriage went forward to Villeneuve-la-Guyare. -Maubreuil's and d'Asies' consciences were quite easy:—had not the -princess a hundred napoleons wherewith to provide her needs? At the -next post-house Maubreuil's purse was opened to pay. They found it -contained only forty-four napoleons. They left the purse and the -forty-four napoleons there and then in the hands of the justice of the -peace at Pont-sur-Yonne. When Maubreuil left Fossard, he forbade the -post-master to supply horses to anyone before three o'clock.</p> - -<p>So far so good. Now they could give their attention to the second part -of their mission—the least important to Maubreuil—that of killing the -emperor.</p> - -<p>It was the 21st of April. On the 19th, the emperor, deserted by -everyone, was alone save for a single valet. It was an opportune -moment: unluckily, they let it slip. They were lying in wait for the -princess in the rue Saint-Lazare; they could not be everywhere at the -same time. On the 20th, the day after, the emperor bade farewell to his -Guards. It was not in the midst of that pack of brigands that he could -be attacked. On the 21 st, as we have seen, they were busily engaged. -And it was just at that moment that the emperor left for Fontainebleau, -with the commissioners of the four Powers.</p> - -<p>Bah! even if they had not killed the emperor, what mattered it? Since -they had robbed the Queen of Westphalia, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> taken her gold and her -jewels, it was just as good. The emperor was not killed.</p> - -<p>They returned to Paris, where they spent the night in gambling, losing -part of the princess's eighty-four thousand francs. The little chest -had contained eighty-four thousand francs in gold. Next day, Maubreuil -presented himself at M. Anglès'. He was in despair—first at having -lost part of his gold, then for having missed Napoleon. M. Anglès was -not in despair: he was furious—furious because the Emperor Alexander -knew everything, and the Emperor Alexander was furious. The Emperor -Alexander swore that he would avenge his cousin.</p> - -<p>The <i>Journal de Paris</i> did not know that <i>Nicolas</i> means <i>Conqueror of -peoples</i>; but M. Anglès, Minister of the Police, knew well enough that -Alexander spells he <i>who grinds men down.</i> M. Anglès had no wish to be -ground down. He therefore advised Maubreuil to fly.</p> - -<p>"Fly!" said Maubreuil. "What of the police?"</p> - -<p>"Bah! Am I not responsible for them?"</p> - -<p>This assurance did not in the least set Maubreuil's mind at ease. -He rushed off to the house of M. de Talleyrand: M. de Talleyrand -slammed the door in his face. Is it likely that M. de Talleyrand would -recognise a highway robber? Nonsense!</p> - -<p>Maubreuil fled. He had not got three leagues before he was apprehended -(<i>empoigné</i>, as they called it under the Restoration), and thrown -into a dungeon, from which he was released on the emperor's return -and to which he returned on the accession of Louis XVIII. After two -fresh releases and two fresh arrests, Maubreuil, who never believed -they would dare to try him, appeared at length before the Royal Court -of Douai, the Chamber of the Court of Appeal. The affair created a -tremendous scandal, as can very well be imagined. M. de Talleyrand -denied, M. Anglès denied, Roux-Laborie denied; everybody denied, -except Maubreuil. Maubreuil not only confessed the whole thing, but, -from being the accused, he turned accuser. Of course the papers were -expressly forbidden to report the proceedings. But Maître Mennesson -had a friend who was present at the trial. This friend, no doubt a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -shorthand writer, took down, transcribed, verified and forwarded him -his report. I made two or three copies of this account and distributed -them by order of our zealous, faithful and loyal Republican notary. And -I kept a copy of the proceedings myself. I do not know that this report -has appeared in any history. It is a curiosity, and I give it here.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A dressed-up dwarf.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_6" id="Footnote_2_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_6"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> When one writes of such matters as these, two authorities -are better than one. Besides the report of MM. Thouret and Brière de -Valigny, see Vaulabelle's <i>Histoire des deux Restaurations</i>, vol. ii. -p. 15.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Account of the proceedings relative to the abstraction -of the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia by the Sieur de -Maubreuil—Chamber of the Court of Appeal—The sitting of -17 April, 1817</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Enter the Sieur de Maubreuil. Placed at the prisoner's bar, he looked -fixedly at M. de Vatimesnil, the king's counsel, and spoke to him as -follows:—</p> - -<p>"<i>M. le procureur du roi</i>," he said, "you have called me an -appropriator of treasure, it is false. I have never been an -appropriator of treasure. The journalists have made use of your last -speech to spread an odious interpretation on my trial; but I am above -their reproaches."</p> - -<p>They endeavoured to silence the Sieur de Maubreuil, but he went on with -renewed pertinacity:—</p> - -<p>"I appeal to all Frenchmen here present, I place my honour in your safe -keeping. To-morrow I may be poisoned or assassinated."</p> - -<p>The warders laid hands on M. de Maubreuil; but he shook himself free of -them, and went on:—</p> - -<p>"Yes, I quite expect it. They may shoot me in my cell; the police may -carry me off and make away with me, as happened to my cousin, M. de -Brosse, who, in the month of February, presented a petition to the -Chamber in my favour; but I place my honour in the custody of the -Frenchmen who are here present. Hear what I have to say to you."</p> - -<p>Here the prisoner raised his voice.</p> - -<p>"I accepted the commission to murder the emperor, but I accepted it -only in order to save him and his family. Yes, my countrymen, I am not -a miserable thief, as they are trying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> to make out. Frenchmen! I call -you all to my aid. No, I am not a thief! No, lam not an assassin! On -the contrary, I accepted a commission to save Napoleon and his family. -It is true that, during the first outburst of my royalist enthusiasm, -I did, along with several other people, attach a rope to the neck of -Napoleon's statue, on the 31st of March, to pull it down from its -pedestal in the place Vendôme; but I here acknowledge publicly that I -served a thankless cause. Though I did insult Napoleon's statue, I have -done good to him in the flesh. No, I am not an assassin! Frenchmen, my -honour is in your hands. You will not be deaf to my entreaties."</p> - -<p>Again they tried to stop M. de Maubreuil's mouth, but the harder they -tried to silence him the louder he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I accepted," he continued, "a commission to save Napoleon, his son -and his family; I admit that, bribed, deluded and entangled by the -Provisional Government to do it, I was foolish enough to tie the cross -of the Legion of Honour to my horse's tail; I bitterly repent of doing -so. I have donned that cross of heroes again now: see, here it is on my -breast; I won it in Spain in fair fight."</p> - -<p>Here the Sieur de Maubreuil succumbed to the efforts they made to drown -his voice. The whole time he had been speaking, the president and the -judges had been fruitlessly endeavouring to enforce silence. In vain -did the president shout, "Warders, take him away, take him away! Do -your duty, warders!" Maubreuil writhed, clutching hold of the bar, and, -nearly strangled by the warders, he still went on:—</p> - -<p>"<i>M. le président</i>, my respect for you is unbounded, but your acts and -words are useless: they wished to assassinate the emperor, and I only -accepted the commission which has brought me here in order to save him."</p> - -<p>There was a tremendous noise, an uproar and shouts among the audience. -Many Vendéens were present, relatives and friends of the prisoner, who -was related to the family of la Roche-jaquelein. Before the prisoner -was brought in, these had tried to influence public opinion in his -favour, by talking of the mystery which enshrouded his mission, and -by pointing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> out his unblemished devotion to the royal cause. Picture -to yourself, then, their dismay when they saw the line of defence -he adopted; their confusion when they heard their client speak so -diametrically opposite to their expectations; their astonishment -when they heard the name of Napoleon pronounced with respect by the -prisoner, at a time when the conqueror of the Pyramids and of Marengo -was only spoken of as Buonaparte; at the title of Emperor given to a -man whom King Louis XVIII., dating the beginning of his reign from -1795, declared never to have reigned!</p> - -<p>Me. Couture, M. de Maubreuil's counsel, was then allowed to speak. -We will not report his speech, which was very long. He pleaded more -on a legal technicality than on the matter of the charge. He spoke -in the first instance of the injustice of Maubreuil being the only -one arraigned, while d'Asies, Cotteville, and others who had acted -in concert with him, were in full enjoyment of their liberty. He -added that the trunks having been deposited without verification at -M. de Vanteaux's, it could not be established who had abstracted the -eighty-four thousand francs in gold. He referred to the marvellous -manner in which some of the jewels that had been thrown by an unknown -hand into the Seine had been recovered by a man named Huet, an -ex-employé of the police, who, when fishing, had drawn up two diamond -combs caught in his hooked line. Me. Couture went on to assert that -the prisoner, to whom a mission of the gravest importance had been -entrusted, ought not to be tried by an ordinary Court, and to prove his -point, Me. Couture read the five different orders which had authorised -M. de Maubreuil to call into requisition all the officials of the -kingdom. The tenor of these orders was as follows:—</p> - -<p>The first, signed by General Dupont, War Minister, authorised M. de -Maubreuil to make use of the army, which was to obey all his demands, -and commanded the authorities to furnish him with all the troops -he might require, as he was charged with a mission of the highest -importance. The second, signed by Anglès, Minister of Police, ordered -all the police force<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> throughout the kingdom of France to lend -assistance to M. de Maubreuil to the same end. The third, signed by -Bourrienne, Director-General of the Posts, ordered all post-masters -to supply him with whatever horses he should require, and to consider -themselves personally responsible for the least delay they might -occasion him. The fourth, signed by General Sacken, Governor of Paris, -enjoined the Allied troops to assist M. de Maubreuil. Finally, the -fifth, which was in Russian, was addressed to those officers who did -not understand French and who could not therefore have obeyed the -preceding orders. From these documents Me. Couture argued that the -king's council alone must have had cognisance of M. de Maubreuil's -mission, and alone ought to decide the case.</p> - -<p>After having replied to Me. Couture's pleading, the king's procurator -set forth his reasons for regarding the <i>tribunal correctionnel</i> as -incompetent in the present case, since the charges brought against the -Sieur de Maubreuil constituted a crime, and were not those of a simple -misdemeanour; that it was a question of a robbery under arms committed -on the highway, and not merely a case of breach of confidence. For it -was vain, he said, to try to allege the unlimited power with which the -prisoner was vested; no power could authorise a citizen to run counter -to existing laws; for if such a contention could be maintained it could -be pursued to its logical conclusion and, in that case, it might be -excusable to commit a murder or burn down a village. "As a matter of -fact," continued M. de Vatimesnil, "we are advised that Maubreuil, -acting as a Government agent, was endowed on that very count with a far -graver responsibility, and the law ought to be set in force against him -with the greater severity. No mission could excuse a man for having -ill-treated a person travelling on the highways with a passport, and -his crime assumed still graver proportions when that person happened to -be an august princess, sprung from an illustrious house, allied to all -the crowned heads of Europe, and travelling under the protection of a -passport from her illustrious cousin, the Emperor of Russia, a princess -who was entitled to double respect, both from her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> rank and because of -the reverses of fortune she had recently experienced." "And," exclaimed -the king's counsel, "with what indignation ought we to be seized, -when we hear the accused uttering such libellous fables to avoid the -course of justice! Who are those Frenchmen he addresses, whom he -invokes to his aid? What faith could be put in such an unlikely story, -as that he had received a mission against a person travelling under -the safeguard of the most solemn treaties, signed by all the allied -sovereigns? and if he did accept such a mission, was it not doubly mean -to have accepted money for carrying it out, and then to have deceived -those whom he pretended had given it him? Should he not be regarded -henceforth as one of those hateful creatures known of all men, who, -under pressure of an accusation, hatches conspiracies, and denounces -unknown fellow-citizens, to the sole end of arresting or diverting -justice?"</p> - -<p>The Sieur de Maubreuil had listened to all this tirade with fiery -impatience, and his solicitor had only been able to pacify him -by allowing him the pen and paper which he demanded. When M. de -Vatimesnil's speech was over, Maubreuil passed what he had just written -to the president, then rose and said:—"<i>M. le président</i>, as a man -who expects to be assassinated at any moment, I place this political -deposition in your hands. Frenchmen, it is my honour I am bequeathing -to all you who are here present. As a man on the brink of appearing -before God, I swear that it was M. de Talleyrand who, by means of M. -Laborie, sent me; that the prince forced me to sit down in his own -arm-chair; that he offered me two hundred thousand livres income and -the title of duke, if I accomplished my mission satisfactorily;<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -furthermore, the Emperor Alexander offered me his own horses; but, I -repeat, if I accepted the mission I am blamed for, it was to save the -emperor and his family."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here they again compelled Maubreuil to stop speaking, and the warders, -taking hold of him by his shoulders, forced him down into his seat.</p> - -<p>Then his lawyer, Me. Couture, rose, addressed the king's counsel once -more, and begged for pity's sake that no notice should be taken of his -client's mad words.</p> - -<p>"Alas!" he cried, "the man whom you see before you, monsieur, is no -longer M. de Maubreuil, but only the remains, the shade of M. de -Maubreuil. A detention of <i>three years,</i> three hundred and ninety days -of which has been spent in solitary confinement without communication -with a soul, <i>without even seeing his own counsel</i>, has deranged his -reason. He is now nothing but the ruins of a man. For the love of -humanity, do not take account of a speech which can only tell against -him!" The judges, greatly embarrassed by what they had just heard, -although their business was but to decide on the simple question of the -competence or incompetence of their tribunal, deferred sentence until -the following Tuesday, 22 April.</p> - -<p>Probably the delay was arranged, so those in court thought, in order to -receive instructions from the château, and to act in accordance with -those instructions.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">THE SITTING OF 22 APRIL</p> - -<p>Maubreuil was led in. He had scarcely entered the prisoner's dock -before he violently pushed away the guard and cried out, "You have no -right to maltreat me like this, warders; you have made me suffer quite -enough the three years I have been in prison. It is a dastardly wicked -thing! We are here before justice and not before the police! Let me -rather be shot immediately than delivered over longer to the tortures -of which I have been the victim for three years! No, never was greater -cruelty exercised in the Prussian fortresses, in the dungeons of the -Inquisition under the foundations of Venice! I am cut off from the -world; my complaints are hushed up; my lawyer is forbidden to print and -distribute my defence. I here express before all, my gratitude for his -zeal and his devotion;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> but I am in despair that he has not based his -defence on the information I have given him: he has not dared to do so."</p> - -<p>Here silence was again imposed on the prisoner. The president then read -the sentence, pronouncing that the <i>tribunal de police correctionnelle</i> -declared its incompetence, and sent the prisoner to the assizes, on the -ground that if the facts which had been laid bare were proved, they -constituted a crime, and not a simple misdemeanour.</p> - -<p>When the prisoner heard the sentence of incompetence to deal with the -case pronounced he sighed deeply, and his face, changed by a long -captivity, expressed dejection and despair. But he rallied his strength -and cried—</p> - -<p>"The blood of twenty-nine of my relations was shed for the Bourbons in -Vendée and at Quiberon! I too am to be sacrificed to them in my turn! -They wish to destroy me, my groans are to be stifled. I am to be made -out a madman! It is a diabolical plot! No, I am not mad; no, I was -not mad when my services were required by them! Frenchmen, I repeat -to you what I told you at the last sitting: they asked me to take -the life of Napoleon! Write to Vienna, to Munich, to St. Petersburg. -Yes, yes,"—pushing away the warders, who sought to impose silence -upon him,—"yes, they demanded of me the blood of Napoleon.... <i>M. le -président</i>, they have handled me with violence! <i>M. le président</i>, they -will maltreat me! <i>M. le président</i>, they will put my feet in irons! -But, come what may, to the last moment I will proclaim it: they asked -me to take Napoleon's life! the Bourbons are assassins!..."</p> - -<p>These last words were pronounced by the accused as he struggled with -the police, while they led him away by force.</p> - -<p>Here the shorthand report concludes: I have not altered a word of the -statement, a certified copy of which is under my eyes.</p> - -<p>On the 18th of the following December, Maubreuil was arraigned to -appear before the Court of Assizes at Douai, and succeeded in escaping -before the trial. On 6 May 1818, judgment was issued, condemning him -to five years' imprisonment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> by default and to pay five hundred francs -fine, for being a dishonest trustee.</p> - -<p>Maubreuil, having taken refuge in England, returned on purpose to deal -M. de Talleyrand the terrible blow which struck him down, on the steps -of the church of Saint-Denis, during the funeral procession of Louis -XVIII.</p> - -<p>"Oh! what a cuff!" exclaimed the prince, as he picked himself up.</p> - -<p>How can people deny M. de Talleyrand's presence of mind after that! M. -Dupin could not have done better.</p> - -<p>This obscure, strange, mysterious Maubreuil affair did the Bourbons -of the Restoration the greatest possible harm. To the Count d'Artois -and M. de Talleyrand it was what the affair of the necklace was to -Marie-Antoinette and the Cardinal de Rohan—that is to say, one of -those hidden springs from which revolutions derive power for the -future; one of those weapons the more dangerous and terrible and deadly -for being dipped so long in the poison of calumny.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> We see by this that, according to Maubreuil, it was M. de -Talleyrand himself with whom he had had to deal. We have not wished to -endorse the accusation blindly and, in our account, we have accepted -the intermediate agency of Roux-Laborie.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II">BOOK II</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ia" id="CHAPTER_Ia">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The last shot of Waterloo—Temper of the provinces in -1817, 1818 and 1819—The <i>Messéniennes</i>—The <i>Vêpres -siciliennes,—Louis IX.</i>—Appreciation of these two -tragedies—A phrase of Terence—My claim to a similar -sentiment—Three o'clock in the morning—The course of -love-making—<i>Valeat res ludrica</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I am not sure who said—perhaps I said it myself—that the Revolution -of 1830 was the last shot of Waterloo. It is very true. Setting aside -those whose family interest, position or fortune attached them to the -Bourbon dynasty, it is impossible to conceive any idea of the ever -growing feeling of opposition which spread throughout the provinces; it -got to such a pitch that, without knowing why, in spite of every reason -that my mother and I had to curse Napoleon, we hated the Bourbons far -more, though they had never done anything to us, or had even done us -good rather than harm.</p> - -<p>Everything tended to the unpopularity of the reigning house: the -invasion of French territory by the enemy; the disgraceful treaties -of 1815; the three years' occupation which had followed the second -restoration of the Bourbons; the reactionary movements in the South; -the assassination of Ramel at Toulouse, and the Brune assassination at -Avignon; Murat, who was always popular, in spite of his stupidity and -his treachery, shot at Pizzo: the proscriptions of 1816; defections, -disgraceful deeds, shameful bargains, came to light daily; the verses -of Émile Debraux, the songs of Béranger, the <i>Messéniennes</i> of Casimir -Delavigne and the <i>tabatières à la charte</i>, the Voltaire-Touquets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> and -Rousseaus of all kinds, unpublished rhymes of the type I have quoted; -anecdotes, true or false, attributed to the Duc de Berry, in which the -ancient glories of the Empire were always sacrificed to some youthful -aristocratic ambition; all, down to the king with his black gaiters, -his blue coat with gilt buttons, his general's epaulettes and the -little tail of his wig,—all tended, I say, to depreciate the ruling -power—or rather, worse still, to make it absurd.</p> - -<p><i>Vêpres siciliennes</i> was played at the Odéon on 23 November 1819 -with overwhelming success. It would be difficult to explain why, -to anyone who has read the piece dispassionately. Why did a crowd -wait outside the doors of the Odéon from three o'clock? Why was that -splendid building crowded to suffocation, instead of there being, as -usual, plenty of room for everyone? Just to hear four lines thought to -contain an allusion to the political encroachments in which the king's -favourite minister was said to indulge. These are the four lines. They -seemed innocent enough on the face of them:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"De quel droit un ministre, avec impunity,<br /> -Ose-t-il attenter à notre liberté?<br /> -Se reposant sur vous des droits du diadème,<br /> -Le roi vous a-t-il fait plus roi qu'il n'est lui-même?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>All the same, these four lines roused thunders of applause and rounds -of cheering. And then one heard on every side the concert of admiration -which all the Liberal papers sounded in praise of the patriotic young -poet. The whole party petted him, praised him, exalted him.</p> - -<p>Some time after the <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i> had been played at the Odéon, -the Théâtre-Français, on 5 November 1819, put <i>Louis IX.</i> on the stage. -This was the Royalist reply which the leading theatre gave to the -Nationalist tragedy at the Odéon.</p> - -<p>At that period Ancelot and Casimir Delavigne were about equally -celebrated and, in the eyes of impartial critics, <i>Louis IX.</i> was as -good as <i>Vêpres siciliennes.</i> But all the popularity, all the applause, -all the triumph went to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Liberal poet. It was as though the nation -were breathing again, after its suspension of animation from '93 -onward, as though it were urging the public spirit to take the path of -liberty.</p> - -<p>I recollect that because of the noise these two controversial plays -made throughout the whole of the literary world, I, who was just -beginning to feel the first breath of poetry stir within me, was -anxious to read them. I wrote to de Leuven, who sent me both the -Liberal and the Royalist work. The Liberal work was the most praised, -and, with that in my hand, I ran to announce to our young friends, -Adèle, Albine and Louise, the good fortune which had befallen us -from Paris. It was decided that the same evening we should read the -masterpiece aloud, and, as I was the owner of the work, I was naturally -promoted to the office of reader.</p> - -<p>Alas! we were but simple children, without knowledge of either side of -the case, artless young folk, who wanted to amuse ourselves by clapping -our hands and to be stirred to the heart by admiration. We were greatly -surprised at the end of the first act, more surprised still by the end -of the second, that so much fuss and noise should have been aroused -by, and so much praise bestowed upon, a work, estimable, no doubt, -in its way, but one which did not cause a single thrill of sentiment -or passion, or rouse an echoing memory. We did not yet understand -that a political passion is the most prejudiced of all passions, and -that it vibrates to the innermost feeling of a disturbed country. Our -reading was interrupted at the second act, and the tragedy of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> was never finished, at any rate as a joint reading. Our -audience had naïvely confessed that Montfort, Lorédan and Procida bored -them to death, and that they much preferred Tom Thumb, Puss in Boots -and other fairy tales of like nature. But this attempt did not satisfy -me. When I went home to my mother, I read not only the whole of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> but also <i>Louis IX.</i></p> - -<p>Well, it is with feelings of great satisfaction that I date from -that time the impartial appreciation for contemporary works<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> which -I possess—an appreciation borrowed far more from my feelings than -from my judgment; an appreciation which neither political opinion nor -literary hatred has ever been able to influence: my critical faculty, -when considering the work of my <i>confrères,</i> asks not whether it be the -work of a friend or of an enemy, whether of one intimately known to -me or of a stranger. However, I need hardly say that neither <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> nor <i>Louis IX.</i> belong to that order of literature which I -was to be called upon later to feel and to understand, whose beauties -I endeavoured to reproduce. I remained perfectly unmoved by these two -tragedies, although I slightly preferred <i>Louis IX.</i> I have never read -them again since, and probably I shall never re-read them; but I feel -convinced that if I were to re-read them, my opinion upon them would -be just the same to-day that' it was then. What a difference there was -between the tame and monotonous feeling I then experienced and the -glowing emotion <i>Hamlet</i> roused in me, though it was the curtailed, -bloodless, nerveless <i>Hamlet</i> of Ducis! I had an innate instinct for -truth and hatred of conventional standards; Terence's line has always -seemed to me one of the finest lines ever written: "I am a man, and -nothing that is human is alien unto me." And I was fast laying claim to -my share in that line. I was growing more manly every day; my mother -was the only person who continued to look upon me as though I were -still a child. She was therefore greatly astonished when one evening -I did not return at my usual time of coming home—and when at last I -did come in, towards three in the morning, my heart leaping joyfully, -I slipped into my room, which for the last three months I had obtained -leave to have to myself, apart from my mother, foreseeing what was -going to take place. I found my mother in tears, seated by my window, -where she had been watching for my return, ready to give me the lecture -such a late, or rather, early, return deserved!</p> - -<p>After more than a year of attentions, signs, loving-making, little -favours granted, refused, snatched by force, the inexorable door which -shut me out at eleven o'clock would be softly reopened at half-past -eleven, and behind that door I found two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> trembling lips, two caressing -arms, a heart beating against my heart, burning sighs and lingering -tears. Adèle too had managed to get a room to herself, apart from her -mother, just as I had. This room was better than an ordinary room: it -was a tiny summer-house which projected into a long garden enclosed -only by hedges. A passage between the room occupied by her brother and -the room occupied by her mother led to the garden, and consequently -to the summer-house, which was only separated from the passage by a -staircase leading to the first storey. It was the door of this passage, -opening on one side into the street, and on the other, as I have said, -into the garden, which was reopened to me at half-past eleven at night -and was not closed behind me until three in the morning, on that night -when my mother stood anxiously waiting, all in tears, at the window of -my room, just ready to go and seek for me in the six hundred houses -of the town. But what plagued my mother still more was—as I quickly -discovered—that though she had not the least doubt as to the reason -for my misconduct, she could not guess who was the young lady at the -bottom of it. She had not seen me come back the way she had expected. -The reason for that was simple enough. The little girl who had given -her heart to me, after more than a year's struggle, was so pure, so -innocent, so modest, that although my love and pride were ready to -reveal everything, my conscience told me that honour and every fine -feeling I had demanded that the secret be kept with the utmost care. -Therefore, so that no one should see me at such an hour, either in the -neighbourhood of her house, or in the street leading to it, when at -three in the morning I came out of the blest passage that had served -me in good stead, I made my exit by a little by-street, and gained -the fields. From the fields I entered the park, leaping a ditch like -the one over which I had given proofs of my agility to Mademoiselle -Laurence, under such different circumstances, at Whitsuntide. Finally, -from the park I reached what was called with us the "<i>manège</i>," and I -re-entered the town by the rue du Château. It so happened, therefore, -that my mother, who was watching in an entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> opposite direction, -did not see me return, and, not guessing the ruse I had made use of -to foil the cruel and ready slander little towns are so prone to set -going, should matters so turn out, she puzzled her wits in despair to -know where I had come from. My mother's ignorance and the suspicions -that grew up in her mind later in connection with another girl had a -sufficiently serious influence upon my future life for me to dwell on -the subject for a moment: these details are not so trivial as they -may appear at first sight. Is it not the case that some minds regard -everything as trivial, whilst others (and I am much inclined to think -that these latter, without wishing to speak evil of the former class of -people, are the true thinkers and the true philosophers), who try to -follow the thread Providence holds in His hands, with which He guides -men from birth to death, from the unknown to the unknown, look upon -every detail as of importance, because the slightest has its part in -the great mass of details which we call life? Well, I was well scolded -by my mother, who did not scold me long,</p> - -<p>I however, for I kissed her the whole time she scolded me; besides, -her uneasiness was somewhat allayed, and with the eye of a mother -and perhaps even more with the insight of a woman, which sees to the -very heart of things, she saw I was profoundly happy. Joy is as much -a mystery as sorrow; excessive joy approaches so nearly the border of -pain, that, like suffering, it too has its measure of tears. My mother -left me to go to bed, not because she was tired out, poor mother! but -because she felt I wanted to be alone with myself, with my recent -memories, which I clasped as closely to my throbbing heart as one holds -to one's breast a young nestling which is trying to fly away.</p> - -<p>Oh! but Maître Mennesson's office was deserted that day! How beautiful -the park looked to me! The tall trees with their whispering leaves, -the birds singing above my head, and the frightened roebuck on the -skyline—all seemed to make a frame which could scarce contain my -smiling thoughts, my thoughts which danced like a joyous nymph! -Love—first love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> —the welling-up of the sap, opens out life to us! -It flows through the most secret recesses of our being; it gives life -to the most remote of our senses; it is a vast realm wherein every man -imprisoned in this world imprisons in turn the whole world in himself.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIa" id="CHAPTER_IIa">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Return of Adolphe de Leuven—He shows me a corner of the -artistic and literary world—The death of Holbein and the -death of Orcagna—Entrance into the green-rooms—Bürger's -<i>Lénore</i>—First thoughts of my vocation</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the meantime, de Leuven returned to Villers-Cotterets, after five -or six months' absence. His return was to open out new fields for my -ambitions—ambitions, however, which I believed were capable of being -fulfilled. If you throw a stone into a lake, however large the lake may -be, the first circle it will make round it, after its fall, will go on -growing and multiplying itself, even as do our days and our desires, -until the last one touches the bank—that is to say, eternity.</p> - -<p>Adolphe returned and brought Lafarge back with him. Poor Lafarge! Do -you remember the brilliant head clerk, who returned to his native -place in an elegant carriage, drawn by a mettlesome steed? Well, he -had bought a practice, but there the progress of his rising fortune -had stopped. By some inconceivable fatality, although he was young, -good-looking, clever, perhaps even because he possessed all these -gifts, which are perfectly useless to a lawyer, he had not found a wife -to pay for the practice, so he had been obliged to sell it again, and, -disgusted with the law, he had taken to literature. De Leuven, who had -taken notice of him in Villers-Cotterets, found him out in Paris and -returned with him. Some of his ancient splendour still stuck to the -poor fellow, but you might seek in vain for any real stability at the -base of his fresh plans for the future; those fleeting clouds hardly -got beyond the stage of hopes. During his stay in Paris a great change -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> come over Adolphe's character—a change which was to react on me.</p> - -<p>At M. Arnault's house, in which he had been a guest, Adolphe had -had a closer view of the literary world than he had previously -caught glimpses of in the house of Talma. He had there made the -acquaintance of Scribe, who was already at the zenith of his fame. He -met Mademoiselle Duchesnois there, who at that time was Telleville's -mistress, and who recited <i>Marie Stuart.</i> There he became acquainted -with M. de Jouy, who had finished his <i>Sylla;</i> Lucien Arnault, who had -begun his <i>Régulus</i>; Pichat, who, while composing his <i>Brennus</i> and -thinking out his <i>Léonidas</i> and <i>William Tell</i>, was facing a future in -which, his first wreath on his head and his first palm in his hand, -Death lurked, waiting for him. He had then dropped from these lofty -heights in the regions of art to inferior places, where he became -acquainted with Soulié, who was publishing poems in the <i>Mercure</i>; with -Rousseau, that Pylades of Romieu whom Orestes had left one day at the -turning of the road which led to his sub-prefecture; with Ferdinand -Langlé, the fickle lover of poor little Fleuriet, upon whom, it is -said, a notorious poisoner tried the deadly powder with which he was -later to kill his friend; with Théaulon, that delightful person and -indefatigable worker, who worked only in the hope that some day he -would be able to be idle, but who never had time to be idle, who was -cradled for a brief time in the arms of Love, but who was never really -to rest until he lay on the bosom of Death. This poor Epicurean, who by -dint of imagination saw his life in rosy garb, although for him it was -clothed in black, wrote these four lines on the door of his study: they -express at once his easy carelessness and his gentle philosophy—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -Loin du sot, du fat et du traître,<br /> -Ici ma constance attendra:<br /> -Et l'amour qui viendra peut-être,<br /> -Et la mort qui du moins viendra!<br /> -</p> - -<p>Death came, poor Théaulon! Came all too soon, for thee as for Pichat, -for Soulié, for Balzac; for there are two Deaths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> charged by Providence -with the task of hurling men into eternity: the one inexorable, icy, -impassive, obeying the sad laws of destruction; the Death of Holbein, -the Death in the cemetery of Bâle, the Death which is ever intermingled -with life, hiding its skeleton face under the most capricious of masks, -veiling its bony body beneath the king's mantle, in the gilded dress -of the courtesan, under the filthy rags of the beggar, walking side -by side with us; an invisible but ever present spectre; a lugubrious -guest, a sepulchral comrade, the supreme friend who receives us in -its arms when we fall over the edge of life, and who gently lays us -to rest for ever under the cold damp stones of the tomb;—the other, -sister of the above, daughter too of Erebus and of Night, unexpected, -spiteful, lies in ambush at a turning-point of happiness or prosperity, -ready like a vulture or a panther to pounce or spring out upon its -prey; this is the Death of Orcagna, the Death of the Campo-Santo in -Pisa; Death in life, envious, with cadaverous hue, hair flying wildly -in the wind, eyes flashing like those of a lynx, the Death which took -Petrarch in the midst of his triumph, Raphael in the midst of his love -affairs; before whom all joy and glory and riches pale; that power -which, passing rapidly, heedlessly and inexorably over the unfortunate -victims who appeal to it, strikes down in the midst of their flowers, -their wine and their perfumes, the handsome youth crowned with myrtle, -the lovely maiden rose-crowned, the laurel-wreathed poet, and drags -them brutally to the grave, their eyes open, their hearts yet beating, -their arms stretched out towards the light, the day and the sunshine! -Orcagna! Orcagna, great sculptor, great painter and, above all, great -poet! how many times have I trembled as I touched the hand of a beloved -child, or kissed the face of a mistress who had made me happy! for I -had an inward vision of that Death of the Campo-Santo at Pisa, passing -in the distance, dark, threatening like a sailing cloud; then, the next -day, I heard the words, "He is dead!" or "She is dead!" and it was -almost always a young genius whose light had gone out, a young soul -that had gone to its Maker.</p> - -<p>This then, was the world de Leuven had seen during his stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> in Paris, -and he brought a reflection of its unknown brilliance to me, the poor -provincial lad, buried in the depths of a little town. De Leuven had -done more than look into it: he had entered the tabernacle, he had -touched the ark! He had been permitted the honour of having some of his -work read before M. Poirson, the high priest of the Gymnase, and before -his sacristan, M. Dormeuil. Of course the work was declined after it -had been read; but—like the pebble which lies near the rose and shares -the scent of the queen of flowers—there remained to de Leuven, from -his declined work, an entry into the green-rooms. Oh! that entree to -the green-rooms, what a weariness it is to those who have attained it, -whilst by those who have not attained it, it is regarded as the most -coveted thing on earth! Adolphe, however, had been in it for such a -short time that <i>ennui</i> had not yet had time to spring up, and so the -dazzling glow of the honour still remained with him. It was the spirit -of this enchantment which he transferred to me. At that time, Perlet -was at his best, Fleuriet in the heyday of her beauty, Léontine Fay at -the height of her popularity. The latter, poor child, at the age of -eight or nine, had been forced to learn a craft in which a grown-up -woman might have succumbed; but what did that matter? They had consoled -themselves in advance for everything, even for her death; for they had -already made so much money out of her, that, in the event of her death, -they could afford to go to her burial in fine style.</p> - -<p>Adolphe's return, then, was a great event to me; like Don Cléophas, -I hung on the cloak of my fine <i>diable boiteux</i>, and he, telling me -what he had seen in the theatres, made me see also. What long walks we -took together! How many times did I stop him, as he passed from one -artiste to another, saying, after he had exhausted all the celebrities -of the Gymnase, "And Talma? And Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois?" And he good-naturedly held forth upon the genius and -talent and good-fellowship of those eminent artistes, playing upon the -unknown notes of the keyboard of my imagination, causing ambitious and -sonorous chords to vibrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> within me that had hitherto lain dormant, -the possession of which astonished me greatly when I began to realise -their existence. Then poor Adolphe little by little conceived a -singular idea, which was to make me share, on my own behalf, the hopes -he had indulged in for himself; to rouse in me the ambition to become, -if not a Scribe, an Alexandre Duval, an Ancelot, a Jouy, an Arnault or -a Casimir Delavigne, at least a Fulgence, a Mazère or a Vulpian. And -it must be admitted the notion was ambitious indeed; for, I repeat, I -had never received any proper education, I knew nothing, and it was not -until very much later, in 1833 or 1834, on the publication of the first -edition of my <i>Impressions de Voyage</i>, that people began to perceive I -had genius. In 1820 I must confess I had not a shadow of it.</p> - -<p>A week before Adolphe's return had brought to me the first vivifying -gleam of light from the outside world 3 the hemmed-in and restricted -life of a provincial town had seemed to me the limit of my ambition, a -salary of say fifteen or eighteen hundred francs 3 for I never dreamt -of becoming a solicitor: first because I had no vocation for it; for -although I had spent three years in copying deeds of sale, bonds and -marriage contracts, at Maître Mennesson's, I was no more learned in -the law than I was in music, after three years of solfeggio with old -Hiraux. It was evident, therefore, that the law was no more my vocation -than music, and that I should never expound the Code any better than I -played on the violin. This distressed my mother dreadfully, and all her -kind friends said to her—</p> - -<p>"My dear, just listen to what I say: your son is a born idler, who will -never do anything."</p> - -<p>And my mother would heave a sigh, and say, as she kissed me, "Is it -true, my dear boy, what they tell me?"</p> - -<p>And I would answer naïvely, "I don't know, mother!"</p> - -<p>What else could I reply? I could see nothing beyond the last houses in -my natal town, and even though I might find something that responded -to my heart inside the city boundary, I searched in vain therein for -anything that could satisfy my mind and imagination.</p> - -<p>De Leuven made a gap in the wall which closed me in, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> through that -gap I began to perceive something to aim at as yet undefined on the -infinite horizon beyond.</p> - -<p>De la Ponce also influenced me at this period. As before related, -I had translated with him the beautiful Italian romance—or rather -diatribe—of <i>Ugo Foscolo</i>, that imitation of Goethe's <i>Werther</i> -which the author of the poem called <i>Sépulcres</i> contrived, by dint -of patriotic feeling and talent, to develop into a national epic. -Moreover, de la Ponce, who wished to make me regret that I had -abandoned the study of the German language, translated for my benefit -Bürger's beautiful ballad <i>Lénore.</i> The reading of this work, which -belonged to a type of literature of which I was completely ignorant, -produced a deep impression on my mind; it was like one of those -landscapes one sees in dreams, in which one dares not enter, so -different is it from everyday surroundings. The terrible refrain which -the sinister horseman repeats over and over again to the trembling -betrothed whom he carries off on his spectre-steed,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Hourra!—fantôme, les morts vont vite!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>bears so little resemblance to the conceits of Demoustier, to Parny's -amorous rhymes or to the elegies of the Chevalier Bertin, that the -reading of the tragic German ballad made a complete revolution in my -soul. That very night, I tried to put it into verse; but, as may well -be understood, the task was beyond my powers. I broke the wings of my -poor fledgeling Muse, and I began my literary career as I had begun my -first love-making, by a defeat none the less terrible because it was a -secret one, but quite as incontestable in my own estimation.</p> - -<p>What mattered it? These were indubitably my first steps towards the -future God had destined, untried totterings like the steps of a child -just learning to walk, who stumbles and falls as soon as he tears -himself away from his nurse's leading-strings, but who picks himself up -again and, aching after every fall, continues to advance, urged forward -by hope, which whispers in his ear, "Walk, child, walk! it is by means -of suffering that you become a man, by perseverance that you become -great!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIa" id="CHAPTER_IIIa">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>The Cerberus of the rue de Largny—I tame it—The -ambush—Madame Lebègue—A confession</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Six months passed by between my first love-makings and my first -attempts at work. Besides our meetings at Louise Brézette's every -night, Adèle and I used to see each other two or three times a week, in -the summer-house, which, to our great delight, her mother had allowed -her to have as her new chamber. It was necessary for Adèle to open the -door of the passage-way for me, and for me to pass in front of her -mother's bedroom door: these two courses were fraught with so many -dangers that I had for a long time been contemplating some other means -of access to my lady-love. After much pondering, I settled upon a way. -I carefully examined the topography of the surrounding district and -discovered, three doors off Adèle's house, a door, which led through a -kind of passage into a small garden. One wall and two hedges separated -this garden from Adèle's. I carefully studied the position all round, -from Adèle's garden, to which I had free entree during the daytime, -and I saw that all difficulties would be overcome if I could open the -street door, cross the passage, enter the garden, scale the wall and -stride over the two hedges. Then I had only to knock on the outside -shutter, Adèle would open to me, and the thing would be done. But, as I -had noticed, the door had to be opened and the passage crossed.</p> - -<p>The door was locked, and the passage was guarded at night by a dog -who was less a match from his size and from the fight he might make, -than from the noise he could set up. It took me a week to make my -investigations. One night I ascertained,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Muphti (that was the dog's -name) barking loudly all the time, that the lock only turned once, and -that I could open the door with my knife-blade; the remaining seven -nights I cultivated Muphti's acquaintance, seducing him little by -little, by poking bits of bread and chicken bones under the door. The -last two or three nights, Muphti, grown used to the windfalls I brought -him, impatient for my arrival, expecting me long before I appeared, -heard me come when I was twenty paces off, and, at my approach, -scratched with both paws at the door and whined gently at the obstacle -that separated us. On the eighth day, or rather the eighth night, -feeling sure that Muphti was now no longer an enemy but an ally, I -opened the door, and, according to my expectations, Muphti leapt upon -me in the greatest friendliness, delighted to find himself in direct -communication with a man who brought him such dainty scraps: I had only -one fault to find with his greeting, namely, that it was expressed in -rather too noisy a fashion. However, as all enthusiasm calms down in -time, Muphti's enthusiasm died down, and, passing into expressions of a -gentler affection, allowed me to venture farther. I chose, for my first -attempt at housebreaking, a dark, moonless autumn night: I stepped -very lightly, with my ears on the alert; I advanced without making a -single grain of sand crunch beneath my feet. I thought I heard a door -open behind me; I hastened my steps; I reached a large patch of beans -growing up on sticks, into which I flung myself as did Gulliver in his -wheat-field, with Muphti hidden between my legs, his neck held between -both my hands, ready to be able to intercept the slightest sound he -might wish to make—and there I waited. It was indeed one of the -inhabitants to whom the passage belonged: he had heard the noise. In -order to find out what caused it, he took a turn in the garden, passed -within a couple of steps of me, without seeing me, coughed as though -he were beginning with a cold, and went indoors again. I let Muphti -go; I made for the palings; I leapt to the other side of the wall; I -straddled over the two hedges, and I ran to the shutters. But I did not -need to knock. Before I reached them, I heard someone breathing, I saw -a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> shadow, I felt two trembling arms stretch out to enfold me and drag -me inside the summer-house, and the door shut behind us.</p> - -<p>Oh! had I only been a poet in those days, what ravishing lines I could -have made in honour of those first flowers which flourished in the -garden of our love! But, alas! I was not a poet then, and I had to be -satisfied with repeating to Adèle Parny's and Bertin's elegies, which I -believe only bored her. I have already remarked, <i>apropos</i> of <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i> what good taste this little girl possessed.</p> - -<p>I left her, as usual, towards two or three in the morning. As usual, -also, I returned by the park, and reached home by a roundabout way. I -have explained the way I took, and how I had to leap a wide ditch so as -to reach the park from the open country. In order to avoid making the -same jump three or four times a week, which was a very perilous feat -on dark nights, I made a very big heap of stones in one corner of the -ditch, so that I had only to make for this particular corner and then -make my jump in two leaps.</p> - -<p>On this particular night, as I leapt into the ditch, I noticed a -shadow four paces off me, that looked slightly less caressing than -that which had awaited me in the garden, and drawn me inside the -summer-house. This shadow held an actual, stout stick—not the shade -of one—in all its knotty reality. Directly I attained to manhood's -estate, and whenever danger faced me, whether by night or by day, I may -proudly record that I always marched straight on towards that danger. -I walked right up to the man with the stick. The stick rose, and I -clutched it in my hand. Then followed, in that dark ditch, one of the -severest tussles I have ever had in my life. I was indeed the person -he was lying in wait for, the person he wished to meet. The man who -was waiting for me had blackened his face; consequently I could not -recognise him; but without recognising him I guessed who he was. He was -a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five; I was scarcely eighteen, -but I was well broken in to all physical exercises, especially to -wrestling. I succeeded in taking hold of him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> round the body and -twisting him under me. His head struck on a stone with a heavy sound. -No word passed on either side; but he must have been hurt. I felt him -fumbling in his pocket, and I knew he was hunting for his knife. I -seized his hand above the wrist, and managed to twist him so that his -fingers opened, and the knife dropped. Then, by a quick move, I got -hold of the knife. For one second a terrible temptation assailed me, to -do what was indeed my right, namely, to open the knife and to plunge it -into my antagonist's breast. That moment a man's life hung by a thread: -had my anger broken that thread, the man would have been killed! I had -sufficient control over myself to get up. I still held the knife in -one hand, I took the stick by the other, and, fortified by these two -weapons, I allowed my adversary to rise too. He took a step backwards, -and stooped to pick up the stone against which he had hurt his head; -but just as he was lifting himself up, I hit him with the end of the -stick on the chest and he fell back ten paces. This time he seemed to -lose consciousness completely, for he did not get up again. I climbed -the embankment from the ditch and got away from the place as fast as I -could: this unexpected attack had revealed such a spirit of hatred that -I feared treachery might follow. No one else put in an appearance, and -I reached home very much upset, I must confess, by this incident. I -had certainly escaped from one of the most serious dangers I had ever -incurred in my life.</p> - -<p>This event brought very serious consequences to a person who had had -nothing to do with the affair, and led me to commit the only evil -action I have to reproach myself with during the course of my life. -The blame attaching to this evil deed is all the greater as it was -committed against a woman. I can only say that it was committed without -any premeditation. I reached home, as I have said, very glad to have -escaped with nothing worse than a few bruises, and very proud at the -end of the fray to have overthrown my enemy.</p> - -<p>Next morning I went to de la Ponce. As such an attack might be renewed -under more disadvantageous circumstances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> than those from which I had -just escaped, I wanted to borrow from him the pocket-pistols I had seen -in his rooms. It was difficult to borrow them from him without telling -him why I wanted them. I told him. But as it would have revealed, or -almost revealed, the house I came away from, if I had told him the -true locality of the struggle, I indicated another place altogether. -I selected, hap-hazard, a spot near the <i>manège</i>, in a little narrow -street, where three houses had their entrances. The first of these -three houses was inhabited by Hippolyte Leroy, the ex-body-guardsman of -whom I have already spoken in connection with our misadventures at M. -Collard's, and who was soon to become my cousin by marrying Augustine; -the second by the de Leuven family; and the third by the lawyer to whom -Maître Mennesson had related the misadventures of my early love-making -and who, as I have already mentioned, had married Éléonore, the second -daughter of M. Deviolaine by his first marriage. I have related also, -when speaking of M. Lebègue, how the charming nature and sociable -spirit of his wife had roused suspicion and dislike in a little town, -where superiority of any kind is a reason for jealousy. Now I had told -others besides de la Ponce of the nocturnal attack of which I had very -nearly been a victim; and to others also, as well as to de la Ponce, in -order to divert suspicions, I had mentioned the same locality by the -<i>manège</i> of which I have just spoken. Where could I have been coming -from, at two in the morning, when I was attacked near the <i>manage!</i> -It could not have been from Hippolyte Leroy's; it could not have been -from Adolphe de Leuven's. It must then have been from M. Lebègue's—or -rather, from Madame Lebègue's. This wicked suggestion, entirely -incorrect as it was, could only be supported by some semblance of a -foundation.</p> - -<p>I was a very easy prey to being teased, perhaps because I laid myself -open to it by my defenceless condition, and neither Madame Lebègue nor -her sisters spared me. Madame Lebègue was pretty, witty and a flirt: -she waved the most charming and gracious gestures imaginable to her -friends at a distance;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> whilst at closer quarters she allowed them -to look at, admire and even kiss her hand, with that aristocratic -indifference assumed by women who are the possessors of pretty hands. -It was her only sin, poor woman. The crime was great, but the hand was -pretty. I was exceedingly fond of Madame Lebègue; I liked her, I can -confess to-day, with a feeling that might even have got beyond the -bounds of friendly affection, if she had consented to more; but she had -never given me the least encouragement, and whenever I was near her, -her superior wit, her woman-of-the-world manners, her fine-lady airs, -would send me into the deepest depths of that shyness of which I had -given such glaring proofs during my earliest love-makings.</p> - -<p>One day, without knowing whence this rumour had sprung, without -suspecting the cause that had given rise to it, I heard it whispered -that I was Madame Lebègue's lover. I ought at once to have quenched -this rumour with indignant denials; I ought to have treated the -calumny with the justice it deserved. I was wicked enough to refute it -half-heartedly, and in such a fashion that my vain denial bore every -appearance of a confession. And of course the ill-natured rumour served -my own purposes to perfection. Poor silly fool that I was! I had a -momentary delight, an hour's pride, in this rumour, which ought to -have made me blush with shame, for I had allowed an untrue statement -to be believed. I soon suffered for my mean action. First of all, the -rumour set me at variance with the person herself whom it concerned: -Madame Lebègue thought me more guilty than I was; she accused me of -having started the scandal. She was mistaken there: I had allowed it -to live, allowed it to grow, that was all. True, that was bad enough. -She forbade me her house, the house my mother and I both loved, and -it became hostile to us both ever after. Madame Lebègue never forgave -me. On two or three occasions during my life I have felt the prick of -the needle of the vengeance she vowed against me. I never attempted -to return the injuries received; I felt, in my heart of hearts, I had -deserved them. Whenever since I have met Madame Lebègue, I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> turned -away my head and lowered my eyes before her glance. The guilty one -tacitly confessed his crime. To-day he openly avows it. But now the -confession has been made, I can boldly face the rest of the world of -men or women and say, "You may look me in the face and try to make me -blush, if you can!"</p> - -<p>The day after my struggle I had the curiosity to visit the scene of -battle. I had not been mistaken: the stone on which my enemy's head had -crashed was stained with blood at its sharpest end, and the colour of -a few hairs, stuck to the bloody stone, confirmed my suspicions—which -now became a definite certainty when furnished with this last proof. -That night I saw Adèle: she was still ignorant of what had happened to -me. I told her everything; I told her whom I suspected: she refused to -believe it.</p> - -<p>Just at that moment, a surgeon, named Raynal, went past; I had seen -him that morning come from the direction which led to the house of my -wounded enemy. I went up to him.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" I asked him. "Why have you been sent for this -morning?"</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, boy?" he replied in his Provençal accent.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Why, he cannot have seen plainly last night, and, hurrying home, he -gave himself a knock in the chest against a carriage pole. It was such -a violent blow that he fell on his back and split his head open in -falling."</p> - -<p>"When shall you pay him a second visit?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, at the same time as to-day."</p> - -<p>"Very well, doctor; tell him from me that, last night, passing by the -same place where he fell, after him, I found his knife, and I send it -back to him. Tell him, doctor, that it is a good weapon, but that, -nevertheless, a man who has no other arms but this with him is unwise -to attack a man who possesses two such pistols as these...."</p> - -<p>I fancy the doctor understood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh yes; very good," he said. "I'll tell him, never fear."</p> - -<p>I presume that the man who owned the knife also understood, for I never -heard the matter spoken of again, although, fifteen days later, I -danced <i>vis-à-vis</i> with him at the park ball.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVa" id="CHAPTER_IVa">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>De Leuven makes me his collaborator—The <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i>—My first <i>couplet-Chauvin</i>—The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>—The <i>Abencérages</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had naïvely told de Leuven of my failure to translate Bürger's -beautiful ballad; but as he had made up his mind to make me a dramatic -author, he consoled me by telling me it was his father's opinion that -some German works were absolutely untranslatable, and that the ballad -of <i>Lénore</i> was first among these. Seeing that de Leuven did not lose -hope, I gradually regained mine. I may even venture to say that, a few -days after this, I achieved a success.</p> - -<p>Lafarge had laughed hugely at de Leuven's idea of making me his -collaborator. For, indeed, what notice would the Parisian stage take -of an uneducated child; a poor provincial lad, buried away in a -small town in the Ile-de-France; ignorant both of French and foreign -literatures; hardly acquainted with the names of the great; feeling -only a tepid sympathy with their most highly praised masterpieces, his -lack of artistic education having veiled their style from him; setting -to work without knowing the theory of constructing a plot, an action, -a catastrophe, a <i>dénoûment</i>; having never read to the end of <i>Gil -Blas</i>, or <i>Don Quixote</i>, or <i>le Diable boiteux</i>—books which are held -by all teachers to be worthy of universal admiration, and in which, I -confess to my shame, the man who has succeeded to the child does not -even to-day feel a very lively interest; reading, instead, all that -is bad in Voltaire, who was then regarded as the very antithesis of -politics and religion; having never opened a volume of Walter Scott -or of Cooper, those two great romance-writers, one of whom understood -men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> thoroughly, the other of whom divined God's workings marvellously; -whilst, on the contrary, he had devoured all the naughty books of -Pigault-Lebrun, raving over them, <i>le Citateur</i> in particular; ignorant -of the name of Goethe, or Schiller, or Uhland, or André Chénier; -having heard Shakespeare mentioned, but only as a barbarian from whose -dunghill Ducis had collected those pearls called <i>Othello</i>, <i>Hamlet</i> -and <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, but knowing by heart his Bertin, his Parny, his -Legouvé, his Demoustier.</p> - -<p>Lafarge was unquestionably in the right, and Adolphe must have had -plenty of time to waste to undertake such a task, the hopelessness -of which alone could take away from its ridiculousness. But Adolphe, -with that Anglo-German stolidness of his, manfully persevered in the -work undertaken, and we sketched out a scheme of a comedy in one act, -entitled the <i>Major de Strasbourg</i>: it was neither good nor bad. -Why the Major of Strasbourg, any more than the Major of Rochelle or -of Perpignan? I am sure I cannot tell. And I have also completely -forgotten the plot or development of that embryonic dramatic work.</p> - -<p>But there was one incident I have not forgotten, for it procured me -the first gratification my <i>amour-propre</i> received. It was the epoch -of patriotic pieces; a great internal reaction had set in against our -reverses of 1814 and our defeat of 1815. The national couplet and -Chauvinism were all the rage: provided you made <i>Français</i> rhyme with -<i>succès</i> at the end of a couplet, and <i>lauriers</i> with <i>guerriers,</i> -you were sure of applause. So, of course, de Leuven and I were quite -content not to strike out any fresh line, but to follow and worship -in the footsteps of MM. Francis and Dumersan. Therefore our <i>Major de -Strasbourg</i> was of the family of those worthy retreating officers whose -patriotism continued to fight the enemy in couplets consecrated to the -supreme glory of France, and to the avenging of Leipzig and Waterloo on -the battlefields of the Gymnase and the Varies. Now, our major, having -become a common labourer, was discovered by a father and son, who -arrived on the scene, I know not why, at the moment when, instead of -digging his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> furrows, he was deserting his plough, in order to devote -himself to the reading of a book which gradually absorbed him to such -an extent that he did not see the entrance of this father and son—a -most fortunate circumstance, since the brave officer's preoccupation -procured the public the following couplet:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span> (apercevant le major)<br /> -<br /> -N'approchez pas, demeurez où vous etes:<br /> -Il lit ...<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COMTE</span><br /> -<br /> -Sans doute un récit de combats,<br /> -Ce livre?<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span> (regardant par-dessus l'épaule du major, et revenant à son père)<br /> -<br /> -C'est <i>Victoires et Conquêtes.</i><br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COMTE</span><br /> -<br /> -Tu vois, enfant, je ne me trompais pas:<br /> -Son cœur revole aux champs de l'Allemagne!<br /> -Il croit encor voir les Français vainqueurs....<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JULIEN</span><br /> -<br /> -Mon père, il lit la dernière campagne,<br /> -Car de ses yeux je vois couler des pleurs.<br /> -</p> - -<p>When my part of the work was done, I handed it over to de Leuven, who, -I ought to mention, was very indulgent to me; but this time, when he -came to the couplet I am about to quote, his indulgence ascended into -enthusiasm: he sang the couplet out loud—</p> - -<p> -"Dis-moi, soldat, dis-moi, t'en souviens-tu?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>He sang it over twice, four times, ten times, interrupting himself to -say—</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! that couplet will be done to death if the Censorship lets it -pass."</p> - -<p>For, from that time, the honourable institution called the Censorship -was in full vigour, and it has gone on increasing and prospering ever -since.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - -<p>I confess I was very proud of myself; I did not think such a -masterpiece was in me. Adolphe ran off to sing the couplet to his -father, who, as he chewed his toothpick, asked—</p> - -<p>"Did you make it?"</p> - -<p>"No, father; Dumas did."</p> - -<p>"Hum! So you are writing a comic opera with Dumas?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Why not make room in it for your <i>froide Ibérie</i>? It would be just the -place for it."</p> - -<p>Adolphe turned on his heels and went off to sing my couplet to Lafarge.</p> - -<p>Lafarge listened to it, winking his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! ah!" he cried, "did Dumas compose that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he made it."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure he did not crib it from somewhere?"</p> - -<p>Then, with touching confidence, Adolphe replied—</p> - -<p>"I am quite certain of it: I know every patriotic couplet that has been -sung in every theatre in Paris, and I tell you this one has never yet -been sung."</p> - -<p>"Then it is a fluke, and he will soon be undeceived."</p> - -<p>De la Ponce read the couplet too; it tickled his soldierly taste, -remainding him of 1814, and he took an early opportunity to compliment -me on it.</p> - -<p>Alas! poor couplet, but indifferently good though thou wert, accept -nevertheless thy due meed of praise, at any rate from me. Whether gold -or copper, thou wert, at all events, the first piece of literary coin -I threw into the dramatic world! Thou wert the lucky coin one puts -in a bag to breed more treasure therein! To-day the sack is full to -overflowing: I wonder if the treasure that came and covered thee up was -much better than thyself? The future alone will decide—that future -which to poets assumes the superb form of a goddess and the proud name -of Posterity!</p> - -<p>The reader knows what an amount of vanity I possessed. My pride did not -need to be encouraged to come out of the vase in which it was enclosed -and swell like the giant in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> <i>Arabian Nights:</i> I began to believe -I had written a masterpiece. From that day I thought of nothing else -but dramatic literature, and, as Adolphe was some day to return to -Paris, we set ourselves to work, so that he could carry away with him -a regular cargo of works of the style of the <i>Major de Strasbourg.</i> We -never doubted that such distinguished works would meet with the success -they deserved, from the enlightened public of Paris, and open out to -me in the capital of European genius a path strewn with crowns and -pieces of gold. What would the well-disposed people say then, who had -declared to my mother that I was an idle lad and that I should never do -anything? Go spin, you future Schiller! Spin, you future Walter Scott! -spin!... From this time a great force awoke in my heart, which held its -place against all comers: determination—a great virtue, which although -certainly not genius, is a good substitute for it—and perseverance.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, Adolphe was not a very sure guide; he, like myself, was -groping blindly. Our choice of subjects revealed that truth. Our second -opera was borrowed from the venerable M. Bouilly's <i>Contes à ma fille.</i> -It was entitled le <i>Dîner d'amis.</i> Our first drama was borrowed from -Florian's <i>Gonzalve de Cordoue</i>: it was entitled <i>les Abencérages.</i></p> - -<p>O dear Abencérages! O treacherous Zégris! with what crimes of like -nature you have to reproach yourselves! O Gonzalve de Cordoue! what -young poets you have led astray into the path upon which we entered so -full of hope, from which we returned shattered and broken.</p> - -<p>Poor lisa Mercœur! I saw her die hugging to her heart that Oriental -chimera; only she stuck fast to it, like a drowning man to a floating -plank; while we, feeling how little it was to be relied on, had the -courage to abandon it and to let it float where it would on that dark -ocean where she encountered it and stuck to it.</p> - -<p>But then we did not know what might be the future of these children, -wandering on the highways, whom we sought to seduce from their lawful -parents, and whom we saw die of inanition, one after the other, in our -arms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>These labours took up a whole year, from 1820 to 1821. During that year -two great events came about, which passed unnoticed by us, so bent on -our work were we, and so preoccupied by it: the assassination of the -Duc de Berry, 13 February 1820; the death of Napoleon, 5 May 1821.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Va" id="CHAPTER_Va">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>Unrecorded stories concerning the assassination of the -Duc de Berry</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The assassination of the Duc de Berry hastened the down-fall of M. -Decazes. A singular anecdote was circulated at the time. I took it down -in writing at the house of my lawyer, who was a collector of historical -documents. As well as I can remember, it was as follows. Three days -before the Duc de Berry's assassination, King Louis XVIII. received a -letter couched in these words:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIRE</span>,—Will your Majesty condescend to receive a person -at eight o'clock to-morrow night, who has important -revelations to make specially affecting your Majesty's -family?</p> - -<p>"If your Majesty deigns to receive this person, let a -messenger be sent at once to find a chip of Oriental -alabaster, which rests on the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, -at Ste. Geneviève.</p> - -<p>"In addition to this, your Majesty must obtain, by -means of some other agent, a loose sheet of paper, out -of a volume of the works of St. Augustine [here the -exact designation was given], the use of which will be -indicated later by the writer of this letter.</p> - -<p>"Under penalty of not obtaining any result from the -promised revelations, you must not begin by sending to -the Library, nor by sending at the same time to the -Library and to Ste. Geneviève. The safety of the person -who desires to offer good advice to His Majesty depends -upon the execution of the two prescribed acts in their -given order."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The letter was unsigned. The mysterious bearing of this letter -attracted the attention of Louis XVIII., and he sent for M. Decazes -at seven o'clock on the following morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Please be careful to note -that I am not relating a historical fact, but an anecdote from memory, -which I copied something like thirty years ago. Only later and in quite -different circumstances of my life, it recurred to my mind as does -effaced writing under the application of a chemical preparation.</p> - -<p>So, as indicated above, Louis XVIII. sent next morning for M. Decazes.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," he said, as soon as he saw him, "you must go to the church -of Ste. Geneviève; you must descend to the crypt, where you will find -the tomb of Cardinal Caprara, and you must bring away the thing, no -matter what it is, that you will find on the tomb."</p> - -<p>M. Decazes went, and when he reached Ste. Geneviève, he went down to -the crypt. There, to his great surprise, he found nothing on the tomb -of Cardinal Caprara but a fragment of Oriental alabaster. However, his -orders were precise: we might rather say they were positive. After a -moment's hesitation, he picked up the bit of alabaster and took it back -to the Tuileries. He expected the king to jeer at the servile obedience -that brought him only an object so worthless, but quite the reverse was -the case, for at the sight of the bit of alabaster the king trembled. -Then, taking it in his hand and examining it minutely, he placed it on -his desk.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Louis XVIII., "send a trusted messenger to the Royal -Library; he must ask for the works of St. Augustine, the 1669 edition, -and in volume 7, between pages 404 and 405, he will find a sheet of -paper."</p> - -<p>"But, sire," asked M. Decazes, "why should not I myself go rather than -entrust this commission to another?"</p> - -<p>"Out of the question, <i>mon enfant</i>!" "<i>Mon enfant</i>" was the pet name by -which the king called his favourite minister.</p> - -<p>A trusted messenger was sent to the Royal Library: he opened St. -Augustine at the given pages and found the paper described. It was -a simple matter to take it away. The paper was a very thin, blank -folio sheet oddly snipped here and there. While Louis XVIII. was -searching for the mysterious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> revelations hidden in the jagged paper -the secretary brought him a missive containing a leaf of the same -size as that from the St. Augustine, but inscribed with apparently -unintelligible letters. At the corner of the envelope in which -this leaf came were written the two words: "Most urgent." The king -understood that there was a connection between the two events and a -likeness between the two leaves. He placed the cut sheet of paper over -the written sheet and saw that the letters shown up through the holes -in the upper leaf made sense. He dismissed the secretary and intimated -to M. Decazes to leave him alone, and when both had gone, he made out -the following lines:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"King, thou art betrayed! Betrayed by thy minister and by -the <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">P.P.</span> of thy S——.</p> - -<p>"King, I alone can save thee. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MARIANI</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The reader will understand that I do not hold myself responsible for -this note any more than for the rest of the anecdote. The king did not -mention this note to anyone; but, that evening, the Minister of the -Police,<a name="FNanchor_1_8" id="FNanchor_1_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_8" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> who was dismissed next day, issued orders to find a man -named Mariani.</p> - -<p>The following day, which was Sunday the 13th of February, the king on -opening his prayer-book at mass found this note inside:—</p> - -<p>"They have found out what I wrote; they are hunting for me. Do your -utmost to see me, if you would avoid great misfortunes for your house. -I shall know if you will receive me, by means of three wafers which you -should stick inside the panes of your bedroom windows."</p> - -<p>Although the king was greatly interested by this last letter of -advice, he did not think it sufficiently urgent to attend to it as -directed. He waited and hesitated, and then left matters till the -morrow. That evening there was a special performance at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> the Opera, -when <i>Le Rossignol</i>, <i>les Noces de Gamache</i>, and <i>le Carnaval de -Venise</i> were played. The Duc and Duchesse de Berry were present. About -eleven o'clock, at the close of the second act of the ballet, the -duchess, feeling tired, told her husband that she wished to leave. -The prince would not allow her to go alone, but himself conducted her -out of the Opera House. When he reached their carriage, which stood -in the rue Rameau, just as he was helping the princess up the step, -and saying to her, "Wait for me, I will rejoin you in a moment," a man -darted forward rapidly, passed like a flash of lightning between the -sentinel on guard at the door of exit and M. de Clermont-Lodève, the -gentleman-in-waiting, seized the prince by the left shoulder, leant -heavily against his breast and plunged a thin, sharp small-sword, -with a boxwood hilt, in his right breast. The man left the weapon -in the wound, knocked three or four curious bystanders spinning and -disappeared immediately round the corner of the rue de Richelieu and -under the Colbert Arcade. For the moment nobody noticed that the prince -was wounded; he himself had hardly felt any pain beyond the blow of a -fist.</p> - -<p>"Take care where you are going, you clumsy fellow!" M. de Choiseul, the -prince's aide-de-camp, had exclaimed, pushing the assassin to one side, -thinking he was simply an unduly inquisitive bystander. Suddenly the -prince lost his breath, grew pale and tottered, crying out, as he put -his hand to his breast—</p> - -<p>"I have been assassinated!"</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" exclaimed those about him.</p> - -<p>"See," replied the prince, "here is the dagger." And giving effect -to his words, he drew out and held up the bloodstained sword from -his breast. The carriage door had not yet been shut. The duchess -sprang out, trying to catch her husband in her arms; but the prince -was already past standing, even with this support. He fell gently -back into the arms of those surrounding him, and was carried into the -drawing-room belonging to the king's box. There he received immediate -attention.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>By the mere appearance of the wound, the shape of the dagger and -the length of its blade, the doctors recognised the serious nature -of the case, and declared that the prince must not be taken to the -Tuileries. They therefore carried him to the suite of rooms occupied -by M. de Grandsire, the Secretary to the Opera Company, who lived at -the theatre. By a singular coincidence, the bed on which the dying -prince was laid was the same on which he had slept the first night of -his joyful re-entry into France. M. de Grandsire was at that time at -Cherbourg and he had lent this very bed to put in the Duc de Berry's -room. Here the prince learnt the arrest of his murderer. He asked his -name. They told him it was Louis-Pierre Louvel. He seemed to search -his memory and then, as if speaking to himself, he said, "I cannot -recollect ever having injured this man."</p> - -<p>No, prince, no, you did nothing to him; but you bear on your forehead -the fatal seal which carries the Bourbons to the grave or into exile. -No, prince, you have not injured the man, but you are heir to the -throne and that is sufficient in this country for the hand of God to -be laid heavily upon you. Look back, prince, on what has happened to -those who, for the last sixty years, have handled the fatal crown to -which they aspired. Louis XVI. died on the scaffold. Napoleon died at -St. Helena. The Duc de Reichstadt died at Schoenbrünn. Charles X. died -at Frohsdorf. Louis-Philippe died at Claremont. And who knows, prince, -where your son, the Count de Chambord, will die? Where your cousin the -Count de Paris? I ask the question of you who are about to know the -secret of that eternal life which hides away from us all the mysteries -of life and of death. And we would further point out to you, prince, -that not one of your race will die in the Tuileries, or will rest as -kings in the tombs of their fathers.</p> - -<p>But it was a good and noble heart that was about to cease to beat -amidst all the distracting events of that period. And when Louis -XVIII., who had been informed of the assassination, came at six in the -morning, to receive his nephew's last wishes, the first words of the -wounded prince were—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Sire, pardon the man!"</p> - -<p>Louis XVIII. neither promised nor refused to pardon.</p> - -<p>"My dear nephew, you will survive this cruel act, I trust," he replied, -"and we will then discuss the matter again. It is of grave import, -moreover," he added, "and it must be looked into most carefully at some -future time."</p> - -<p>These words had scarcely been uttered by the king when the prince began -to fight for his breath; he stretched out his arms and asked to be -turned on his left side.</p> - -<p>"I am dying!" he said, as they hastened to carry out his last wish.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, they had hardly moved him when, at the stroke of half-past -six, he died.</p> - -<p>The grief of the duchess was inexpressible. She seized scissors from -the mantelpiece, let down her beautiful fair hair, cut it off to the -roots and threw the locks on the dead body of her husband.</p> - -<p>The sorrow of King Louis was twofold: not knowing that the Duchesse de -Berry was pregnant, he deplored even more than the death of a murdered -nephew the extinction of a race.</p> - -<p>When he withdrew to the Tuileries, he remembered the events of the -two preceding days—the letter received on the very morning of the -assassination, the warning of some great calamity threatening the royal -family. Then, although there was nothing more to be expected from the -mysterious stranger, the legend that we have given goes on to say that -Louis XVIII. dragged his aching limbs to the window and stuck the three -wafers on its panes as a signal of welcome to the unknown writer of the -letters. Two hours later, the king received a letter wrapped in three -coverings:—</p> - -<p>"It is too late! Let a confidential person come and meet me on the pont -des Arts, where I will be at eleven o'clock to-night.</p> - -<p>"I rely on the honour of the king."</p> - -<p>At a quarter-past eleven the mysterious stranger was introduced into -the Tuileries and conducted to the king's private chamber. He remained -with Louis till one o'clock in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> the morning. No one ever knew what -passed in that interview. The next day, M. Clausel de Coussergues -proposed, in the Upper House, to impeach M. Decazes as an accomplice in -the assassination of the Duc de Berry.</p> - -<p>Thus, at the same time that the Napoleonic and Liberal party were -disseminating the skits against the Bourbons which we have quoted, and -distributing copies of the proceedings of the Maubreuil trial, the -Extreme Right was attacking by similar means the Duc d'Orléans and M. -Decazes; each in turn undermining and destroying one another, to the -advantage of a fourth party, which was soon to make its appearance -under the cloak of Carbonarism—we mean that Republican element which -Napoleon, when he was dying in the island of St. Helena, prophesied -would dominate the future.</p> - -<p>But before tackling this question, one word more about Louvel. God -forbid that we should glorify the assassin, no matter to what party he -belonged! We would only indicate, from the historical point of view, -the difference that may exist between one murderer and another. We have -related how Louvel disappeared, first round the corner of the rue de -Richelieu and then under the Colbert Arcade. He was just on the point -of escaping when a carriage barred his course and compelled him to -slacken his pace. During this moment of hesitation, the sentinel, who -had thrown down his gun to pursue him and who had lost sight of him, -had a glimpse of him again and redoubled his speed, caught up with him -and seized him round the waist, a waiter from a neighbouring café; at -the same time seizing hold of him by his collar. When he was captured, -the assassin did not attempt any fresh effort. One would have thought -that from motives of self-preservation he would have struggled to -escape, but his one attempt at flight seemed to satisfy him, and had -they let go their hold, he would not have taken his chance to regain -liberty. Louvel was taken to the guard-house below the vestibule of the -Opera.</p> - -<p>"Wretch!" exclaimed M. de Clermont-Lodève, "what can have induced you -to commit such a crime?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The desire to deliver France from one of its cruellest enemies."</p> - -<p>"Who paid you to carry out the deed?"</p> - -<p>"Paid me!" cried Louvel, tossing his head,—"paid me!" Then with a -scornful smile he added, "Do you think one would do such a thing for -money?"</p> - -<p>Louvel's trial was carried to the Upper Chamber. On 5 June he appeared -before the High Court. On the following day he was condemned to death. -Four months had been spent in trying to find his accomplices, but not -one had been discovered. He was taken back to the Conciergerie, an hour -after his sentence had been pronounced, and one of his warders came to -him.</p> - -<p>"You would like," said the man to the prisoner, who throughout -his trial had preserved the utmost calm and even the greatest -decorum,—"you would like to send for a priest?" "What for?" asked -Louvel.</p> - -<p>"Why, to ease your conscience."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my conscience is at ease: it tells me I did my duty."</p> - -<p>"Your conscience deceives you. Listen to what I say and make your peace -with God: that is my advice."</p> - -<p>"And if I confess, do you suppose that will send me to Paradise?"</p> - -<p>"May be: the mercy of God is infinite."</p> - -<p>"Do you think the Prince de Condé, who has just died, will be in -Paradise?"</p> - -<p>"He should be, he was an upright prince."</p> - -<p>"In that case, I would like to join him there; it would amuse me vastly -to plague the old <i>émigré.</i>"</p> - -<p>The conversation was here interrupted by M. de Sémonville, who came to -try and extract information from the prisoner. Finding he could not get -anything from him, he said to Louvel—</p> - -<p>"Is there anything you want?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur le comte," replied the condemned man, "I have had to sleep -between such coarse sheets in prison, I would like some finer ones for -my last night."</p> - -<p>The request was granted. Louvel had his fine sheets and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> slept soundly -between them from nine at night till six o'clock the next morning. On -6 June, at six in the evening, he was taken from the Conciergerie: it -was the time of the famous troubles of which we shall speak presently. -The streets were blocked, and there were spectators even on the roofs. -He wore a round red cap and grey trousers, and a blue coat was fastened -round his shoulders. The papers next day announced that his features -were changed and his gait enfeebled.</p> - -<p>Nothing of the kind: Louvel belonged to the family of assassins to -which Ravaillac and Alibaud were akin—that is to say, he was a man of -stout courage. He mounted the scaffold without bombast and also without -any trace of weakness, and he died as men do who have sacrificed their -lives to an idea.</p> - -<p>His cell was the last in the Conciergerie, to the right, at the bottom -of the corridor; it was the same in which Alibaud, Fieschi and Meunier -had been kept.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> M. Decazes, Ministre de l'Intérieur, had charge of the -police.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIa" id="CHAPTER_VIa">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - - - -<p class="center">Carbonarism</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I will now (1821) give some details of the Carbonari movement—a -subject on which Dermoncourt and I had held long conversations. -Dermoncourt was an old aide-decamp of my father, whose name I have -often mentioned in the earlier chapters of these Memoirs—he was one of -the principal leaders in the conspiracy of Béfort.</p> - -<p>You will recollect the troubles of June; the death of young Lallemand, -who was killed whilst trying to escape and was accused after his -death of having disarmed a soldier of the Royal Guard. It was thought -that the dead could be accused with impunity. But his father defended -him. The Censorship—sometimes a most infamous thing—prevented the -poor father's letter from appearing in the papers. M. Lafitte had to -take his letter to the Chambers and to read it there before he could -make its contents known to the public. I give it in the form in which -Lallemand sent it to the newspapers, when they refused to publish it:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SIR</span>,—Yesterday my son was beaten to death by a soldier -of the Royal Guard; to-day he is defamed by the <i>Drapeau -blanc</i>, the <i>Quotidienne</i> and the <i>Journal des Débats.</i> -I owe it to his memory to deny the fact cited by those -papers. The statement is false! My son did not attempt -to disarm one of the Royal Guard; he was walking past -unarmed when he received from behind the blow that killed -him. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LALLEMAND</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>The military conspiracy of 19 August was the outcome of the troubles -of June. The chief members of the lodge <i>Des<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> Amis de la Verité</i> were -involved in that conspiracy. They afterwards separated. Two of the -affiliated members, MM. Joubert and Dugier, set out for Italy. They -reached Naples in the midst of the Revolution of 1821—a Revolution -during which patriots were shamefully betrayed by their leader, -François. The two named above threw themselves into the Revolution and -were affiliated to the Italian Carbonari, while Dugier returned to -Paris, a member of a higher grade in the Society. This institution, as -yet unknown in France, had greatly appealed to Dugier, and he hoped -to be able to establish it in France. He set forth the principles and -aims of the Society to the executive council of the lodge <i>des Amis -de la Vérité</i> on whom they produced a profound impression. Dugier had -brought back with him the rules of the Italian Society and he was -authorised to translate them. This task he accomplished; but the type -of religious mysticism which formed the basis of these rules was not -in the least congenial to French minds. They adopted the institution, -minus the details which, at that epoch, would have made it unpopular; -and M. Buchez—the same who on 15 May had tried to make Boissy-Anglas -forgotten—and MM. Bazard and Flottard were deputed to establish the -French Carbonari upon a basis better suited to French conditions of -mind and thought. On 1 May 1821, three young men, then unknown, none -of them thirty years old, met for the first time in the depths of -one of the poorest quarters of the capital, in a room which was very -far removed from representing, even to its owner, the golden mean -spoken of by Horace. They sat at a round table, and with grave and -even gloomy faces—for they were not ignorant of the terrible work to -which they were going to devote their lives—they defined the first -tenets of that Society of Carbonari which changed the France of 1821 -and 1822 into one vast volcanic disturbance whose flames' burst out -at the most opposite and unexpected quarters, at Effort, la Rochelle, -Nantes and Grenoble. What was still more remarkable, the work which -these three revolutionary chemists were preparing had only one object -in view, namely, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> draw up a code for future conspirators, leaving -everyone perfectly free to agitate against anything he individually -chose, provided he conformed to the main rules of the association. -The following is a résumé of these rules: "Since might is not right, -and the Bourbons have been brought back by foreigners, the Carbonari -band together to secure for the French nation free exercise of their -rights—namely, the right to choose what form of government may be most -suited to the country's needs."</p> - -<p>It will be seen that nothing was clearly defined; but in reality a -Republican form of government was being shadowed forth. This, however, -was not to be proclaimed until thirty-seven years later, and only then -to be struck dead from its birth, by the very hand to which it owed its -being. It need hardly be said that the hand was the hand of Napoleon: -it is a family tradition of the Napoleons to strangle liberty as soon -as it has produced a first consul or a president; even as in the case -of those beautiful aloes which only flower once in fifty years and -perish when they have brought forth their brilliant but ill-fated -blossoms, which are but barren and deadly flowers.</p> - -<p>The division of the Carbonari into higher, central and private lodges -is well known. None of these lodges was allowed to contain more than -twenty members—thus avoiding the penal law directed against societies -which comprised over twenty members. The Higher Lodge was composed -of the seven founders of the Carbonari. These seven founders were -Bazard, Dugier, Flottard, Buchez, Carriol, Joubert and Limperani. Each -Carbonaro was expected to keep a pistol and fifty cartridges in his -house, and he had to hold himself in readiness to obey orders sent him -by his commanders from the Higher Lodge, whether by day or night.</p> - -<p>While the Society of Carbonari was being organised with its upper -lodge of seven members above named, something of the same kind of -thing was being established in the Chamber—only less active, vital -and determined in character. It was called the <i>Comité directeur</i>, and -its title sufficiently indicates its purpose. This <i>Comité directeur</i> -was composed of General la<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Fayette, his son Georges de la Fayette, -of Manuel, Dupont (de l'Eure), de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson, -Jacques Koechlin, General Thiars and of MM. Mérilhou and Chevalier. -For military questions the committee added Generals Corbineau and -Tarayre. The <i>Comité directeur</i> and the <i>Higher Lodge</i> were in close -communication with one another. At first their meetings were only -intended for general discussions; for the young Carbonari treated the -old Liberals with contempt, and the latter reciprocated the feeling. -The Carbonari charged the Liberals with feebleness and vacillation; -the Liberals, in their turn, accused the Carbonari of impertinence and -frivolity. They might as well have accused one another of youth and -age. Furthermore, the Carbonari had organised the whole plot of Béfort -without saying a single word to the <i>Comité directeur.</i></p> - -<p>However, Bazard was in league with la Fayette, and well aware of the -general's burning desire after popularity. Now, popular feeling in -1821 was on the side of the party in opposition. The farther they -advanced, the more popular they became. Bazard wrote to the general -asking him to authorise the use of his name as of one in co-operation -with them, and the request was granted. La Fayette possessed this -admirable characteristic: he yielded at the first pressure, without -having taken the initiative personally, and he went farther and -more to the point than most people. The secrets of the Upper Lodge -were revealed to him and he was asked to join it. He accepted the -invitation, was received into their number and became one of the most -active conspirators of Béfort. In this he risked his head, just as much -as did the humblest of the confederates. The boldest members of the -Chamber followed him and enlisted with him in the same cause. These -were Voyer-d'Argenson, Dupont (de l'Eure), Manuel, Jacques Koechlin and -de Corcelles senior. They did not have long to wait for a recognition -of their self-sacrificing devotion. When the Revolution was set afoot -they adopted the groundwork of the constitution of the year III. Five -directors were appointed, and these five were la Fayette, Jacques -Koechlin, de Corcelles senior, Voyer-d'Argenson and Dupont (de l'Eure).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Carbonarism had its military side; indeed it was more military than -civil in character. They relied strongly and with good reason upon the -army in all their movements. The army was abandoned by the king, abused -by the princes, sacrificed to privileged parties and three parts given -over to the Opposition. Lodges were established in most regiments, -and everything was so well arranged that even the very movements of -the regiments served as a means of propaganda. In leaving the town -where the president of the military lodge had been quartered for three -months, six months or a year, as the case might be, he received half -a piece of money, the other half being sent on in advance to the town -where his regiment was going—either to a member of the Higher or -Central Lodge. The two halves of the coin were fitted together, and the -conspirators were thus put into communication. By this means soldiers -became commercial travellers, as it were, charged with the spread of -revolution throughout France. Thus we shall find that all insurrections -which broke out were as much military as civil.</p> - -<p>Towards the middle of 1821 all plans were laid for a rising in Bordeaux -as well as at Béfort, at Neuf-Brisach as well as at Rochelle, at Nantes -and Grenoble, at Colmar and at Toulouse. France was covered with an -immense network of affiliated societies, so that the revolutionary -influence had expanded, unnoticed but active, into the very heart of -social life, from east to west, from north to south. From Paris—that -is, from the Higher Lodge—all orders were issued for the animation -and support of the propaganda; as the pulsations of the heart send -the life-giving blood to all parts of the human body. Everything -was in readiness. Information had been received that, thanks to the -influence of four young men who had been previously compromised in the -rebellion of 19 August, the 29th infantry, a regiment consisting of -three battalions, severally stationed at Béfort, Neuf-Brisach and at -Huningue, had been won over to the Carbonari. These four young men were -a guardsman called Lacombe, Lieutenant Desbordes and Second-Lieutenants -Bruc and Pegulu, to whom were joined a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> lawyer named Petit Jean and a -half-pay officer called Roussillon. Furthermore, there was Dermoncourt, -who had been placed on half-pay and who lived in the market town of -Widensollen, a mile away from Neuf-Brisach; he was engaged in the -coming insurrection to lead the light cavalry which was stationed in -barracks at Colmar. So much for the military operations.</p> - -<p>The civil side of the conspiracy was also in motion and conducted by -MM. Voyer-d'Argenson and Jacques Koechlin, who possessed factories, -near Mulhouse and Béfort, and who exercised great influence over their -workpeople, almost all of whom were discontented with the Government -that had given back to the nobles their ancient privileges, and to -the priests their old influence. These malcontents were eager to take -part in any rising into which a leader might be ready to urge them. -So, towards the close of 1821, the Higher Lodge in Paris received the -following news:—</p> - -<p>At Huningue, Neuf-Brisach and at Béfort the 29th infantry was -stationed, commanded by Lieutenants Carrel, de Gromely and Levasseur; -at Colmar was the light cavalry headed by Dermoncourt; at Strasbourg -they had a stand-by in the two regiments of artillery and in the -battalion of <i>pontoniers</i> at Metz in a regiment of engineers, and -better still the military school: finally, at Spinal they had a -regiment of cuirassiers, MM. Koechlin and Voyer-d'Argenson could be -relied upon not only for a rising at Mulhouse, but also all along the -course of the Rhine where private lodges were stationed; making a total -of more than 10,000 associates amongst the retired officers, citizens, -customs officers and foresters: all were men of determined character -and ready to sacrifice their lives.</p> - -<p>About this time, my poor mother, on reckoning up her income, found we -were so poor that she bethought her of our friend Dermoncourt, in hopes -that he might perhaps have still some relations with the Government. -So she decided to write and beg him to make inquiries with respect to -that unpaid pension of 28,500 francs owing to my father for the years -VII and VIII of the Republic. The letter reached Dermoncourt about 20 -or 22 December—eight days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> before the outbreak of insurrection. He -replied by return of post, and on 28 December we received the following -letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY GOOD MADAME DUMAS</span>,—What the devil possesses you -to imagine that I could have maintained relations with -that rabble of scoundrels who manage our affairs at -the present moment? Nay, thank heaven, I have retired, -I have nothing at all to do either by means of pen or -sword with what is going on. Therefore, my dear lady, do -not count on a poor devil like me for anything beyond -my own miserable pittance of 1000 francs per annum; but -look to God, who, if He does watch what goes on here -below, should be very angry at the way things are done. -There are two alternatives: either there is no good God, -or things would not go on as they are; but I know you -believe in the good God—so put your trust in Him. One of -these days things will be altered. Ask your son, who must -be a tall lad by now, and he will tell you that there is -a saying by a Latin author called Horace to the effect -that after rain comes fine weather. Keep your umbrella -open, then, a little longer and, if fine weather comes, -put it down and count on me.</p> - -<p>"Be hopeful; without hope, which lingers at the bottom of -every man's heart, there would be nothing left to decent -folk but to blow out their brains.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 60%;">"BARON DERMONCOURT"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter said very little and yet it said a good deal: my mother -gathered that something lay behind it and that Dermoncourt was in the -secret.</p> - -<p>On the day following the receipt of our letter this is what was -happening at Béfort: carrying out the plan of the conspirators, the -signal was sent to Neuf-Brisach and Béfort at the same moment; and at -the identical hour and day, or rather the same night, these two places -took up arms and raised the tricolour standard. The insurrection took -place on the night of 29-30 December. A Provisional Government was -proclaimed at Béfort and then at Colmar. This Government, as we have -already mentioned, consisted of Jacques Koechlin, General la Fayette -and Voyer-d'Argenson. Twenty-five or thirty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> Carbonari had received -orders to set out to Béfort. They started without a moment's delay, and -arrived on the 28th in the daytime. On the 28th, just as Joubert, who -had preceded them to Béfort, was preparing to leave the town in order -to lead them in, he met M. Jacques Koechlin. M. Koechlin was looking -for him to tell him a singular piece of news. M. Voyer-d'Argenson, -who with himself and General la Fayette formed the revolutionary -triumvirate, had indeed come, but had shut himself up in his factories -in the valleys behind Massevaux, stating that he did not wish to -receive anyone there, but that the instructions brought were to be kept -for him.</p> - -<p>"All very well, but what are we to do?" asked Joubert.</p> - -<p>"Listen," said M. Koechlin: "I will go myself to Massevaux; I will look -after d'Argenson and draw him out, willy nilly, whilst you must try by -what means you can to hurry up the arrival of la Fayette."</p> - -<p>Whereupon the two conspirators left, the one, M. Koechlin, post haste, -as he said, to Massevaux, a little village off the main road, perhaps -seven miles from Béfort and equidistant from Colmar; the other, -Joubert, posted off to Lure, a small town on the road to Paris, twenty -leagues from Béfort. There a carriage stopped, and he recognised two -friendly faces inside, those of two brothers, great painters and true -patriots, Henri and Ary Scheffer; with them was M. de Corcelles junior. -Joubert very soon made them acquainted with what was happening. Ary -Scheffer, the intimate friend of General la Fayette, retraced his steps -to go and look for him at his castle of La Grange. The others returned -with Joubert to Béfort to announce that the movement was delayed. Thus -the 29th and 30th passed in useless waiting. On the night between those -two days General Dermoncourt, becoming impatient, sent to Mulhouse an -under-foreman called Rusconi, belonging to M. Koechlin. This man had -been once an officer in the Italian army and had followed Napoleon to -Elba. He was sent to inquire whether anything had been learnt by M. -Koechlin. Rusconi set off at ten o'clock a.m., covered nine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> stiff -leagues of country in driving rain, and reached M. Koechlin's house at -ten o'clock that night: he found him entertaining ten of his friends, -and he took him aside to inquire whether he had news of the conspiracy. -M. d'Argenson would not budge; there was no news yet from la Fayette; -it was supposed he was being detained by Manuel. In the meantime -General Dermoncourt was to be patient, and he should be informed when -it was time to act.</p> - -<p>"But," demanded the messenger, "for whom is he to act?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! there lies the difficulty," replied M. Koechlin: "the generals -want Napoleon II.; the others, with Manuel at their head, want -Louis—Philippe; General la Fayette wants a Republic ... but let us -first overthrow the Bourbons and then all will come clear."</p> - -<p>Rusconi left, hired a carriage, journeyed all that night, reached -Colmar at ten o'clock next day, and from Colmar he went on foot to -Widensollen, where he found the general ready for action. Nothing had -been done during his absence. This is what had happened. Ary Scheffer -had found la Fayette at La Grange. The general, who belonged to the -Chamber and whose absence would have been remarked if he stayed away -longer, did not wish to reach Béfort until the decisive moment. He -promised to set out that night on one condition—that M. Ary Scheffer -should make all speed to Paris to persuade Manuel and Dupont (de -l'Eure), the last two members of the Provisional Government, to come -and take part in the rebellion; he must also bring back Colonel -Fabvier, a man of judgment and courage, to take command of the -insurgent battalions. Ary Scheffer started for Paris, met Manuel, -Dupont and Fabvier, and got Manuel and Dupont to promise to set out -that same night. He took Colonel Fabvier in his carriage and again set -out after la Fayette, followed by Manuel and Dupont.</p> - -<p>Whilst this string of carriages was bearing the revolution at full -speed along the road from Paris, whilst M. Jacques Koechlin, preceded -by Joubert and Carrel, was nearing Béfort, and whilst Colonel Pailhès, -unaware of the arrival of Fabvier,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> was preparing to take command of -the troops, and Dermoncourt, with horse ready saddled, awaited the -signal, Second-Lieutenant Manoury, one of the chief associates, was -changing guard with one of his comrades and installing himself at -the main gate of the town, at the same time that the other initiated -members were warning their friends that the moment had come and that -in all probability the rising would take place during the night of 1 -January 1822. Now the evening of 1 January had come. Only a few hours -more and all would burst forth. In the meanwhile night approached. At -eight o'clock the roll was called. After roll-call the non-commissioned -adjutant, Tellier, went the round of all the sergeant-majors, ordering -them to their rooms, where each company put flints to the muskets, -packed knapsacks and prepared to march. The sergeant-majors returned -to supper with Manoury. Twenty paces from the place where Manoury and -his sergeant-majors supped, Colonel Pailhès went to the <i>Hôtel de la -Poste</i> to dine with a score of the insurgents, and as the host of a -posting-inn is generally one of the principal ringleaders, no one was -anxious, and the dining-room was decorated with tricoloured flags and -cockades and eagles. And, indeed, what had they to fear? No officer -occupied the barracks, and at midnight the insurrection broke out.</p> - -<p>Alas! none knew what an accumulation of unlooked-for misfortunes was to -escape out of the Pandora's box which men call fate!...</p> - -<p>A sergeant whose six months' furlough had expired that evening and -who in consequence of his long absence knew nothing of what was going -forward, reached Béfort on the evening of 1 January just in time -to answer to the roll-call and to assist in the preparations. When -these preparations were accomplished, he wished to show proof of his -promptness and zeal to his captain by going to tell him the regiment -was ready.</p> - -<p>"Ready for what?" asked the captain.</p> - -<p>"To march."</p> - -<p>"To march where?"</p> - -<p>"To the place which has been appointed."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<p>The captain gazed at the sergeant.</p> - -<p>"What is it you say?" he asked again.</p> - -<p>"I say that the knapsacks are packed, captain, and the flints are in -the muskets."</p> - -<p>"You are either drunk or mad," cried the captain; "take yourself off to -bed."</p> - -<p>The sergeant was just about to withdraw, in fact, when another officer -stopped him and questioned him more minutely, gathering by the accuracy -of his replies that it was really the truth.</p> - -<p>"How could such an order be given unless the two captains had known of -it?"</p> - -<p>"Who gave the order?... Doubtless it must have been the -lieutenant-colonel?"</p> - -<p>"No doubt," the sergeant replied mechanically.</p> - -<p>Both the captains rose and went to find the lieutenant-colonel. He was -equally astonished and as much in the dark as they were.</p> - -<p>The order must have come from M. Toustain, deputy-governor and -commander-at-arms of the fortress of Béfort. They all three went to M. -Toustain. He had not heard anything of the rumour they brought him; but -suddenly an idea struck him. It was a plot. The two captains at once -rushed back to the barracks to order the knapsacks to be unstrapped, -the flints to be taken out of the muskets and the soldiers to be -confined to the barracks.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the deputy-governor visited the posts. The two officers -rushed to the barracks and M. Toustain began his inspection. One of the -first posts he came to was that guarded by Manoury. As he came nearer -he saw by the light of his lantern a group of four people. This group -struck him as looking suspicious and he accosted them. They were four -young men dressed like citizens. The king's lieutenant interrogated -them.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, gentlemen?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"We are citizens of this neighbourhood, commandant."</p> - -<p>"What are your names?"</p> - -<p>Whether from carelessness or from surprise, or whether they did not -want to lie, these four youths gave their names—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Desbordes, Bruc, Pegulu and Lacombe."</p> - -<p>The reader will recollect that they had all four been in the -insurrection of 19 August, and their names had been blazoned in the -papers, so they were perfectly familiar to the deputy-governor; he -called to the head of the guard, Manoury, and ordered him to arrest -the four young men, to put them under a guard, and then to give him -five men to go out and clear the entrance to the suburbs. Scarcely -had the deputy-governor gone a hundred steps, when he perceived what -looked to be twenty-five or thirty persons taking flight: some of them -were in uniform; amongst them he recognised an officer of the 29th. M. -Toustain sprang on him and stretched out his hand to seize him by the -collar; but the officer freed himself, and presenting a pistol at close -quarters, fired full at M. Toustain's chest, the bullet hitting the -cross of St. Louis, which it broke and flattened. The shock was quite -enough, however, to knock down the commandant. But he soon got to his -feet, and as he saw that his five men were no match against thirty, he -returned to the town and stopped at the guard-house to take up Bruc, -Lacombe, Desbordes and Pegulu. All four had disappeared: Manoury, one -of the officers, had set them free and had disappeared with them. The -deputy-governor marched straight to the barracks and put himself at -the head of the battalion. This he led to the market-place, sending -his company of grenadiers to guard the gate of France and to arrest -whoever should attempt to go out. But he was already too late—for all -the insurgents were outside the town. After leaving his two chiefs, -the non-commissioned officer who had let out everything met Adjutant -Tellier, he who had given the order to pack up knapsacks and put flints -to the guns. He told him what had happened and the measures that had -been taken. Tellier realised that all was lost: he ran to the <i>Hôtel de -la Poste</i>, and opening the door, shouted out in the midst of the supper -party the terrible words—</p> - -<p>"All is discovered!"</p> - -<p>Two officers, Peugnet and Bonnillon, still misbelieved and offered to -go to the barracks; indeed, they went. Ten minutes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> later they ran -back: the news was but too true, and there was only just time for -flight. And they fled.</p> - -<p>That was how the deputy-governor encountered Peugnet and his friends -outside the gate of France, for it was Peugnet whom he tried to arrest -and who fired the pistol-shot which flattened the cross of St. Louis.</p> - -<p>Pailhès and his supper companions had scarcely left the hotel when -Carrel and Joubert arrived upon the scene. They had come to announce, -in their turn, the discovery of the conspiracy. They only found in -the dining-room Guinard and Henri Scheffer, who were just leaving it -themselves. But not being natives of that country, they did not know -where to fly! Guinard, Henri Scheffer and Joubert mounted a carriage -and took the road to Mulhouse. M. de Corcelles junior and Bazard set -out to meet la Fayette in order to turn him back. When near Mulhouse, -Carrel quitted his three companions, took to horse and returned to -Neuf-Brisach, where his battalion was stationed. At the gate of Colmar -he met Rusconi on the road, the same fellow who, the evening before, -had been at Mulhouse.</p> - -<p>General Dermoncourt still waited, placing Rusconi as sentinel to bring -news to him. Rusconi knew Carrel and learnt from him that all had been -discovered and that the conspirators were fleeing.</p> - -<p>"But where will you go?" asked Rusconi.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, I shall go to Neuf-Brisach to resume my duties."</p> - -<p>"That does not seem to me a prudent course."</p> - -<p>"I shall keep a look-out and at the first alarm I shall decamp.... Have -you any money?"</p> - -<p>"I have a hundred louis belonging to the conspiracy, take fifty of -them."</p> - -<p>"Give them to me, and then take my horse and go and warn the general."</p> - -<p>The exchange was made, and Carrel continued his journey on foot, while -Rusconi reached the general's country house at a gallop. The general -was just rising. Rusconi acquainted him with the failure of the -enterprise at Béfort, but Dermoncourt refused up to the last to believe -it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Ah, well," he said, "the failure of Béfort must mean success at -Neuf-Brisach."</p> - -<p>"But, general," said Rusconi, "perhaps the news has already got abroad -and measures have been taken to frustrate everything?"</p> - -<p>"Then go to Colmar to make inquiries, and I will go to Neuf-Brisach: -return here in two hours' time."</p> - -<p>Each went his way. When Rusconi reached Colmar he entered the <i>Café -Blondeau</i> for news. All was known.</p> - -<p>Whilst making his inquiries, a magistrate who was a friend of General -Dermoncourt found means to warn him that two orders of arrest had been -issued, one against himself and the other against the general. Rusconi -did not wait to learn more, but set off immediately for Widensollen. He -arrived at midnight, and found the general was sleeping peacefully: he -had been to Neuf-Brisach and had satisfied himself that all attempts -at rising were now impossible after what had occurred at Béfort. -At Rusconi's fresh news and at his wife's urgent entreaty, General -Dermoncourt decided to leave Widensollen for Heiteren. There he sought -refuge with a cousin, an old army-teacher. Two hours after their -departure the soldiers and a magistrate appeared at Widensollen.</p> - -<p>Baroness Dermoncourt sent the general word of this by their gardener, -urging him to fly without a moment's loss of time. They discussed the -possibility of crossing the Rhine, and decided that on the following -day they would pretend to go on a hunting excursion among the islands -which lay opposite Geiswasser. Geiswasser is a small hamlet situated on -this side of the Rhine, inhabited by fishers and customs officers.</p> - -<p>The pretext was all the more plausible as the islands were teeming -with game and General Dermoncourt had, together with M. Koechlin of -Mulhouse, rented several of them for shooting. At dawn they set out -with dogs and guns. They had hired the boatmen overnight and found them -ready. About nine o'clock, in a mist which prevented seeing ten paces -ahead, they embarked and told the boatmen to make for mid-stream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> They -landed at one of the islands. Rusconi and Dermoncourt alone remained in -the boat, whilst those who had nothing to be afraid of pretended to go -and shoot.</p> - -<p>"Now, my men, I have business on the other side the Rhine," the general -said to the boatmen. "You must have the goodness to take me across."</p> - -<p>The boatmen looked at each other and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Willingly, general," they replied. A quarter of an hour later Rusconi -and Dermoncourt were in Breisgau.</p> - -<p>When he had put foot on the Grand Duke of Baden's territory, he drew a -handful of sovereigns from his pocket and gave them to the boatmen.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, general," they replied; "but there was really no need for -that. We are true Frenchmen and we would not like to see a brave man -like yourself shot."</p> - -<p>These boatmen knew about Béfort and were perfectly aware that they were -conducting fugitives and not a hunting party.</p> - -<p>The general retreated to Freiburg and from there he went to Bâle. On 5 -and 6 January we read the full details of the conspiracy in the papers.</p> - -<p>The name of Dermoncourt took such a prominent part in the proceedings -that we were quite sure if he were arrested his arrears of half-pay -would never be settled.</p> - -<p>These particulars explained his letter, and we were able to understand -what sort of fine weather to expect after the rain. Instead of the -barometer rising to "Set fair," it had dropped to "Stormy."</p> - -<p>My poor mother was obliged to keep her umbrella open, as Dermoncourt -had advised. Only the umbrella was such a dilapidated one that it no -longer served to ward off showers.</p> - -<p>In other words—to abandon our metaphor—we had come to the end of our -resources.</p> - -<p>But hope was still left me.</p> - -<p>You ask from what quarter?</p> - -<p>I will tell you.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIa">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My hopes—Disappointment—M. Deviolaine is appointed forest-ranger to -the Duc d'Orléans—His coldness towards me—Half promises—First cloud -on my love-affairs—I go to spend three months with my brother-in-law -at Dreux—The news waiting for me on my return—Muphti—Walls and -hedges—The summer-house—Tennis—Why I gave up playing it—The wedding -party in the wood</p> -</blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I hoped that de Leuven would be able to get our comedies and melodramas -put upon the stage.</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven, his father, finding that no stir was made about his -presence in France, made up his mind to risk returning to Paris. -Adolphe naturally followed his father. His departure, which under any -other circumstances would have filled me with despair, now overwhelmed -me with delight, our ideas being what they were. De Leuven took away -our <i>chefs-d'œuvre</i>: we never doubted that the directors of the -various theatres for which they were destined would receive them with -enthusiasm!</p> - -<p>Thanks to our two vaudevilles and our drama, we would turn aside a -tributary of that Pactolus which, since 1822, had watered M. Scribe's -dominions. I would set sail on that tributary, with my mother, and -rejoin de Leuven in Paris. There a career would open before me, strewn -with roses and bank-notes. It can be imagined how anxiously I waited -Adolphe's first letters. These first letters were slow in coming. -I began to feel uneasy. At last one morning the postman (or rather -post-woman, an old dame, whom we called "Mother Colombe") turned her -steps in the direction of our house. She held a letter in her hand; -this letter was in Adolphe's handwriting and bore the Paris postmark.</p> - -<p>The directors—for reasons Adolphe could not fathom—did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> not put -themselves out to make that fuss over our <i>chefs-d'œuvre</i> he thought -he had the right to expect of them. However, Adolphe did not despair -of getting them a hearing. If he could not succeed in this, he would -have to submit the manuscripts to the critics, which would be most -humiliating! In spite of the gleams of hope which still shone through -the epistle, the general tone of the letter was doleful. In conclusion, -Adolphe promised to keep me well posted concerning his doings.</p> - -<p>I awaited a second letter. The second letter was more than a month -in coming. And then, alas! practically all hope had fled. The <i>Dîner -d'amis</i>, borrowed from M. Bouilly, had not sufficient plot; the <i>Major -de Strasbourg</i> was too much like the <i>Soldat Laboureur</i>, which had just -been played at the Variétés with such great success.</p> - -<p>And as for the <i>Abencérages</i>, every boulevard theatre had received a -play on that subject for the last ten, fifteen, or twenty years.</p> - -<p>Even supposing, therefore, that ours were received, it did not carry us -far.</p> - -<p>Still, we had not yet lost all hope in the matter of the <i>Dîner d'amis</i> -and the <i>Major de Strasbourg.</i></p> - -<p>After vain attempts to gain access at the Gymnase and the Varietés, we -tried the Porte-Saint-Martin, the Ambigue-Comique and the Gaieté.</p> - -<p>As for the unlucky <i>Abencérages</i>, its fate was sealed.</p> - -<p>I shed as bitter a tear over it as Boabdil shed over Grenada, and I -awaited Adolphe's third letter with very gloomy forebodings.</p> - -<p>Our cup of humiliation was full to the brim: we were refused -everywhere. But Adolphe had several plays on the way with Théaulon, -with Soulié and with Rousseau. He was going to try to get them played, -and when played, he would use the influence gained by his success to -demand the acceptance of one of our efforts. This was but poor comfort -and uncertain expectancy. I was greatly cast down.</p> - -<p>In the meantime an event had taken place which would have filled -me with high spirits under any other circumstances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> M. Deviolaine -was appointed keeper of the forests of the Duc d'Orléans; he left -Villers-Cotterets and went to Paris to take over the management of the -forestry department. Two ways of helping me lay open to him: he could -take me into his office, or he could give me open air work. Unluckily, -since my affair with Madame Lebègue, the family had given me the cold -shoulder. This did not discourage my mother, who saw an opening for me -in one or other of these two careers, from approaching M. Deviolaine.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that M. Deviolaine, although he was not an old -soldier, could never disguise the truth. He replied to my mother—</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly, if your rascal of an Alexandre were not an idle lad, I -could find a berth for him; but I confess I have no confidence in him. -Besides, after the goings on there have been, not necessarily his, but -in which at all events he has not denied a share, everybody here would -make a dead set against me."</p> - -<p>Still my mother urged her case. She saw her last hope fading.</p> - -<p>"Very well, then," said M. Deviolaine; "give me some time to think over -things, and later we will see what can be done."</p> - -<p>I awaited my mother's return with the same impatience with which I had -awaited Adolphe's letters. The result was not more satisfactory.</p> - -<p>Two days before, we had received a letter from my brother-in-law, who -was a receiver at Dreux: he invited me to spend a month or two with -him. We had become so poor, alas! that the economy my absence would -produce would go a long way towards compensating my mother for her loss -at my departure. It was, moreover, my first absence: my mother and I -had never been parted except during that wonderful visit to Béthisy, -when the Abbé Fortier had given me my first lessons in hunting. There -was also another person in the town from whom it was a cruel wrench to -tear myself. It can be guessed to whom I refer.</p> - -<p>Although our <i>liaison</i> had lasted more than three years, counting -more than a year of preliminary attentions, I still loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> Adèle very -dearly, and the azure of our sky had hardly had so much as a light -cloud upon it during that period—an almost unique experience in the -annals of a courtship. Yet the poor girl had been feeling sad for some -time. While I was but nineteen, she was already twenty years old; and -our love-making, though delightful child's play, not only promised -nothing for her future, but rather compromised it. As no one thought -ill of our relations with each other, Adèle had received two or three -offers of marriage, all of which she declined, either because they did -not quite meet her views or because she would not sacrifice our love to -them. Was she not in danger of suffering from the same disappointment -which a certain hero of our acquaintance, almost a fellow-countryman, -experienced? After having despised perch, carp and eel, would she not -be compelled to sup with frogs? The prospect was not alluring, hence -her melancholy. Poor Adèle! I perceived that my departure was as -necessary for her welfare as for my own. We wept abundantly, she more -than I, and it was quite natural she should shed the most tears, seeing -she was to be consoled the soonest.</p> - -<p>My going away was settled. We had now reached the month of July 1822. -Only another week—eight days and eight nights!—a last week of -happiness, remained to me; for some presentiment warned me that this -week would be the last. The moment of parting came. We vowed fervently -never to forget one another for one single hour; we promised to write -to each other at least twice a week. Alas! we were not rich enough -to afford the luxury of a letter a day. At last we said our final -farewell. It was a cruel farewell—a separation of hearts even more -than a corporeal separation.</p> - -<p>I cannot explain how I got from Villers-Cotterets to Dreux—although -I can recollect the most trivial details of my youth, almost of my -babyhood. It is evident I must have gone through Paris, since that -is the direct route; but how could I forget having passed through -Paris? I cannot tell whether I stopped there or not. I have not the -faintest recollection whether I saw Adolphe or not. I know I left -Villers-Cotterets, and I found myself at Dreux! If anything could have -distracted my attention,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> it would have been that stay with my sister -and my brother-in-law. Victor, as I have already mentioned, was a -delightful fellow, full of wit, of repartee, of resource. But, alas! -there were too empty places in my heart which were difficult to fill.</p> - -<p>I stayed two months at Dreux. I was there at the beginning of the -shooting season. They told me a story of a three-legged hare, a sort -of enchanted creature seen by all sportsmen, known by all sportsmen, -shot at by all sportsmen; but after each shot the queer beast shook -its ears and only ran the faster. This hare was all the better known, -I might say all the more popular, because it was nearly the only one -in the countryside. We had not gone a quarter of a league from the -house, on the 1st of September, before a hare rose up near me. I gave -chase, I fired and it rolled over. My dog brought it to me: it was the -three-pawed hare! The sportsmen of Dreux united in giving me a grand -dinner. The death of this strange hare, and certain shots that brought -down two partridges at the same time, gave me a reputation in the -department of Eure-et-Loir which has lasted until to-day. But none of -these honours showered upon me, however exalted they were, could make -me stay beyond the 15th of September.</p> - -<p>Adèle's letters had become less and less frequent. Finally they ceased -altogether.</p> - -<p>I left on the 15th of September. I do not remember any more than about -my going, whether I went back through Paris or not. I found myself back -at Villers-Cotterets, and the news that met me on my arrival was—</p> - -<p>"Do you know that Adèle Dalvin is going to be married?"</p> - -<p>"No, I had not heard it, but it is quite likely," I replied.</p> - -<p>Oh! what were the elegies of Parny on Éléonore's faithlessness, or -Bertin's lamentations on the infidelity of Eucharis; oh, my God, how -bloodless they seemed, when I tried to re-read them, with my own heart -wounded!</p> - -<p>Alas! poor Adèle! she was not making a love match: she was going to -marry a man double her own age; he had lived for years in Spain, and he -had brought home a small fortune. Adèle was making a prudent marriage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>I determined to see her the very night I returned. You remember how I -paid my visits to Adèle. I entered the usual way, by slipping back the -bolt of the lock, I opened the door, I met Muphti again, and he gave me -such a greeting that he almost betrayed me by his demonstrations; then, -with my heart thumping as it had never yet beaten, I scaled the wall -and leapt over the two hedges. I felt quite ill when I was once more in -the garden; I leant against a tree to get my breath. Then I went to the -pavilion; but the nearer I drew, and the better I could see things in -the darkness, the more I felt my heart tighten. The shutters were quite -wide open, instead of being closed; the window, instead of being shut, -was half open. I leant on the window-sill: everything was dark inside. -I pushed the two flaps, I knelt on the sill. The room was empty: I felt -the bedside with my hands; the bed was unoccupied. It was evident that -Adèle had guessed I would come, that she had deserted the room, leaving -it easy for me to gain an entrance therein, in order to show me her -intentions. Ah yes! I guessed ... I understood everything. What good -could it do to meet, since all was over between us? I sat down on the -bed and I gave thanks to God for the gift of tears, since He had willed -us to endure sorrow.</p> - -<p>The marriage was fixed for fifteen days hence. During those fifteen -days I kept almost entirely to the house. I went to the park on Sunday, -but only to play tennis. I was very fond of that game, as of all games -of skill; I was rather good at it; for I had very strong muscles and I -could hold out through the longest game and sometimes even longer; this -strength of mine was a terror to other players. On this particular day, -when I wanted to overcome my mental feelings by great physical fatigue, -I gave myself up to the game with a kind of frenzy. One ball, which I -sent as high as a man, hit one of the players and knocked him down; -he was the son of a <i>brigadier de gendarmerie</i>, called Savard. We ran -up to him, and found that the ball had luckily hit him on the top of -his shoulder, a little above the biceps, just where the shirt-sleeve -gatherings come. Had it gone six inches higher I should have killed him -on the spot, for it would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> reached his temple. I threw down my -racquet and I gave up the game: I have never played it since. I went -home, and I tried to find distraction in working. But I could not set -myself to my task: one works with heart and mind combined. Adolphe had -possession of my thoughts; Adèle was in the act of breaking my heart.</p> - -<p>The wedding-day drew near; I could not stay in Villers-Cotterets on -that day. I arranged a bird-snaring party with an old comrade of mine, -a playmate of my younger days, who had been somewhat neglected since de -la Ponce and Adolphe had not only taken hold of my affections but were -influencing my life. He was a harness-maker called Arpin.</p> - -<p>In the evening we went to prepare our tree: it was in a lovely copse, -a quarter of a league or so from the pretty village of Haramont, which -I have since attempted to make famous in <i>Ange Pitou</i> and <i>Conscience -l'innocent.</i> At the foot of this tree, all whose branches we cut off, -to make way for our lime twigs, we built a hut of branches and covered -it with fern fronds, Next day, we were at our post before daybreak; -when the sun rose and shone on our stiff tree, we found the sport -had begun. It was a strange thing that, although when younger I had -taken such pleasure in this sport that I often lay sleepless the night -before, this present snaring had no power to distract my heart from the -anguish weighing upon it.</p> - -<p>O Sorrow, thou sublime mystery by which a man's spirit is raised and -his soul expanded! Sorrow, without which there would be no poetry, for -poetry is nearly always made up of joy and hope in equal parts, with an -equivalent amount of sorrow!</p> - -<p>Sorrow, which leaves its trace for life; a furrow moistened by tears, -whence Prayer springs, the mother of those three heavenly, noble -daughters, whose names are Faith, Hope and Charity! The benediction of -a poet is ever thine, O Sorrow!</p> - -<p>We had taken bread and wine with us; we had breakfasted and had dinner; -the catch was plentiful, and would have been entirely satisfactory -at any other time. We had reached the day's end, the hour when the -blackbird whistles or the robin sings, when the first shadows creep -silently to the heart of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> wood;—suddenly I was startled from my -reverie (if one can so call a formless chaos of thoughts through which -no light had shone) by the sharp sound of a violin and by happy shouts -of laughter. Violin and laughter came nearer, and I soon began to see -through the trees that a player and a wedding party were coming from -Haramont and going towards Villers-Cotterets; they were taking a narrow -side-path, and would pass within twenty paces of me—young girls in -white dresses, youths in blue or black clothes, with large bouquets and -streaming ribbons.</p> - -<p>I put my head out of our hut and uttered a cry. This wedding party -was Adèle's! The young girl with the white veil and the bouquet of -orange blossom who walked in front, and gave her arm to her husband, -was Adèle! Her aunt lived at Haramont. After mass they had been to the -wedding breakfast with the aunt; they had gone by the high road in the -morning; they were returning at night by the shorter way. This short -cut, as I have said, ran within twenty paces of our hut. What I had -fled from had come to find me! Adèle did not see me; she did not know -that she was passing near me: she was leaning against the shoulder of -the man to whom she now belonged in the eyes of man and of God, while -he had his arm round her waist and held her closely to him.</p> - -<p>I gazed for a long time on that file of white dresses which, in the -growing darkness, looked like a procession of ghosts. I heaved a sigh -when it had disappeared. My first dream had just vanished, my first -illusion been shattered!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIIa">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I leave Villers-Cotterets to be second or third clerk at Crespy—M. -Lefèvre—His character—My journeys to Villers-Cotterets—The -<i>Pélerinage à Ermenonville</i>—Athénaïs—New matter sent to -Adolphe—An uncontrollable desire to pay a visit to Paris—How -this desire was accomplished—The journey—Hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins—Adolphe-<i>Sylla</i>—Talma</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>During my absence a place had been offered me as second or third clerk, -I do not know exactly which, with M. Lefèvre, a lawyer at Crespy. It -was a very desirable place, because the clerks were lodged and boarded. -My keep had become such a burden on my poor mother, that she consented -for the second time to part with me in order to save my food. She made -up my little bit of packing—not much bigger than a Savoyard's on -leaving his mountains—and off I set. It was three and a half leagues -from Villers-Cotterets to Crespy: I did the journey on foot one fine -evening, and I duly arrived at M. Lefèvre's.</p> - -<p>M. Lefèvre was, at that period, a fairly good-looking man of -thirty-four or thirty-five, with dark brown hair, a very pale -complexion, and a well-worn appearance physically. You could recognise -he was a man who had lived a long while in Paris, who had taken many -permissible pleasures, and still more forbidden ones. Although M. -Lefèvre was confined to a little provincial town, he might be styled -a lawyer of the old school: he had ceremonious ways with his clients, -ceremonious manners with us, lofty domineering airs with the world at -large. M. Lefèvre seemed to say to all those who had business with him, -"Pray appreciate the honour I am bestowing upon you and your town, in -condescending to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> a lawyer in the capital of a canton when I might -have been in practice in Paris."</p> - -<p>There was one thing that specially called forth from me feelings of -admiration for M. Lefèvre, and it was this: he went to the capital, as -they call it in Crespy, some eight or ten times a year, and he never -lowered himself to take the diligence: when he wanted a conveyance he -would call the gardener. "Pierre," he would say, "I am going to-morrow, -or this evening, to Paris; see that the post-horses are ready in the -chaise at such and such an hour."</p> - -<p>Pierre would go: at the appointed hour the horses would arrive, rousing -the whole district with their bells; the postillion, who still wore -a powdered wig and a blue jacket with red lapels and silver buttons, -would fling himself clumsily, heavily-booted, into the saddle, M. -Lefèvre would stretch himself nonchalantly in the carriage, wrapped in -a big cloak, take a pinch of snuff from a gold box, and say with an air -of careless indifference, "Go on!" and at the word the whip cracked, -the bells jingled and the carriage disappeared round the corner of the -street for three or four days. M. Lefèvre never told us the day or hour -of his return: he would return unawares, for he delighted in taking his -world by surprise.</p> - -<p>But M. Lefèvre was not a bad sort of man. Although cold and exacting, -he was just; he rarely refused holidays when they were asked for, but, -as we shall see, he never pardoned holidays taken without leave.</p> - -<p>My brother-in-law's mother lived at Crespy, so I had a ready entree -into the society of that little town. Alas! alas! what a different -world it was from our three-tiered society of Villers-Cotterets of -which I have spoken, and above all from our own charming little circle -of friends! All the good family of Millet, with whom we had taken -shelter during the first invasion, had disappeared: the mother, the two -brothers, the two sisters, had all left Crespy and lived in Paris. I -have since come across the mother and the eldest sister: they were both -in want. I was dreadfully bored in the heart of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> ancient capital -of Valois! so sick of it that I very often returned home to sleep at -my mother's at Villers-Cotterets, when Saturday evening came, taking -my gun for a shoot on the way; then I would shoulder my gun at six -on Monday morning, and, shooting all the time, I returned to Maître -Lefèvre's before the office opened.</p> - -<p>Thus things went on for three months. I had a pretty room looking into -a garden full of flowers; the evening sun shone into the room; I had -paper, ink and pens in abundance on my table; the food was good, I -looked well enough, and yet I felt I could not possibly continue to -live thus.</p> - -<p>During one of my Sunday excursions I turned in the direction of -Ermenonville. Ermenonville is about six leagues from Crespy, but what -were six leagues to such legs as mine! I visited the historic places -of M. de Girardin, the desert, the poplar island, the tomb of the -Unknown. The poetic side to this pilgrimage revived my poor drooping -Muse a little, like a wan, sickly butterfly coming out of its chrysalis -in January instead of May. I set to work. I wrote partly in prose, -partly in verse, and under the inspiration of a charming young society -damsel named Athénaïs—who knew nothing about it-a bad imitation of -the <i>Lettres d'Émilie</i> by Demoustier, and of the <i>Voyages du chevalier -Berlin</i>. I sent the work to Adolphe when it was finished. Since I -could not achieve success by the stage, I might perhaps attain it by -publishing. I gave it the essentially novel title of <i>Pélerinage à -Ermenonville.</i> Adolphe, naturally enough, could not do anything with -it; he lost it, never found it again, and so much the better. I cannot -recollect a single word of it.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Adolphe was not succeeding any better than I was. -All his hopes fell to the ground, one after another, and he wrote me -that we should never do anything unless we were together. But, to be -together, it would be necessary to leave Crespy for Paris, and how was -this to be done, in the state of my purse, which even on those happy -days when my mother sent me some money never contained more than eight -or ten francs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<p>So it was a material impossibility. But infinite are the mysteries of -Providence. One Saturday in the month of November, M. Lefèvre announced -to us in his usual fashion—by ordering Pierre to have the horses ready -by seven next morning—that he was going to pay one of his monthly -visits to Paris. Almost simultaneously with his giving this order, at -the conclusion of dinner (another of his habits), the cook came and -told me a friend wanted to see me. I went out. It was Paillet, my old -head clerk; like myself, he had left Maître Mennesson. He was living -temporarily on his farm at Vez, where he lodged in the top of a tower, -compared with which the tower of Madame Marlborough, however vaunted -it may be, is a mere trifle. The tower of Vez was really wonderful, -the only remains left standing of a stout castle of the twelfth -century—the ancient nest of vultures now peopled by rooks. Paillet had -come over on horseback, to learn the price of corn, I believe. He was -from time to time head clerk in the provinces or second clerk in Paris; -but his real business, his actual life, was that of a property-owner. -We took a turn round the ramparts. I was in full tide of pouring out -my grievances to this good friend, who loved me so devotedly, and who -sympathised with me to the utmost, when, all of a sudden, I struck my -forehead and burst out with—</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear fellow, I have an idea ...!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Let us go and spend three days in Paris."</p> - -<p>"And what about the office?"</p> - -<p>"M. Lefèvre goes to Paris himself to-morrow; he usually stays away two -or three days; we shall have returned in two or three days' time."</p> - -<p>Paillet felt in his pockets and drew out twenty-eight francs.</p> - -<p>"There, that is all I possess," he said. "And you?"</p> - -<p>"I? I have seven francs."</p> - -<p>"Twenty-eight and seven make thirty-five! How the deuce do you think we -can go to Paris on that? We need thirty francs, to begin with, simply -for a carriage to get there and back."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Wait a bit: I know a way...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"You have your horse?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"We will put our things into a portmanteau, we will go in our -hunting-clothes, with our guns, and we will shoot along the route; we -can live on the game, and so it will cost us nothing."</p> - -<p>"How do you make that out?"</p> - -<p>"It is simple enough: from here to Dammartin, surely we can kill a -hare, two partridges and a quail?"</p> - -<p>"I hope we can kill more than that."</p> - -<p>"So do I, hard enough, but I am putting it at the lowest. When we reach -Dammartin we can roast the hinder portion of our hare, we can jug the -front half, and we can drink and eat."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Then?... We will pay for our wine, our bread and our seasoning with -the two partridges, and we will give the quail to the waiter as a -tip.... There will only remain your horse to trouble about! Come, come, -for three francs a day we shall see wonders."</p> - -<p>"But what the dickens will people take us for?"</p> - -<p>"What does that matter?—for scholars on a holiday."</p> - -<p>"But we only have one gun."</p> - -<p>"That will be all we shall need: one of us will shoot, the other will -follow on horseback; in this way, as it is only sixteen leagues from -here to Paris, it will only mean eight for each of us."</p> - -<p>"And the keepers?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is our worst difficulty. Whichever of us is on horseback must -keep watch; he will warn the one who is poaching. The cavalier must -dismount from his horse, the sportsman will get up, spur with both -heels and clear out of the place at a gallop. The keeper will then come -up to the cavalier, and finding him walking along with his hands in his -pockets, will say, 'What are you doing here, sir?' 'I?...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> You can see -quite well for yourself.' 'Never mind, tell me.' 'I am walking.' 'Just -a minute ago, you were on horseback.' 'Yes.' 'And now you are on foot?' -'Yes.... Is it against the law for a man first to ride and then to -walk?' 'No, but you were not alone.' 'Quite possible.' 'Your companion -was shooting.' 'Do you think so?' 'Good heavens! why, there he is on -horseback carrying his gun.' 'My dear sir, if he is there with his gun -on horseback, run after him and try to stop him.' 'But I can't run -after him and stop him, because he is on horseback and I am on foot.' -'In that case you will be wise, my friend, to go to the nearest village -and drink a bottle of wine to our health.' And at this, one of us will -hold out a twenty-sous piece to the honest fellow, which we will reckon -in among our profit and loss; the gamekeeper will bow to us, go and -drink our health, and we shall pursue our journey."</p> - -<p>"Well, I never! that is not badly conceived," cried Paillet. "... They -tell me you are writing things."</p> - -<p>I heaved a sigh. "It is exactly for the purpose of going to ask de -Leuven for news of the plays I have written that I want to go to -Paris.... And then, once in Paris——"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" interrupted Paillet, "once in Paris, I know a little hotel, rue -des Vieux-Augustins, where I usually put up, and where I am known; once -in Paris, I shall not be anxious."</p> - -<p>"Then it is settled?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes!... it will be a joke."</p> - -<p>"We will start for Paris?"</p> - -<p>"We will."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, better still, let us start to-night, instead of -to-morrow! We can sleep at Ermenonville, and to-morrow evening, leaving -Ermenonville early, we shall be in Paris."</p> - -<p>"Let us leave to-night."</p> - -<p>We went our way, Paillet to his inn, to have his horse saddled; I to -Maître Lefèvre's, to get my gun and to put on my shooting-clothes. A -shirt, a coat, a pair of trousers and a pair of boots were sent off by -the third clerk to Paillet, who stuffed them into a portmanteau; these -things accomplished,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> I shouldered my gun and awaited Paillet outside -the town. Paillet soon appeared. It was too late for shooting: our only -thoughts were to gain the country. I jumped up behind. Two hours later, -we were at Ermenonville.</p> - -<p>It was the second or third time I had visited the <i>Hôtel de la Croix</i>: -so far as I can remember, I was not a profitable customer; but my -antecedents were by no means bad, rather the reverse. We were well -received. An omelette, a bottle of wine and as much bread as we wanted, -constituted our supper. Next day, our account, including the horse's -stabling, came to six francs—leaving twenty-nine. Paillet and I looked -at one another, as much as to say, "Dear me! how money does fly!" -And after two or three sage noddings of the head, we continued our -journey, going across country to Dammartin, where we meant to lunch. -Lunch did not trouble us: it lay in the barrel of our gun, and we set -forth to find it. The country round Ermenonville is full of game and -well guarded; so we had hardly gone a quarter of a league before I had -killed two hares and three partridges with six shots of my gun. I ought -to confess with due humility that these two hares and three partridges -belonged to M. de Girardin-Brégy.</p> - -<p>Now, when my dog was retrieving the third partridge, Paillet gave -the prearranged signal. The figure of a gamekeeper appeared on the -skyline, boldly defined against the white fleecy sky, like one of those -shepherds or country rustics in huge leggings that Decamps or Jadin put -in their landscapes, as a contrast to a lonely and twisted elm-tree.</p> - -<p>The manœuvre had already been discussed. In an instant I was on -horseback, spurring the horse with both heels, and carrying off with -me the incriminating plunder. The dialogue between Paillet and the -gamekeeper was lengthy and animated; but it ended as I had predicted. -Paillet majestically drew a twenty-sous piece from the common purse, -and our total expenditure had reached the sum of seven francs. That was -our loss; but on the profit side of our account we had two hares and -three partridges. Paillet joined me again; I remained on horseback and -he took his turn at hunting. So we alternated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> By ten o'clock in the -morning we were at Dammartin, with three hares and eight partridges. -Of the two gamekeepers we ran across since our last, one had loftily -refused the twenty sous, the other had basely accepted. Our funds were -now reduced to twenty-seven francs. But we were more than half-way -there; and we had three hares and eight partridges to the good! As I -had foreseen, we paid our way, and generously, with a hare and three -partridges. We could have paid our way in larks.</p> - -<p>By eleven o'clock, we were off again, and we made straight tracks for -Paris, which we reached at half-past ten that night, I on foot and -Paillet on horseback, with four hares, a dozen partridges and two -quails. We had a marketable value of thirty francs of game with us.</p> - -<p>When we reached the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i>, Paillet made himself -known and imposed his conditions. He told our host we had made a big -bet with some Englishmen. We had wagered that we could go to Paris -and back without spending a halfpenny, so we wished to gain the bet -by selling our game to him. He engaged to board and put us up, horse -and dog included, for two days and two nights, in exchange for our -twelve partridges, four hares and two quails. Besides this, when we -left he put us up a pasty and bottle of wine. On these conditions, our -host declared he would make a good thing out of us, and offered us a -certificate to certify that, at least while with him, we had not spent -a son. We thanked him and told him our Englishmen would take our word -for it.</p> - -<p>Paillet and I took our bearings and went to get a bath. With all -economy possible, we had had to deduct the sum of three francs fifty -from our remaining balance; we were thus left with twenty-three francs -fifty. We had spent rather less than a third of our wealth; but we had -arrived, and bed and board were assured us for <i>forty-eight hours</i>.</p> - -<p>In spite of the fatigue of the journey, I slept but ill: I was in -Paris! I envied my dog, who, laid down at the foot of my bed, free from -imagination, tired out in body, and indifferent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> to his resting-place, -was taking a nap. Next day I woke up at seven o'clock. In a twinkling I -was dressed.</p> - -<p>De Leuven lived in the rue Pigale, No. 14. It was nearly a league from -the rue des Vieux-Augustins, but, good gracious! what did that matter? -I had covered ten or a dozen leagues the day before, without reckoning -the ins and outs, and I could surely manage one to-day. I set out. -Paillet had business of his own to attend to; I had mine. We should -probably meet at dinner-time, or perhaps not until night. I left the -rue des' Vieux-Augustins by the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs and walked -straight ahead. I saw a passage where a crowd of people were going in -and coming out. I went down seven or eight steps until I thought I -was lost. I wanted to ascend again, but I felt ashamed. I continued -on my way and alighted on the rue Valois. I had made acquaintance, -first go off, with the ugliest passage in Paris, the passage of the -rue Neuve-des-Bons-Enfants. I went down another passage which opened -out before me, and I found myself in the Palais-Royal. I went all -round it: half the shops weren't opened. I stopped in front of the -Théâtre-Français and I saw on the poster—</p> - -<p class="center"> -"To-morrow, Monday, <i>Sylla</i>, a Tragedy in verse, in five<br /> -acts, by M. de Jouy."<br /> -</p> - -<p>I vowed fervently that somehow or other I would get access to the -common purse and I would see <i>Sylla.</i> All the more because I read in -large letters on the same poster—</p> - -<p class="center"> -"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">M. TALMA</span> will take the part of Sylla"<br /> -</p> - -<p>However, since it would be much better to go with the help' of Adolphe, -I immediately inquired my way to the rue Pigale, and started off for -it. After many turnings and twistings, I reached my destination at -about nine in the morning. Adolphe was not yet up; but his father was -walking in the garden. I went up to him. He stopped, let me approach, -held out his hand to me, and said—</p> - -<p>"So you have come to Paris, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Monsieur de Leuven."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>"For some stay?"</p> - -<p>"For two days."</p> - -<p>"What have you come for?"</p> - -<p>"I have come to see two people—Adolphe and Talma."</p> - -<p>"Ah! is that so? You have become a millionaire, then, or you would not -commit such extravagances."</p> - -<p>I told M. de Leuven how Paillet and I had accomplished the journey. He -looked at me for a minute, then he said—</p> - -<p>"You will get on, you have will-power. Go and wake Adolphe; he will -take you to see Talma, who will give you tickets; then come back and -lunch together here."</p> - -<p>That was the very thing I wanted. I took stock of the interior -topography of the house, and rushed off. I only opened two wrong doors -before I found Adolphe's: one was Gabriel Arnault's door; the other, -Louis Arnault's. I lost my way on the first landing: Louis put me -right. I reached Adolphe's room at last. Adolphe slept like the Seven -Sleepers. But had I had to deal with Epimenides I would have wakened -him. Adolphe rubbed his eyes, and could not recognise me.</p> - -<p>"Come, come," I said, "it is really I; wake up and get dressed. I want -to go to Talma."</p> - -<p>"To Talma! What for? You don't mean to say you have a tragedy to read -to him?"</p> - -<p>"No, but I want to ask him for some tickets."</p> - -<p>"What is he playing in now?"</p> - -<p>I fell from my state of exaltation. Adolphe, living in Paris, did -not know what Talma was acting! What was the idiot thinking of? No -wonder he had not yet got my <i>Pélerinage d'Ermenonville</i> placed, or -any of our plays acted. Adolphe got out of bed and dressed himself. At -eleven o'clock we were ringing the bell of a house in the rue de la -Tour-des-Dames. Mademoiselle Mars, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Talma -all lived side by side. Talma was dressing, but Adolphe was an habitué -of the house: they let him in. I followed Adolphe, as Hernani followed -Charles-Quint; I, naturally, behind Adolphe.</p> - -<p>Talma was extremely short-sighted: I do not know whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> he saw me -or not. He was washing his chest: his head was almost shaved—this -astonished me greatly, for I had heard it said, many times, that in -<i>Hamlet</i>, when the father's ghost appears, Talma's hairs could be -seen standing on end. I must confess that Talma's appearance, under -the above conditions, was far from being artistic. But when he turned -round, with his neck bare, the lower part of his body wrapped in a -large sort of white linen wrapper, and he took one of the corners of -this mantle and drew it over his shoulder, half veiling his breast, -there was something so regal in the action that it made me tremble.</p> - -<p>De Leuven laid bare our request. Talma took up a kind of antique -stiletto, at the end of which was a pen, and signed an order for two -seats for us. It was a member's order. Besides the actors' order which -were received on days when they were acting, members had the right to -give two free tickets every day.</p> - -<p>Then Adolphe explained who I was. In those days I was just the son -of General Alexandre Dumas: but that was something. Besides, Talma -remembered having met my father at Saint-Georges's. He held out his -hand to me, and I longed to kiss it. Full of theatrical ambitions as I -was, Talma was like a god to me—an unknown god, it is true, as unknown -as Jupiter was to Semele; but a god who appeared to me in the morning, -and who would reveal himself to me at night. Our hands clasped. Oh, -Talma! if only you had been twenty years younger or I twenty years -older! But at that time the whole honour was mine.</p> - -<p>Talma! I knew the past: you could not guess the future. If anyone had -told you, Talma, that the hand you had just held was to write sixty to -eighty dramas, in each of which you—who were looking out for rôles -all your life—would have found one which you would have acted to -perfection, you would not have allowed the poor youth to go away thus, -blushing at having seen you, proud at having shaken hands with you! But -how could you see anything in me, Talma, since I had not discovered it -myself?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXa" id="CHAPTER_IXa">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The theatre ticket—The <i>Café du Roi</i>—Auguste -Lafarge—Théaulon—Rochefort—Ferdinand Langlé—People who dine -and people who don't—Canaris—First sight of Talma—Appreciation -of Mars and Rachel—Why Talma has no successor—<i>Sylla</i> and the -Censorship—Talma's box—A cab-drive after midnight—The return to -Crespy—M. Lefèvre explains that a machine, in order to work well, -needs all its wheels—I hand in my resignation as his third clerk</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I went back to de Leuven's house hugging the order in my pocket. With -the possibility of procuring another by the means of it, I would not -have parted with it for five hundred francs! I was filled with pride -at the thought of going to the Théâtre-Français, with an order signed -"<i>Talma</i>." We lunched.</p> - -<p>De Leuven raised great difficulties about going to the play: he had an -engagement with Scribe, a meeting with Théaulon, an appointment with I -don't know how many other celebrities besides, that night. His father -shrugged his shoulders, and de Leuven raised no more objections. It -was arranged that we were to go to the Français together; but, as I -wanted to see the Musée, the Jardin des Plantes and the Luxembourg, -he arranged to meet me at the <i>Café du Roi</i> at seven o'clock. The -<i>Café du Roi</i> formed the corner of the rue de Richelieu and the rue -Saint-Honoré. We shall have more to say about it later.</p> - -<p>After luncheon, I set out by myself and went to the Musée. At six -o'clock, I had tramped the tourists' round—that is to say, having -entered the Tuileries by the gate of the rue de la Paix, I had passed -under the Arch, visited the Musée, gone along the Quays, examined -Nôtre-Dame inside and out, made Martin climb up his tree and, under -cover of being a stranger—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>a title which only a blind man or an -evilly disposed person could dispute—I had forced my way through the -gates of the Luxembourg.</p> - -<p>I returned at six o'clock to the hotel, where I found Paillet. Upon -my word, we dined well! Our host was a conscientious man, and he gave -us soup, a <i>filet</i> with olives, roast beef and potatoes <i>à la maître -d'hôtel</i>, the worth of two hares and four partridges, which we absorbed -under other guises. I urged Paillet in vain to come to the Français -with us: Paillet was formerly a second clerk in Paris; he had friends, -or perhaps it would be more truthful to say girl-friends, of other -days, to see again; he refused the offer, pressing though it was, and -I set off for the <i>Café du Roi</i>, not comprehending how there could -be anything more vitally important than to see Talma, or, if one had -already seen him, than to see him again. I reached our rendezvous some -minutes before Adolphe. Paillet had foreseen that I should probably -have some indispensable expenses: he had generously drawn three francs -from the common purse and given them to me. After this, a total of -twenty francs fifty centimes remained to us.</p> - -<p>I went into the <i>Café du Roi</i> and sat down at a table; I calculated -what would cost me the least; I concluded that a small glass of brandy -would give me the right to wait, and at least to look as though I -was a habitué of the establishment; so I ordered one. Now, I had -never managed to swallow one drop of that abominable liquor; however, -although obliged to order it, I was not obliged to drink it. I had -scarcely taken my seat when I saw one of the regular customers (I -judged he was a regular attender, because I saw that he had nothing at -all on the table before him) get up and come towards me. I uttered a -cry of surprise and joy: it was Lafarge. Lafarge had gone a step lower -towards poverty: he wore a coat shiny at the elbows, trousers shiny at -the knees.</p> - -<p>"Why, surely I am not mistaken, it is really you?" he said.</p> - -<p>"It is really I. Sit down here."</p> - -<p>"With pleasure. Ask for another glass."</p> - -<p>"For you?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Take mine, my dear fellow. I never touch brandy."</p> - -<p>"Then why did you ask for it?"</p> - -<p>"Because I did not like to wait till Adolphe came in without asking for -something."</p> - -<p>"Is Adolphe coming here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. We are going to see <i>Sylla</i> together."</p> - -<p>"What! you are going to see that filth?"</p> - -<p>"Filth, <i>Sylla</i>? Why, it is an enormous success!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the success of a wig."</p> - -<p>"The success of a wig?" I echoed, not understanding. "Certainly! Take -away from Sylla his Napoleonic locks, and the piece would never be -played through."</p> - -<p>"But surely M. de Jouy is a great poet?"</p> - -<p>"In the provinces he may be thought great, my dear boy; but here we are -in Paris, and we see things differently."</p> - -<p>"If he is not a great poet, he is at least a man of infinite resource." -"Well, perhaps he might have been thought clever under the Empire; but -you see, my boy, the wit of 1809 is not the wit of 1822."</p> - -<p>"Still, I thought that <i>l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> was written -under the Restoration."</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly; but do you think <i>l'Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> was -by M. de Jouy?"</p> - -<p>"Most certainly, since it appears under his name."</p> - -<p>"Oh, what sweet simplicity!"</p> - -<p>"Then who wrote it?"</p> - -<p>"Why, Merle."</p> - -<p>"Who is Merle?"</p> - -<p>"Hush! he is that gentleman you see over there in a big coat and a -wide-brimmed hat. He has ten times more wit than M. de Jouy."</p> - -<p>"But if he has ten times M. de Jouy's wit, how is it he has not a -quarter of his reputation?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, because, you see, my boy, reputations, as you will find later, are -not made either by wit or talents, but by coteries....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> Just ask for -the sugar; brandy makes me ill if I drink it neat. Waiter! some sugar."</p> - -<p>"But if brandy upsets you, why drink it?"</p> - -<p>"What else can one do?" said Lafarge; "if one passes one's life in -cafés, one must drink something."</p> - -<p>"So you spend all your time in cafés?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly all: I can work best so."</p> - -<p>"In the midst of all the noise and talking?"</p> - -<p>"I am used to that: Théaulon works thus, Francis works thus, Rochefort -works thus, we all work thus. Don't we, Théaulon?"</p> - -<p>A man of thirty to thirty-five, who had been writing rapidly, on quarto -paper, something that looked like dialogue, at this interpellation -lifted up his pale face—red about the cheek bones—and looked at us -kindly.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said; "what is it? Ah! it is you, Lafarge? Good-evening." And -he resumed his work.</p> - -<p>"Is that Théaulon?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes; there's a man of ready wit for you! only he squanders and abuses -his ready wit. Do you know what he is doing now?" "No."</p> - -<p>"He is writing a comedy, in five acts, in verse."</p> - -<p>"What! he can write poetry here, in a café?"</p> - -<p>"In the first place, dear boy, this is not a café: it is a kind -of literary club; everybody you see here is either an author or a -journalist."</p> - -<p>"Well," I said to Lafarge, "I have never seen a café where they -consumed so little and wrote so much."</p> - -<p>"The deuce, you are framing already. You almost made a witticism just -then, do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, in return for the witticism I have almost perpetrated, -tell me who some of these gentlemen are."</p> - -<p>"My dear fellow, it would be useless: you need to be a Parisian to be -acquainted with reputations which are wholly Parisian."</p> - -<p>"But I assure you, my dear Auguste, I am not so provincial in such -matters as you think I am."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have you heard of Rochefort?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Has he not composed some very pretty songs and two or three -successful vaudevilles?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly so. Very well! he is that tall thin man, who is playing -dominoes."</p> - -<p>"Both players are of equal thinness."</p> - -<p>"Ah! quite true!... He is the one whose face always plays and never -wins." A way Rochefort had, gave rise to this joke on the part of his -friend Lafarge. I say gave rise to, and not <i>excused.</i></p> - -<p>"And who is his partner?"</p> - -<p>"That is Ferdinand Langlé."</p> - -<p>"Ah! little Fleuriet's lover?"</p> - -<p>"Little Fleuriet's lover!... Hang it, you talk like a Parisian.... Who -has primed you so well?"</p> - -<p>"Hang it all! Adolphe ... he does not appear to hurry himself."</p> - -<p>"You are in a hurry, then?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I am, and naturally enough: I have never seen Talma."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well, dear boy, hurry up and see him."</p> - -<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> - -<p>"Because he is <i>wearing out</i> horribly."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by <i>wearing out</i>?"</p> - -<p>"I mean he is getting old and growing rusty."</p> - -<p>"I see! But the papers say he has never been fresher in talent or more -beautiful in facial expression."</p> - -<p>"Do you believe what the papers say?"</p> - -<p>"Oh!"</p> - -<p>"You may be a journalist yourself one day, my boy."</p> - -<p>"Well, if I am?"</p> - -<p>"Why, then, when you are, you will see how things come about."</p> - -<p>"And ...?"</p> - -<p>"And you will not believe what the papers say—that is all!" At this -moment the door opened, and Adolphe poked his head in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Be quick," he said; "if we do not hurry, we shall find the curtain -raised."</p> - -<p>"Oh! it is you at last!"</p> - -<p>I darted towards Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"You have forgotten to pay," said Lafarge.</p> - -<p>"Oh! so I have.... Waiter, how much?"</p> - -<p>"One small glass, four sous; six sous of sugar, ten."</p> - -<p>I drew ten sous from my pocket and flung them on the table, and then, -the lighter by fifty centimes, I rushed out of the café.</p> - -<p>"You were with Lafarge?" said Adolphe.</p> - -<p>"Yes.... What is wrong with him?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by what is wrong with him?"</p> - -<p>"He told me that M. de Jouy was an idiot, and Talma a Cassandra."</p> - -<p>"Poor Lafarge!" said Adolphe; "perhaps he had not dined."</p> - -<p>"Not dined! Is he reduced so low as that?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty nearly."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I said, "that explains many things!... MM. de Jouy and Talma dine -every day, and poor Lafarge cannot forgive them for it."</p> - -<p>Alas! I have since seen critics, besides Lafarge, who could not forgive -those who dined.</p> - -<p>I had dined so well that I had quite as much of the spirit of -indulgence in my stomach as curiosity in my mind.</p> - -<p>We went into the theatre. The hall was crowded, although it was about -the eighth performance of the play. We had terrible difficulty in -obtaining seats: our places were unreserved. Adolphe generously gave -forty sous to the woman who showed people to their seats, and she -wriggled a way in so well for us that she found us a corner in the -centre of the orchestra, into which we slipped like a couple of wedges, -which we must have resembled in shape and appearance. We were only -just in time, as Adolphe had said. Scarcely were we seated before the -curtain went up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is odd, is it not, that I should be talking of <i>Sylla</i> to the public -of 1851? "What was <i>Sylla</i>?" a whole generation will exclaim. O Hugo! -how true are your lines upon Canaris! They come back to me now, and, in -spite of my will, flow from my pen:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Canaris! Canaris! nous t'avons oublie!<br /> -Lorsque sur un héros le temps c'est replie,<br /> -Quand ce sublime acteur a fait pleurer ou lire,<br /> -Et qu'il a dit le mot que Dieu lui donne à dire;<br /> -Quand, venus au hasard des revolutions,<br /> -Les grands hommes out fait leurs grandes actions,<br /> -Qu'ils ont jeté leur lustre étincelant ou sombre,<br /> -Et qu'ils sont, pas à pas, redescendus dans l'ombre;<br /> -Leur nom s'éteint aussi! Tout est vain, tout est vain!<br /> -Et jusqu'à ce qu'un jour le poëte divin,<br /> -Qui peut créer un monde avec une parole,<br /> -Les prenne et leur rallume au front une auréole,<br /> -Nul ne se souvient d'eux, et la foule aux cent voix,<br /> -Qui, rien qu'en les voyant, hurlait d'aise autrefois,<br /> -Hélas! si par hasard devant elle on les nomme,<br /> -Interroge et s'étonne, et dit:'Quel est cet homme?'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>No! it is true M. de Jouy was not a hero, although he had fought -bravely in India, nor a great man, although he had composed <i>l'Ermite -de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> and <i>Sylla</i>; but M. de Jouy was a man of parts, -or rather he possessed talent.</p> - -<p>This was my conviction then. Thirty years have rolled by since the -evening on which I first saw Talma appear on the stage. I have just -re-read <i>Sylla</i> and it is my opinion to-day. No doubt M. de Jouy -had cleverly turned to account both the historical and the physical -likeness. The abdication of <i>Sylla</i> called to mind the emperor's -abdication; Talma's head the cast of Napoleon's. No doubt this was the -reason why the work met with such an enthusiastic reception, and ran -for a hundred times. But there was something else besides the actor's -looks and the allusions in the tragedy; there were fine lines, good -situations, a <i>dénoûment</i> daring in its simplicity. I am well aware -that very often the fine lines of one period<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> are not the fine lines of -another,—at least so people hold,—but the four lines which the poet -puts into the mouth of Roscius are fine lines for all time: Roscius, -the Talma of those last days of Rome, who had witnessed the fall of -the Roman Republic, as Talma had witnessed the fall of the French -Republic:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ah! puisse la nature épargner aux Romains<br /> -Ces sublimes esprits au-dessus des humains!<br /> -Trop de maux, trop de pleurs attestent le passage<br /> -De ces astres brûlants nés du sein de l'orage!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then, again, very fine are the lines that the proscriber, who arrests -with his powerful hand the proscription, which was going to include -Cæsar, addresses to Ophelia when Ophelia says to him:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Oserais-je, à mon tour, demander à Sylla<br /> -Quel pouvoir inconnu, quelle ombre protectrice,<br /> -Peut dérober César à sa lente justice?<br /> -<br /> -<i>Sylla.</i> J'ai pesé comme vous ses vices, ses vertus,<br /> -Et mon œil dans César voit plus d'un Marius!<br /> -Je sais de quel espoir son jeune orgueil s'énivre;<br /> -Mais Pompée est vivant, César aussi doit vivre.<br /> -Parmi tous ces Romains à mon pouvoir soumis,<br /> -Je n'ai plus de rivaux, j'ai besoin d'ennemis,<br /> -D'ennemis fibres, fiers, dont la seule presence<br /> -Atteste mon génie ainsi que ma puissance;<br /> -L'histoire à Marius pourrait m'associer,<br /> -César aura vécu pour me justifier!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>When I saw Talma come on to the stage I uttered a cry of astonishment. -Oh yes I it was indeed the impassive mask of the man I had seen pass in -his carriage, his head bent low on his breast, eight days before Ligny, -whom I saw return the day following Waterloo. Many have tried since, -with the aid of the green uniform, the grey overcoat and the little -hat, to reproduce that antique medallion, that bronze, half Greek, -half Roman; but not one of them, O Talma I possessed your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> lightning -glance, with the calm and imperturbable countenance upon which neither -the loss of a throne nor the death of thirty thousand men could imprint -one single line of regret or trace of remorse. Those who have never -seen Talma cannot imagine what he was: in him was the combination of -three supreme qualities which I have never found elsewhere combined -in one man—simplicity, power and poetry; it was impossible to be -more magnificent, with the perfect grace of an actor; I mean that -magnificence which has in it nothing personal attaching to the man, -but which changes according to the characters of the heroes he is -called upon to represent. It is impossible, I say, to find any actor -so endowed with this type of magnificence as was Talma. Melancholy in -<i>Orestes</i>, terrible in <i>Néro</i>, hideous in <i>Gloucester</i>, he could adapt -his voice, his looks, his gestures to each character. Mademoiselle -Mars was but the perfection of the graceful; Mademoiselle Rachel was -but the imperfection of the beautiful; Talma was the ideally great. -Actors lament that nothing of theirs survives themselves. O Talma! -I was a child when on that solemn evening I saw you for the first -time, as you came upon the stage and your gestures began, before that -row of senators, your clients; well, of that first scene, not one of -your actions is effaced from my memory, not one of your intonations -is lost.... O Talma! I can see you still, when these four lines are -uttered by Catiline:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Sur d'obscurs criminels qu'pargne ta clémence,<br /> -Je me tais; mais mon zèle eclaire ma prudence;<br /> -Le nom de Clodius sur la liste est omis,<br /> -C'est le plus dangereux de tous tes ennemis!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I can see you still, Talma!—may your great spirit hear me and thrill -with pleasure at not being forgotten!—I can see you still as with -scornful smile upon your lips you slowly diminish the distance that -separates you from your accuser; I can see and hear you still as you -place your hand upon his shoulder, and, draped like one of the finest -statues in Herculaneum or Pompeii, you utter these words to him, in -the vibrating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> voice which could penetrate to the very depths of one's -being:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je n'examine pas si ta haine enhardie<br /> -Poursuit dans Clodius l'époux de Valérie;<br /> -Et si Catiline, par cet avis fatal,<br /> -Pretend servir ma cause ou punir un rival."<br /> -</p> - -<p>O Talma! your incisive and sonorous intonation took root in the hearts -of all who heard you. It was indeed a fearfully ungrateful and barren -soil which at that unpoetical period of the Empire was left you to -cultivate, for, had you been disheartened by its sterility, there would -have been nothing great, or fine, or wide-spreading, during all those -thirty years in which you wore the Roman sandal or the Greek. Is it -that the spirit of genius, with all its absorbing power, is mortal like -that of the upas tree or the manchineel?</p> - -<p>I should like to continue speaking of Sylla to the end of the play in -order to render tribute to the prodigious talent Talma possessed, and -to follow him in the twofold development of his creation of the rôle of -Sylla and the details of that rôle. But what would be the good? Who is -interested in these things nowadays? Who amuses himself by recalling -thirty years after its extinction the intonation of an actor as he -declaimed line or hemistich or word? What does it matter to M. Guizard, -to M. Léon Faucher, to the President of the Republic, in what manner -Talma replied to Lænas, when he was sent by the Roman populace to learn -from Sylla the number of the condemned, and asked him—</p> - -<p> -"Combien en proscris-tu, Sylla?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>What matters it to those gentlemen to know how Talma uttered his</p> - -<p> -"Je ne sais pas!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>At the most, they can only remember the cadence of voice with which -General Cavaignac pronounced those four words when he was asked how -many people he had transported<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> untried out of France. And let us -remember that it is now but two years since the Dictator of 1848 -uttered these four words, which richly deserve to hold a place in -the annals of history beside those of Sylla. But though Talma was by -turns simple, great, magnificent, it was in the abdication scene that -he rose to actual sublimity. It is true that the abdication of Sylla -recalled that at Fontainebleau, and, we repeat, we have no doubt that -the resemblance between the modern and the ancient Dictator produced -an immense impression upon the vulgar public. This opinion was held by -the Censorship of 1821, which cut out these lines because they were -supposed to refer in turn to Bonaparte, first consul, and Napoleon, the -emperor.</p> - -<p>These to Bonaparte:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -... C'était trop pour moi des lauriers de la guerre;<br /> -Je voulais une gloire et plus rare et plus chère.<br /> -Rome, en proie aux fureurs des partis triomphants,<br /> -Mourante sous les coups de ses propres enfants,<br /> -Invoquait à la fois mon bras et mon génie:<br /> -Je me fis dictateur, je sauvai la patrie!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>These to Napoleon:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"J'ai gouverné le monde à mes ordres soumis,<br /> -Et j'impose silence à tous mes ennemis!<br /> -Leur haine ne saurait atteindre ma mémoire,<br /> -J'ai mis entre eux et moi l'abîme de ma gloire."<br /> -</p> - -<p>When one re-reads at the end of ten, twenty, or thirty years either -the lines which the Censorship forbade, or the plays it suppressed, -one is completely amazed at the stupidity of Governments. As soon -as a revolution has cut off the seven heads of a literary hydra, -governments make all speed to collect them again and to stick them -back on the trunk that feigned death whilst taking care not to lose -its hold on life. As though the Censorship had ever annihilated any -of the works that have been forbidden to be played! As though the -Censorship had strangled <i>Tartuffe, Mahomet, le Mariage de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> Figaro, -Charles IX., Pinto, Marion Delorme</i> and <i>Antony</i>! No, when one of these -virile pieces is hounded from the theatre where it has made its mark, -it waits, calm and erect, until those who have proscribed it fall or -pass away, and, when they are fallen or dead, when its persecutors -are hurled from their thrones, or entering their tombs, the calm and -immortal daughter of Genius, omnipotent and great, enters the enclosure -that the mannikins have closed against her, from whence they have -disappeared, and their forgotten crowns being too small for her brow -become the sport of her feet.</p> - -<p>The curtain fell in the midst of immense applause. I was stunned, -dazzled, fascinated. Adolphe proposed we should go to Talma's -dressing-room to thank him. I followed him through that inextricable -labyrinth of corridors which wind about the back regions of the -Théâtre-Français, and which to-day unfortunately are no longer unknown -regions to me. No client who ever knocked at the door of the original -Sylla felt his heart beat so fast and so furiously as did mine at the -door of the actor who had just personated him. De Leuven pushed open -the door. The great actor's dressing-room lay before us: it was full of -men whom I did not know, who were all famous or about to become famous. -There was Casimir Delavigne, who had just written the last scenes of -<i>l'École des Vieillards;</i> there was Lucien Arnault, who had just had -his <i>Régulus</i> performed; there was Soumet, still very proud of his -twofold success of <i>Saül</i> and of <i>Clytemnestre</i>; there was Népomucène -Lemercier, that paralysed sulky brute, whose talents were as crooked as -his body, who in his healthy moments had composed <i>Agamemnon, Pinto,</i> -and <i>Fridegonde,</i> and in his unhealthy hours <i>Christophe Colomb, la -Panhypocrisiade,</i> and <i>Cahin-Caha;</i> there was Delrieu, who had been at -work upon the revised version of his <i>Artaxerch,</i> since 1809; there -was Viennet, whose tragedies made a sensation for fifteen or twenty -years on paper, to live and agonise and die within a week, like him -whose reign lasted two hours and whose torture three days; there was, -finally, the hero of the hour, M. de Jouy, with his tall figure, his -fine white head, his intellectual and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> kindly eyes, and in the centre -of them all—Talma in his simple white robe, just despoiled of its -purple, his head from which he had just removed the crown and his two -graceful white hands with which he had just broken the Dictator's palm. -I stayed at the door, blushing vividly, and very humble.</p> - -<p>"Talma," said Adolphe, "we have come to thank you." Talma looked round -out of his eye-corners. He perceived me at the door.</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah!" he said; "come in."</p> - -<p>I took two steps towards him.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Poet," said he, "were you satisfied?"</p> - -<p>"I am more than that, monsieur ... I am wonder-struck." "Very well, you -must come and see me again, and ask for more seats."</p> - -<p>"Alas! Monsieur Talma, I leave Paris to-morrow or the day after at -latest."</p> - -<p>"That is a pity! you might have seen me in <i>Régulus.</i> ... You know I -have put <i>Régulus</i> on the bill for the day after to-morrow, Lucien?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Lucien replied.</p> - -<p>"And cannot you stop till the evening of the day after to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Impossible: I have to return to the provinces."</p> - -<p>"What do you do in the provinces?"</p> - -<p>"I dare not tell you: lama lawyer's clerk ..."</p> - -<p>And I heaved a deep sigh.</p> - -<p>"Bah!" said Talma, "you must not give way to despair on that account! -Corneille was clerk to a procurator!... Gentlemen, allow me to -introduce you to a future Corneille."</p> - -<p>I blushed to the eyes.</p> - -<p>"Lay your hand on my forehead: it will bring me good luck," I said to -Talma.</p> - -<p>Talma laid his hand on my head.</p> - -<p>"There—so be it," he said. "Alexandre Dumas, I baptize thee poet in -the name of Shakespeare, of Corneille and of Schiller!... Go back -to the provinces, go back to your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> office, and if you really have a -vocation, the angel of Poetry will know how to find you all right -wherever you be, will carry you off by the hair of your head like the -prophet Habakkuk and will take you where fate determines."</p> - -<p>I took Talma's hand and tried to kiss it.</p> - -<p>"Why, see!" he said, "the lad has enthusiasm and will make something of -himself;" and he shook me cordially by the hand.</p> - -<p>I had nothing more to wait for there. A longer stay in that -dressing-room crowded with celebrities would have been both -embarrassing and ridiculous: I made a sign to Adolphe, and we took our -leave. I wanted to fling my arms round Adolphe's neck in the corridor.</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed," I said to him, "be sure I shall return to Paris. You may -depend upon that!"</p> - -<p>We went down by the little twisting staircase, which has since been -condemned; we left by the black corridor; we went along the gallery -then called the galerie de Nemours, and called to-day I know not what, -and we came out on the place du Palais-Royal.</p> - -<p>"There, you know your way," said Adolphe,—"the rue Croix-des-Petits -Champs, the rue Coquillière, the rue des Vieux-Augustins. Good-night; I -must leave you: it is late, and it is a long way from here to the rue -Pigale.... By the way, remember we lunch at ten and we dine at five."</p> - -<p>And Adolphe turned round the corner of the rue Richelieu and -disappeared. It was indeed late; all lights were out, and only a few -belated people were passing across the place du Palais-Royal. Although -Adolphe had told it me, I did not in the least know my way, and I was -extremely scared when I found myself alone. It must be confessed I -felt very uneasy at being out in the streets of Paris at such a late -hour; for I had heard heaps of stories of night attacks, robberies and -assassinations, and, with my fifty sous in my pocket, I trembled at -the thought of being plundered. A struggle went on in my mind between -courage and fear. Fear won the day. I hailed a cab. The cab came up to -me and I opened the door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Monsieur knows it is past midnight?" said the driver.</p> - -<p>"Of course I know it," I replied; and I added to myself, "That is the -very reason I am taking a cab."</p> - -<p>"Where is the country squire going?"</p> - -<p>"Rue des Vieux-Augustins, <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins."</i></p> - -<p>"What?" said the driver.</p> - -<p>I repeated it.</p> - -<p>"Is monsieur quite sure he wants to go there?"</p> - -<p>"The deuce I do!"</p> - -<p>"In that case, off we go!"</p> - -<p>And lashing his horses, at the same time clicking with his tongue as do -all drivers, he urged them into a canter.</p> - -<p>Twenty seconds later, he pulled up, got down from his seat, and opened -the door.</p> - -<p>"Well ...?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, my country lad, we are at your destination, rue des -Vieux-Augustins, <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins"</i></p> - -<p>I raised my head, and there, beyond doubt, was the house. I then -understood the driver's astonishment at seeing a great bumpkin of -twenty, who seemed in no way unsound of limb, wanting to take a cab -from the place du Palais-Royal to go to the rue des Vieux-Augustins. -But as it would have been too absurd to avow that I did not know the -distance between the two places, I said in a stout voice—</p> - -<p>"All right—what is the fare?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know the fare well enough, young fellow."</p> - -<p>"If I knew it, I should not ask you."</p> - -<p>"It is fifty sous, then."</p> - -<p>"Fifty sous?" I exclaimed, horrified at having incurred such useless -expense.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, young chap, that is the tariff."</p> - -<p>"Fifty sous to come from the Palais-Royal here!"</p> - -<p>"I warned monsieur it was past midnight."</p> - -<p>"There you are," I said; "take your fifty sous."</p> - -<p>"Aren't you going to give me a <i>pourboire</i>, young fellow?"</p> - -<p>I made a movement to strangle the wretch; but he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> strong and -vigorous. I reflected that perhaps he would strangle me, so I stayed -my hand. I rang the bell, the door was opened, and I went inside. I -felt dreadfully stricken with remorse for having squandered my money, -especially when I considered that even had Paillet spent nothing on his -side, we only had twenty francs fifty centimes left. Paillet had been -to the Opera, and had spent eight francs ten sous. Only a dozen francs -were left us.</p> - -<p>We looked at each other with some anxiety.</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "you have seen Talma, I have heard <i>la Lampe -mervilleuse</i>; this was all you wanted to see, all I wanted to hear: if -you agree, let us leave to-morrow, instead of the next day."</p> - -<p>"That is exactly what I was going to suggest to you."</p> - -<p>"All right; do not let us lose any time. It is now one o'clock; let -us get to bed as quickly as possible and sleep until six; then let us -start at seven, and sleep, if we can manage it, at Manteuil."</p> - -<p>"Good-night"</p> - -<p>"Good-night...."</p> - -<p>A quarter of an hour later, we were rivalling one another who could go -to sleep the soundest.</p> - -<p>Next day, or rather the same day, at eight o'clock, we had passed -Villette; at three o'clock, we were dining at Dammartin, under the same -conditions as we had lunched there; at seven, we were having our supper -at Manteuil; and on Wednesday at one o'clock, loaded with two hares -and six partridges,—the result of the economy we had exercised by our -hunting of the previous night and day,—we entered Crespy, giving our -last twenty sous to a poor beggar. Paillet and I parted at the entry -to the large square. I went to Maître Lefèvre's by the little passage, -and up to my room to change my things. I called Pierre, through the -window, and asked him for news of M. Lefèvre. M. Lefèvre had returned -in the night. I gave my game to the cook, went into the office and -slipped into my place. My three office companions were all in their -places. Nobody asked me a question. They thought I had just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> returned -from one of my usual excursions, only one that had lasted rather longer -than usual. I enquired if M. Lefèvre had asked any questions about me. -M. Lefèvre had wanted to know where I was; they had replied that they -did not know, and the matter had ended there. I drew my papers from my -desk and set to work. A few minutes later, M. Lefèvre appeared. He went -to the head clerk, gave him some instructions, and then returned to -his room, without even having seemed to notice my presence, which led -me to think he had taken particular notice of my absence. Dinner-time -arrived. We sat down; all went on as usual; save that, after dinner, -when I was rising to go, M. Lefèvre said to me—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, I want a few words with you."</p> - -<p>I knew the storm was about to burst, and I resolved to keep myself well -in hand.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, monsieur," I replied.</p> - -<p>The head clerk and the office boy, who shared the master's table with -me, discreetly withdrew. M. Lefèvre pointed to a chair opposite his -own, on the other side of the fireplace. I sat down. Then M. Lefèvre -lifted his head as a horse does under the martingale, a gesture which -was customary with him, crossed his right leg over his left leg, held -up one leg till the slipper fell, took his gold snuff-box, inhaled a -pinch of snuff, drew a dignified breath, and then, in a voice all the -more threatening because of its dulcet tones, he said, scratching his -right foot with his left hand, his most cherished habit—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, have you any knowledge of mechanics?"</p> - -<p>"Not in theory, monsieur, only in practice."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you will know enough to understand my illustration."</p> - -<p>"I am listening, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Dumas, in order that a machine may work properly, none of its -wheels must stop."</p> - -<p>"Of course not, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Very well, Monsieur Dumas; I need not say more. I am the engineer, you -are one of the wheels in the machine; for two days you have stopped, -and consequently for two days the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> general action of the machine has -lacked the co-operation of your individual movement."</p> - -<p>I rose to my feet.</p> - -<p>"Quite so, monsieur," I said.</p> - -<p>"You will understand," added M. Lefèvre in a less dogmatic tone, "that -this warning is merely provisional?"</p> - -<p>"You are very good, monsieur, but I take it as definitive."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then, that is better still," said M. Lefèvre. "It is now seven in -the evening, night is coming on, and the weather is bad; but you may -leave when you like, my dear Dumas. From the moment you cease to be -third clerk here you can remain as a friend, and in that capacity the -longer you stay the better I shall be pleased."</p> - -<p>I bowed a graceful acknowledgment to M. Lefèvre and withdrew to my -room. I had taken a great step, and an important career was now closed -to me; henceforth my future was in Paris, and I made up my mind to move -heaven and earth to leave the provinces. I spent half the night in -thinking, and before I fell asleep all my plans were made.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III">BOOK III</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ib" id="CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I return to my mother's—The excuse I give concerning my return—The -calf's lights—Pyramus and Cartouche—The intelligence of the fox more -developed than that of the dog—Death of Cartouche—Pyramus's various -gluttonous habits</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I packed up my things next day and went. I was not without uneasiness -with regard to the way my mother might receive me—my poor mother! -her first expression at seeing me was always one of delight, but my -leaving Maître Lefèvre's would trouble her. So the nearer I drew to -Villers-Cotterets, the slower did my steps become. It generally took -me two hours to walk the three and a half leagues between Crespy and -Villers-Cotterets, for I used to run the last league; but now the -reverse was the case, for the last league took me the longest of all to -cover. I returned in shooting costume after my usual fashion. And my -dog was hardly three hundred yards away before he smelt home, stopped -an instant, lifted up his nose, and set off like an arrow. Five seconds -after he had disappeared down the road, I saw my mother appear on the -threshold. My courier had preceded me and announced my return. She met -me with her usual smile; the whole tenderness of her heart welled up at -my approach and shone in her face. I flung myself in her arms.</p> - -<p>Oh! what a love is a mother's!—a love always good, always devoted, -always faithful; a true diamond lost amongst all the false stones with -which youth decks its happiness; a pure and limpid carbuncle, which -shines in joy as in sorrow, by night as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> by day! My mother's first -thoughts were nought but joyful ones at seeing me again; then, at last, -she asked me how it was I had returned home on Thursday instead of on -Saturday, to spend Sunday with her, going back on Monday as usual.</p> - -<p>I dared not tell her of the misfortune that had befallen me. I told her -that, as business was slack at the office, I had obtained a holiday for -several days, which I meant to spend with her.</p> - -<p>"But," my mother observed, "I see you are wearing your hunting-coat and -breeches."</p> - -<p>"Yes, why not?"</p> - -<p>"How is it you have nothing in your game-bag?"</p> - -<p>It was not indeed customary for me to return with the game-bag empty.</p> - -<p>"I was so anxious to see you, dear mother, that instead of shooting, I -came the shortest way, by the high road."</p> - -<p>I lied. Had I spoken the truth, I should have said, "Alas! dear mother, -I was so much taken up with thinking what effect my news would have -upon you that I never thought of shooting, though at other times I have -forgotten everything for that passion." But had I told her that, I -should have had to tell her the news, and I wanted to delay it as long -as possible.</p> - -<p>An incident freed me from embarrassment and diverted my mother's -thoughts for the moment. I heard my dog howl.</p> - -<p>I ran to the door. The next house to ours was that of a butcher, -called Mauprivez. In the front of the butcher's slab there was a long -cross-bar of painted wood, in which at different intervals iron hooks -were fixed to hold various specimens of meat. In jumping up at a calfs -lights, Pyramus had got hooked like a carp on a fish-hook, and hung -suspended. That was why he howled, and, as will readily be imagined, -not without cause. I seized hold of him by the body, unhooked him, -and he rushed into the stable, his jaws bleeding. If I ever write the -history of the dogs that have belonged to me, Pyramus shall have a -prominent place by the side of Milord. I may therefore be allowed to -leave in suspense the interest my return naturally created, to talk -a bit about Pyramus, who, in spite of his name, which indicated that -all sorts of love misfortunes were before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> him, had never had, to my -knowledge, any misadventures except gastronomic ones. Pyramus was a -large chestnut-coloured dog, of very good French pedigree, who had been -given me when quite a puppy, with a fox-cub of the same age, which -the keeper who gave him me (it was poor Choron of la Maison-Neuve) -had had suckled by the same mother. I often amused myself by watching -the different instincts of these two animals develop, as they were -placed opposite one another in the yard in two parallel recesses. For -the first three or four months an almost brotherly intimacy reigned -between Cartouche and Pyramus. I need not mention that Cartouche -was the fox and Pyramus the dog. Nor need I mention that the name -of Cartouche was given to the fox in allusion to his instincts of -stealing and depredation. It was Cartouche who began to declare war -on Pyramus, although he was the weaker looking; this declaration of -war took place over some bones which were within Cartouche's boundary, -but which Pyramus had surreptitiously tried to annex. The first time -Pyramus attempted this piracy, Cartouche snarled; the second time, he -showed his teeth; the third time, he bit. Cartouche was the more to -be excused because he was always on the chain, while Pyramus had his -hours of liberty. Cartouche, restrained to a very circumscribed walk, -could not therefore, at full length of his chain, do unto Pyramus the -evil deeds which Pyramus, abusing his liberty, was guilty of on his -side. On account of this captivity, I was able to notice the superior -intelligence of the fox over that of the dog. Both were gourmands in -the highest degree, with this difference, that Pyramus was more of a -glutton and Cartouche more of an epicure. When they both stretched to -the full length of their chains, they could reach a distance of nearly -four feet, from the opening of their recesses. Add ten inches for the -length of Pyramus's head, four inches for Cartouche's pointed nose, and -you will arrive at this result, that whilst Pyramus, at the length of -his chain, could reach a bone at four feet ten inches from his recess, -Cartouche could only perpetrate the same deed four feet four inches -from his. Very well, if I placed a bone six feet off,—that is to -say, out of the reach of both,—Pyramus had to content<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> himself with -stretching his chain with the whole strength of his sturdy shoulders, -but not being able to break it, he would stand with fixed bloodshot -eyes, his jaws slobbering and open, attempting from time to time, -with plaintive whines, to exorcise the distance, or, by desperate -efforts, to break his chain. If the bone were not either taken away -or given him, he would have gone mad; but he had never succeeded, by -any ingenious contrivance, to snatch the prey beyond his reach. It was -another matter with Cartouche. His preliminary tactics were the same as -those of Pyramus, and consequently equally fruitless. But soon he began -to reflect, rubbing a paw on his nose; then, all at once, as though a -sudden illumination had come into his mind, he turned himself round, -adding the length of his body to the length of his chain, dragged the -bone into the circle of his kingdom, by the help of one of his hind -paws, turned round again, seized hold of the bone, and entered into -his kennel, from which it was not rejected until it was as clean and -polished as ivory. Pyramus saw Cartouche perform this trick ten times; -he would howl with jealousy as he listened to his comrade's teeth -grinding on the bone which he was gnawing; but, I repeat, he never had -the intelligence to do the same thing himself, and to use his hind -paw as a hook to draw the tit-bit within his reach. Cartouche was of -superior intelligence to Pyramus in a thousand other instances such -as this, although his tractability was always inferior. But it is -common knowledge that with animals as with human beings, the capacity -for being trained is not always, nay is scarcely ever, combined with -intelligence.</p> - -<p>The reader may ask why the injustice was perpetrated of keeping -Cartouche always fastened, while Pyramus was allowed his liberty at -times. This is why: Pyramus was only a glutton by need, while Cartouche -was destructive by instinct. One day he broke his chain, and went from -our yard into the farmyard belonging to our neighbour Mauprivez. In -less than ten minutes he had strangled seventeen fowls and two cocks. -Nineteen cases of homicide: it was impossible to plead extenuating -circumstances: he was condemned to death and executed. So Pyramus -reigned sole master of the place, which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> to his shame be it said, he -appreciated greatly. His appetite seemed to increase when he was left -alone. This appetite was a defect at home; but, out shooting, it was -a vice. Nearly always, the first game I killed under his nose, were -it small game, such as partridge, young pheasant or quail, would be -lost to me. His big jaws would open, and, with a rapid gulp, the piece -of game disappeared down his throat. Very rarely did I arrive in time -to perceive, by opening his jaws, the last feathers of the bird's -tail disappearing in the depths of his gullet. Then a lash with my -horse-whip, vigorously applied on the loins of the guilty sinner, would -cure him for the remainder of the chase, and it was seldom he repeated -the same fault; but, between one shoot and another, he generally -had time to forget the previous punishment, and more expenditure of -whipcord was needed. On two other occasions, however, the gluttony of -Pyramus turned out badly for him.</p> - -<p>One day de Leuven and I were shooting over the marshes of Pondron. It -was a place where two harvests were gathered during the year. The first -harvest was that of a small thicket of alderwood. The owner of the -land, after having cut his branches, stripped the twigs off, sawed it -and tied it in bundles. Then he became busy over his second harvest, -which was that of hay. They were just reaping this crop. But, as it was -luncheon-time, the reapers had rested their scythes, here and there, -and were feeding by a small river wherein they could moisten their -hard bread. One of them had placed his scythe against one of the heaps -of cut wood, about two feet and a half high, placed in cubic metres -or half-mètres. I put up a snipe; I fired and killed it, and it fell -behind this pile of wood against which the scythe was propped. It was -the first thing I had killed that day, consequently it happened to be -the perquisite Pyramus was in the habit of appropriating. So, putting -two and two together, he had scarcely seen the snipe, stopped in its -flight, fall vertically behind the wood pile, before he darted over -the stack so as to fall on the spot as soon as it did, without loss of -time. As I knew beforehand that it was a head of game lost, I did not -hurry myself to see the tail feathers of my snipe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> in the depths of -Pyramus's throat, but, to my great surprise, I saw no more of Pyramus -than if he had tumbled down an invisible chasm, hewn out behind the -pile of wood. When I had re-loaded my gun, I decided to fathom this -mystery. Pyramus had fallen on the far side of the heap of wood, his -neck on the point of the scythe; this point had penetrated to the right -of the pharynx, behind the neck, and stuck out four inches in front. -Poor Pyramus could not stir, and was bleeding' to death: the snipe, -intact, was within six inches of his nose. Adolphe and I raised him -up, so as to cause him the least possible hurt; we carried him to the -river, and we bathed him in deep water; then I made him a compress with -my handkerchief, folded in sixteen, which we bound round his neck with -Adolphe's silk one. Then, seeing a peasant from Haramont passing, with -a donkey carrying two baskets, we put Pyramus in one of the paniers -and we had him carried to Haramont, whence next day I took him away in -a small conveyance. Pyramus was a week between life and death. For a -month he carried his head on one side, like Prince Tuffiakin. Finally, -at the end of six weeks, he had regained his elasticity of movement, -and appeared to have completely forgotten the terrible catastrophe. But -whenever he saw a scythe, he made an immense detour to avoid coming -in contact with it. Another day, he returned home, his body as full -of holes as a sieve. He had been wandering about the forest alone, -watching his opportunity, and he had leapt at the throat of a hare; the -hare screamed out: a keeper, who was about a couple of hundred steps -away, ran up; but before the keeper could clear the two hundred paces, -the hare was half devoured. Now Pyramus, on seeing the approach of -the keeper and on hearing his execrations, understood that something -alarming would occur between himself and the man in blue clothes. He -took to his heels and set off full tear. But, as Friday, of Robinson -Crusoe memory remarked, "Small shot ran after me faster than you did!" -the keeper's small shot travelled faster than Pyramus, and Pyramus -returned home riddled in eight places.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<p>I have already related what happened to him ten minutes after my -return. A week later, he came in with a calf's lights in his mouth. A -knife was quivering in his side. Behind him came one of the Mauprivez' -sons.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he said, "isn't it enough that your beastly Pyramus carries away -the contents of our shop, joint by joint, but he must needs carry away -my knife too?"</p> - -<p>Seeing Pyramus carry off the calfs lights, Mauprivez' boy had hurled -at him the knife butchers generally wear at their girdles; but, as -the knife went three or four inches into Pyramus's hide, Pyramus had -carried off both meat and knife. Mauprivez recovered his implement; but -the calfs lights were already devoured. Just when Pyramus's various -misdeeds had incurred not merely our individual reprobation, but public -reprobation still more, an advantageous occasion offered to get rid -of him. But as that occasion was invested in my eyes with all the -semblance of a miracle, I must be permitted to relate that miracle in -its proper time and place, and not to anticipate it here.</p> - -<p>Let us, for the moment, occupy ourselves over the unexpected return of -the prodigal son to the maternal roof—a return from which Pyramus and -Cartouche have incidentally diverted our attention.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIb" id="CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Hope in Laffitte—A false hope—New projects—M. Lecornier—How and -on what conditions I clothe myself anew—Bamps, tailor, 12 rue du -Helder—Bamps at Villers-Cotterets—I visit our estate along with -him—Pyramus follows a butcher lad—An Englishman who loved gluttonous -dogs—I sell Pyramus—My first hundred francs—The use to which they -are put—Bamps departs for Paris—Open credit</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Although I had told my mother that my return was only a provisional -one, to use M. Lefèvre's expression, she had very little doubt at heart -that it was really final. Her doubt turned to certainty when she saw -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday pass by without my speaking of returning to -Crespy; but, poor mother! she never said a word to me concerning this -catastrophe: it had cost her so much to part with me, that, since God -had sent me back to her, she opened her maternal heart, arms and door -to me. I had some hope left me: Adolphe had promised to make overtures -to M. Laffitte, the banker, on my behalf; if M. Laffitte made me an -opening in his office, where they worked from ten to four, there would -be the whole of the evening and early morning to oneself for other -work. Besides, it was time I should earn something. The most important -thing was to get to Paris, to light our poor candles at that universal, -vast and dazzling fireside, which was a light to the whole world. -A fortnight after my return from Crespy, I received a letter from -Adolphe. His request had come to nothing, for M. Laffitte's offices -were over full of clerks as it was: they were talking of clearing -some out. So I decided to put in action at the first opportunity a -plan I had settled upon during the last sleepless night I had spent -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> M. Lefèvre's. This project was perfectly simple and, by its very -simplicity, seemed likely to succeed.</p> - -<p>I would select, from my father's desk, a dozen letters from Marshal -Jourdan, Marshal Victor, Marshal Sébastiani, from all the marshals -still living, in fact, with whom my father had had dealings. I would -collect a small sum of money and I would start for Paris. I would -approach these old friends of my father; they would do what they -could, and it would be a strange thing if four or five marshals of -France, one of whom was Minister for War, could not by their combined -influence find a situation at 1200 francs for the son of their old -comrade-in-arms. But although this plan looked as simple and artless, -at the first glance, as a pastoral by Florian, it was very difficult to -put in execution. Small though the sum was, it was not an easy thing -to raise it; moreover, an expenditure I had foolishly made at Crespy -complicated matters.</p> - -<p>I had become connected at Crespy with a young man who had lived in -Paris: his name was Lecornier. He was brother of that gracious person -to whom I gave a name in one of my preceding chapters—you will -recollect it, although it was only mentioned once—the charming name -of Athénaïs, or, in other words, Athena, Minerva, Pallas, although the -bearer of it was quite unaware of this fact. Well, ashamed of moving -in the aristocratic world of Crespy in my old-fashioned clothes of -Villers-Cotterets, I had asked Lecornier, as my build was exactly his, -to write to his tailor to make me a coat, a waistcoat and a pair of -trousers. Lecornier wrote: I sent my twenty francs as a remittance on -account, and, fifteen days later, the tailor forwarded me the goods, -enclosing a bill for a hundred and fifty-five francs, from which he had -deducted the twenty francs I had sent him on account. It was arranged -that the rest of the bill should be liquidated at the rate of twenty -francs a month. The tailor's name was Bamps, and he lived in the rue du -Helder, No. 12. It will be seen, from his charges, that although Bamps -lived in a fashionable quarter, he was neither a Chevreuil nor a Staub; -no, he was a journeyman who charged fancy prices, who had drifted from -the Latin quarter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> where he should always have remained. But for the -very reason that his business was small, Bamps had all the more need of -the profits it produced.</p> - -<p>Although I exercised the greatest economy possible, I had not been able -to put aside the promised twenty francs when the next month's payment -became due. Not having them, of course I could not send them. This -first infraction of our treaty made Bamps very uneasy. Nevertheless, -Bamps knew that Lecornier belonged to a family well to do, although -not wealthy; Lecornier kept his engagements with him with scrupulous -punctuality; so he decided to wait, before giving signs of his anxiety. -The second month came. With it came the same impossibility on my -part, and, consequently, redoubled uneasiness on the part of Bamps. -Meanwhile, I had left Crespy—under the circumstances related—and I -had returned to Villers-Cotterets. Five or six days after my departure, -Bamps, becoming more and more uncomfortable, had written to Lecornier. -Lecornier had replied, giving him my fresh address. It therefore came -about that one day—about the beginning of the third month after -receiving the clothes—as I was lounging on our threshold, the town -clock struck one, the diligence from Paris drew up in the square, and -a traveller got down from it who asked the conductor two or three -questions, took his bearings and came straight to me. I guessed half -the truth. Bamps was walking with his knees out like Duguesclin, and -nobody but a soldier or a tailor could walk thus. I was not mistaken: -the stranger came straight to me and introduced himself; it was Bamps. -It was necessary to play something like the scene between Don Juan -and M. Dimanche; this was all the more difficult as I had never read -<i>Don Juan.</i> However, instinct made up for ignorance. I gave Bamps -a most cordial reception; I introduced him to my mother, to whom, -fortunately, I had said a few words about this my first debt; I offered -him refreshment, and I asked him to sit down, or, if he preferred so to -do, to visit our estate. Under the circumstances, Bamps' choice was a -foregone conclusion: he preferred to visit <i>our estate.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, what was this property of which the reader has already heard me -speak, but which he will assuredly have forgotten? Our estate was the -house of M. Harlay on which my mother had been paying a life-annuity -for something like forty years; M. Harlay had died during my stay with -Maître Lefèvre; but, just as though he had made a wager, he died on -the anniversary of his birth, triumphantly terminating his ninetieth -year!... Unfortunately, his death had not been much advantage to us. -My mother had borrowed, on house and garden, almost as much as house -and garden were worth; so that we were neither richer nor poorer by -this inheritance; though, as there were certain duties to pay, I may -venture to state we were poorer rather than richer. But Bamps knew -none of these details. I therefore offered, as I have said, to take -him over our estate. He accepted. I unchained Pryamus, and we set off. -After going fifty yards, Pyramus left us to follow a butcher boy who -went by with a piece of mutton on his shoulder. I give this detail, -although, at first glance, it may appear very trivial; for it was not -without influence upon my future. For what would have happened to me -and to Bamps if this butcher boy, whose name was Valtat, had not passed -by, and if Pyramus had not followed him? We went on our way, without -thinking of Pyramus. Man jostles up against great events, every moment -of his life, without seeing them and without being conscious of them.</p> - -<p>We soon arrived. M. Harlay's house, now our own, was situated in the -place de la Fontaine, perhaps a couple of hundred steps from the house -we lived in. I had taken the keys: I opened the doors, and we began -by looking over the interior of the house. It was not so clean as to -inspire great confidence: everything had grown old along with the -worthy man who had just died in it, and who had taken great care not -to undertake a single repair in it; "for," said he, "it will last as -long as I shall." It had lasted as long as he had, true; but, all the -same, it was time he died. If he had lingered on merely another year -or two with the same intention in his head, he would have out-lasted -the house. The inside of our poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> property, then, afforded the most -melancholy sight of complete neglect and dilapidation. The floors were -broken through, the wall-papers torn off, the bricks broken. Bamps -shook his head, and said, in his half Alsacian and half French dialect, -"Ach! My vord! my vord! it is in a fery pad stade."</p> - -<p>Most surely would I have offered Bamps the house, in exchange for his -bill, if he would have taken it. When the house had been surveyed, I -said to Bamps—</p> - -<p>"Now let us go and see the garden."</p> - -<p>"Is de garten in zo pad a stade as de house?" he asked. "Well ... it -has been rather neglected, but now it belongs to us...."</p> - -<p>"It vill take much money to restore dis old tumbledown place," Bamps -discreetly observed.</p> - -<p>"Bah! we shall find it," I replied: "if it is not in our own pockets, -it will be in someone else's."</p> - -<p>"Goot! if you can vind it, zo much de better."</p> - -<p>We crossed the yard and entered the garden. It was at the beginning of -April; we had had two or three lovely days—days one knows so well, -on which the year, like a faithful servant, seems to fold up Winter's -white garment, and unfold the green robe of Spring.</p> - -<p>Now, although the garden was as neglected as the house, it was -pursuing its work of life, in opposition to the work of death going -on in the house. The house grew older year by year; year by year the -garden renewed its youth. It looked as though the trees had powdered -themselves for a forest ball: apples and pears in white, and peaches -and almonds in pink. You could not imagine anything younger, fresher -or more full of life, than was this garden of death. Everything was -waking up with Nature, as she herself woke up: the birds had begun to -sing, and three or four butterflies, deceived by the flowers and by the -first rays of sunshine, were flying about still somewhat benumbed; poor -ephemera, born in the morning, but to die by night!</p> - -<p>"Well," I asked Bamps, "what do you say to the garden?" "Oh! dat is -fery bretty: it is a bity it is not in de rue de Rifoli."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There will be more than a hundred crowns' worth of fruit in this -garden, you take my word for it."</p> - -<p>"Yess, if no pad frosts come."</p> - -<p>O Bamps! you Jew, my friend, you tailor, my creditor, you have probably -not read those fine lines of Hugo, which, by the way, were not then -written:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Il faut que l'eau s'épuise à courir les valines;<br /> -Il faut que l'éclair brille, et brille peu d'instants;<br /> -Il faut qu'avril jaloux brûle de ses gelées<br /> -Le beau pommier trop fier de ses fleurs etoilées,<br /> -Neige odorante du printemps."<br /> -</p> - -<p>We walked round the garden; then, when I fancied satisfaction carried -the day against dissatisfaction, I took Bamps back home. Dinner -was waiting for us. I believe the dinner caused Bamps to go from -satisfaction back to dissatisfaction.</p> - -<p>"Ah, veil," he said to me, when he had taken his cup of coffee and his -cognac, "we must now have a liddle talk about business."</p> - -<p>"Why not, my dear Bamps? Willingly."</p> - -<p>My mother heaved a sigh.</p> - -<p>"Veil, then," continued Bamps, "the bill is for a huntred and -vifty-vive francs."</p> - -<p>"Towards which I have given you twenty."</p> - -<p>"Towards vhich you haf gifen me tventy: so dere is a palance of a -huntred and thirdy-vive. Towards dese huntred and thirdy-vive, you said -you would gif me tventy per month. Two months haf gone py: so dat makes -forty you owe me."</p> - -<p>"Exactly forty, my dear sir—you reckon like Barême."</p> - -<p>"Veil, I can reckon all right."</p> - -<p>The situation was growing embarrassing. Had we opened my poor mother's -banking account and scratched together every farthing, we should -certainly not have been able to find the forty francs demanded. Just at -that moment the door opened.</p> - -<p>"Is M. Dumas in?" asked a hoarse, raucous voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, M. Dumas is here," I replied in a bad temper. "What do you want -with him?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want him."</p> - -<p>"Who does, then?"</p> - -<p>"An Englishman at M. Cartier's."</p> - -<p>"An Englishman?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes, an Englishman, who is very anxious to see you."</p> - -<p>That was my own state of mind too! The Englishman could not be more -anxious to see me than I was to get away from Bamps.</p> - -<p>"My dear Bamps," I said to him, "wait for me; I will come back. We will -settle up our account on my return."</p> - -<p>"Be qvick back; I must depard dis efening."</p> - -<p>"Set your mind at rest about that: I shall be back in an instant."</p> - -<p>I took up my cap and followed the stable lad, who had told my mother, -to her great surprise, that he had orders not to go back without me.</p> - -<p>Cartier, at whose house was the Englishman who demanded to see me, -was an old friend of our family, the proprietor of the <i>Boule d'or,</i> -a hotel situated at the extreme east of the town, on the road to -Soissons. The diligences stopped at his house. There was therefore -nothing surprising that the Englishman who was asking for me should be -staying there: what did astonish me was that this Englishman should -want me. When I appeared in the kitchen, old Cartier, who was warming -himself, according to his usual habit, in the chimney corner, came up -to me.</p> - -<p>"Look sharp," he said: "I believe I am going to pull off a good thing -for you."</p> - -<p>"Come now, that would be very welcome," I replied; "I was never in -greater need of a lucky windfall."</p> - -<p>"Well, follow me."</p> - -<p>And Cartier, walking in front of me, led me to a little parlour where -travellers dined. Just as we opened the door, we heard a voice saying, -with a strong English accent—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Take care, mine host: the dog does not know me, and will run out."</p> - -<p>"Never fear, milord," replied Cartier: "I am bringing his master."</p> - -<p>Every innkeeper considers an Englishman has the right to the title of -milord; so they use the title unsparingly: true, it usually pays them -to do so.</p> - -<p>"Ah! come in, sir," said the Englishman, trying to rise, by leaning -both his elbows on the arms of his chair. He could not succeed. Seeing -this, I hastened to say to him—</p> - -<p>"Pray do not disturb yourself, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I will not disturb myself," said the Englishman, falling back in -his arm-chair with a sigh. The time he took in getting up and falling -back in his chair, with the rising and falling movement suggestive -of an omelette soufflée which has fallen flat, was occupied by me in -quickly glancing at him and his surroundings. He was a man of between -forty and forty-five years of age, of sandy complexion, with his hair -clipped short and his whiskers cut <i>en collier</i>; he wore a blue coat -with metal buttons, a chamois leather waistcoat, breeches of grey -woollen material with gaiters to match, after the fashion of grooms. He -was seated before the table where he had just dined. The table bore the -debris of a meal sufficient for six people. He must have weighed from -three hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. Pyramus was seated on -the parquetry floor, looking very melancholy; round Pyramus were placed -ten or twelve shiny plates, licked clean with that thoroughness I knew -he was capable of in the matter of dirty plates. On the last plate, -however, were some scraps still unconsumed. These unconsumed scraps -were the cause of Pyramus's depressed spirits.</p> - -<p>"Please come and speak to me, monsieur," said the Englishman.</p> - -<p>I drew near him. Pyramus recognised me, yawned to notify the fact, -stretched himself full length on his stomach so as to get as near to me -as possible, his paws stretched out on the floor, his nose laid on his -paws.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur," I said to the Englishman.</p> - -<p>"Now!" said he. Then, after a pause, he added—</p> - -<p>"That dog of yours has taken my fancy."</p> - -<p>"He is greatly honoured, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"And they have told me you might perhaps agree to sell him to me, if I -were to pay you a good price for him."</p> - -<p>"I shall not need very much persuasion, monsieur; I have been trying to -get rid of him, and since he pleases you ..."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, he pleases me."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, take him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I do not want to take the dog without paying for him." Cartier -nudged my elbow.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I am not a dealer in dogs: he was given to me, I -will give him to you."</p> - -<p>"Well, but he has cost you his keep."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the keep of a dog does not come to much."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; if is but fair I should pay for his food.... How long have -you had him?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly two years."</p> - -<p>"Then I owe you for his food for two years."</p> - -<p>Cartier continued to nudge my elbow. And it occurred to me that the -dog's keep would help admirably to pay for the master's clothes.</p> - -<p>"Very well," said I, "we will settle it so: you shall pay me for his -keep."</p> - -<p>"Reckon it up."</p> - -<p>"What do you think of fifty francs per year?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh!"</p> - -<p>"Is it too much?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, I do not think it is enough: the dog eats a lot."</p> - -<p>"Yes, true, monsieur; I was intending to warn you of that." "Oh, I have -witnessed it; but I like animals and people who eat a lot: it shows -they have a good digestion, and a good digestion tends to good humour."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, you shall fix your own charge."</p> - -<p>"You said, I think, that it was to be ten napoleons?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No, monsieur; I said five napoleons."</p> - -<p>Cartier nudged my elbow harder and harder.</p> - -<p>"Ah! five napoleons?... You will not take ten?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, and only that because I happen at this moment to be in -great need of five napoleons."</p> - -<p>"Won't you take fifteen napoleons? I am sure the dog is worth fifteen -napoleons."</p> - -<p>"No, no, no, no; give me five napoleons, and he is yours."</p> - -<p>"What do you call him?"</p> - -<p>"Pyramus."</p> - -<p>"Pyramus!" exclaimed the Englishman.</p> - -<p>Pyramus did not budge.</p> - -<p>"Oh," continued the Englishman, "what did you say you called him?"</p> - -<p>"I said Pyramus."</p> - -<p>"He did not stir when I called him."</p> - -<p>"That is because he is not yet accustomed to your pronunciation."</p> - -<p>"Oh, he will soon get used to it."</p> - -<p>"There is no doubt of it."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure of it."</p> - -<p>"Good! I thank you, monsieur: here are the five napoleons."</p> - -<p>I hesitated to take them; but in the English accent with which he -pronounced the last words there was an intonation which so cruelly -reminded me of the German accent of Bamps that I decided.</p> - -<p>"I am much obliged to you, monsieur," I said.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, it is I who ought to thank you," the Englishman -replied, trying to raise himself afresh—an attempt which was as -abortive as the first.</p> - -<p>I made him a sign with my hand, as I bowed; he sank back into his -arm-chair, and I went out.</p> - -<p>"Well, now, how did it come about that Pyramus fell into the hands of -such a master?" I asked old Cartier.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That scamp of a dog was born with a lucky spoon in his mouth!"</p> - -<p>"It was the simplest thing in the world. Valtat brought me a piece of -lamb; Pyramus scented the fresh meat; he followed Valtat. Valtat came -here; Pyramus came here. The Englishman got out of the carriage; he -saw your dog. He had been recommended to take shooting exercise: he -asked me if the dog was a good one; I told him it was. He asked me who -owned the dog; I told him it belonged to you. He asked me if you would -consent to sell it; I told him I would send and fetch you, and then -he could ask you himself. I sent for you ... you came ... there's the -whole story.... Pyramus is sold and you are not ill pleased?"</p> - -<p>"Why, certainly not! The rascal is such a thief that I should have been -obliged to give him away or to break his neck.... He was ruining us!"</p> - -<p>Cartier shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "That would not be a -difficult task!" Then, passing to another train of ideas, he said—</p> - -<p>"So you have returned home?"</p> - -<p>"That is so."</p> - -<p>"You were sick of Crespy?"</p> - -<p>"I am sick of every place."</p> - -<p>"What do you want to do now?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I want to go to Paris."</p> - -<p>"And when do you start?"</p> - -<p>"May be sooner than you think."</p> - -<p>"Do not go without giving me an opportunity to pay you out."</p> - -<p>"Never fear!"</p> - -<p>Before I went to Crespy, I had thoroughly beaten Cartier at billiards.</p> - -<p>"Besides," I went on, "if I go, as I shall not leave in any carriage -but one of yours, you can stop me on the step."</p> - -<p>"Done!... But this time it must be a struggle to death." "To death!"</p> - -<p>"Your five napoleons must be staked."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You know I never play for money, and as for my five napoleons, they -already have their vocation."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well, adieu."</p> - -<p>"<i>Au revoir.</i>"</p> - -<p>And I left Cartier, with this engagement booked. We shall see where it -led me.</p> - -<p>When I re-entered the house, I found Bamps, who was beginning to grow -impatient. The first coach for Paris passed through Villers-Cotterets -at eight o'clock in the evening: it was now seven.</p> - -<p>"Ah! goot!" he said, "there you are!... I did not regon I should zee -you again."</p> - -<p>"What!" I said, imitating his jargon, "you did not regon you should zee -me again?"</p> - -<p>Wondrous power of money! I was mocking Bamps, who, an hour before, had -made me tremble with fear. Bamps knit his eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"We zay, den?" he said.</p> - -<p>"We say that I owe you twenty francs per month—that two months have -gone by without payment—and that, consequently, I owe you forty -francs."</p> - -<p>"You owe me vorty vrancs."</p> - -<p>"All right, my dear Bamps—here you are!"</p> - -<p>And I threw two napoleons on the table, taking care to let the three -others in the palm of my hand be visible. My poor mother looked at me -with the most profound amazement. I reassured her with a sign. The -sign allayed her fears, but not her surprise. Bamps examined the two -napoleons, rubbed them to make sure they were not false, and rolled -them, one after the other, into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"You do not vant any more dings?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No, thank you, my dear Monsieur. Besides, I am expecting to leave here -for Paris in a short time."</p> - -<p>"You will bear in mind that I have the first claim on your custom?"</p> - -<p>"All right, my dear Bamps, for good and all! But if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>you mean to start -at eight o'clock ...?"</p> - -<p>"If I mean to stard—! I should just tink so!"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, there is no time to lose."</p> - -<p>"The Tevil!"</p> - -<p>"You know where the coach stops?"</p> - -<p>"Yess."</p> - -<p>"Very well, <i>bon voyage</i>."</p> - -<p>"Atieu! Monsir Toumas! Atieu, Matame Toumas!... Atieu! atieu!"</p> - -<p>And Bamps, delighted, not only at having secured forty francs, but -still further at being somewhat reassured about the rest of his -account, set off, wafting us his parting benedictions, with all the -speed his little legs could make.</p> - -<p>My mother just waited till she had closed both doors, then she said—</p> - -<p>"But where did you get that money, you young rogue?"</p> - -<p>"I sold Pyramus, mother."</p> - -<p>"For how much?"</p> - -<p>"A hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"So that there are sixty francs left?"</p> - -<p>"At your service, dear mother."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I must take them. I have two hundred francs to pay -to-morrow to the warehouseman, and I only have a hundred and fifty -towards it."</p> - -<p>"Here they are ... but on one condition."</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"That you let me have them back again as soon as I set off for Paris."</p> - -<p>"With whom are you going?"</p> - -<p>"That must be my business."</p> - -<p>"Well, so be it.... I really begin to feel as though God were with you."</p> - -<p>At this, we both went to bed, with that settled faith that has never -deserted me. And I doubt even whether my mother's faith, at any rate at -that moment, was as strong as mine.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIb" id="CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My mother is obliged to sell her land and her house—The residue—The -Piranèses—An architect at twelve hundred francs salary—I discount my -first bill—Gondon—How I was nearly killed at his house—The fifty -francs—Cartier—The game of billiards—How six hundred small glasses -of absinthe equalled twelve journeys to Paris</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The time had now come when my poor mother was obliged to take a -definite step. She had borrowed so much and so often upon our thirty -or forty acres let to M. Gilbert of Soucy, and upon the house which M. -Harlay had at last left for us, that the value of both acres and house -was nearly absorbed by mortgages. So it was decided to sell everything. -The land was sold by auction, and fetched thirty-three thousand -francs. The house was sold, by private contract, for twelve thousand -francs to the M. Picot who had given me my first lessons in fencing. -We realised forty-five thousand francs. When our debts were settled -and all expenses paid, my mother had two hundred and fifty-three -francs left. Lest some optimistic readers should think that this was -our annual income, I hasten to say that it was capital. Need anyone -ask if my poor mother was distressed at such a result? We had never -really been so close to destitution. My mother fell into the depths -of discouragement. Since my father's death we had been unceasingly -drawing nearer and nearer to the end of all our resources. It had -been a long struggle—from 1806 to 1823! It had lasted for seventeen -years; but we were beaten at last. Nevertheless, I never felt gayer -or more confident. I do not know why I deserve it, whether for deeds -done in this world, or in other worlds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> where I may have had previous -existences, but God seems to have me under His special care, and -however grave my situation He comes openly to my succour. So, my God! -I proudly and yet very humbly confess Thy name before believers and -before infidels, and not even from the merit of faith do I say this, -but simply because it is the truth. For, hadst Thou appeared to me when -I invoked Thee, O my God! and hadst Thou asked me, "Child, say boldly -what it is you want," I should never have dared to ask for half the -favours Thou hast granted me out of Thy infinite bounty.</p> - -<p>Well, my mother told me that, when all our debts were paid, we only had -two hundred and fifty-three francs left.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said to my mother; "you must give me the fifty-three -francs: I will set out for Paris, and, this time, I promise to return -only with good news."</p> - -<p>"Are you aware, my dear boy," said my mother, "that you are asking me -for a fifth of our capital?"</p> - -<p>"You remember that you owe me sixty francs?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but recollect that when I said,'For what purpose shall I return -you the sixty francs?' you replied, 'That is my business.'"</p> - -<p>"Very well, so indeed it is my business.... Will you give me the -Piranèses which are upstairs in the big portfolio?"</p> - -<p>"What do you call the Piranèses?"</p> - -<p>"Those large black engravings that my father brought back from Italy."</p> - -<p>"What will you do with them?"</p> - -<p>"I will find a home for them."</p> - -<p>My mother shrugged her shoulders dubiously.</p> - -<p>"Do as you like about them," she said.</p> - -<p>There was an architect, named Oudet, amongst the staff at the -workhouse, who very much wanted our Piranèses. I had always refused him -them, telling him that one day I would bring him them myself. The day -had come. But it was an unlucky day: Oudet had no money. This was quite -conceivable. Oudet, as architect to the Castle, received only a hundred -francs per month. True, I was not very exorbitant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> in the matter of my -Piranèses, which were well worth five or six hundred francs; I only -asked fifty francs. Oudet offered to pay me these fifty francs in three -months' time.</p> - -<p>In three months!... How could I wait for three months?</p> - -<p>I left Oudet in despair. I ought to say, in justice to Oudet, -that he was probably in even lower straits than I was. In leaving -Oudet, I ran up against another of my friends, whose name was -Gondon. He was a shooting comrade. He had a property three leagues -from Villers-Cotterets,—at Cœuvre, the country of the beautiful -Gabrielle,—and we had very often spent whole weeks together there, -shooting by day and poaching by night. It was at his place that I -nearly lost my life one evening, in the most ridiculous fashion -imaginable. It was the evening before the opening of the shooting -season. Five or six of us shooters had come from Villers-Cotterets, -and we were putting up at Gondon's, in order to be up early for a -start at daybreak. Now, as we had neither rooms nor beds enough for -everybody, the sitting-room had been transformed into a dormitory, -in the four corners of which four beds were set up—that is to say, -four mattresses were laid down. When the candles were extinguished, my -three companions took it into their heads to start a bolster fight. As, -for some reason or another, I did not feel inclined for the sport, I -announced my intention of remaining neutral. The result of this compact -was that after a quarter of an hour's fight between Austrians, Russians -and Prussians, the Austrians, Russians and Prussians became allies -and united to fall upon me, who represented France. So they hurled -themselves on my bed, and began to belabour me with the afore-mentioned -bolsters, as threshers beat out corn with their flails in a barn. I -drew up my sheet over my head, and waited patiently till the storm -should have passed over, which could not be long first, at the rate -they were beating. And as I anticipated, the storm calmed down. One -thrasher retired, then another. But the third, who was my cousin, Félix -Deviolaine, upheld no doubt by the tie of kinship, continued striking -in spite of the retreat of the others. Suddenly he stopped, and I heard -him get silently into his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> bed. One might have thought some accident -had overtaken him, which he was anxious to conceal from his comrades. -In fact, the opposite end of the bolster to that which he had held in -his hands, had burst by the violence of the blows, and all the feathers -had escaped. This down made a mountain, just where the sheet which -protected my head joined the bolster. I was totally unaware of the -fact. As I did not feel any more blows, and having heard my last enemy -retire to his bed, I gently put out my head and, as for the past ten -minutes I had become more or less stifled, according as I tightened or -loosened the sheet, I drew a full breath. I swallowed a big armful of -feathers. Suffocation was instantaneous, almost complete. I uttered -an inarticulate cry, and feeling myself literally being strangled, I -began to roll about the room. My companions at first thought I had -now taken it into my head to pirouette like a ballet dancer, just as -they had fancied a fight; but they realised at last that the strangled -sounds I gave forth expressed acute agony. Gondon was the first to -realise that something very serious had happened to me, from some -unknown cause, and that I was <i>in extremis</i>. Félix, who alone could -have explained my gyrations and my wheezings, lay still, and pretended -to be asleep. Gondon rushed into the kitchen, returned with a candle, -and threw light on the scene. I must have been a very funny spectacle, -and I confess, there was a general burst of laughter. But though I -had been pretty gluttonous, I had not swallowed all the feathers and -all the down: some stuck to my curly head, giving me a false air of -resemblance to Polichinelle. This false air soon began to look like -reality from the flush of redness that strangulation had sent into -my face. They thought water was the best thing to give me. One of my -companions, named Labarre, ran in his shirt to the pump and filled a -pot with water, which he laughingly brought me. Such hilarity, when my -torture had reached its height, drove me wild. I seized the pot by the -handle, and chucked the contents down Labarre's back. The water was icy -cold. Its temperature was little in harmony with the natural warmth of -his blood, and it produced such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> gambols and such contortions on the -part of the anointed, that, in spite of my various woes, the desire -to laugh was now on my side. I made a different effort from any I had -tried hitherto, and I expectorated some of the feathers and down which -had blocked my throat. From that moment I was safe. Nevertheless, I -continued to spit feathers for a week, and I coughed for a month.</p> - -<p>I beg my reader's pardon for this digression; but, as I had neglected -to put down this important episode in my life in its chronological -order, it will not be deemed extraordinary if I seize the first -opportunity that presents itself to repair this omission.</p> - -<p>Well, I met Gondon coming out of Oudet's house. He had a hundred francs -in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear fellow," I said, "if you are so wealthy, you can surely -lend Oudet fifty francs."</p> - -<p>"What to do?"</p> - -<p>"To buy my Piranèses from me."</p> - -<p>"Your Piranèses?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I want to go to Paris. Oudet offered to buy my Piranèses for -fifty francs, and now...."</p> - -<p>"And now he does not wish to have them?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, he is dying to possess them; but he hasn't a son, and -cannot pay me for three months."</p> - -<p>"And you want fifty francs?"</p> - -<p>"Indeed I do."</p> - -<p>"You would like to have them?"</p> - -<p>"Rather."</p> - -<p>"Wait: perhaps we can arrange matters."</p> - -<p>"Oh, do try, my good fellow."</p> - -<p>"There is a very simple way: I cannot give you the fifty francs, -because I have promised my tailor a hundred francs to-day; but Oudet -can make a cheque out to me for fifty francs at three months, I will -endorse the cheque, and I will give it to the tailor as ready money."</p> - -<p>We went to Oudet's. Oudet made out the cheque, and I carried off the -money, thanking Gondon, and above all God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> who out of His infinite -loving kindness had provided me the means to advance a step farther on -my way. I accompanied Gondon as far as his tailor's. At the tailor's -door I ran up against old Cartier.</p> - -<p>"Well, my boy," he said, "isn't there a bit left of your dog's money to -pay for a small glass of wine for your old friend?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, if he wins it of me at billiards;" and I jingled my fifty -francs.</p> - -<p>I turned to Gondon.</p> - -<p>"Come and see what happens," I said to him.</p> - -<p>"You go on; I will rejoin you.... At Camberlin's, is it not?"</p> - -<p>"At Camberlin's."</p> - -<p>Camberlin was the traditional coffee-house; since the discovery of -coffee and the invention of billiards, the Camberlins had sold coffee -and kept a billiard-table, from father to son.</p> - -<p>It was to Camberlin's my grandfather used to go every evening to take -a hand at dominoes or piquet, until his little bitch Charmante came -scratching at the door, with two lanterns held in her jaws. It was -at Camberlin's my father and M. Deviolaine came to challenge each -other's skill at play, as, on another green carpet, they challenged -each other's skill at the chase. It was at Camberlin's, finally, that, -thanks to my antecedents, I had been able, almost gratis, when I lost, -to begin my education as an elder Philibert under three different -masters, who had ended by seeing me a better player than they were. -These three masters were—Cartier, against whom I was going to wipe -out an old score; Camusat, Hiraux's nephew, who reclothed his uncle at -la Râpée, when they turned him out of Villers-Cotterets in drawers and -shirt; and a delightful youth, called Gaillard, who was a first-class -player in all sorts of games, and who had, to my great satisfaction, -replaced M. Miaud, my old rival, at the work-house. So I had become -a much better player than Cartier; but, as he would never admit it, -he invariably declined the six points I as invariably offered him -before we began the match. Just as we were trying our cues on the -billiard-table, Gondon entered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What will you take, Gondon?" Cartier asked. "Dumas is paying."</p> - -<p>"I will take absinthe; I want to enjoy my dinner well to-day."</p> - -<p>"Well, so will I," said Cartier. "And you?"</p> - -<p>"I? You know I have made a vow never to take either liqueur or coffee."</p> - -<p>To what saint and on what occasion I made this vow I cannot at all say; -but I know I kept it religiously.</p> - -<p>"Then we will say two small absinthes?" replied Cartier, continuing to -joke. "That will be six sous, waiter, in exchange for your receipt." -In the provinces, at any rate at Villers-Cotterets, a small glass of -absinthe costs three sous.</p> - -<p>"My dear Gondon," I said, "I cannot offer you a better prayer than my -uncle's, the curé at Béthisy: 'My God, side neither with one nor with -the other, and you will see a rascal receive a jolly good whacking!' -Will you have your six points, father Cartier?"</p> - -<p>"Go along with you!" Cartier exclaimed disdainfully, putting my ball on -the yellow.</p> - -<p>We played Russian fashion, a game with five balls, and thirty-six -points. I made the yellow six times—three times into the right pocket -and three times into the left.</p> - -<p>"Six times six; thirty-six; first round. Your two small glasses are not -worth more than their three sous, father Cartier." "Four sous, you mean -to say."</p> - -<p>"Not unless I let you win the second round."</p> - -<p>"Come on, then!"</p> - -<p>"Will you have the six points?"</p> - -<p>"I will give them to you, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Done! Mark my six points, Gondon; I have my designs on father Cartier. -I mean him to contribute to my visit to Paris: the diligences start -from his hotel."</p> - -<p>At the second round, Cartier got up to twelve.</p> - -<p>At thirty points, I had a run and made sixteen more; that made -forty-six points, instead of thirty-six. Deducting the six points -restored to Cartier, there still remained four I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> offer him in -return. He refused them with his usual dignity. But Cartier was beside -himself when he had lost the first game, and the wilder he was the more -obstinate he became: once set going, he would have played away his -land, his hotel, his saucepans, to the very chickens that were turning -on his spit.</p> - -<p>Worthy old Cartier! He is alive yet; although he is eighty-six or -eighty-seven, he is still remarkably hale, and lives with his two -children. I never go to Villers-Cotterets without calling on him. Last -time I saw him, about a year ago, I paid him a compliment on his health.</p> - -<p>"My goodness, my dear Cartier," I said to him, "you are like our oak -trees, which, if they do not grow very tall, go deep into the soil and -gain in roots what they miss in the way of leaves. You will live to the -Last Judgment."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my boy," he said, "I have been very ill,—did you not know it?"</p> - -<p>"No—when?"</p> - -<p>"Three and a half years ago."</p> - -<p>"What was the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"I had toothache."</p> - -<p>"That was your own fault. What business have you with' teeth at your -age?"</p> - -<p>Well, on that day, poor old Cartier! (I am referring to the day of our -game),—on that day, to use a gaming term, I took a fine tooth out of -his head. We played for five hours on end, always doubling; I won <i>six -hundred small glasses of absinthe</i> from him. We should have played -longer, and you may judge what an ocean of absinthe Cartier would have -owed me, if Auguste had not come to look for him.</p> - -<p>Auguste was one of Cartier's sons: his father stood in great awe of -him; he put his finger to his lips to ask me to keep mum. I was as -generous as was Alexander in the matter of the family of Porus.</p> - -<p>I let Cartier go, without demanding my winnings from him. And Gondon -and I reckoned up the account. Reduced to money, the six hundred small -glasses of absinthe would have produced a total of eighteen hundred -sous—that is to say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> ninety francs. I could have paid the journey to -Paris a dozen times over. My mother had good cause to say, "My boy, God -is on your side."</p> - -<p>My mother was very uneasy when I returned home; she knew what folly -I was capable of, when I had got an idea into my head, and it was -therefore with some anxiety that she asked me where I had been. -Generally, when I had been to Camberlin's, I took a roundabout way -in telling her of it. My poor mother, foreseeing what passions would -one day surge in me, was afraid that gaming might be one of them. -In several of her surmises she was correct; but at any rate she was -completely mistaken in this one. So I told her what had just happened. -How the Piranèses had brought us in fifty francs, and how M. Cartier -was going to pay my fare to Paris. But these blessings from heaven -brought sadness with them, for they meant our separation. I did my best -to comfort her by telling her that the separation would be only for a -little while, and that as soon as I had obtained a berth at fifteen -hundred francs, she should leave Villers-Cotterets also and come and -join me; but my mother knew that a berth at fifteen hundred francs was -an Eldorado, difficult to discover.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVb" id="CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>How I obtain a recommendation to General Foy—M. Danré of Vouty -advises my mother to let me go to Paris—My good-byes—Laffitte and -Perregaux—The three things which Maître Mennesson asks me not to -forget—The Abbé Grégoire's advice and the discussion with him—I leave -Villers-Cotterets</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>One morning, I said to my mother—</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say to M. Danré? I am going to Vouty."</p> - -<p>"What do you want of M. Danré?"</p> - -<p>"To ask him for a letter to General Foy."</p> - -<p>My mother raised her eyes to heaven; she questioned whence came all -these ideas to me, that converged all to one end.</p> - -<p>M. Danré was my father's old friend, who, having had his left hand -mutilated when out shooting, had been brought into our house. There, -the reader will remember, Doctor Lécosse had skilfully amputated his -thumb, and as my mother had nursed him with the greatest care through -the whole of the illness the accident brought on, he had a warm feeling -in his heart towards my mother, my sister and myself. It always, -therefore, gave him great pleasure to see me, whether I arrived with a -message from Me. Mennesson, his lawyer, when I was with Me. Mennesson, -or whether on my own account. This time it was on my own affairs. I -told him the object of my visit.</p> - -<p>When General Foy was put on the lists for election, the electors would -not appoint him; but M. Danré had supported his candidature, and, -thanks to M. Danré's influence in the department, General Foy had -been elected. We know what a foremost place the illustrious patriot -took in the Chamber.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> General Foy was not an eloquent orator; he was -far better than that: he possessed a warm heart, ready to act at the -inspiration of every noble passion. Not a single great question came -under his notice during all the time he was in the Chamber, that was -not supported by him if it was a worthy object, or that was not opposed -by him if it was unworthy; his words fell from the tribune, terrible as -the return thrusts in a duel—piercing thrusts, nearly always deadly to -his adversaries. But, like all men of feeling, he wore himself out in -the struggle, the most constant and most maddening struggle of all: it -killed him while rendering his name immortal.</p> - -<p>In 1823, General Foy was at the height of his popularity, and from the -pinnacle to which he had attained, he reminded M. Danré from time to -time of his existence, which proved to the humble farmer, who, like -Philoctètes, had made sovereigns, but had no desire to be one, that he -was still his affectionate and grateful friend. Therefore M. Danré did -not feel in any way averse to give me the letter I asked of him, and -it was couched in the most favourable terms. Then, when M. Danré had -written, signed and sealed the letter, he asked me about my pecuniary -resources. I told him everything, even to the ingenious methods by the -aid of which I had obtained what I had.</p> - -<p>"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I had half a mind to offer you my purse; -but, really, it would smirch your record. People do not do that sort of -thing to end in failure: you should succeed with that fifty francs of -yours, and I do not wish to take away the credit of owing it entirely -to yourself. Take courage, then, and go in peace! If you are absolutely -in need of my services, write to me from Paris."</p> - -<p>"So you feel hopeful?" I said to M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"Very."</p> - -<p>"Are you coming to Villers-Cotterets on Thursday?"</p> - -<p>Thursday was market day.</p> - -<p>"Yes; why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"Because if you are, I would beg you to call and tell my mother you are -hopeful: she has great confidence in you, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> as everybody seems bent -on telling her I shall never do anything...."</p> - -<p>"The fact is you have not done very much up to now!"</p> - -<p>"Because they were determined to push me into a vocation I was not -fitted for, dear Monsieur Danré; but you will see, directly they leave -me alone to do what I am cut out for, I shall become a hard worker."</p> - -<p>"Mind you do! I will reassure your mother, relying on your word."</p> - -<p>"You may, and I will fulfil it."</p> - -<p>The day but one after my visit, M. Danré came to Villers-Cotterets, -as he had promised, and saw my mother. I was watching for his coming; -I let him start the conversation and then I came in. My mother was -crying, but seemed to have made up her mind. When she saw me, she held -out her hand.</p> - -<p>"You are bent on leaving me, then?" she said.</p> - -<p>"I must, mother. But do not be uneasy; if we separate, this time it -will not be for long."</p> - -<p>"Yes, because you will fail, and return to Villers-Cotterets once more."</p> - -<p>"No, no, mother; on the contrary, because I shall succeed, and bring -you to Paris."</p> - -<p>"And when do you mean to go?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, mother dear: when a great resolution is taken, the sooner it -is put into execution the better.... Ask M. Danré."</p> - -<p>"Yes, ask Lazarille. I do not know what you did to M. Danré, but the -fact is...."</p> - -<p>"M. Danré is fair-minded, mother; he knows that everything must move -in its own appointed surroundings if it is to become of any worth. I -should make a bad lawyer, a bad solicitor, a bad sheriffs officer; I -should make a shocking bad teacher I You know quite well that it took -three schoolmasters to get me through the multiplication table and it -was not a brilliant success. Very well! I believe I can do something -better."</p> - -<p>"What, you scamp?"</p> - -<p>"Mother, I swear I know nothing about what I shall do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> but you -remember what the fortune-teller whom you questioned on my behalf -predicted?"</p> - -<p>My mother sighed.</p> - -<p>"What did she predict?" asked M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"She said," I replied, "'I cannot tell you what your son will become, -madame; I can only see him, through clouds and flashes of lightning, -like a traveller who is crossing high mountains, reaching a height -to which few men attain. I do not say he will command people, but I -foresee he will speak to them; although I cannot indicate the precise -lines of his destiny, your son belongs to that class of men whom we -style <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">RULERS</span>.' 'My son is to become a king, then?' my mother laughingly -retorted. 'No, no, but something similar, something perhaps more -desirable: every king has not a crown on his head and a sceptre in his -hand.' 'So much the better,' said my mother; 'I never envied the lot of -Madame Bonaparte.' I was five years old, Monsieur Danré, I was present -when my horoscope was made; well—I will prove the gipsy to be in the -right. You know that prophecies are not always fulfilled because they -must be fulfilled, but because they put a fixed idea into the minds of -those about whom they are made which influences events, which modifies -circumstances, which finally brings them to the end aimed at; because -this end was revealed to them in advance, whilst, had it not been for -the revelation, they would have passed by the end without noticing it."</p> - -<p>"I should like to know where he got all these notions from!" my mother -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, why, from his own thoughts," said M. Danré.</p> - -<p>"Then is it your judgment, too, that he ought to go?"</p> - -<p>"I advise it."</p> - -<p>"But you know the poor lad's resources!"</p> - -<p>"Fifty francs and his carriage fare paid."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"That will be enough, if he is to succeed, or if his destiny urges him -on as he says. If he had a million, he would not obtain what he wishes -to obtain so long as he had no vocation for it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, well, he had better go, if he is so set on it."</p> - -<p>"When shall I go, mother?"</p> - -<p>"When you like. Only, you must let us have a day together first."</p> - -<p>"Listen, mother mine. I will stay all to-day, to-morrow and Saturday -with you. On Saturday night I will leave by the ten o'clock coach: I -shall reach Paris by five.... I shall have time to get to Adolphe's -house before he goes out."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said my mother, as she heaved a sigh, "he is the one who has led -you astray!"</p> - -<p>I did not much heed the sigh, because I felt sure the engagement made -would be fulfilled. I began to make my round of farewells.</p> - -<p>I had not seen Adèle since her marriage. I would not write to her: the -letter might be opened by her husband, and compromise her. I applied -to Louise Brézette, our friend in common. Alas! I found the poor child -in tears. Chollet, whose education in forestry was finished, had -been obliged to return to his parents, and he had carried off with -him all the young girl's first dreams of love: she was forlorn and -inconsolable; she mourned the whole of her life for her lover, and bore -the marks of her love-sickness. I quoted the example of Ariadne to her, -advising her to follow it, and I believe ... I believe she followed it, -and that I contributed, in some measure, towards inducing her to follow -it....</p> - -<p>Poor beloved children! true and affectionate friends of my youth! my -life is now so much taken up, the hours that belong to me are so few, -I am common property to such an extent, that when, by chance, I go -home, or you come here, I cannot give you all the time that the claims -of love and of memory demand. But when I shall have won a few of those -hours of repose in search of which Théaulon spent his life, and which -he never found, oh! I promise you those hours shall be given to you -unquestionably, unshared by others. You have ample claims to demand the -leisure of my old age, and you will make my latter days to flourish as -in my springtime. For there are closed tombs there which draw me as -much,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> more even, than open houses; dead friends who talk to me more -clearly than do the living.</p> - -<p>When I left Louise, I went to Maître Mennesson; I had always kept on -pretty good terms with him. But, since our separation, he had married. -I think his marriage made him more sceptical than ever.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he said, when he caught sight of me, "so there you are!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have come to bid you good-bye."</p> - -<p>"You have decided to go, then?"</p> - -<p>"On Saturday night."</p> - -<p>"And how much do you take with you?"</p> - -<p>"Fifty francs."</p> - -<p>"My dear lad, there are people who started on less than that—M. -Laffitte, for example."</p> - -<p>"Yes, exactly so. I mean to pay him a call, and to ask him for a post -in his office."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, if you find a pin on his carpet, do not fail to pick it up -and to put it on his mantelpiece."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because when M. Laffitte arrived in Paris, much poorer even than -you, he went to see M. Perregaux, just as you are going to call on M. -Laffitte; he went to ask for a place in his office, as you are going -to ask for one in his. M. Perregaux had no vacancy; he dismissed M. -Laffitte, who was going away, his eyes looking down sadly on the floor -as father Aubry's were inclined towards the grave, when he perceived a -pin, not on the earth but on the carpet. M. Laffitte was a tidy man: -he picked up the pin and put it on the mantelpiece, saying, 'Pardon -me, monsieur.' But M. Perregaux, be it known, was a person who noticed -every little thing: he reflected that a young man who would pick up a -pin from the ground must be an orderly person, and, as M. Laffitte was -going away, he said to him, 'I have been thinking, monsieur, stay.' -'But you told me you had no opening in your office.' 'If there is not -one, we will make one for you.' M. Perregaux did as a matter of fact -make room for him—as his partner."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That is a very delightful story, dear Monsieur Mennesson, and I thank -you for your great kindness in relating it to me; but I am afraid it is -no good to me; for, unluckily, I am no picker up of pins."</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is precisely your great fault."</p> - -<p>"Or my strongest point ... we shall see. Therefore, if you have any -good advice to give me...?"</p> - -<p>"Beware of priests, hate the Bourbons, and remember that the only state -worthy of a great nation is a Republic."</p> - -<p>"My dear Monsieur Mennesson, reversing the order of your advice, I -would say: Yes, I am of your opinion as to the government which is most -suited to a great nation, and on the supposition that if I am anything -I am a Republican like yourself. As for the Bourbons, I neither love -them nor hate them. I have heard it said that their race produced a -holy king, a good one and a great one: Saint Louis, Henri IV. and -Louis XIV. Only, the last reigning sovereign returned to France riding -behind a Cossack; that, I believe, damaged the Bourbon cause in the -eyes of France; so it comes about that if some day my voice is needed -to hasten their going away, and my gun to assist their departure, those -who are driving them out will find one voice and one gun the more. As -to distrusting priests, I have only known but one, the Abbé Grégoire, -and as he seemed to me the model of all Christian virtues, until I -encounter a bad one, let me believe that all are good."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, you will change all that."</p> - -<p>"It is possible. Meanwhile, give me your hand: I am going to ask for -his blessing."</p> - -<p>"Go, then, and much good may it do you!"</p> - -<p>"I believe it will."</p> - -<p>I went to the abbé.</p> - -<p>"Well, well," he said, "so you are going to leave us?"</p> - -<p>It will be seen that the rumour of my departure had already spread all -over the place.</p> - -<p>"Yes, M. l'abbé, and I have come to ask you to remember me in your -prayers."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! my prayers? I thought that was the thing you cared least about."</p> - -<p>"M. l'abbé, do you remember the day I made my first communion?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know, it produced a profound impression on you, but you let it -stay at that, and you have never been seen at church since."</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose the sacrament would have the same effect on me at the -tenth time as on the first?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! my God, no, certainly not. Unhappily, one gets accustomed to -everything in this world."</p> - -<p>"Very well, M. l'abbé, my other impressions would have effaced that. -One must not get too used to sacred things, M. l'abbé; frequent use of -them not only takes away their grandeur, but still more their efficacy. -Who told you once that I should only need the consolation of the Church -in great trouble, as one only requires bleeding in serious illness?" -"You have a curious way of putting things...."</p> - -<p>"Well, M. l'abbé, you said it yourself, more than once: we must -treat men less according to their maladies than according to their -temperaments. I am impressionability personified. I have an impulsive -character, you yourself told me so. I shall commit all kinds of -mistakes, all kinds of follies—never a wicked or disgraceful action. -Not, indeed, because I am better than anyone else; but because bad and -dishonourable actions are the result of reflection and of calculation, -and when I act, it is on the spur of the moment; and this impulse is so -quick, that the action springing from it is done before I have had time -to consider the consequences or to calculate the results."—</p> - -<p>"There is some truth in what you say: but come, what is the use of -giving any advice to a character of your calibre?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I did not come to ask for your advice, dear abbé; I came to beg -your prayers."</p> - -<p>"Prayers?.... You do not believe in them."</p> - -<p>"Ah! pardon, that is another matter.... No, true, I have not always had -faith in them; but do not be troubled: on the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> when I shall have -need to believe in them, I shall believe in them. Listen: when I took -my communion, had I not read in Voltaire that it was a curious sort -of God that needed to be digested? and, in Pigault-Lebrun, that the -Host was nothing more than a wafer double the thickness of an ordinary -wafer? Well, did that prevent me feeling a trembling that shook my -whole body, when the Host touched my lips? Did it prevent the tears -springing into my eyes, tears of humility, tears of thankfulness, -above all, tears of love towards God? Do you not believe that God -prefers a generous heart which abandons itself utterly to Him when it -is too full, to a niggardly heart which only yields itself drop by -drop? Should not prayer come from the depths of the soul, rather than -consist of the words of one's lips? Do you believe God will be angry -if I forget Him during ordinary daily life, as one forgets the beating -of one's heart, so long as I return to Him at every time of trouble or -of joy? No M. l'abbé, no; on the contrary, I believe God loves me, and -that is why I forget Him, just as one forgets a good father whom one is -always sure of."</p> - -<p>"Well," replied the abbé, "it matters little to me if you forget God; -but I do not want you to doubt His existence."</p> - -<p>"Oh! be at rest on that point: it is not the hunter who ever doubts the -existence of God—no man does who has spent whole nights in the moonlit -woods, who has studied Nature, from the elephant down to the mite, who -has watched the setting and the rising of the sun, who has heard the -songs of the birds, their evening laments and their morning hymns of -praise!"</p> - -<p>"Then all will be well.... Now, you know, there is a text in the -Gospels which is short and easy to remember; make it the foundation -of your actions and you need not fear failure; this text, which ought -to be engraved in letters of gold over the entry to every town, over -the entry to every house, over the entry to every heart, is:'<i>Do not -do unto others that ye would not have them do to you.</i>' And when -philosophers, cavillers, libertines, say to you, 'Confucius has a maxim -better than that, as follows: Do unto others what you would have them -do to you,' reply, 'No, it is not better!—for it is false in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> its -application; one cannot always do what one would like others to do to -oneself, whilst one can always abstain from doing what one would not -like them to do to oneself.' Come, kiss me and let us leave matters -here.... We could not say anything better than that."</p> - -<p>And, with these words, we embraced warmly, and I left him.</p> - -<p>The next day but one, after having made my last visit to the -cemetery,—a pious pilgrimage which my mother made almost every day, -and in which, this time, I accompanied her,—we wended our way towards -the <i>Hôtel de la Boule d'or</i> where the passing coach was to pick me -up and take me away to Paris. At half-past nine we heard the sound of -the wheels; my mother and I had still another half-hour together. We -retired into a room where we were alone, and we wept together; but our -tears were from different causes. My mother wept in doubt, I wept in -hope. We could neither of us see the hand of God; but very certainly -God was present and His grace was with us.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vb" id="CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I find Adolphe again—The pastoral drama—First steps—The Duc de -Bellune—General Sébastiani—His secretaries and his snuff-boxes—The -fourth floor, small door to the left—The general who painted battles</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I got down at No. 9 rue du Bouloy, at five in the morning. This time, -I did not make the same mistake that I did when I left the Théâtre -Français. I took my bearings, and, by certain landmarks, I thought I -recognised the vicinity of the rue des Vieux-Augustins. I questioned -the conductor, who confirmed my convictions, and handed me my small -luggage. I disputed over it victoriously with several porters, and I -reached the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i> towards half-past five. There -I felt at home. The waiter recognised me as the traveller with the -hares and the partridges, and, in the absence of the landlord, who was -still asleep, he took me to the room I had occupied on my last visit. -My first desire was for sleep. Owing to the emotions of parting, and -owing to wakeful dreams I had had in the diligence, I arrived tired -out. I told the boy to wake me at nine, if I had not given any signs -of life before. I knew Adolphe's habits by now, and I knew I need not -hurry over going to his house. But when the landlord himself came into -my room at nine o'clock, he found me up: sleep would have none of -me. It was Sunday morning. Under the Bourbons Paris was very dreary -on Sundays. Strict orders forbade the opening of shops, and it was -considered not only a breach of religious order, but still worse, a -crime of <i>lèse majesty</i> to disobey these ordinances. I risked being -arrested in Paris at nine in the morning nearly as much as I had risked -it by being in the streets after midnight. I did not feel uneasy. -Thanks to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> my sportsman's instincts, I found the rue du Mont-Blanc; -then the rue Pigale; then, finally, No. 14 in the rue Pigale.</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven was, as usual, walking in his garden. It was early in May: -he was amusing himself by giving a bit of sugar to a rose. He turned -round and said—</p> - -<p>"Ah! it is you. Why have you been so long without coming to see us?"</p> - -<p>"Why, because I returned to Villers-Cotterets."</p> - -<p>"And you have now come back?"</p> - -<p>"As you see. I have come to try my fortune for the last time.... This -time, I must stop in Paris, whatever happens."</p> - -<p>"Well, as to that, you will always be welcome here, my dear boy. We -have a kind of Platonic republic here, save in the matter of the -community of women and the presence of poets: one mouth more or less -makes no difference to our republic. There is even an empty attic to -spare upstairs; you can dispute possession of it with the rats; but I -believe you are capable of defending yourself. Go and arrange it all -with Adolphe."</p> - -<p>M. de Leuven wrote on foreign politics at that time, for the <i>Courrier -français.</i> Brought up on the knees of the kings and queens of the -North, speaking all the Northern languages, knowing everything it is -permitted man to know, the politics of foreign courts were almost -his mother tongue. He rose at five o'clock every morning, received -the papers by six, and by seven or eight his work for the <i>Courrier -français</i> was finished.</p> - -<p>Generally, by the time his father finished his day's work, Adolphe had -not begun his. He was still in bed—which I forgave him after he had -assured me that he had worked at a little drama in two acts, called the -<i>Pauvre Fille</i>, until two in the morning.</p> - -<p>The reader will recollect Soumet's charming elegy:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"J'ai fui le pénible sommeil,<br /> -Qu'aucun songe heureux n'accompagne;<br /> -J'ai devancé sur la montagne<br /> -Les premiers rayons du soleil.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>S'éveillant avec la nature,<br /> -Le jeune oiseau chantait sur l'aubépine en fleurs;<br /> -Sa mère lui portait la douce nourriture;<br /> -Mes yeux se sont mouillés de pleurs.<br /> -Oh! pourquoi n'ai-je plus de mère?<br /> -Pourquoi ne suis-je pas semblable au jeune oiseau<br /> -Dont le nid se balance aux branches de l'ormeau,<br /> -Moi, malheureux enfant trouve sur une pierre,<br /> -Devant l'église du hameau?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Short lines were much in vogue at that period. M. Guiraud had just -made with his <i>Petits Savoyards</i> a reputation almost equal to that M. -Dennery has since made with his <i>Grâce de Dieu</i>, the only difference -being that M. Guiraud's Savoyard only asked for a son, while M. -Dennery's Savoyard asked for five. True, M. Dennery is a Jew. The first -of Hugo's <i>Odes</i> had made their appearance; Lamartine's <i>Méditations</i> -were out; but these were too strong and too substantial meat for the -stomachs of 1823, which had been nourished on the refuse of Parny, of -Bertin and of Millevoye.</p> - -<p>Adolphe was writing his <i>Pauvre Fille</i> in collaboration with Ferdinand -Langlé, and it was to be ready for a reading in a week's time.</p> - -<p>"Ah me! when shall I have reached that stage?" I thought to myself. -While I waited, I questioned Adolphe as to the composition of the -Ministry. You ask why I wanted to know about the composition of the -Ministry, and what I had to do with ministers? Why, I wanted to -know what the Duc de Bellune was. As ministers are but mortals, and -quickly forgotten when they are dead, it gives me pleasure to draw -this minister from his grave, and to acquaint the reader with the -constitution of the Ministry of 1823 at the date of my arrival in Paris.</p> - -<p>Keeper of the Seals, Comte de Peyronnet. Foreign Minister, Vicomte de -Montmorency. Minister for the Interior, Comte de Cubières. Minister -for War, <i>le Maréchal Duc de Bellune</i>. Minister for the Navy, Marquis -de Clermont-Tonnerre. Minister for Finance, Comte de Villèle. King's -Chamberlain, M. de Lauriston.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Duc de Bellune was still War Minister. That was all I wanted to -know.</p> - -<p>I have mentioned that I was interested in the Duc de Bellune, no -matter what office he held. I had a letter of his in my possession, -wherein he had thanked my father for a service he had rendered in -Italy; he placed himself at my father's disposition, in case he should -ever be able to do anything for him. The occasion offered on behalf -of the son instead of the father. But as, at that period, the law of -inheritance had not yet been abolished, as there was not even talk of -abolishing it, I did not doubt that as I had succeeded in the direct -line to Napoleon's hatred, I should succeed in direct line also to the -gratitude of the Duc de Bellune. I begged a pen and ink from de Leuven; -I trimmed the quill with the care the case demanded, and, in my very -best handwriting, I drew up a petition asking for an interview with -the Minister of War. I particularised all my claims to his favour; I -emphasised them in the name of my father, which the marshal could not -have forgotten; I recalled the old friendship which had united them, -while leaving unmentioned the service my father had rendered him, of -which the marshal's letter (he was then a major or a colonel) gave -proof. Then, easy about my future, I returned to literature.</p> - -<p>Adolphe sensibly pointed out to me that, sure though I felt of the -protection of Marshal Victor, it might still be as well to throw out my -line in other directions, in the unlikely, but still possible, case of -my being deceived.</p> - -<p>I told Adolphe that, if Marshal Victor failed me, there still remained -Marshal Jourdan and Marshal Sébastiani.</p> - -<p>It was quite out of the question that these would not move heaven -and earth for me. I had three or four letters from Jourdan to my -father, which gave token of a friendship equal to that of Damon and -Pythias. I had only one letter from Marshal Sébastiani; but this letter -proved that when at loggerheads with Bonaparte during the Egyptian -campaign, it was through the intercession of my father, who was then -on excellent terms with the general-in-chief, that he had obtained a -commission in the expedition. Surely such services as these would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -never be forgotten! At that time, as can be seen, I was very simple, -very provincial, very confiding. I am wrong in saying "at that time"; -alas! I am just the same now, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, Adolphe's -suspicions disturbed me. I decided not to wait for the Duc de Bellune's -answer before seeing my other patrons, and I told Adolphe I meant to -buy the <i>Almanach des 25,000 adresses</i> in order to find out where they -lived.</p> - -<p>"Do not put yourself to that expense," said Adolphe. "I believe my -father has it: I will lend it you."</p> - -<p>The tone in which Adolphe said "Do not put yourself to that expense" -annoyed me. It was as clear as day that he believed I should be making -a useless expenditure in buying the Directory in question. I was angry -with Adolphe for having such a low opinion of men.</p> - -<p>To give him the lie, I went next morning to Marshal Jourdan. I -announced myself as Alexandre Dumas. My success was surprising. The -marshal no doubt imagined that the news he had received fifteen years -ago was not true, and that my father was still alive. But when he saw -me, his face changed completely: he remembered perfectly that a General -Alexandre Dumas had existed in times gone by, with whom he had come in -contact, but he had never heard of the existence of a son. In spite -of all I could urge to establish my identity, he dismissed me, after -ten minutes' interview, still a disbeliever in my existence. This good -marshal was stronger than St. Thomas: he saw and did not believe.</p> - -<p>It was a sad beginning. I recalled the way in which, advising me not -to buy an <i>Almanach des 25,000 adresses,</i> Adolphe had said to me, -"Do not put yourself to that expense." Was it possible, perchance, -that Adolphe's scepticism might prove correct? These depressing -cogitations passed through my mind while I was walking from the -faubourg Saint-Germain to the faubourg Saint-Honoré—that is to say, -from Marshal Jourdan's to Marshal Sébastiani's. I announced myself, -as I had at Marshal Jourdan's; at my name the door opened. I thought, -for a moment, that I had inherited Ali Baba's famous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> "Open, sesame!" -The <i>general</i> was in his study. I italicise <i>general,</i> as I was in -error previously in calling the famous minister of foreign affairs -to Louis-Philippe <i>marshal</i>:—Comte Sébastiani was only a general -when I paid my visit to him. So the general was in his study: in the -four comers of this study, as at the four corners of a map are the -four cardinal points or four winds, were four secretaries. These -four secretaries were writing at his dictation. They were three less -in number than Cæsar's, but two more than Napoleon's. Each of these -secretaries had on his desk, besides his pen, his paper and his -penknife, a gold snuff-box which he opened and offered to the general, -every time the latter had occasion, when walking round the room, to -stop in front of the desk. The general would daintily insert the first -finger and thumb of a hand whose whiteness and delicacy had been the -envy of his grand-cousin Napoleon, take a voluptuous sniff of the -Spanish powder and, like <i>le Malade imaginaire,</i> proceed to measure the -length and the breadth of the room..</p> - -<p>My visit was short. Whatever consideration I might have for the -general, I did not feel inclined to become his snuff-box boy. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, somewhat cast -down. The first two men I had turned to had blown upon my golden -dreams, and tarnished them. Besides, although a whole day had gone by, -although I had given my address as accurately as possible, I had not -yet received any answer from the Duc de Bellune.</p> - -<p>I picked up my <i>Almanack des 25,000 adresses,</i> and began to -congratulate myself on not having wasted five francs in its -acquisition. I was quickly disillusioned, as will be seen; my cheerful -confidence had gone; I felt that sinking of heart which ever increases -in proportion as golden dreams give place to reality. I then turned -over the leaves of the book purely and simply at hap-hazard, looking -at it mechanically, reading without taking it in, when, all at once, I -saw a name that I had often heard my mother pronounce, and, each time, -in such eulogistic terms that all my spirits revived. That name was -General Verdier's, who had served in Egypt, under my father.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Come, come," I said; "the number three is a favourite with the gods; -perhaps my third unknown and providential protector will do more for me -than the other two—which would be no great tax, seeing the others have -not done anything at all."</p> - -<p>General Verdier lived in the faubourg Montmartre, No. 6. Ten minutes -later, I was holding the following terse dialogue with the concierge of -his house:—</p> - -<p>"Does General Verdier live here, please?"</p> - -<p>"Fourth floor, small door on the left."</p> - -<p>I made the concierge repeat it: I believed I must have misunderstood -him.</p> - -<p>Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani lived in sumptuous mansions, in -the faubourg Saint-Germain and the faubourg Saint-Honoré; entrance was -gained to these mansions by gates like those of Gaza. Why, then, should -General Verdier live in the rue du faubourg Montmartre, on the fourth -floor, and why did one gain access to him through a small doorway?</p> - -<p>The concierge repeated his words: I had not misunderstood.</p> - -<p>"Good gracious!" I said, as I climbed the staircase; "this does not -look like Marshal Jourdan's lackeys, nor Marshal Sébastiani's Swiss -guards. <i>General Verdier, fourth floor, small door on the left,</i> surely -this is a man likely to remember my father!"</p> - -<p>I reached the fourth floor; I discovered the small door; at this door -hung a humble, modest, green string. I rang with an uncontrollable -fluttering at my heart. This third trial was to decide my opinion of -men. Steps approached, the door was opened. A man of about sixty opened -the door; he wore a cap edged with astrakan, and was clothed in a green -braided jacket and trousers of white calf-skin. He held in his hand a -palette full of paints, and under his thumb, which held his palette, -was a paint-brush. I looked at the other doors.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, monsieur," I said; "I am afraid I have made some -mistake...."</p> - -<p>"What is your pleasure, monsieur?" asked the man with the palette.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To present my compliments to General Verdier."</p> - -<p>"In that case, step in: here you are."</p> - -<p>I went in, and, when we had crossed a tiny square hall which served as -an ante-chamber, I found myself in a studio.</p> - -<p>"You will allow me to go on with my work, monsieur?" said the painter, -placing himself in front of a battlepiece in the construction of which -I had interrupted him.</p> - -<p>"Certainly: but will you have the goodness, monsieur, to inform me -where I shall find the general?"</p> - -<p>The painter turned round.</p> - -<p>"The general? What general?"</p> - -<p>"General Verdier."</p> - -<p>"Why, I am he."</p> - -<p>"You?"</p> - -<p>I stared with such rude surprise at him that he began to laugh.</p> - -<p>"It astonishes you to see me handle the brush so badly," said he, -"after having heard, maybe, that I handled a sword passably? What -would you have me do? I have an active hand and I must keep it always -occupied somehow.... But come, as evidently, after the question you put -to me just now, you have nothing to say to the painter, what do you -want with the general?"</p> - -<p>"I am the son of your old comrade-at-arms in Egypt, General Dumas."</p> - -<p>He turned round quickly towards me, and looked at me earnestly; then, -after a moment's silence, he said—</p> - -<p>"By the powers, so you are! You are the very image of him." Tears -immediately came into his eyes, and, throwing down his brush, he held -out his hand to me, which I longed to kiss rather than to shake.</p> - -<p>"Ah! You remember him, then?"</p> - -<p>"Remember him! I should think I do: the handsomest and the bravest man -in the army! You are the very spit of him, my lad: what a model he -would have made any painter!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are right; I remember him perfectly."</p> - -<p>"And what brings you to Paris, my dear boy? for, if my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> memory serves -me, you lived with your mother, in some village or other."</p> - -<p>"True, General; but my mother is getting on in years, and we are poor."</p> - -<p>"We are both in the same boat," he said.</p> - -<p>"So," I went on, "I have come to Paris, in the hope of obtaining a -small situation, now that it is my turn to provide for her as hitherto -she has provided for me."</p> - -<p>"That is well thought of! But, my poor lad, a place is not so easy to -get in these times, no matter how small, especially for the son of a -Republican general. Ah! if you were the son of an <i>émigré</i> or of a -Chouan,—if only your poor father had served in the Russian or Austrian -army,—I daresay you might have had a chance."</p> - -<p>"The deuce, General, you frighten me! And I had been counting on your -protection."</p> - -<p>"What?" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>I repeated my sentence word for word, but with a little less assurance.</p> - -<p>"My protection!" He shook his head and smiled sadly.</p> - -<p>"My poor boy," he said, "if you wish to take lessons in painting, my -protection may be sufficient to provide you with them, and, even so, -you will never be a great artist if you do not surpass your master. My -protection! Well, well! I am grateful to you for that expression,'pon -my word! for you are, most likely, the only person in the world who -would ask me for such a thing to-day. You flatterer!"</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, General, I do not rightly understand."</p> - -<p>"Why, those rascals pensioned me off for some imaginary conspiracy with -Dermoncourt! So, you see, here I am, painting pictures; and if you -want to do the same, here are a palette, some brushes and a thirty-six -canvas."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, General; I have never got beyond the first stages; so you see -my apprenticeship would be too long, and neither my mother nor I could -wait——'</p> - -<p>"Ah! what can I say, my lad? You know the proverb: 'The prettiest girl -in the world....' Ah I pardon, pardon;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> I find I am mistaken. I have -still half my purse; I had forgotten that: it is true it is hardly -worth troubling about." He opened the drawer of a small chest in which, -I remember, there were two gold coins and forty francs in silver.</p> - -<p>"There," he said, "this is the remainder of my quarter's pay."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, General; but I am nearly as wealthy as you." It was my turn -to have tears in my eyes. "Thank you, but perhaps you can advise me -what further steps I can take."</p> - -<p>"You have already taken some steps, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I set about them this morning."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! And who have you seen?"</p> - -<p>"I saw Marshal Jourdan and General Sébastiani."</p> - -<p>"Pooh!... Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, General, pooh!..."</p> - -<p>"And after that...."</p> - -<p>"And after that, I wrote yesterday to the Minister of War."</p> - -<p>"To Bellune?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And has he answered you?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet, but I hope he will reply to me."</p> - -<p>The general, while he filled in the face of a Cossack, made a grimace -which might be summed up in the words: "If you are counting only on -that...."</p> - -<p>"I have still," I added, in response to his thought, "a letter of -introduction to General Foy, deputy of my own department."</p> - -<p>"Very well, my dear boy, as I believe that even if you have time to -lose, you have no money to spare, I advise you not to wait for the -minister's answer. To-morrow is Tuesday; there is a sitting of the -Chamber: but present yourself early at General Foy's,—you will find -him at work, for he is a hard worker, like myself; only, he does better -work. Don't worry; he will receive you kindly."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure of it."</p> - -<p>"I hope so, for I have a letter."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, he will give you a kindly reception, I have no doubt, because of -your letter; but above all he will receive you well for your father's -sake, although he did not know him personally. Now, will you dine with -me? We will talk of Egypt. It was hot there!"</p> - -<p>"Willingly, General. At what hour do you dine?"</p> - -<p>"At six o'clock.... Now go and take a turn on the boulevards, whilst I -finish my Cossack, and return at six."</p> - -<p>I took leave of General Verdier, and descended from the fourth floor, I -must confess, with a lighter heart than I had ascended to it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIb" id="CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p><i>Régulus</i>—Talma and the play—General Foy—The letter of -recommendation and the interview—The Duc de Bellune's reply—I -obtain a place as temporary clerk with M. le Duc d'Orléans—Journey -to Villers-Cotterets to tell my mother the good news—No. 9—I gain a -prize in a lottery</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Men and things began to appear to me in their true light, and the -world, which until now had been hidden from me in the mists of -illusion, began to show itself as it really is, as God and the Devil -have made it, interspersed with good and evil, spotted with dirt. I -related to Adolphe everything that had occurred.</p> - -<p>"Go on," he said; "if your story finishes as it has begun, you will -accomplish much more than the writing of a comic opera: you will write -a comedy."</p> - -<p>But Adolphe's thoughts were in reality busy on my behalf. <i>Régulus</i> was -to be played at the Théâtre-Français that night: he had asked for two -orchestra stalls from Lucien Arnault, and had kept them for me; only, -on that evening, he would be too busy to come with me: the <i>Pauvre -Fille</i> claimed every minute of his time.</p> - -<p>I was almost glad of this inability: I could thus take General Verdier -to the play in return for his dinner. I found him waiting for me at his -house at six o'clock; I showed him my two tickets, and laid my proposal -before him.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well!" he said, "I cannot refuse this: I do not often -allow myself the luxury of going to the play, and especially as it is -Talma...."</p> - -<p>"You know some dramatists, then?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, I know M. Arnault."</p> - -<p>"Very good!... And now I must confess, General, that I want to stay in -Paris really to go in for literature."</p> - -<p>"Ah! not really?"</p> - -<p>"Really, General."</p> - -<p>"Listen: you came to ask my advice ...?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly I did."</p> - -<p>"Very well, don't count too much on literature for a living; you look -as though you had a good appetite; now, literature will necessitate -your going hungry many a time.... However, on those days, you must look -me up: the painter always shares his crusts with the poet. <i>Ut pictura -poesis!</i> I do not need to interpret that, for I presume you know Latin."</p> - -<p>"A little, General."</p> - -<p>"That is much more than I do. Come, let us go and dine."</p> - -<p>"Do we not dine at your rooms?"</p> - -<p>"Do you imagine I am rich enough, on my half-pay, to keep up a kitchen -and a household? No, no, no, indeed! I dine at the Palais-Royal for -forty sous; to-day we will have an <i>extra</i>, and I can get it for six -francs. You see you are not going to cost me much, so need not be -anxious."</p> - -<p>We betook ourselves to the Palais-Royal, where indeed we dined -excellently for our six francs, or rather for General Verdier's -six francs. Then we went to take our places for <i>Régulus.</i> My mind -was still full of <i>Sylla</i>; I saw the gloomy Dictator enter with -his flattened locks, his crowned head, his forehead furrowed with -anxieties: his speech was deliberate, almost solemn; his glance—that -of a lynx and a hyena—shot from under his drooping eyelids like that -of a nocturnal animal which sees in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Thus I awaited Talma.</p> - -<p>He entered, at a rapid pace, with haughty head and terse speech, as -befitted the general of a free people and a conquering nation; he -entered, in short, as <i>Régulus</i> would have entered. No longer, the -toga, no longer the purple, no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> the crown: a simple tunic, bound -by an iron girdle, without any other cloak than that of the soldier. -Here was where Talma was admirable in his personality—always that of -the hero he was called upon to represent—he reconstructed a world, he -refashioned an epoch.</p> - -<p>Yes, in <i>Sylla</i> he was the man of the falling republic; he was the -man who, in putting aside the purple, and in restoring to Rome that -temporary independence which she was soon no longer to know, said, to -those who assisted at this great act of his public life:—</p> - -<p> -"J'achève un grand destin; j'achève un grand ouvrage;<br /> -Sur ce monde étonné, j'ai marqué mon passage.<br /> -Ne m'accusez jamais dans la postérité,<br /> -Romains, de vous avoir rendu la liberté!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>It was Sylla who, in Marius and with Marius, witnessed the expiration -of the last breath of republican virility; it was he who saw the rise -of Cæsar—that Cæsar who later spoke thus to Brutus:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"O le pauvre insensé! qui vient, du couchant sombre,<br /> -Demander la lumière, et qui marche vers l'ombre!<br /> -Et qui se croit, rêvant les antiques vertus,<br /> -Au siècle des Camille et des Cincinnatus!<br /> -Oui, leur siècle était grand, peut-être regrettable;<br /> -Oui, la simplicity des habits, de la table;<br /> -Cette orge qui bouillait sur le plat des Toscans;<br /> -Ce peu qu'on avait d'or, qui reluisant aux camps;<br /> -Annibal, sous nos murs plantant sa javeline;<br /> -Et nos guerriers debout sur la porte Colline;<br /> -Voilà qui défendait au vice d'approcher!...<br /> -Mais le Nil dans le Tibre est venu s'épancher,<br /> -Et l'or asiatique, aux mains sacerdotales,<br /> -A remplacé l'argile étrusque des vestales;<br /> -Et le luxe, fondant sur nous comme un vautour,<br /> -Venge les nations et nous dompte à son tour.<br /> -La Rome des consuls et de la république<br /> -A brisé dès longtemps sa ceinture italique.<br /> -Rome a conquis la Grèce, et Carthage, et le Pont;<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Rome a conquis l'Espagne et la Gaule.—Répond,<br /> -Toi, qui ne veux pas voir, comme une mer de lave,<br /> -Monter incessamment vers nous le monde esclave:<br /> -Cette ville aux sept monts, qu'un dieu même créa,<br /> -Est-ce toujours la fille et l'Albe et de Rhéa,<br /> -La matrone sévère ou bien la courtisane?...<br /> -Ville de Mithridate et d'Ariobarzane,<br /> -Ville de Ptolémée, et ville de Juba.<br /> -Rome est un compost de tout ce qui tomba!<br /> -Rome, c'est l'univers! et sa débauche accuse<br /> -Marseille, Alexandrie, Athènes, Syracuse,<br /> -Et Rhode et Sybaris, fécondes en douleurs,<br /> -Et Tarente lascive, au front chargé de fleurs!..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Well, it was in this first epoch, spoken of by Cæsar, when "l'orge -bouillait sur le plat des Toscans," that Regulus flourished. Therefore, -from his very entry, Talma appeared as the stern republican, the man -vowed to great causes. Yes, yes, Talma, you were indeed, this time, -the Punic warrior, the colleague of Duillius—that conqueror to whom -his contemporaries, still in ignorance of the titles and the honours -with which defenders of their country should be rewarded, were giving -a flute player to follow him wherever he went, and a rostral column -to set up in front of his house; yes, you were indeed the consul who, -when he landed on African shores, had to beat down monsters before -he could beat down men, and who tested the implements of war, which -were destined to break down the walls of Carthage, by crushing a -boa-constrictor a hundred cubits in length. You were indeed that man -whose two victories spelt two hundred towns, and who refused Carthage -peace: Carthage, the Queen of the Mediterranean, the Sovereign of -the Ocean, who had coasted down Africa as far as the Equator, who -had spread North as far as the Cassiterides, and who possessed armed -ships. O Carthaginians, merchants, lawyers and senators! you were lost -at last. The race of traders had to give way to the race of warriors, -speculators to soldiers, Hannons to Barcas; you would have consented -to all the demands of Regulus, if there had not been found in Carthage -a Lacedemonian, a mercenary, a Xantippe, who declared that Carthage -still possessed the means for resisting, and demanded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the chief -command of the armies. The command was given him. He was a Greek. He -lured the Romans into the plain, charged into them with his cavalry and -crushed them beneath his elephants. It was at this stage of affairs, O -Regulus—Talma that you made your entry into Carthage, but conquered, -and a prisoner!</p> - -<p>Lucien Arnault had certainly not extracted all the dramatic force out -of this splendid republican subject that it was capable of showing: -he had certainly not shown us Rome, patient and indefatigable as the -ploughing oxen; he had certainly not depicted commercial Carthage, with -its armies of condottieri recruited from the sturdy Ligurians, that -Strabo shows us, in the mountains of Genes, breaking down the rocks and -carrying enormous burdens; from those clever slingers who came from the -Balearic Isles, who could stop a stag in its flight, an eagle on the -wing, with their stone-throwing; from the sturdy and strong Iberians, -who seemed insensible to hunger and to fatigue, when they were marching -to battle with their red cloaks and their two-edged-swords; finally, -from the Numidians whom we fight even to-day at Constantine and at -Djidjelli, terrible cavaliers, centaurs thin and fiery like their -chargers. No,—although the epoch was not remote,—the piece lacked -poetry; you, my dear Lucien, simply extracted from this mass of -material the devotion of a single man, and did not choose to depict a -people.</p> - -<p>Talma was superb when he was urging the Roman Senate to refuse peace, -thereby condemning himself to death; Talma was magnificent in that last -cry which hung for two centuries after, like a menace, over the city of -Dido: "To Carthage! to Carthage!"</p> - -<p>I returned to my quarters, this second time even more filled with -admiration than on the first occasion; only, as I knew my way, I -dispensed with the expense of a cab. Besides, my way was nearly the -same as General Verdier's to the faubourg Montmartre; he left me at the -corner of the rue Coquillière, shaking my hand and wishing me good luck.</p> - -<p>Next day, at ten, I presented myself at General Foy's. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> lived at No. -64 rue du Mont-Blanc. I was shown into his study, and found him engaged -upon his <i>Histoire de la Péninsule.</i> As I entered he was writing, -standing against a table which could be lowered or raised as required. -Round him, on chairs, on arm-chairs, on the floor, were scattered, in -apparent confusion, speeches, proofs, maps and open books. When the -general heard the door of his sanctum open he turned round. General -Foy was, at that time, a man of about forty-eight or fifty years of -age, thin, short rather than tall, with scanty grey hair, a projecting -forehead, an aquiline nose and a bilious complexion. He carried his -head high, his manner was short and his gestures commanding. I was -announced.</p> - -<p>"M. Alexandre Dumas!" he repeated after the servant; "let him come in."</p> - -<p>I appeared before him, trembling all over.</p> - -<p>"Are you M. Alexandre Dumas?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, General."</p> - -<p>"Are you the son of General Dumas who commanded the Army of the Alps?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, General."</p> - -<p>"I have been told that Bonaparte treated him very unjustly and that -this injustice was extended to his widow."</p> - -<p>"He left us in poverty."</p> - -<p>"Can I do anything for you?"</p> - -<p>"I confess, General, that you are nearly my sole hope."</p> - -<p>"How is that?"</p> - -<p>"Will you first make yourself acquainted with this letter from M. -Danré."</p> - -<p>"Ah! worthy Danré!... You know him?"</p> - -<p>"He was an intimate friend of my father."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he lived a league from Villers-Cotterets, where General Dumas -died.... And what is the good fellow doing?"</p> - -<p>"He is happy and proud to have been of some use to you in your -election, General."</p> - -<p>"Of some use? Say rather he did everything!" said he, breaking open -the letter. "Do you know," he continued, as he held the letter open -without reading it,—"do you know that he made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> himself answerable on -my account to the electors—body and soul, body and soul?... They did -not want to appoint me! I hope his rash zeal did not cost him too much. -Let me see what he says."</p> - -<p>He began to read.</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! he commends you to me most pressingly; he is very fond of you, -then?"</p> - -<p>"Almost as fond as he is of his own son, General."</p> - -<p>"I must first find out what you are fit for."</p> - -<p>"Oh! not good for much."</p> - -<p>"Bah! you surely know some mathematics?"</p> - -<p>"No, General."</p> - -<p>"You have at least some notion of algebra, of geometry, of physics?"</p> - -<p>He stopped between each word, and at each word I blushed afresh, and -the perspiration ran down my forehead in faster and faster drops. -It was the first time I had been thus actually confronted with my -ignorance.</p> - -<p>"No, General," I replied, stammering; "I do not know anything of those -things."</p> - -<p>"You have perhaps studied law?"</p> - -<p>"No, General."</p> - -<p>"You know Latin, Greek?"</p> - -<p>"A little Latin, no Greek."</p> - -<p>"Can you speak any modern language?"</p> - -<p>"Italian."</p> - -<p>"You understand book-keeping?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world."</p> - -<p>I was in agony, and he himself was visibly sorry for me.</p> - -<p>"Oh, General!" I burst out in tones that seemed to impress him greatly, -"my education is utterly defective and I am ashamed to say that I never -realised it until this moment.... Oh! but I will mend matters, I give -you my word; and soon, very soon, I shall be able to reply 'Yes' to all -the questions to which I have just now said 'No.'"</p> - -<p>"But have you anything to live upon in the meantime, my young friend?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Nothing, absolutely nothing, General!" I replied, crushed by the -feeling of my powerlessness.</p> - -<p>The general looked at me in profound pity.</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless," he said, "I do not want to abandon you ..."</p> - -<p>"No, General, for you will not be abandoning me only! True, I am -ignorant and good for nothing; but my mother counts upon me; I have -promised her I will find a place, and she ought not to be punished for -my ignorance and my laziness."</p> - -<p>"Give me your address," said the general. "I will consider what can be -done for you.... Write, there, at that desk."</p> - -<p>He held the pen out to me which he had just been using. I took it; I -looked at it, still wet; then, shaking my head, I gave it back to him.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"No, General," I said; "I cannot write with your pen: it would be a -profanation."</p> - -<p>He smiled. "What a child you are!" he said. "Look, here is a new one."</p> - -<p>"Thanks." I wrote. The general looked on.</p> - -<p>I had scarcely written my name before he clapped his hands together.</p> - -<p>"We are saved!" he said.</p> - -<p>"How is that?"</p> - -<p>"You write a beautiful hand."</p> - -<p>My head fell on my breast; my shame was insupportable. The only thing -I possessed was a good handwriting. This diploma of incapacity well -became me! A beautiful handwriting! So some day I might become a -copying-clerk. That was my future! I would rather cut off my right -arm. General Foy went on without paying much heed to what was passing -through my mind.</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "I am dining to-day at the Palais-Royal; I will -mention you to the Duc d'Orléans; I will tell him he ought to take the -son of a Republican general into his offices. Sit down there...."</p> - -<p>He pointed to an empty desk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Draw up a petition, and write your very best."</p> - -<p>I obeyed. When I had finished, General Foy took my petition, read -it and traced a few lines in the margin. His handwriting compared -unfavourably with mine and humiliated me most cruelly. Then he folded -up the petition, put it in his pocket and, holding out his hand to bid -me good-bye, he invited me to return and lunch with him next day. I -returned to my hotel in the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and there I found -a letter franked by the Minister of War. Good and evil fortune had, -up to this time, treated me pretty impartially. The letter that I was -about to break open should turn the scale definitely. The minister -replied that, as he had no time for a personal interview, he invited -me to lay before him anything I had to say in writing. Decidedly, -the balance of the scale was towards ill-fortune. I replied that the -audience I asked of him was but to hand him the original of a letter -of thanks he had once written to my father, his general-in-chief; but -that, as I might not have the honour of seeing him, I would content -myself with sending him a copy of it. Poor marshal! I have seen him -since: he was then as affectionate to me as he had been indifferent -under the circumstances I have just related; and, nowadays, his son and -his grandson are my good friends.</p> - -<p>I went early, next morning, as I had been advised, to General Foy's, -who was now my only hope. The general was at his work, as on the -previous day. He received me with a smiling face, which looked very -promising.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "our business is settled."</p> - -<p>I looked at him, astounded.</p> - -<p>"How is that?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are to enter the secretarial staff of the Duc d'Orléans as -supernumerary, at twelve hundred francs. It is nothing very great; but -mow is your chance to work."</p> - -<p>"It is a fortune!... And when am I to begin?"</p> - -<p>"Next Monday, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Next Monday?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is arranged with the chief clerk in the office."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<p>"M. Oudard.... You will introduce yourself to him in my name."</p> - -<p>"Oh, General, I can hardly believe my good fortune."</p> - -<p>The general looked at me with an indescribably kindly expression. This -reminded me that I had not even thanked him. I threw my arms round his -neck and kissed him. He began to laugh.</p> - -<p>"There is good stuff in you," he said; "but remember what you have -promised me: study!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, General; I am now going to live by my handwriting: but I -promise you that one day I shall live by my pen."</p> - -<p>"We shall see; take your pen and write to your mother."</p> - -<p>"No, General, no; I wish to tell her this good news with my own lips. -To-day is Tuesday; I will start to-night: I will spend Wednesday, -Thursday, Friday and Saturday with her; I will come back here on the -night of Sunday—and on Monday I will go to my office."</p> - -<p>"But you will ruin yourself in carriages!"</p> - -<p>"No; I have a free pass from the diligence proprietor."</p> - -<p>And I related to him how old Cartier owed me a dozen fares. "Now," I -asked of the general, "what message shall I take from you to M. Danré?"</p> - -<p>"Well, tell him we had lunch together and that I am very well."</p> - -<p>A small round table ready laid was carried in at this juncture.</p> - -<p>"A second cover," ordered the general.</p> - -<p>"Really, General, you make me ashamed...."</p> - -<p>"Have you lunched?"</p> - -<p>"No, but——"</p> - -<p>"To table, to table!... I have to be at the Chamber by noon."</p> - -<p>We lunched <i>tête-à-tête.</i> The general talked to me of my future plans; -I confided all my literary plans to him. He looked at me; he listened -to me with the benevolent smile of a large-hearted man; he seemed -to say, "Golden dreams!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> foolish hopes! purple but fugitive clouds, -which sail over the heaven of youth, may they not vanish into the -azure firmament too quickly for my poor protégé!" Beloved and kindly -general! loyal soul! noble heart! you are now, alas! dead, before -those dreams were realised; you died without knowing they were to be -realised one day,—you are dead, and gratitude and grief have inspired -me, on the borders of that tomb into which you descended before your -time, to write I will not say the first good lines I made,—that would -perhaps be too ambitious,—but the first of my lines which are worth -the trouble of being quoted. Here are those I recall; the rest I have -completely forgotten:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Ainsi de notre vieille gloire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chaque jour emporte un débris!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chaque jour enrichit l'histoire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Des grands noms qui nous sont repris!</span><br /> -Et, chaque jour, pleurant sur la nouvelle tombe<br /> -D'un héros généreux dans sa course arrêté,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chacun de nous se dit épouvante:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Encore une pierre qui tombe</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Du temple de la Liberté!' ..."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>With one bound I covered the distance between the rue du Mont-Blanc -and the rue Pigale. I longed to tell Adolphe the realisation of all my -hopes. I was now, at last, sure of remaining in Paris. A most ambitious -career opened out before me, limitless and vast. God, on His side, had -done all that was necessary: He had left me with Aladdin's lamp in -the enchanted garden. The rest depended on myself. No man had ever, -I believe, seen his wishes more completely satisfied, his hopes more -entirely crowned. Napoleon could not have been prouder and happier -than I on the day when, having espoused Marie-Louise, he repeated -three times before nightfall, "My poor uncle Louis XVI.!" Adolphe -entered very heartily into my delight. M. de Leuven, to be still -characteristic, quietly ridiculed my raptures. Madame de Leuven, the -most perfect of women, rejoiced in advance over the joy my mother would -shortly experience. All three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> wanted to keep me to dinner with them; -but I remembered that a diligence left at half-past four o'clock, and -that by it I should be able to reach home by one in the morning. It -was odd I should be as eager to return to Villers-Cotterets as I had -been to come to Paris. True, I was not returning for long. I reached -Villers-Cotterets at one o'clock. One thing marred my joy: everybody -was asleep; no one was in the dark streets; I could not cry out from -the door of the diligence, "Here I am! but only for three days; I am -going back to Paris for good." Oh! what an incontestable reality had -the fable of King Midas become to me! When I reached Cartier's house, -I leapt from the coach to the ground without thinking of making use of -the step. When on mother-earth I rushed off, shouting to Auguste—</p> - -<p>"It is I, it is I, Auguste! Put my fare down to your father's account."</p> - -<p>In five minutes I was at home. I had a special way of my own of opening -the door, after my nocturnal escapades; I turned it to account, and I -entered my mother's room, who had hardly been an hour in bed, crying—</p> - -<p>"Victory, dear mother, victory!"</p> - -<p>My poor mother sat up in bed in great agitation: such an early return -and one so completely successful had never entered her head. She was -obliged to believe my word when, after kissing her, she saw me dance -round the room still shouting "Victory!" I told her the whole story: -Jourdan and his lackeys, Sébastiani and his secretaries, Verdier and -his pictures, the Duc de Bellune refusing to receive me and General -Foy receiving me twice. And my mother made me repeat it over and over -again; unable to believe that I, her poor child, had in three days, -without support, without acquaintances, without influence, by my -persistence and determination, myself changed the course of my destiny -for ever.</p> - -<p>At last I got to the end of my tale and sleep had a hearing. I went -to the bed that was scarcely cold since I had last used it, and, -when I woke up, I wondered if I could really have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> been absent from -Villers-Cotterets during those three days, and if it had not all been -a dream. I leapt out of my bed, I dressed myself, I kissed my mother -and I ran off along the road to Vouty. M. Danré ought to be the first -to hear of my good fortune. This was but fair, since he had brought it -about.</p> - -<p>M. Danré learnt the news with feelings of personal pride. There is -something very comforting to poor human nature when a man counts on -a friend for a good action, and this friend accomplishes the deed, -without ostentation, in fulfilment of his promise.</p> - -<p>M. Danré would have liked me to have stayed there all day; but I was -as slippery as an eel. I was not merely in haste that everybody should -know of my happiness, but I wanted to increase this happiness twofold, -by telling it myself. Dear M. Danré understood this, like the good soul -he was. We lunched, and then he set me free. Without, I am thankful to -say, representing the same mythological idea as Mercury, my heels, like -his, were endowed with wings: in twenty or twenty-five minutes, I was -back in Villers-Cotterets; but the news had spread in my absence, in -spite of my celerity. Everybody already knew, on my return, that I was -a supernumerary in the secretariat of the Duc d'Orléans, and everybody -was waiting for me at their doors to congratulate me on my good -fortune. They followed me in procession to the door of Abbé Grégoire's -house. What recollections of my own have I not put in the story of my -poor fellow-countrywoman Ange Pitou! I found our house full of gossips -when I returned. Besides our friend Madame Darcourt, our neighbours -Mesdames Lafarge, Dupré, Dupuis were holding a confabulation. I was -welcomed with open arms, fêted by everybody. They had never doubted my -powers; they had always said that I should become somebody; they were -delighted to have prophesied an event to my poor mother which was now -realised. These ladies, with the exception of Madame Darcourt, let it -be noted, were those who had predicted to my mother that her darling -son would always be a good-for-nothing. But Fate is the most powerful, -the most inexorable of kings; it is not, then, to be wondered at that -it has its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> courtiers. We were never left alone together the whole of -the day. I took advantage of the numbers in the house to go and pay a -special farewell visit to my good Louise, who would fain have comforted -me after Adèle's marriage, if I had been consolable, and whom I would -assuredly have comforted after Chollet had gone, had not I myself left.</p> - -<p>In the evening my mother and I at last found ourselves alone together -for a little while. We took the opportunity to talk over our private -affairs. I wanted my mother to sell everything that we did not need -and come as soon as possible to settle with me in Paris. Twenty years -of misfortunes had sown distrust in my mother's heart. In her opinion, -it was far too hasty to act like this. Then, the twelve hundred francs -that I looked upon as a fortune was a very small amount to live upon in -Paris. Besides, I had not got the salary yet. A supernumerary is but a -probationer: if at the end of one month, or two months, they thought -that I was not suitable for the post, and if M. Oudard, the head of my -office, should make me take a seat as Augustus had made Cinna, as M. -Lefèvre had made me, and ask me, as M. Lefèvre had asked me, "Monsieur, -do you understand mechanics?" we were lost; for my mother would not -even have her tobacco-shop to fall back upon, which she would have left -and which she could not sell merely temporarily. My mother, therefore, -decided on a common-sense course, which was as follows—</p> - -<p>I was to return to Paris, where my bed, my bedding, my sheets, my table -linen, four chairs, a table, a chest of drawers and two sets of plate -would be forwarded; I would hire a small room, the cheapest possible; I -would stay there until my position was established; and when my place -was secure, I would write to my mother. Then my mother would hesitate -no longer: she would sell everything and come to join me.</p> - -<p>The next day was a Thursday. I utilised my being at Villers-Cotterets -to draw for the conscription; my years would have called me to the -service of my country, had I not been the son of a widow. I took No. 9, -which was no inconvenience to myself, and did not deprive another of a -good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> number I might have taken. I met Boudoux, my old friend of the -<i>marette</i> and the <i>pipée.</i></p> - -<p>"Ah! Monsieur Dumas," he said, "as you have obtained such an excellent -situation, you can surely give me a four-pound loaf."</p> - -<p>I took him off to the baker; and instead of a four-pound loaf I paid -for one of eight pounds for him.</p> - -<p>I held my conscription ticket in my hand.</p> - -<p>"What is that?" asked Boudoux.</p> - -<p>"That? It is my number."</p> - -<p>"You have taken No. 9?"</p> - -<p>"As you see."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, I have an idea: in return for your eight-pound loaf, -Monsieur Dumas, if I were you, I would go to my aunt Chapuis, and I -would put a thirty-sous piece on No. 9. Thirty sous wont ruin you, and -if No. 9 turns up, it will bring you in seventy-three francs."</p> - -<p>"Here are thirty sous, Boudoux; go and put them on in my name, and -bring me back the ticket."</p> - -<p>Boudoux went off, breaking off, with his right hand, huge chunks of the -bread which he carried under his left arm. His aunt Chapuis kept both -the post-office and the lottery-office.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later, Boudoux returned with the ticket. There was only a -fragment of crust left of the eight-pound loaf, and that he finished -before my eyes. It was the final day of the lottery. I should know, -therefore, by Saturday morning whether I had won my seventy-three -francs or lost my thirty sous.</p> - -<p>Friday was taken up with making preparations for my Parisian -housekeeping. My mother would have liked me to carry off everything -in the house; but I realised that, with my twelve hundred francs per -annum, the smaller the room the more economical it would be, and I -stuck to the bed, the four chairs, and the chest of drawers.</p> - -<p>One slight inconvenience remained to me. General Foy had told me that -I was a supernumerary at twelve hundred francs; but these hundred -francs per month which the munificence of Monseigneur the Duc d'Orléans -conceded me would not be paid me until the end of the month. I had not -Boudoux's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> appetite, but I could certainly eat and eat very heartily: -General Verdier had not been out in his surmise.</p> - -<p>I had thirty-five francs left out of my fifty. My mother decided to -part with another hundred francs: it was half of what she had left. It -went to my heart very bitterly to take my poor mother's hundred francs, -and I was just thinking of having recourse to the purse of M. Danré, -when, in the midst of our discussion, which took place on Saturday -morning, I heard Boudoux's voice shouting out—</p> - -<p>"Ah! M. Dumas, now this is well worth a second eight-pound loaf."</p> - -<p>"What is worth an eight-pound loaf?"</p> - -<p>"No. 9 came up! If you go to aunt Chapuis's office, she will count you -out your seventy-three francs."</p> - -<p>My mother and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Boudoux.</p> - -<p>"Are you telling me the truth, Boudoux?"</p> - -<p>"Before God, I am, M. Dumas; that rascally No. 9 turned up: you can go -and see for yourself on the list; it is the third."</p> - -<p>There was nothing astonishing about this: had we not struck a vein of -good fortune?</p> - -<p>My mother and I went to Madame Chapuis. We were even better off than we -supposed. Boudoux had calculated upon the number coming out along with -others; I had put my thirty sous on the single item: the result of this -difference was that my thirty sous brought me in a hundred and fifty -francs, instead of seventy-three.</p> - -<p>I have never rightly understood the reason why Madame Chapuis doubled -the amount, which was paid me, I remember, in crowns of six livres, -plus the necessary smaller change; but when I saw the crowns, when I -was allowed to carry them off, I did not ask for further explanation. I -was the possessor of the sum of a hundred and eighty-five francs! I had -never had so much money in my pocket. Therefore, as all these six-livre -crowns made a great chinking and took up a lot of room, my mother -changed them for me into gold.</p> - -<p>Oh! what a fine thing gold is, however much decried, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> it is the -realisation of the dearest hopes in life! Those nine gold coins were -little enough; but nevertheless, at that moment, they were of more -value in my eyes than the thousands of similar pieces which have passed -through my hands since; and which, after the fashion of Jupiter, I have -showered upon that most costly of all mistresses men call <i>Fancy.</i> So I -cost my mother nothing, not even for the carriage of my furniture, for -which I paid the carrier in advance, bargaining with him for the sum -of twenty francs to bring them to Paris, to the door of the hôtel des -Vieux-Augustins, to be removed from there when I should have chosen my -lodgings. They were to be delivered on the Monday night.</p> - -<p>At last the hour of parting came. The whole town assisted at my -departure. It was for all the world as though one of the navigators -of the Middle Ages were leaving to discover an unknown land, and the -wishes and the cheering of his compatriots were giving him a send-off -across the seas.</p> - -<p>In truth, those dear good friends realised, with their simple and -kindly instinct, that I was embarking on an ocean quite as stormy and -uncertain as that which, according to the blind soothsayer, surrounded -the shield of Achilles.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>I find lodgings—Hiraux's son—Journals and journalists in 1823—By -being saved the expense of a dinner I am enabled to go to the play at -the Porte-Saint-Martin—My entry into the pit—Sensation caused by my -hair—I am turned out—How I am obliged to pay for three places in -order to have one—A polite gentleman who reads Elzevirs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The reader will have observed that my balance increased each journey -I made to Paris. It was but four months since the firm of Paillet and -Company had entered the city with thirty-five francs apiece; only a -week ago I had reached the barrier with fifty francs in my pocket; now, -finally, I alighted at the door of the <i>Hôtel des Vieux Augustins</i> with -one hundred and eighty-five francs.</p> - -<p>I began to search for lodgings the same day. When I had climbed and -descended a good many staircases, I stopped at a little room on a -fourth floor. This room, which contained the luxury of an alcove, -belonged to that immense mass of houses called the Italian quarter, -and formed part of No. 1. It was papered with a yellow paper at twelve -sous the piece, and looked out on the yard. It was let to me for the -sum of a hundred and twenty francs per annum. It suited me in every -respect, so I did not haggle. I told the porter I would take it, and -I advised him that my furniture would come in on the following night. -The porter asked me for the <i>denier à Dieu.</i> I was a complete stranger -to Parisian habits and I did not know what the <i>denier à Dieu</i> meant. -I thought it must be a commission on letting the room: I majestically -took a napoleon out of my pocket, and I dropped it into the hand of the -porter, who bowed down to the ground.</p> - -<p>In his eyes I evidently passed for a prince travelling incognito.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -To give twenty francs as <i>denier à Dieu</i> for a room at a hundred and -twenty!... Such a thing had never been heard of. Twenty francs! it was -a sixth of the rent!... So his wife instantly asked for the honour -of looking after me. I granted her this favour for five francs per -month—always with the same regal air.</p> - -<p>From there, I ran to General Verdier's to get up my appetite, and I -told him the good news. I had left Paris at such short notice, on the -previous Monday, that I had not had time to ascend his four flights of -stairs. I mounted them, this time, fruitlessly: the general had taken -advantage of its being Sunday and had gone out. I followed his example: -I strolled about the boulevards,—the only place where I ran no risk -of being lost,—and I reached the <i>Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré</i> -at the end of my strolling. Suddenly, through the windows, I saw -someone I knew: it was Hiraux, the son of good old Hiraux, who had so -unsuccessfully endeavoured to make a musician of me. I entered the -café. Hiraux had recently bought it: he was the proprietor of it.... -I was in his house!... Although he was slightly older than myself, we -had been very good chums in our childhood. He kept me to dinner. While -waiting for dinner, he put all the journals of the establishment before -me. Some of those papers have since disappeared. The chief of them at -that time were: the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, always under the direction of -the brothers Bertin, and a supporter of the Government. It reflected -the views of Louis XVIII. and of M. de Villèle—namely, a moderate -and conciliatory Royalism, a policy of optimism and vacillation; the -system, in fact, by which, in the midst of the plots of the Carbonari -and the intrigues of the Extreme Party, Louis XVIII. managed to die -almost in tranquillity: if not on the throne, at any rate close by it.</p> - -<p>The old <i>Constitutionnel</i>—of Saint-Albin, Jay, Tissot and Évariste -Dumoulin—was suppressed one day for an article which the Censorship -placed on the Index, an article which somehow had managed to get -inserted without any trace of the claws and teeth of the censors. Then, -with a rapidity of decision<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> which indicated the extreme devotion the -<i>Constitutionnel</i> of every epoch has always exhibited in its own cause, -it bought for a mere song the <i>Journal du Commerce</i>, which had four -hundred subscribers; and, under the title of the <i>Journal du Commerce</i> -appeared next morning: it need hardly be said that the good old rogue -was recognised under this transparent disguise, and just about the -time when I arrived in Paris, it had resumed, or was about to resume, -its old title, so dear to the citizens of Paris. The <i>Constitutionnel</i> -was very timid: it represented the Liberal opinion, and never really -breathed out thunder and lightning except against the Jesuits, towards -whom it had vowed the same cruel and magnificent hatred that nowadays -it fulminates against <i>demagogues</i>.</p> - -<p>The <i>Drapeau blanc</i> was edited by Martainville, a man of infinite -resource, but one who could hate and was hated in return. Charged with -the defence of the bridge of Pecq, as commandant of the National Guard -of Saint-Germain, he was reproached with having, in 1814, delivered -up this bridge to the Prussians; and he replied to the reproach, not -merely by an avowal, but with bravado: not being able to deny it, he -boasted about it. But as all treachery torments the heart of the man -who has committed it, irrespective of what he said, so it preyed on -his vital forces. M. Arnault had infuriated him by deriving his name -from <i>Martin</i> on his father's, and <i>Vil</i> (vile) on his mother's side. -He was courageous enough, and, ever ready to tackle an adversary, he -did battle with Telleville Arnault over his <i>Germanicus.</i> The bullet of -the poet's son merely grazed the thigh of the critic, leaving nothing -worse than a slight bruise behind it. "Bah!" said Arnault's father, "he -has not even felt it: a blow from a stick would have produced the same -effect."</p> - -<p>The <i>Foudre</i> was the admitted journal of the Marsan Party, the -outspoken expression of the ultra-Royalists, who, through all the -reactions that followed, leant for support on the Comte d'Artois, and -who waited impatiently for that decomposition of the elements, which, -at the rate things were going, could not fail to be accomplished under -Louis XVIII.</p> - -<p>The editors of the <i>Foudre</i> were Bérard, the two brothers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> Dartois (who -were also comic-opera writers), Théaulon and Ferdinand Langlé, Brisset -and de Rancé.</p> - -<p>At the opposite pole of Liberal opinion to the <i>Foudre</i> was the -<i>Miroir</i>, a newspaper hussar, a delightful skirmisher, overflowing with -wit and <i>humour</i>; it was controlled by all the men who were noted for -their spirit of opposition to the times, and who, we hasten to say, -were really opposed to it. These men were MM. de Jouy, Arnault, Jal, -Coste, Castel, Moreau, etc. So the unfortunate <i>Miroir</i> was the object -of relentless persecution at the hands of the Government, in whose eyes -it was for ever flashing a broken ray of sunlight from the days of the -Empire. Suppressed as the <i>Miroir</i>, it reappeared as the <i>Pandore;</i> -suppressed as <i>Pandore</i>, it became the <i>Opinion;</i> suppressed finally as -<i>Opinion</i>, it rose again under the title of the <i>Reunion;</i> but this was -the last of its metamorphoses: Proteus was run to earth, and died in -chains.</p> - -<p>Do not let us forget the <i>Courrier français</i>, the sentinel of advanced -opinion, almost Republican, at a time when no one dared even to -pronounce the word republic. It was for the <i>Courrier français,</i> edited -by Châtelain, one of the most honest and most enlightened patriots of -that period, that, as I have already mentioned, M. de Leuven worked.</p> - -<p>But I had really nothing to do with any of these political journals: -I only read the literary news. As I had found a dinner which cost me -nothing, I decided to spend the price of my dinner on a theatre ticket, -a ticket for a play: I hunted through the theatre advertisements in all -the newspapers, and, guided by Hiraux in the choice of the literature -on which I proposed to spend my evening, I decided to go to the -Porte-Saint-Martin.</p> - -<p>The play was the <i>Vampire.</i> It was only the third or fourth -representation of the revival of this piece. Hiraux advised me to make -haste; the piece had caught on and was drawing crowds. It was played -by the two actors who were popular at the Porte-Saint-Martin: Philippe -and Madame Dorval. I followed Hiraux's advice; but, in spite of all the -haste I made, it is a long way from the <i>Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré</i> -to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin: I found the approaches to it -blocked.</p> - -<p>I was quite fresh to Paris. I did not know all the various theatre -customs. I went along by the side of an enormous queue enclosed in -barriers, not daring even to ask where the entrance-money was taken. -One of the <i>habitués</i> in the queue no doubt perceived my confusion, for -he called out to me—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur! monsieur!"</p> - -<p>I turned round, wondering if he were addressing me.</p> - -<p>"Yes ... you, monsieur," continued the habitué, "you with the frizzy -locks ... do you want a place?"</p> - -<p>"Do I want a place?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes. If you put yourself at the bottom of this queue, you will never -get in to-night. Five hundred people will be turned away."</p> - -<p>This was Hebrew to me. Of his language I only gathered that five -hundred folk would be turned away and that I should be one of the -number.</p> - -<p>"Come, would you really like my place?" continued the habitué.</p> - -<p>"Have you got a place, then?"</p> - -<p>"Can't you see for yourself?"</p> - -<p>I could see nothing at all.</p> - -<p>"Taken in advance, then?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Taken since noon."</p> - -<p>"And a good one ...?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by good?"</p> - -<p>Now it was the habitué who did not understand.</p> - -<p>"Well," I went on, "shall I have a good place?"</p> - -<p>"You can sit where you like."</p> - -<p>"What! I can sit where I like?"</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>"How much did your place cost?"</p> - -<p>"Twenty sous."</p> - -<p>I reflected within myself that twenty sous to sit where I liked was not -dear. I drew twenty sous from my pocket and gave them to the <i>habitué</i>, -who immediately, with an agility that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> proved he was well accustomed -to this exercise, climbed up the rails of the barrier, got over it and -alighted by my side.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "now where is your place?"</p> - -<p>"Take it, ... but look sharp; for, if they push up, you will lose it."</p> - -<p>At the same moment light broke in on my mind: "Those people, inside -that barrier, have no doubt taken and paid for their places in advance, -and it is in order to keep them they are penned in like that."</p> - -<p>"Ah! good, I see!" I replied; and I strode over the barrier in my turn, -the reverse way; so that, contrary to the action of my place-seller, -who had come without from within, I went from the outside within. I did -not understand matters at all. After a second, there was a movement -forward. They were just opening the offices. I was carried forward -with the crowd, and ten minutes later, I found myself in front of the -grating.</p> - -<p>"Well, monsieur, aren't you going to take your ticket?" asked my -neighbour.</p> - -<p>"My ticket? What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Of course, your ticket!" answered someone just behind me. "If you -aren't going to take your ticket, at least allow us to take ours."</p> - -<p>And a light thrust showed the desire of those behind me to have their -turn.</p> - -<p>"But," I said, "surely I have bought my place ...?"</p> - -<p>"Your place ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I gave twenty sous for it, as you saw.... Why, I gave twenty sous -to that man who sold me his place!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, his place in the queue!" exclaimed my neighbours; "but his place -in the queue is not his place inside the theatre."</p> - -<p>"He told me that, with his place, I could go where I liked."</p> - -<p>"Of course you can go where you like; take a stage-box. You can do -what you like, and you can go where you like. But tickets for the -stage-boxes are at the other office."</p> - -<p>"Forward! forward! hurry up!" exclaimed those near me.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, clear the gangway, if you please," cried a voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It is this gentleman, who will not take his ticket, and who prevents -us from getting ours!" cried a chorus of my neighbours.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, make up your mind."</p> - -<p>The murmurs grew, and with them ringing in my ears, by degrees it -dawned upon me what had been pretty clearly dinned into me—namely, -that I had bought my place in the queue, and not my place in the -theatre.</p> - -<p>So, as people were beginning to hustle me in a threatening fashion, -I drew a six-francs piece from my pocket and asked for a pit ticket. -They gave me four francs six sous, and a ticket which had been white. -It was time! I was immediately carried away by a wave of the crowd. -I presented my once white ticket to the check-taker: they gave me in -exchange a ticket that had been red. I went down a corridor to the -left; I found a door on my left with the word <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">PARTERRE</span> written over it, -and I entered. And now I understood the truth of what the <i>habitué</i> who -had sold me his place for twenty sous had said. Although I had scarcely -fifteen or twenty people in front of me in the queue, the pit was -nearly full. A most compact nucleus had formed beneath the lights, and -I realised then that those must be the best places.</p> - -<p>I immediately resolved to mix with this group, which did not look to me -to be too closely packed, for a good place therein. I climbed over the -benches, as I had seen several other people do, and balancing myself, -on the tops of their curved backs, I hastened to reach the centre.</p> - -<p>I was becoming, or rather, it must be admitted, I was, a very -ridiculous object. I wore my hair very long, and, as it was frizzy, it -formed a grotesque aureole round my head. Moreover, at a period when -people wore short frock-coats, hardly reaching to the knee, I wore a -coat which came down to my ankles. A revolution had taken place in -Paris, which had not yet had time to reach as far as Villers-Cotterets. -I was in 1 the latest fashion of Villers-Cotterets, but I was in the -last but one Parisian mode. Now, as nothing generally is more opposed -to the latest fashion than the last mode but one, I looked excessively -absurd, as I have already had the modesty to admit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Of course, I -appeared so in the eyes of those towards whom I advanced; for they -greeted me with shouts of laughter, which I thought in very bad taste.</p> - -<p>I have always been exceedingly polite; but at this period, coupled -with the politeness I had acquired from my maternal education, there -woke in me a restless, suspicious hastiness of temper which I probably -inherited from my father. This hastiness made my nerves an easy prey -to irritation. I took my hat in my hand—an action which revealed -the utter oddity of my way of wearing my hair—and the general -hilarity among the group in the rows to which I desired to gain access -redoubled. "Pardon me, gentlemen," I said in the politest of tones, -"but I should like to know the cause of your laughter, so that I may -be able to laugh with you. They say the piece we have come to see is -extremely sad, and I should not be sorry to make merry before I have to -weep."</p> - -<p>My speech was listened to in the most religious silence; then, from the -depths of this silence, a voice suddenly exclaimed—</p> - -<p>"Oh! that 'ead of 'is!"</p> - -<p>The apostrophe seemed to be exceedingly funny, for it had hardly been -uttered before the bursts of laughter were redoubled; but the hilarity -had scarcely begun afresh before it was accompanied by the sound of a -stinging smack in the face which I gave to the wag. "Monsieur," I said, -as I slapped him, "my name is Alexandre Dumas. Until after to-morrow, -you will find me at the <i>Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins</i>, in the road of the -same name, and after to-morrow at No. 1 place des Italiens."</p> - -<p>It would seem that I spoke a language quite unknown to these gentlemen; -for, instead of replying to me, twenty fists were flourished -threateningly, and everybody shouted—</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!"</p> - -<p>"What!" I cried, "put me to the door? That would be a nice thing, upon -my word, seeing that I have already paid for my place twice over—once -in the queue, and then again at the box-office."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried the voices afresh, with redoubled -fury.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, I have had the honour to give you my address."</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried the people, in strident, raucous -tones.</p> - -<p>All the people present had risen from their seats, were leaning over -the gallery, and were almost half out of the boxes. I seemed to be at -the end of an immense funnel with everybody gazing at me from all sides.</p> - -<p>"Put him out! put him out!" cried those who did not even know what the -commotion was about, but who calculated that one person less would mean -room for one more.</p> - -<p>I was debating what course to take, from the depths of my funnel, when -a well-dressed man broke through the crowd, which deferentially opened -a way for him, and he asked me to go out.</p> - -<p>"Why am I to go out?" I asked in great surprise.</p> - -<p>"Because you are disturbing the performance."</p> - -<p>"What! I am disturbing the play?... The play has not begun yet."</p> - -<p>"Well, you are disturbing the audience."</p> - -<p>"Really, monsieur!"</p> - -<p>"Follow me."</p> - -<p>I remembered the affair that my father, at about my age, had had with a -musketeer at la Montansier, and although I knew that the constabulary -was dissolved, I expected I was in for something of the same sort. So -I followed without making any resistance, in the midst of the cheers -of the audience, who testified their satisfaction at the justice that -was being dealt out to me. My guide led me into the corridor, from the -corridor to the office, and from the office into the street. When in -the street he said, "There! don't do it again." And he returned to the -theatre.</p> - -<p>I saw that I had got off very cheaply, since my father had kept his -warder attached to him for a whole week, whilst I had only been in -custody for five minutes. I stood for a moment on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> the pavement, -whilst I made this judicious reflection, and seeing that my guide had -re-entered, I too decided to do the same.</p> - -<p>"Your ticket?" said the ticket collector.</p> - -<p>"My ticket? You took it from me just now, and, as a proof, it was a -white one, for which you gave me in exchange a red ticket."</p> - -<p>"Then what have you done with your red ticket?"</p> - -<p>"I gave it to a woman who asked me for it."</p> - -<p>"So that you have neither ticket nor check?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no, I have neither ticket nor check."</p> - -<p>"Then you cannot go in."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say I cannot enter, after having paid for my ticket -twice over?"</p> - -<p>"Twice?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, twice."</p> - -<p>"How did you do that?"</p> - -<p>"Once in the queue, and again at the box-office."</p> - -<p>"You humbug!" said the ticket collector.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?"</p> - -<p>"I said you cannot go in, that is what I said."</p> - -<p>"But I mean to get in, nevertheless."</p> - -<p>"Then take a ticket at the office."</p> - -<p>"That will be the second."</p> - -<p>"Well, what does that matter to me?"</p> - -<p>"What does it matter to you?"</p> - -<p>"If you have sold your ticket at the door, it is no affair of mine."</p> - -<p>"Ah! so you take me for a dealer in checks?"</p> - -<p>"I take you for a brawler who has just been turned out for disturbing -the peace, and if you go on doing it, you'll not be led out into the -road the next time, but into the police station."</p> - -<p>There could be no mistaking the threat. I began to understand that, -without intending it, I had infringed the law—or rather custom, which -is far more jealous of contravention than the law.</p> - -<p>"Ah, is this so?" I said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That is about it," said the collector.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, you are the stronger of the two," I said.</p> - -<p>And I went out.</p> - -<p>When outside the door, I considered how stupid it was to have come to -see a play, to have paid for two places to see it-a place in the queue -and a place at the office—to have seen only a curtain representing -hangings of green velvet, and to come away without seeing anything -else. I went on to reflect that, since I had already paid for two -tickets, I might as well incur the expense of a third, and as people -were still going in and a double queue circled the theatre so that -the door formed as it were the clasp to the girdle, I placed myself -at the end of the queue which looked to me to be the shortest. It was -the opposite queue to the one I had gone in by before; it was not so -dense, as it led to the orchestra, the front galleries, the stage-boxes -and the first and second rows of stalls. This was what I was informed -by the clerk at the box-office when I asked for a ticket for the pit. -I looked up, and, as he had indicated, I saw upon the white plan the -designation of the places to be obtained at that particular office. The -cheapest places were those in the orchestra and second row of stalls. -Seats in the orchestra and in the second row of stalls cost two francs -fifty; centimes. I took two francs fifty centimes from my pocket, and -asked for an orchestra seat. The orchestra ticket was handed to me, and -my play-going cost me five francs all told.</p> - -<p>No matter: it was no good crying over spilt milk! My dinner had not -cost me anything, and to-morrow I was to enter the Duc d'Orléans' -secretarial offices; I could well afford to allow myself this trivial -orgy. I reappeared triumphant before the check barrier, holding my -orchestra ticket in my hand. The collector smiled graciously upon -me, and said, "On the right, monsieur." I noticed this was quite a -different direction from the first time. The first time I had tacked -myself on to the right-hand queue and gone in at the left; the second -time, I followed the left queue and they told me to enter on the right. -I augured from this that since I had this time reversed the order of my -proceedings, the manner of my reception would also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> be reversed, and, -consequently, that I should be welcomed instead of rejected.</p> - -<p>I was not mistaken. I found quite a different stamp of people in the -orchestra from those I had found in the pit, and, as the girl who -showed me to my seat pointed out to me a vacant place towards the -centre of a row, I set to work to reach it. Everyone rose politely -to allow me to pass. I gained my seat, and sat down by the side of a -gentleman, wearing grey trousers, a buff waistcoat and black tie. He -was a man of about forty or forty-two. His hat was placed on the seat -I came to fill. He was interrupted in the perusal of a charming little -book,—which I learnt later was an Elzevir,—apologised as he took up -his hat, bowed to me and went on reading. "Upon my word!" I said to -myself, "here is a gentleman who seems to me better brought up than -those I have just encountered." And, promising to enter into friendly -relations with my neighbour I sat down in the empty stall.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My neighbour—His portrait—The <i>Pastissier françois</i>—A course in -bibliomania—Madame Méchin and the governor of Soissons—Cannons and -Elzevirs</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>At this period of my life, being made up entirely of ignorance, -optimism and faith, I did not know in the least what an Elzevir, or -rather Elzevier, was. I learnt that evening, as we shall see; but -I did not understand thoroughly until much later, after I had made -the acquaintance of my learned friend, <i>la bibliophile</i> Jacob. So it -is a little previous to say that the polite gentleman was reading -an Elzevir; I ought to say simply that he was reading a book. I -have related how I had taken the seat next his, and how, having -been distracted from his reading by having to lift his hat off my -seat, he had immediately plunged back again into his reading, more -absorbedly than ever. I have ever admired men who are capable of doing -anything whole-heartedly <i>(passionnément</i>);—please do not confound -<i>passionnément</i> with <i>passionnellement</i>; this latter adverb was not -invented in 1823, or, if it were, Fourier had not yet exploited it.</p> - -<p>It was not surprising that, interested as I was in literature, I should -endeavour to find out what the book was which could inspire such a -powerful influence over my neighbour, who was so deeply absorbed in -his reading that, metaphorically speaking, he gave himself up, bound -hand and foot, into my power. I had more than a quarter of an hour in -which to make this investigation before the curtain rose, therefore I -conducted it at my leisure. First of all, I tried to see the title of -the book; but the binding was carefully hidden by a paper cover, so -it was impossible to read the title on the back of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> the book. I rose; -in that position I could look down on the reader. Then, thanks to the -excellent sight I have the good fortune to possess, I was able to -read the following curious title on the opposite side to the engraved -frontispiece:—</p> - -<p class="center"> -LE PASTISSIER FRANÇOIS<br /> -Où est enseignée la manière de faire toute sorte<br /> -de pastisserie<br /> -Très-utile à toutes sortes de personnes;<br /> -Ensemble le moyen d'apprester toutes sortes;<br /> -d'œufs pour les jours maigres et autres<br /> -En plus de soixante façons.<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">AMSTERDAM</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHEZ LOUIS ET DANIEL ELZÉVIER</span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center">1655 -</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah!" I said to myself, "now I have it! This well-mannered -gentleman is surely a gourmand of the first order,—M. Grimod de la -Reyniere perhaps, whom I have so often heard described as a rival of -Cambacérès and of d'Aigrefeuille;—but stay, this gentleman has hands -and M. Grimod de la Reyniere has only stumps." At that moment, the -polite gentleman let his hand and the book he held fall on his knees; -then, casting his eyes upward, he appeared to be lost in profound -reflection. He was, as I have said, a man of forty or forty-two years -of age, with an essentially gentle face, kindly and sympathetic; he had -black hair, blue-grey eyes, a nose slightly bent to the left through an -excrescence, a finely cut, clever-looking, witty mouth—the mouth of a -born story-teller.</p> - -<p>I was yearning to get up a conversation with him—I, a hobbledehoy of a -country bumpkin, ignorant of everything, but <i>anxious to learn</i> as they -put it in M. Lhomond's elementary lessons. His benevolent countenance -encouraged me. I took advantage of the moment when he stopped reading -to address a word or two to him.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said I, "pray forgive me if my question seems impertinent, -but are you extremely fond of eggs?"</p> - -<p>My neighbour shook his head, came gradually out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> reverie, -and, looking at me with a distraught expression, he said, in a very -pronounced Eastern French accent—</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, monsieur, but I believe you did me the honour of addressing -me ...?"</p> - -<p>I repeated my sentence.</p> - -<p>"Why do you suppose that?" he said.</p> - -<p>"The little book you are reading so attentively, monsieur,—excuse -my rudeness, but my eyes fell involuntarily on the title,—contains -recipes, does it not? for cooking eggs in more than sixty different -ways?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, true...." he said.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, that book would have been of great use to an uncle of -mine, a curé, who was, or rather still is, a great eater, and a fine -sportsman: one day he made a bet with one of his <i>confrères</i> that he -would eat a hundred eggs at his dinner; he was only able to discover -eighteen or twenty ways of serving them ... yes, twenty ways, for he -ate them by fives at a time. You see, if he had known sixty ways of -cooking them, instead of a hundred, he could have eaten two hundred."</p> - -<p>My neighbour looked at me with a certain attention which seemed to -imply that he was asking himself, "Am I by any chance seated next to a -young lunatic?"</p> - -<p>"Well?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Well, if I could procure such a book for my dear uncle, I am sure he -would be most grateful to me."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said my neighbour, "I doubt if, in spite of the sentiments -which do a nephew's heart the greatest credit, you could procure this -book."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because it is exceedingly rare."</p> - -<p>"That little old book exceedingly rare?"</p> - -<p>"Do you not know that it is an Elzevir, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Do you not know what an Elzevir is?" exclaimed my neighbour, -overwhelmed with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, no; but do not be alarmed at such a trifle: since I came -to Paris not quite a week ago, I have discovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> that I am ignorant of -nearly everything. Tell me what it is, please: I am not well enough off -to afford myself masters, I am too old to go back to college and I have -made up my mind to take <i>the whole world</i> as my teacher—a teacher whom -report says is even more learned than Voltaire."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! quite right, monsieur," said my neighbour, looking at me with -some interest; "and if you profit by the lessons that teacher will give -you, you will become a great philosopher, as well as a great savant. -Well, what is an Elzevir?... First of all, and in particular, this -little volume that you see is one; or, in general, every book that -came from the establishment of Louis Elzevir and of his successors, -booksellers of Amsterdam. But do you know what a bibliomaniac is?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know Greek, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"You know your ignorance and that is something. The bibliomaniac—root, -βιβλιο, book; μανια, madness—is a variety of the species -man—<i>species bipes et genus homo.</i>"</p> - -<p>"I understand."</p> - -<p>"This animal has two legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and -down the quays and the boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, -turning over every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that -is too long for him and trousers that are too short; he always wears on -his feet shoes that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, -under his coat, and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together -with string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he -never washes his hands."</p> - -<p>"But you are describing a perfectly disgusting animal. I hope the race -does not consist entirely of specimens like that, and that there are -exceptions."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but these exceptions are rare. Well, what this creature is in -particular quest after, among the old shopkeepers and on the old -bookstalls,—for you know that all animals hunt for something or -other,—is for Elzevirs."</p> - -<p>"Are they hard to find?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, more and more difficult every day."</p> - -<p>"And how can Elzevirs be recognised?... Pray remember,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> monsieur, that -you are not risking anything by instructing me; I do not ever expect to -become a bibliomaniac, and my questions are solely out of curiosity."</p> - -<p>"How can they be recognised? I will tell you. In the first place, -monsieur, the first volume in which one finds the name of Elzevir or -Elzevier is one entitled <i>Eutropii histories romanæ</i>, <i>lib. X. Lugduni -Batavorum, apud Ludovicum Elzevierum</i>, 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 -pages. The design on the frontispiece,—remember this carefully, it is -the key to the whole mystery,—the design on the frontispiece is that -of an angel holding a book in one hand and a scythe in the other."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I understand: 1592, in 8°, 2 leaves, 169 pages, an angel holding -a book in one hand and a scythe in the other."</p> - -<p>"Bravo!... Isaac Elzevir—whom some declare to be the son and others -the nephew of Louis Elzevir: I maintain that he is the son; Bérard -maintains that he is the nephew, and, although he has Techener on his -side, I still think I am right—Isaac Elzevir substituted for this -design an elm tree, encircled by a vine laden with grapes, with this -device: <i>Non solus.</i> Do you follow me?"</p> - -<p>"The Latin, yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Daniel Elzevir, in his turn, adopted Minerva and the olive -tree as his mark, with the device: <i>Ne extra oleas</i>. You still follow -me?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly: Isaac, a vine laden with grapes; Daniel, Minerva and the -olive tree."</p> - -<p>"Better and better. But, besides these recognised editions, there -are anonymous and pseudonymous editions, and there is where the -inexperienced bibliomaniacs get confused. Ah!"</p> - -<p>"Will you be my Ariadne?"</p> - -<p>"Well, these editions are usually designated by a sphere."</p> - -<p>"Then that is a guide."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but you will see! These brothers, cousins or nephews Elzevir were -a very capricious lot of fellows. Thus, for example, one finds, since -1629, a buffalo head forming part of the headpieces in their books, at -the beginning of prefaces, dedicatory epistles and text."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, thanks to the buffalo's head, it seems...."</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit ... this lasted for five years. Since the <i>Sallust</i> of 1634 -and even perhaps earlier, they adopted another sign which resembled a -siren. Also in this edition...."</p> - -<p>"The <i>Sallust</i> of 1634?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly! They adopted also, for the first time, on page 216, a -tail-piece of a head of Medusa."</p> - -<p>"So, when once this principle is fixed and one knows that on page 216 -of the <i>Sallust</i> of 1634 there is a figure representing ...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, upon my word, that would be delightful, if it could be laid -down as a positive rule; but, bah! Daniel did not remain constant to -his designs. For example, in the 1661 <i>Terence</i>, he substitutes a -garland of hollyhocks for the buffalo head and the siren, and this -garland is to be found in a great many of his editions. But, in the -<i>Persius</i> of 1664 he does not even put that."</p> - -<p>"Oh, gracious! and what does he adopt in the <i>Persius</i> of 1664?"</p> - -<p>"He adopts a large ornament, in the centre of which are two swords -crossed over a crown."</p> - -<p>"As though to indicate that the Elzevirs are the kings of the -book-selling world."</p> - -<p>"You have hit it exactly, monsieur: a sovereignty no one disputes with -them."</p> - -<p>"And the one you have there, monsieur,—which treats of French -confectionery and the sixty ways of cooking eggs,—is it the angel with -the book and the scythe? Is it the vine cluster? Is it the Minerva and -the olive tree? Is it the buffalo head? Is it the siren? Is it the head -of Medusa? Is it the garland of hollyhocks? Or is it the crown and two -swords?"</p> - -<p>"This one, monsieur, is the rarest of all. I found it, this evening, -as I was coming here. Just think how I have argued with that idiot of -a Bérard over this Elzevir, for three years; he thinks himself a great -savant, and is not even half instructed."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And, without seeming too inquisitive, monsieur, may I ask what was the -object of the discussion?"</p> - -<p>"He would have it that <i>le Pastissier françois</i> was printed in 1654, -and contained only four preliminary leaves; whilst I maintained, and -with reason, as you see, that it was printed in 1655 and that it had -five preliminary leaves and a frontispiece. Now here is the very -date, 1655; here are the five preliminary leaves; here is the very -frontispiece."</p> - -<p>"Upon my word, so it is."</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah! how sheepish, how utterly foolish my friend Bérard will look -now!"</p> - -<p>"But, monsieur," I suggested timidly, "did you not tell me that you had -argued over this little volume for the past three years?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed, for more than three years."</p> - -<p>"Well, it seems to me that if the discussion no longer amused you, you -had a very simple remedy at hand to stop it."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Does not one of the ancient philosophers prove the incontestability of -movement to another philosopher who denies movement, by walking before -him?"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you must prove to M. Bérard the superiority of your -knowledge over his, by showing him the Elzevir you have there, and -unless he is more incredulous than St. Thomas...."</p> - -<p>"But, to show it, monsieur, it was necessary to possess it, and I had -it not."</p> - -<p>"This little volume is, then, very rare?"</p> - -<p>"It is the rarest of the lot! There are probably only ten examples of -it left in Europe."</p> - -<p>"And why is this particular volume rarer than the others? Were there -fewer copies printed?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, Techener declares that there were five thousand five -hundred copies issued, and I maintain that there were more than ten -thousand printed."</p> - -<p>"The deuce! was the edition burnt, then, with the library of -Alexandria?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No; but it was lost, spoilt, torn up in kitchens. You can quite -understand that chefs and cookmaids are indifferent bibliomaniacs: -they served the <i>Pastissier françois</i> as they served <i>Carême</i> or the -<i>Cuisinier royal</i>; hence the rarity of the book."</p> - -<p>"So rare that, as you say, you have not found one before to-night?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I knew of it six weeks ago. I told Frank to keep it for me, as I -was not well enough off to buy it."</p> - -<p>"What! You were not rich enough to buy it, not rich enough to buy that -little old book?"</p> - -<p>The bibliomaniac smiled disdainfully.</p> - -<p>"Do you know, monsieur," he said to me, "what a copy of the <i>Pastissier -françois</i> is worth?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I should judge it worth about a crown."</p> - -<p>"A copy of the <i>Pastissier françois,</i> monsieur, is worth from two -hundred to four hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"From two to four hundred francs ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed.... Only a week ago, old Brunet, the author of <i>Manuel des -libraires</i>, an enthusiastic Elzeviriomaniac, inserted a notice in the -papers that he was willing to pay three hundred francs for a copy such -as this. Luckily, Frank did not see the notice."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, monsieur! but I warned you what an ignoramus lam ... you -said a book like that was worth from two hundred to four hundred -francs."</p> - -<p>"Yes, from two hundred to four hundred francs."</p> - -<p>"Why is there such a difference in the price?"</p> - -<p>"Because of the margins."</p> - -<p>"Ah! the margins?"</p> - -<p>"All the value of an Elzevir consists in the width of its margins; the -wider they are, the dearer the Elzevir. An Elzevir without a margin is -worth next to nothing; they measure the margins with compasses, and, -according as they have twelve, fifteen or eighteen lines, the Elzevir -is worth two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and even six hundred -francs."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Six hundred francs!... I am of Madame Méchin's way of thinking."</p> - -<p>"And what was Madame Méchin's way of thinking?"</p> - -<p>"Madame Méchin is a very witty woman."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am aware of that."</p> - -<p>"Her husband was prefect of the department of Aisne."</p> - -<p>"I know that too."</p> - -<p>"Well, one day when she was visiting Soissons with her husband, the -governor of the place, to do her honour, showed her the guns upon the -ramparts, one after the other. When she had seen all the kinds, of -every date and every shape, and had exhausted her repertory of <i>Ohs!</i> -and <i>Reallys!</i> and <i>Is it possibles! </i> Madame Méchin, who did not know -what to say next to the governor, asked him, 'How much does a pair of -cannon cost, M. le gouverneur?' 'A twelve, twenty-four or thirty-six -pounder, madame la comtesse?' 'Oh, let us say thirty-six?' 'A pair -of thirty-six cannon, madame,' replied the governor,—'a pair of -thirty-six cannon might cost from eight to ten thousand francs. 'Well, -then,' replied Madame Méchin, 'I am not going to put my money on them.'"</p> - -<p>My neighbour looked at me, doubtful whether I had told the story -innocently or jokingly. He was possibly going to question me on that -head, when we heard the call bell; the overture began, and there were -cries for silence. Upon this, I prepared myself to listen, whilst -my neighbour plunged more deeply than ever into the reading of his -precious Elzevir.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXb" id="CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Prologue of the <i>Vampire</i>—The style offends my neighbour's ear—First -act—Idealogy—The rotifer—What the animal is—Its conformation, its -life, its death and its resurrection</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The overture was intended to represent a storm. The scene opened in the -cave of Staffa. Malvina slept on a tomb. Oscar sat on another. A third -enclosed Lord Ruthven, who was to come out of it at a given moment. -The part of Malvina was taken by Madame Dorval; Oscar, or the angel of -marriage, by Moessard; Lord Ruthven, or the Vampire, by Philippe.</p> - -<p>Alas! who could have known at that moment, when I was looking eagerly -beyond the curtain, taking in the whole scene, decorations and -characters combined, that I should be present at Philippe's funeral, -watch by Madame Dorval's death-bed, and see Moessard crowned?</p> - -<p>In the prologue, there was another angel, called Ithuriel, the angel -of the moon, talking with the angel of marriage. This was Mademoiselle -Denotte. I do not know whether she is now living or dead.... The -narrative was carried on between the angel of marriage and the angel of -the moon, two angels who, as they wore the same armour, might have been -taken to belong to the same family.</p> - -<p>Malvina had lost herself in hunting; the storm terrifying her, she had -taken shelter in the cave of Staffa. There, unable to keep awake, she -had fallen asleep on a tomb. The angel of marriage was watching over -her. The angel of the moon, who had slid down on a ray of the pale -goddess, through the cracks of the basaltic roof, asked why the angel -of marriage sat there, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> above all, how it came about that there -was a young girl in the grotto of Staffa.</p> - -<p>The angel of marriage replied that, as Malvina, sister of Lord -Aubrey, was to espouse Lord Marsden next day, he had been summoned -by the importance of the occasion, and that his looks, when Ithuriel -interrupted him in the act of silently gazing upon the beautiful -betrothed girl, and the sadness depicted upon his face, sprang from -knowledge of the misfortunes in store for the young maiden, who was -about to fall from the arms of Love into those of Death. Then Ithuriel -began to understand.</p> - -<p>"Explain thyself," said Ithuriel, "is it true that horrible phantoms -<i>come (viennent)</i> sometimes ...?"</p> - -<p>My neighbour trembled, as though an asp had bitten him in his sleep.</p> - -<p>"<i>Vinssent!</i>" he cried,—"<i>vinssent!</i>3"</p> - -<p>Cries of "Silence!" burst forth all over the theatre, and I too -clamoured loudly for silence, for I was enthralled by this opening.</p> - -<p>The angel of the moon, interrupted in the middle of her sentence, threw -an angry look across the orchestra, and went on:</p> - -<p>"Is it true that horrible phantoms come <i>(viennent)</i> under the cloak -of the rights of marriage, to suck blood from the throat of a timid -maiden?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Vinssent! vinssent! vinssent!</i>" murmured my neighbour.</p> - -<p>Fresh cries of "<i>Hush!</i>" drowned his exclamation, which it must be -confessed was less bold and less startling this time than the first.</p> - -<p>Oscar replied: "Yes! and these monsters are called vampires. A Power -whose inscrutable decrees we are not permitted to call in question, -has permitted certain miserable beings, who are tormented by the -punishments which their crimes have drawn down upon them on this earth, -to enjoy a frightful power, which they exercise by preference over the -nuptial couch and over the cradle; sometimes their formidable shapes -appear clothed in the hideous guise death has bestowed upon them; -others, more highly favoured, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> their career is more brief and -their future more fearful, obtain permission to reclothe themselves -with the fleshy vesture lost in the tomb, and reappear before the -living in the bodily shapes they formerly possessed."</p> - -<p>"And when do these monsters appear?" asked Ithuriel.</p> - -<p>"The first hour of the morning wakes them in their sepulchre," replied -Oscar. "When the sound of its sonorous stroke has died away among the -echoes of the mountains, they fall back motionless in their everlasting -tombs. But there is one among them over whom my power is more limited -... what am I saying?... Fate herself can never go back on her -decisions! ... After having carried desolation into twenty different -countries, always conquered, ever continuing, the blood which sustains -its horrible existence ever renewing its vitality ... in thirty-six -hours, at one o'clock in the morning, it has at length to submit to -annihilation, the lawful punishment of an infinite succession of -crimes, if it cannot, at that time, add yet another crime, and count -one more victim."</p> - -<p>"My God! think of writing a play like that!" murmured my neighbour.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that he was too critical; for I thought this -dialogue was couched in the finest style imaginable. The prologue -continued. Several persons who had heard my neighbour gave vent to -various whispered comments on the presumption of this indefatigable -interrupter; but, as he buried himself in his <i>Pastissier françois,</i> -the murmurs ceased.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to point out that the young betrothed asleep on the -tomb was the innocent heroine who was destined to be the bride of the -Vampire, and had the public been in any doubt, all their doubts would -have been dispersed after the last scene of the prologue.</p> - -<p>"What do I hear?" said Ithuriel; "thy conversation has kept me long -while in these caves."</p> - -<p>As the angel of the moon asks this question, the silvery chime of a -distant clock is heard striking one, and the reverberation is repeated -in echoes again and again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Oscar.</i> "Stay and see."</p> - -<p>All the tombs open as the hour sounds; pale shades rise half out of -their graves and then fall back under their monumental stones as the -sound of the echoes dies away.</p> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">A SPECTRE</span>, clad in a shroud, escapes from the most conspicuous of these -tombs: his face is exposed; he glides to the place where Miss Aubrey -sleeps, exclaiming—</p> - -<p>"Malvina!"</p> - -<p><i>Oscar.</i> "Withdraw."</p> - -<p><i>Spectre.</i> "She belongs to me!"</p> - -<p>Oscar puts his arms round the sleeping girl. "She belongs to God, and -thou wilt soon belong to the regions of nothingness."</p> - -<p>The Spectre retires, but repeats threateningly, "To nothingness."</p> - -<p>Ithuriel crosses the stage in a cloud.</p> - -<p>The scene changes and represents an apartment in the house of Sir -Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"Absurd! absurd!" exclaimed my neighbour. And he resumed his reading of -<i>le Pastissier françois.</i></p> - -<p>I did not at all agree with him: I thought the staging magnificent; I -had nothing to say about Malvina, for she had not spoken; but Philippe -seemed to me exceedingly fine, notwithstanding his paleness, and -Moessard very good. Moreover, crude as it was, it was an attempt at -Romanticism—a movement almost entirely unknown at that time. This -intervention of immaterial and superior beings in human destiny had -a fanciful side to it which pleased my imagination, and maybe that -evening was responsible for the germ in me from which sprang the <i>Don -Juan de Marana</i> of eleven years later. The play began.</p> - -<p><i>Sir</i> Aubrey (the reader will see presently why I underline the word -<i>Sir)—Sir</i> Aubrey met Lord Ruthven, a rich English traveller, at -Athens, and they became friends. During their wanderings about the -Parthenon and their day-dreams by the seashore, they planned means -for tying the bonds of their friendship more firmly, and, subject to -Malvina's consent, they decided upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> a union between the young girl, -who was at home in the castle of Staffa, and the noble traveller, -who had become her brother's closest friend. Unfortunately, during -an excursion which Aubrey and Ruthven made to the suburbs of Athens, -to attend the wedding of a young maiden endowed privately by Lord -Ruthven, the two companions were attacked by brigands: a sharp defence -put the assassins to flight; but Lord Ruthven was struck down mortally -wounded. His last words were a request that his friend would place him -on a hillock bathed by the moon's rays. Aubrey carried out this last -request, and laid the dying man on the place indicated; then, as his -friend's eyes closed and his breathing ceased, Aubrey began to search -for his scattered servitors; but when he returned with them, an hour -later, the body had disappeared. Aubrey fancied that the assassins must -have taken the body away to remove all traces of their crime.</p> - -<p>When he returned to Scotland, he broke the news of Lord Ruthven's death -to his brother, Lord Marsden, and told him of the close relationship -that had united them during their travels. Then Marsden claimed -succession to his brother's rights, and proposed to marry Malvina, if -Malvina would consent to this substitution. Malvina, who did not know -either the one or the other, made no objection to Lord Marsden's claim -or to her brother's wishes.</p> - -<p>Lord Marsden is announced. Malvina feels that slight embarrassment -which, like an early morning mist, always comes over the hearts of -young maidens at the approach of their betrothed. Aubrey, overjoyed, -rushes to greet him; but when he sees him he utters a cry of surprise. -It is not Lord Marsden—that is to say, a person hitherto unknown—who -stands before him; it is his friend Lord Ruthven!</p> - -<p>Aubrey's astonishment is intense; but all is explained. Ruthven did not -die; he only fainted: the coolness of the night air brought him back -to consciousness. Aubrey's departure and his return to Scotland had -been too prompt for Ruthven to send him word; but when he was well he -returned to Ireland, to find his brother dead; he inherited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> his name -and his fortune, and, under that name, with twice the fortune he had -before, he offered to espouse Malvina, and rejoiced in anticipation at -the joy he would cause his beloved Aubrey, by his reappearance before -him. Ruthven is charming: his friend has not overrated him. He and -Malvina were both so favourably impressed with one another that, under -the pretext of very urgent business, he asked to be allowed to marry -her within twenty-four hours. Malvina makes a proper show of resistance -before yielding. They return to Marsden's castle. The curtain falls.</p> - -<p>Now I had been watching my neighbour almost as much as the play, and, -to my great satisfaction, I had seen him close his Elzevir and listen -to the final scenes. When the curtain fell, he uttered an exclamation -of disdain accompanied by a deep-drawn sigh.</p> - -<p>"Pooh!" he said.</p> - -<p>I took advantage of this moment to renew our conversation.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, monsieur," I said, "but at the conclusion of the prologue -you said,'How absurd!'"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said my neighbour, "I suppose I did say so; or, if I did not say -it, I certainly thought it."</p> - -<p>"Do you then condemn the use of supernatural beings in the drama?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all; on the contrary, I admire it extremely. All the great -masters have made potent use of it: Shakespeare in <i>Hamlet</i>, in -<i>Macbeth</i> and in <i>Julius Cæsar</i>; Molière in <i>le Festin de pierre</i>, -which he ought rather to have called <i>le Convive de pierre</i>, for -his title to be really significant; Voltaire in <i>Sémiramis</i>; Goethe -in <i>Faust.</i> No, on the contrary, I highly approve of the use of the -supernatural, because I believe in it."</p> - -<p>"What! you have faith in the supernatural?"</p> - -<p>"Most certainly."</p> - -<p>"In everyday life?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. We elbow every moment against beings who are unknown to us -because they are invisible to us: the air, fire, the earth, are all -inhabited. Sylphs, gnomes, water-sprites,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> hobgoblins, bogies, angels, -demons, fly, float, crawl and leap around us. What are those shooting -stars of the night, meteors which astronomers in vain try to explain to -us, and of which they can discover neither cause nor end, if they are -not angels carrying God's orders from one world to another? Some day we -shall see it all."</p> - -<p>"Did you say, we shall see?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, by heaven! we shall see. Do you not think that we see these -miracles?"</p> - -<p>"You said 'we'; do you think we personally shall see them?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I did not exactly say that ... not I, for I am already old; -perhaps you, who are still young; but certainly our descendants."</p> - -<p>"And why, for heaven's sake, will our descendants see anything that we -cannot see?"</p> - -<p>"In the same way that we see things which our ancestors never did."</p> - -<p>"What things do we see which they did not?"</p> - -<p>"Why, steam, piston guns, air-balloons, electricity, printing, -gunpowder! Do you suppose the world progresses only to stop half-way? -Do you imagine that after having conquered successively the earth, -water and fire, man, for instance, will not make himself master of the -air? It would be ridiculous to hold that belief. If perchance you doubt -it, young man, so much the worse for you."</p> - -<p>"I confess one thing, monsieur, and that is, I neither doubt nor -believe. My mind has never dwelt on such theories. I have been wrong, I -see, since they can be interesting, and I should take to them if I had -the pleasure of talking for long with you. So you believe, monsieur, -that we shall gradually attain to a knowledge of all Nature's secrets?"</p> - -<p>"I am convinced of it."</p> - -<p>"But we should then be as powerful as the Almighty."</p> - -<p>"Not quite.... As knowing, perhaps; as powerful, no."</p> - -<p>"Do you think, then, that there is such a great distinction between -knowledge and power?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There is an abyss between those two words! God has given you authority -to make use of all created things. None of these things is useless -or idle: all at the right moment are capable of contributing to the -well-being of man, to the happiness of humanity; but, in order to be -able to apply these things to the good of the race and to the welfare -of the individual, man must know precisely the cause and the end of -everything. He will utilise all, and when he has utilised the earth, -water, fire and air, neither space nor distance will any longer exist -for him: he will see the world as it is, not merely in its visible -forms, but also in its invisible forms; he will penetrate into the -bowels of the earth, as do gnomes; he will inhabit water, like nymphs -and tritons; he will play in fire, as do hobgoblins and salamanders; -he will fly through the air, like angels and sylphs; he will ascend, -almost to God, by the chain of being and by the ladder of perfection; -he will see the supreme Ruler of all things, as I see you; and if, -instead of learning humility through knowledge, he should gain pride; -if, instead of worshipping, he be puffed up; if because of his -knowledge of creation, he thinks himself equal to the Creator, God will -say to him, 'Make Me a star or a <i>rotifer</i>!'"</p> - -<p>I thought I had not heard him correctly, and I repeated—</p> - -<p>"A star or a...?"</p> - -<p>"Or a rotifer:—it is an animal I have discovered. Columbus discovered -a world and I an ephemera. Do you imagine that Columbus weighed -heavier, for all that, before the eyes of God, than I?"</p> - -<p>I remained in thought for a moment. Was this man out of his mind? -Whether or no, his madness was a fine frenzy.</p> - -<p>"Well," he went on, "one day people will discover water-sprites, -gnomes, sylphs, nymphs, angels, just as I discovered my animalcule. -All that is needed is to find a microscope capable of perceiving -the infinitely transparent, just as we have discovered one for the -infinitely little. Before the invention of the solar microscope, -creation, to man's eyes, stopped short at the acarus, the seison; he -little thought there were snakes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> in his water, crocodiles in his -vinegar, blue dolphins ... in other things. The solar microscope was -invented and he saw them all."</p> - -<p>I sat dumbfounded. I had never heard anyone speak of such extraordinary -things. "Good gracious! monsieur," I said to him, "you open out to me a -whole world of whose existence I knew nothing. What! are there serpents -in water?"</p> - -<p>"Hydras."</p> - -<p>"Crocodiles in our vinegar?"</p> - -<p>"Ichthyosauri."</p> - -<p>"And blue dolphins in ...? But it is impossible!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! that is the usual formula—'It is impossible!' ... You said just -now,'It is impossible!' in reference to things we do not see. And now -you say 'It is impossible' of things that everybody else but yourself -has seen. All 'impossibility' is relative: what is impossible to the -oyster is not impossible to the fish; what is impossible to the fish -is not impossible to the serpent; what is impossible to the serpent is -not impossible to the quadruped; what is impossible to the quadruped -is not impossible to man; what is impossible to man is not impossible -with God. When Fulton offered to demonstrate the existence of steam to -Napoleon, Napoleon said, as you, 'It is impossible!' and had he lived -two or three years longer he would have seen pass by, from the top of -his rocky island, their funnels smoking, the machines that might still -have kept him emperor, had he not scorned them as the creatures of a -dream, utopian and impossible! Even Job prophesied steamships...."</p> - -<p>"Job prophesied steamships?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, most certainly.... What else do you think his description of -leviathan meant, whom he calls the king of the seas?—'I will not -forget the leviathan, his strength and the marvellous structure of -his body. By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like -the eyelids of the morning. Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out -of a seething pot or caldron. His breath kindleth coals: his heart is -as firm as a stone, yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. -He maketh the deep to boil as a pot; he maketh the sea like a pot of -ointment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> He maketh a path to shine after him: one would think the -deep to be hoary. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without -fear.' Leviathan is, of course, the modern steamship!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed, monsieur," I said to my neighbour, "you make my head reel. You -know so much and you talk so well, I feel carried away by all you tell -me, like a leaf by a whirlwind. You spoke of a tiny animal that you -discovered—an ephemera: do you call that a rotifer?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Did you discover it in water, in wine or in vinegar?"</p> - -<p>"In wet sand."</p> - -<p>"How did it come about?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! why, in a very simple way. I had begun making microscopic -experiments upon infinitely small things, long before Raspail. One day, -when I had examined under the microscope water, wine, vinegar, cheese, -bread, all the ingredients in fact that experiments are usually made -upon, I took a little wet sand out of my rain gutter,—I then lodged on -a sixth floor,—I put it on the slide of my microscope and applied my -eye to the lens. Then I saw a strange animal move about, in shape like -a velocipede, furnished with two wheels, which it moved very rapidly. -If it had a river to cross, these wheels served the same purpose as -those of a steamboat; had it dry land to go over, the wheels acted the -same as those of a tilbury. I watched it, I studied its every detail, I -drew it. Then I suddenly remembered that my rotifer,—I had christened -it by that name, although I have since called it a <i>tarentatello</i>>—I -suddenly remembered that my rotifer had made me forget an engagement. I -was in a great hurry; I had an appointment with one of the animalculæ -which do not like being kept waiting—an ephemera whom mortals call a -woman.... I left my microscope, my rotifer and the pinch of sand which -was his world. I had other work to do where I went, protracted and -engaging work, which kept me all the night. I did not get back until -the next morning: I went straight to my microscope. Alas! the sand had -dried up during the night, and my poor rotifer, which needed moisture, -no doubt, to live,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> had died. Its almost imperceptible body was -stretched on its left side, its wheels were motionless, the steamboat -puffed no longer, the velocipede had stopped."</p> - -<p>"Ah! poor rotifer!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Wait, wait!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! was it like Lord Ruthven, then? He was not dead? Was he, like Lord -Ruthven, a vampire?"</p> - -<p>"You will see! Quite dead though he was, the animal was still a curious -variety of ephemera, and his body was as worth preserving as that of a -mammoth or a mastodon. Only, you understand, quite other precautions -have to be taken to handle an animal a hundred times smaller than a -seison, than to change the situation of an animal ten times greater -than an elephant! I selected a little cardboard box, from among all -my boxes; I destined it to be my rotifer's tomb, and by the help of -the feather end of a pen I transported my pinch of sand from the slide -of my microscope to my box. I meant to show this corpse to Geoffroy -Saint-Hilaire or to Cuvier; but I did not get the opportunity. I never -met these gentlemen, or, if I did meet them, they declined to mount my -six flights of stairs; so for three or maybe six months or a year I -forgot the body of the poor rotifer. One day, by chance, the box fell -into my hand; and I desired to see what change a year had wrought on -the body of an ephemera. The weather was cloudy, there had been a great -fall of stormy rain. In order to see better, I placed my microscope -close to the window, and I emptied the contents of the little box on -to the slide. The body of the poor rotifer still lay motionless on the -sand; but the weather, which remembers the colossal so ruthlessly, -seemed to have forgotten the tiny atom. I was looking at my ephemera -with an easily understood feeling of curiosity, when suddenly the wind -drove a drop of rain on to the microscope slide and wet my pinch of -sand."</p> - -<p>"Well?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, then the miracle took place. My rotifer seemed to revive at -the touch of that refreshing coolness: it began to move one antenna, -then another; then one of its wheels began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> to turn round, then both -its wheels: it regained its centre of gravity, its movements became -regular; in short, it lived!"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, the miracle of the resurrection, in which perhaps you -believe, although Voltaire had no faith in it, was accomplished, not -at the end of three days ... three days, a fine miracle!... but at the -end of a year.... I renewed the same test ten times: ten times the sand -dried, ten times the rotifer died! ten times the sand was wetted, and -ten times the rotifer came to life again! I had discovered an immortal, -not a rotifer, monsieur! My rotifer had probably lived before the -Deluge and would survive to the Judgment Day."</p> - -<p>"And you still possess this marvellous animal?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, monsieur," my neighbour replied, with a deep sigh, "I have not -that happiness. One day when, for the twentieth time, perhaps, I was -preparing to repeat my experiment, a puff of wind carried away the dry -sand, and, with the dry sand, my deathless phenomenon. Alas! I have -taken many a pinch of wet sand from my gutters since, and even from -elsewhere, but always in vain; I have never found again the equivalent -of what I lost. My rotifer was not only immortal but even unique.... -Will you allow me to pass, monsieur? The second act is about to begin, -and I think this melodrama so poor that I much prefer to go away."</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur," I said, "I beg of you not to go; I have many more -things to ask of you, and you seem to me to be very learned!... You -need not listen if you don't want to; you can read <i>le Pastissier -françois,</i> and in the intervals we can talk of Elzevirs and -rotifers.... I will listen to the play, which, I assure you, interests -me greatly."</p> - -<p>"You are very good," said my neighbour; and he bowed.</p> - -<p>Then came the three raps and, with the charming suavity I had already -noticed in him, he resumed his reading.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose, revealing the entrance to a farm, a chain of snowy -mountains, and a window. The farm represented on the stage was that -belonging to Marsden Castle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Xb" id="CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Second act of the <i>Vampire</i>—Analysis—My neighbour again objects—He -has seen a vampire—Where and how—A statement which records the -existence of vampires—Nero—Why he established the race of hired -applauders—My neighbour leaves the orchestra</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>While Ruthven's preparations for marrying Malvina were in progress, -Edgard, one of his vassals, married Lovette. Lovette made the -prettiest, the sweetest and the most graceful betrothed imaginable: she -was Jenny Vertpré, at twenty.</p> - -<p>Lord Ruthven, who really loved Malvina, would much rather have sucked -the blood of another man's wife than that of his own; so, at the -request of Edgard, his servant, he willingly acceded to be present at -his nuptials. The marriage takes place. Lord Ruthven is seen sitting -down: the ballet is just about to begin, when an ancient bard comes -forward with his harp; he was a guest at every castle, the poet invited -to every marriage. He recognised Ruthven, who did not recognise him, -being otherwise employed in ogling poor Lovette.</p> - -<p>The bard tunes his harp and sings:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"O jeune vierge de Staffa<br /> -Brûlant de la première flamme,<br /> -Dont le cœur palpite déjà<br /> -Aux doux noms d'amante et de femme!<br /> -Au moment d'unir votre sort<br /> -A l'amant de votre pensée,<br /> -Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>This first couplet rouses Lord Ruthven's anger, who sees in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> it a -warning addressed to Lovette, and who consequently fears to see his -victim snatched away from him. So he turns his bewitching glance -from the young girl to glare furiously on the bard, who continues -unconcernedly:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Quand le soleil de ces déserts<br /> -Des monts ne dore plus la cime,<br /> -Alors, les anges des enfers<br /> -Viennent caresser leurs victimes....<br /> -Si leur douce voix vous endort,<br /> -Reculez, leur main est glacée!<br /> -Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>A third stanza and Lovette will escape from the Vampire. The bard, who -is the angel of marriage in disguise, must not therefore be allowed to -sing his third stanza. Lord Ruthven complains that the song brings back -unhappy memories, and sends the old man away.</p> - -<p>Then, as night draws on, as there is no time to lose, since, unless -he can suck the blood of a maiden before one o'clock in the morning, -he must die, he seeks an interview with Lovette. Lovette would fain -decline; but Edgard is afraid of displeasing his lord and master, who, -left alone with Lovette, endeavours to seduce her, swears to her that -he loves her, and places a purse full of gold in her hand. Just at that -moment the bard's harp is heard and the refrain of the song:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Gardez-vous, jeune fiancée,<br /> -De l'amour qui donne la mort!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Then everybody comes on, and the ballet begins. Towards the middle of -the ballet, Lovette withdraws, tired; Ruthven, who has not let her go -out of sight, follows her. Edgard soon perceives that neither Lovette -nor his lord are present. He goes out in his turn. Cries are heard from -the wing; Lovette runs on, terrified; a pistol-shot is heard: Lord -Ruthven falls mortally wounded on the stage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<p>"He tried to dishonour my betrothed!" cries Edgard, who appears, his -pistol still smoking in his hand.</p> - -<p>Aubrey dashes towards the wounded man. Lord Ruthven still breathes; he -asks to be left alone with his friend. Everybody goes off.</p> - -<p>"One last promise, Aubrey," says Lord Ruthven.</p> - -<p>"Oh, ask it, take my life!... it will be unbearable to me without -thee," replies Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"My friend, I only ask thee for profound secrecy for twelve hours."</p> - -<p>"For twelve hours?"</p> - -<p>"Promise me that Malvina shall not know anything of what has -happened—that you will not do anything to avenge my death before the -hour of one in the morning has struck.... Swear secrecy by my dying -breath!..."</p> - -<p>"I swear it!" says Aubrey, stretching forth his hands. The moon comes -out from behind clouds and shines brilliantly during Ruthven's last -words.</p> - -<p>"Aubrey," says Ruthven, "the queen of night casts light upon me for the -last time.... Let me see her and pay my final vows to heaven!"</p> - -<p>Ruthven's head falls back at these words. Then Aubrey, helped by -Lovette's father, carries the dead man to the rocks in the distance, -kisses his hand for the last time, and retires, led away by the old -man. At that moment the moonlight completely floods Ruthven's body with -its rays and lights up the frozen mountains....</p> - -<p>The curtain falls, and the whole house applauds enthusiastically, -save my neighbour, who still growls under his breath. Such inveterate -animosity against a play which appeared to me to be full of interest -astonished me, coming from a person who seemed so well disposed as he. -He had not merely contented himself with noisy exclamations, as I have -indicated, but, still worse, during the whole of the last scene he had -played in a disturbing fashion with a key which he several times put to -his lips.</p> - -<p>"Really, monsieur," I said, "I think you are very hard on this piece."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<p>My neighbour shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur, I know it, and the more so because the author considers -himself a man of genius, a man of talent, the possessor of a good -style; but he deceives himself. I saw the piece when it was played -three years ago, and now I have seen it again. Well, what I said then, -I repeat: the piece is dull, unimaginative, improbable. Yes, see how he -makes vampires act! And then <i>Sir</i> Aubrey! People don't talk of <i>Sir</i> -Aubrey. Aubrey is a family name, and the title of <i>Sir</i> is only used -before the baptismal name. Ah! the author was wise to preserve his -anonymity; he showed his sense in doing that."</p> - -<p>I took advantage of a moment when my neighbour stopped to take breath, -and I said—</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, you said just now, 'Yes, see how he makes vampires act!' Did -you not say so? I was not mistaken, was I?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Well, by employing such language you gave me the impression that you -believe they really exist?"</p> - -<p>"Of course they exist."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever seen any, by chance?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly I have seen them."</p> - -<p>"Through a solar microscope?" I laughingly suggested. "No, with my own -eyes, as Orgon and Tartuffe."</p> - -<p>"Whereabouts?"</p> - -<p>"In Illyria."</p> - -<p>"In Illyria? Ah! Have you been in Illyria?"</p> - -<p>"Three years."</p> - -<p>"And you saw vampires there?"</p> - -<p>"Illyria, you must know, is the historic ground of vampires like -Hungary, Servia and Poland."</p> - -<p>"No, I did not know.... I do not know anything. Where were the vampires -you saw?"</p> - -<p>"At Spalatro. I was lodging with a good man of sixty-two. He died. -Three days after his burial, he appeared to his son, in the night, and -asked for something to eat: the son gave him all he wanted; he ate it, -and then vanished. The next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> day the son told me what had happened, -telling me he felt certain his father would not return once only, and -asking me to place myself, the following night, at a window to see -him enter and go out. I was very anxious to see a vampire. I stood -at the window, but that night he did not come. The son then told me, -fearing lest I should be discouraged, that he would probably come on -the following night. On the following night I placed myself again at my -window, and sure enough, towards midnight, the old man appeared, and I -recognised him perfectly. He came from the direction of the cemetery; -he walked at a brisk pace, but his steps made no sound. When he reached -the door, he knocked; I counted three raps: the knocks sounded hard on -the oak, as though it were struck with a bone and not with a finger. -The son opened the door and the old man entered...."</p> - -<p>I listened to this story with the greatest attention, and I began to -prefer the intervals to the melodrama.</p> - -<p>"My curiosity was too highly excited for me to leave my window," -continued my neighbour; "there I stayed. Half an hour later, the old -man came out; he returned whence he had come—that is to say, in the -direction of the cemetery. He disappeared round the corner of a wall. -At the same moment, almost, my door opened. I turned round quickly and -saw the son. He was very pale. 'Well,' I said,'so your father came?' -'Yes ... did you see him enter?' 'Enter and come out.... What did -he do to-day?' 'He asked me for food and drink, as he did the other -day.' 'And did he eat and drink?' 'He ate and drank.... But that is -not all ... this is what troubles me. He said to me ...' 'Ah!' he said -something else than a mere request for food and drink?' 'Yes, he said -to me, "This is the second time I have come and eaten with thee. It -is now thy turn to come and eat with me."' 'The devil!...' 'I am to -expect him the same hour the day after to-morrow.' 'The deuce you are!' -'Yes, yes, that is just what worries me.' The day but one after, he was -found dead in his bed! The same day two or three other people in the -same village who had also seen the old man, and to whom he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> had spoken, -fell ill and died too. It was then recognised that the old man was a -vampire. I was questioned; I told all I had seen and heard. Justice -demanded an examination of the graveyard. They opened the tombs of all -those who had died during the previous six weeks: every corpse was in -a state of decomposition. But when they came to Kisilowa's tomb—that -was the old man's name—they found him with his eyes open, his lips -red, his lungs breathing properly, although he was as rigid as if in -death. They drove a stake through his heart; he uttered a loud cry and -blood gushed out from his mouth: then they laid him on a stack of wood, -reduced him to ashes and scattered the ashes to the four winds.... I -left the country soon after. I never heard if his son turned into a -vampire too."</p> - -<p>"Why should he have become a vampire too?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Ah! because it is the custom of those who die from a vampire's bite to -become vampires."</p> - -<p>"Really, you say this as though it were a known fact."</p> - -<p>"But indeed it is a known, registered and well established fact! Do you -doubt it?... Read Don Calmet's <i>Traité des apparitions</i>, vol ii. pp. -41 <i>et sqq</i>.; you will find a record signed by the hadnagi Barriavar -and the ancient heïduques; further by Battiw, first lieutenant of the -regiment of Alexander of Wurtemberg; by Clercktinger, surgeon-major of -the Fürstenberg regiment; by three other surgeons of the company and by -Goltchitz, captain at Slottats, stating that in the year 1730, a month -after the death of a certain heïduque, who lived in Medreiga, named -Arnold-Paul, who had been crushed by the fall of a hay waggon, four -people died suddenly, and, from the nature of their death, according -to the traditions of the country, it was evident that they had been -the victims of vampirism; they then called to mind that, during his -life, this Arnold-Paul had often related how, in the neighbourhood -of Cossova, on the Turko-Servian frontier, he had been worried by a -Turkish vampire,—for they too hold the belief that those who have -been passive vampires during their lives become active vampires after -their death,—but that he had found a cure in the eating of earth -from the vampire's grave, and in rubbing himself with its blood—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> -precautions which did not prevent him from becoming a vampire after -his death; for, four persons having died, they thought the deed was -due to him, and they exhumed his body forty days after his burial: -he was quite recognisable, and his body bore the colour of life; his -hair, his nails and his beard had grown; his veins were filled with a -bloody fluid, which exuded from all parts of his body upon the shroud -in which he was wrapped round: the hadnagi, or bailiff of the place, -in the presence of those who performed the act of exhumation, and who -was a man experienced in cases of vampirism, caused a very sharp stake -to be driven through the heart of the said Arnold-Paul, after the -usual custom, piercing his body through and through, a frightful cry -escaping from his lips, as though he were alive; this act accomplished, -they cut off his head, burned him to ashes, and did the same with the -corpses of the four or five other victims of vampirism, lest they, -in their turn, should cause the deaths of others; but none of these -precautions prevented the same wonders from being renewed, five years -later, about the year 1735, when seventeen people, belonging to the -same village, died from vampirism, some without any previous illness, -others after having languished two or three days; among others a young -person, named Stranoska, daughter of the heïduque Jeronitzo, went to -bed in perfect health, waked up in the middle of the night, trembling -all over, uttering fearful shrieks, and saying that the son of the -heïduque Millo, who had died nine weeks before, had tried to strangle -her during her sleep; she languished from that instant, and died in -three days' time: since what she had said of the son of Millo led them -to suspect him of being a vampire, they exhumed him, and found him in -a state which left no doubt of the fact of vampirism; they discovered, -in short, after prolonged investigation, that the defunct Arnold-Paul -had not only killed the four persons already referred to, but also -many animals, of which fresh vampires, and particularly Millo's son, -had eaten; on this evidence, they decided to disinter all who had died -since a certain date, and among about forty corpses they discovered -seventeen which bore evident signs of vampirism; so they pierced their -hearts, cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> off their heads, then burnt them and threw their bodies -into the river."</p> - -<p>"Does the book which contains this evidence cost as much as an Elzevir, -monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Oh dear no! You will pick it up anywhere, two volumes, in 18mo, of 480 -pages each. Techener, Guillemot or Frank will have a copy. It will cost -you from forty sous to three francs."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, I shall give myself the pleasure of buying a copy."</p> - -<p>"Now will you allow me to depart?... Three years ago I thought the -third act pretty bad; it will seem worse to me to-day."</p> - -<p>"If you really must, monsieur ..."</p> - -<p>"Yes, really you must let me go."</p> - -<p>"But first may I ask your advice?"</p> - -<p>"With the greatest pleasure.... Speak."</p> - -<p>"Before I came into the orchestra, I entered the pit, and there I had a -slight breeze."</p> - -<p>"Ah! It was you, was it?"</p> - -<p>"It was I."</p> - -<p>"You ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Smacked ...?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"What occasioned you to allow yourself that diversion?"</p> - -<p>I told him my adventure, and asked him if I ought to forewarn my -witnesses overnight, or if it would be time enough next morning.</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Oh, neither to-night nor to-morrow morning," he said.</p> - -<p>"What! neither to-night nor to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"No; it would be useless trouble."</p> - -<p>"Why so?"</p> - -<p>"Because you fell into a nest of hired applauders."</p> - -<p>"A nest of hired applauders!... What are they?" I asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! young man," exclaimed my neighbour in paternal accents, "do your -utmost to preserve your holy innocence!"</p> - -<p>"But suppose I beg you to put an end to it ...?"</p> - -<p>"Have you ever heard that in former times there were emperors of Rome?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the name of the fifth of those emperors?" "I think it -was Nero."</p> - -<p>"Right.... Well, Nero, who poisoned his cousin Britannicus, -disembowelled his mother Agrippina, strangled his wife Octavia, -killed his wife Poppæa with a kick in the stomach, had a tenor voice, -after the style of Ponchard; only his style was less cultivated, and -occasionally he sang false! That did not matter whilst Nero sang before -his roystering companions or before his courtesans at the Palatine -or Maison-Dorée; neither was it of much consequence when Nero sang -as he watched Rome burn: the Romans were too much occupied with the -fire to pay any attention to a semi-tone too high or a flat too low. -But when he took it into his head to sing in a public theatre, it was -a different matter: every time the illustrious tenor deviated in the -slightest degree from musical correctness, some spectator allowed -himself—what I shall permit myself to do immediately, if you insist on -my remaining to the end of this silly melodrama—to whistle. Of course -the spectator was arrested and promptly flung to the lions; but as he -passed before Nero, instead of saying simply, according to custom, -'Augustus, he who is about to die salutes thee!' he said,'Augustus, -I am to die because you sang false; but when I am dead, you will not -sing the more correctly.' This final salutation, taken up and added -to by other culprits, annoyed Nero: he had the whistlers strangled in -the corridors, and no one whistled any more. But it was not enough for -Nero,—that <i>hankerer after the impossible,</i> as Tacitus called him,—it -was not enough that no one whistled any more, he wanted everybody to -applaud him. Now, he could indeed strangle those who whistled, but he -could not exactly strangle those who did not applaud; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> would have -had to strangle the whole audience, and that would have been no light -job: Roman theatres held twenty, thirty, forty thousand spectators!... -As they were so strong in numbers, they could easily have prevented -themselves from being strangled. Nero went one better: he instituted a -body composed of Roman nobles—a kind of confraternity consisting of -some three thousand members. These three thousand chevaliers were not -the emperor's pretorians, they were the artist's body-guard; wherever -he went, they followed him; whenever he sang, they applauded him. Did -a surly spectator raise a murmur, a sensitive ear allow its owner -to utter a slight whistle, that murmur or whistle was immediately -drowned by applause. Nero ruled triumphant in the theatre. Had not -Sylla, Cæsar and Pompey exhausted all other kinds of triumph? Well, -my dear sir, that race of chevaliers has been perpetuated under the -name of <i>claqueurs</i>. The Opéra has them, the Théâtre-Français has -them, the Odéon has them—and is fortunate in having them!—finally, -the Porte-Saint-Martin has them; nowadays their mission is not only -to support poor actors—it consists even more, as you have just seen, -in preventing bad plays from collapsing. They are called <i>romains</i>, -from their origin; but our <i>romains</i> are not recruited from among the -nobility. No, managers are not so hard to please in their choice, and -it is not necessary to show a gold ring on the first finger; provided -they can show a couple of big hands, and bring these large hands -rapidly and noisily together, that is the only quartering of nobility -required of them. So, you see, I am quite right to warn you not to -upset two of your friends for one of those rapscallions.... Now that I -have enlightened you, will you allow me to leave?"</p> - -<p>I knew it would be impertinent to retain my neighbour any longer. -Though his conversation, which had covered a wide range of subjects -in a short time, was agreeable and highly edifying to myself, it was -evident he could not say the same of mine. I could not teach him -anything, save that I was ignorant of everything he knew. So I effaced -myself with a sigh, not daring to ask him who he was, and allowing him -to pass by with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> his <i>Pastissier françois</i> hugged with both hands to -his breast, fearing, no doubt, lest one of the chevaliers of whom he -had just spoken, curious in the matter of rare books, should relieve -him of it.</p> - -<p>I watched him withdraw with regret: a vague presentiment told me that, -after having done me so much service, this man would become one of my -closest friends. In the meanwhile, he had made the intervals far more -interesting than the play.</p> - -<p>Happily the bell was ringing for the third act, and so the intervals -were at an end.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIb" id="CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>A parenthesis<i>—Hariadan Barberousse</i> at Villers-Cotterets—I play the -rôle of Don Ramire as an amateur—My costume—The third act of the -<i>Vampire</i>—My friend the bibliomaniac whistles at the most critical -moment—He is expelled from the theatre—Madame Allan-Dorval—Her -family and her childhood—Philippe—His death and his funeral</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The only definite feeling I was conscious of, when my neighbour had -gone, was one of utter loneliness in that vast building. So I gave -my whole attention to the play. Could I judge clearly? No, certainly -not as yet: the <i>Vampire</i> was one of the first melodramas I had come -across. The first was <i>Hariadan Barberousse.</i> I have forgotten to tell -at the proper time and place how I became acquainted with the work of -MM. Saint-Victor and Corse.</p> - -<p>A troop of poverty-stricken actors came to Villers-Cotterets -(you will understand they must have been poor indeed to come to -Villers-Cotterets), and there they pretty nearly died of starvation. -They consisted of but one family named Robba. These poor devils were -possessed with the idea of giving a benefit for themselves, and they -thought of begging two or three young ladies and young gentlemen of the -town to play with them and for them. Naturally I was applied to. Nature -had already implanted in my heart that fountain of goodwill through -which everything that I had, that I have, that I shall have, passed, -passes, and always will pass. I agreed to undertake the rôle of Don -Ramire. All the other mothers refused to allow their boys and girls -to act. Were their children going to mount the boards and play with -ordinary actors? No indeed! My mother alone kept her promised word, and -I was the only artiste on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> special occasion whose name, printed in -big letters on the bills, was utilised in the philanthropic mission of -obtaining a good audience for them.</p> - -<p>I had to concoct a costume. It was a lengthy business to bring such an -operation to a conclusion. Happily, no one was very exacting at that -period, above all at Villers-Cotterets. Even Talma, who was a great -renovator, played <i>Hamlet</i> in white satin breeches, <i>bottes à cœur</i> -and a polonaise. But of this wardrobe I only had the <i>bottes à cœur:</i> -I could not play Don Ramire with the aid only of the boots. We made -a tunic,—everybody played in tunics at that epoch,—and a splendid -tunic it was, indeed, for it was made out of two red cashmere shawls, -ornamented with a great gold-flowered pattern; my father had brought -the shawls from Egypt, and I believe I have already referred to them. -We contented ourselves with sewing them together, leaving an opening -on each side for my arms, a sword-belt at the waist serving as a -girdle; out of each arm-hole appeared a satin sleeve, and Don Ramire -was, if not exactly sufficiently, at least sumptuously and modestly, -clad from the shoulders to half-way down his thighs. A turned-down -collar and a satin toque to match the tunic in colour completed the -upper part of the costume. But the question of the lower half was more -serious. Tights were rare in Villers-Cotterets; I might even say that -they were unknown; so it was of no use wishing to procure tights: it -would have been time wasted, a vision, a dream. The longest pair of -silk stockings that could be found, sewed into a pair of drawers, did -the business. Then came the laced boots. Ah! these laced boots, they -were an invention of my own. A second pair of silk stockings were dyed -red; soles were sewed to them; they were put over the first pair, -then turned back, rolled up to within three inches of the ankle; the -roll was tied fast to make a pad; we imitated the lacing of a laced -boot with green ribbon; and then this footgear formed the base of a -presentable-looking Don Ramire, who, atop, indulged in the luxury -of a satin toque with an ostrich plume. Finally came the sword. My -father's sword, the sword of a Republican, with its cap of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> Liberty, -looked somewhat odd when compared with the rest of Don Ramire's attire. -The mayor, M. Mussart, lent me a silver-mounted Louis XV. sword: the -chain which had fastened it was detached; but, though the guard had -disappeared, the hilt and the sheath were left, and this was sufficient -to satisfy the most exacting.</p> - -<p>The announcement of this important entertainment made a great -sensation: people came from all the towns and all the villages round, -even from Soissons. I looked perfectly absurd, having never seen any -play but <i>Paul et Virginie</i> at the age of three, and the <i>Jeunesse de -Henri V.</i> when I was eleven. But the Robbas took eight hundred francs -at the doors—a fortune to them; and a mother, a father, children and -grandchildren had wherewithal to keep themselves in food for two-thirds -of a year.</p> - -<p>Poor Robbas! I recollect that the whole of their <i>répertoire</i> only -consisted of <i>Adolphe et Clara</i> and the <i>Déserteur.</i> God alone knows -what became of the poor things! That was how I came to know <i>Hariadan -Barberousse</i>, which, with the <i>Vampire</i>, whose last act I was about to -see, completed the sum total of my melodramatic equipment.</p> - -<p>The third act was but a repetition of what had passed in the first. -Ruthven, whom his friend Aubrey believed dead at</p> - -<p>Marsden's farm, comes to life again, a sepulchral Endymion, under the -kisses of the moon. He returns to the castle before Malvina's brother -and urges forward his marriage; then Aubrey comes back and finds the -bride adorned and the chapel prepared. He approaches his sister to tell -her the terrible news of the death of her betrothed, and, seeing him -pale and distressed, Malvina exclaims—</p> - -<p>"Dear brother, you are in trouble!... For heaven's sake, tell me all!"</p> - -<p>"Rally your courage, then," says Aubrey.</p> - -<p>"You terrify me!" exclaims Malvina.</p> - -<p>Then, turning towards the door—</p> - -<p>"Milord is long a-coming," she says.</p> - -<p>"Since I must rend your heart, know that all my plans are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> broken. A -fearful, an unlooked-for event has deprived us, me of a friend, you of -a husband!... The unfortunate Ruthven."</p> - -<p>At this juncture Ruthven comes forward, seizes Aubrey by the arm and -says to him in a grim voice—</p> - -<p>"Think of thy oath!"</p> - -<p>At these words, and just as the whole audience burst into applause, -a loud whistle sounded from one of the boxes. I turned round, and -everybody in the orchestra and the pit did likewise. The hired -applauders rose in a body and, climbing on the forms, shouted, "Put -him out!" This formidable mountain could be seen rising up in the -centre of the theatre, like the enormous counterfeit Parnassus of M. -Titon-Dutillet at the Bibliothèque. But the whistler continued to -whistle, hidden in his box, sheltered behind the railing as behind an -impregnable rampart. I do not know why, but I came to the conclusion -that it was my neighbour who was at last gratifying to his heart's -content his desire to deride the piece which had disgusted him -throughout the night. The play was totally stopped: Philippe, Madame -Dorval and Thérigny stood on the stage without being able to utter -a syllable; shouts of "Put him out!" increased and a police officer -was sent for. By dint of gazing hard into the box I could see through -the bars, and there I discerned, in the dusky interior, the untoward -whistler. It was indeed my neighbour the bibliomaniac. The police -officer arrived. In spite of all his protestations, the whistler was -expelled from the theatre, and the piece went on in the midst of -stampings and bravoes.</p> - -<p>The play was drawing to its close. Aubrey, seized by Lord Ruthven's -attendants, is carried away from Malvina's side, and she remains -unprotected. Ruthven bears her off; a door opens—it is that of the -chapel, illuminated for the nocturnal marriage. Malvina hesitates -to contract the marriage without the presence of her brother; but -Ruthven becomes more and more urgent; for unless the blood of a young -damsel gives him renewed life within a very few minutes, he <i>will -be annihilated,</i> as the angel of marriage had predicted! Suddenly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> -Aubrey, who has escaped from his guardians, appears in the chapel; he -stops his sister; he implores her not to go on any farther with the -proceedings. Ruthven again recalls Aubrey to his oath.</p> - -<p>"Yes," says Aubrey, "but the hour is just about to strike when I may -reveal everything."</p> - -<p>"Wretch!" cries Ruthven, drawing a dagger, "if you utter one word...."</p> - -<p>"You shall only take her bathed in my blood!" cries Aubrey, redoubling -his resistance.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, you shall both perish!" says Ruthven.</p> - -<p>He is about to strike Aubrey. One o'clock sounds; Malvina falls -fainting in the arms of Bridget; thunder rumbles.</p> - -<p>"Annihilation! annihilation!" shrieks Ruthven.</p> - -<p>He lets his dagger fall and tries to flee. Shades come up out of the -ground and carry him off; the destroying angel appears in a cloud; -lightning flashes, and Ruthven is engulfed amidst the shades.</p> - -<p>"<i>PLUIE DE FEU</i>"</p> - -<p>It will be gathered that we are copying from the manuscript itself.</p> - -<p>Philippe was recalled. But Madame Dorval's part was so execrable -that no one dreamt of recalling her; she was only engaged at the -Porte-Saint-Martin to play the worst parts; the favourite artiste, -Mademoiselle Lévesque, took the good ones.</p> - -<p>Allow me a few words concerning that poor dear creature, whom I then -saw for the first time, and who died in my arms twenty-six years -later.<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>A large portion of these Memoirs will be devoted to remarks concerning -the influence of eminent artistes, great comedians or famous poets; for -my pages are intended to deal with the development of art in France -during one half of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>Political events will also no doubt have their share of attention, -but only their due share. It is time things were relegated to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> their -proper positions, and, as our century is first and foremost one of -appreciation, it is desirable that men and things should be appreciated -at their proper value.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Mars and Talma, those two great artistic glories of the -Empire and the Restoration, will still survive in the thoughts of the -twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, when the very names of those -political actors whom men call ministers will long have been forgotten, -the men who disdainfully flung to these glorious mendicants the grant -annually allowed by the Chamber as though it were an alms.</p> - -<p>Who was minister in England the year Shakespeare wrote <i>Othello</i>? Who -was gonfalonier in Florence when Dante wrote his <i>Inferno</i>? Who was -minister to King Hiero when the author of <i>Prometheus</i> came to beg -protection from him? Who was archon of Athens when the divine Homer -died on one of the Sporades, towards the middle of the tenth century -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">B.C.</span>?</p> - -<p>To answer such queries one must needs be my neighbour,—my neighbour -who knew so many things, who could recognise Elzevirs, who knew where -vampires were to be found, who knew the origin of hired applauders -and who had been put out of the theatre for whistling at the prose -of MM.... for no name was ever printed on the <i>Vampire</i> pamphlet, -published by Barba, who ostentatiously put below his name: <i>Publisher -of the Works of Pigault-Lebrun.</i></p> - -<p>Let us return to Madame Allan-Dorval, as she was called at that period. -As I advance with these Memoirs there are many men and women, literary -or political comedians whom we shall meet with, who made a name for -themselves in their day, and I shall do for these personages what I am -just about to do for poor Marie Dorval. When she died I undertook to -raise a monument over her grave—a literary monument in my writings, -a sepulchral monument in stone. The stones were to be paid for by my -literary labours, and it pleased me to think of being the architect of -both monuments.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, I began the erection of my literary monument in the -<i>Constitutionnel.</i> At the second article, I referred to <i>Antony</i> and -the old <i>Constitutionnel.</i> M. Véron's susceptibility took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> fright: -the literary monument was arrested at its first attempt. And as the -sepulchral monument depended on the literary monument, the sepulchral -monument was never begun.</p> - -<p>Some day we will take up this matter again, among many others we have -been compelled to drop, and with God's help, and in spite of the -ill-will of men, we will finish them.</p> - -<p>The age of artistes is ever a problem that is never solved until after -their death. I never learned Dorval's age until she died. She was born -on Twelfth Night in the year 1798; so in 1823, when I was twenty, she -was twenty-five. She did not call herself Marie Dorval then: those two -names, so easy to pronounce that they seem always to have belonged to -her, were not then linked to each other by the golden chain of genius. -Her real name was Thomase-Amélie Delaunay: she was born close to the -théâtre de Lorient and her earliest steps were patters across its -boards. Her mother was an actress who took the part of leading singer. -<i>Camille ou le Souterrain</i> was then the comic opera in vogue. The -little maiden was rocked on the stage to these lines, which her mother -could hardly sing save with tears in her eyes:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Oh! non, non, il n'est pas possible<br /> -D'avoir un plus aimable enfant!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Directly she could talk, her lips stammered out the prose of Panard and -Collé, Sedaine and Favart; at seven, she passed into what was called -the <i>emploi des Betsy.</i> Her most popular air was in <i>Sylvani</i>—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je ne sais pas si mon cœur aime."<br /> -</p> - -<p>An artist at Lorient painted her portrait at that time—that is to -say, in 1808. In 1839, Madame Dorval returned to Lorient, her native -town. The day following a striking success, an old white-haired man -came to call upon her to pay her his tribute. His offering was this -painting of her as a child: a third of a century had passed by and the -woman could not be recognised in it. To-day both painter and Madame -Dorval are dead, but the portrait still continues to smile. It hung in -Madame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> Dorval's bedroom. I saw it, for the first time, when I helped -to close her eyes. It was a melancholy contrast, I need hardly say, to -see the face of the rosy child in the picture confronting the livid -face on the death-bed opposite. How many joys, hopes, disappointments -and sorrows had passed between that childish smile and the death-agony! -At twelve years of age little Delaunay left Lorient with the whole -company. That was in 1810, when diligences did not traverse France in -every direction: in those days railways had not yet carved their way -through the valleys or tunnelled the mountains; if you wanted to go to -Strassbourg—that is to say, to cross France from west to east—you had -to club together and buy a large wicker carriage, and it took six weeks -to go from the Ocean, to the Rhine.</p> - -<p>The comedy company passed through Paris and stopped four days in the -capital. It was the zenith of Talma's reputation: how could anyone pass -through Paris without seeing Talma? For three days, the mother and -daughter economised in their breakfasts and in their dinners, and on -the fourth day they took two tickets for the second gallery. Talma was -playing <i>Hamlet</i>.</p> - -<p>Those of you who knew Madame Dorval will understand what it meant to a -nature such as hers to see the famous actor play; what it meant to that -heart which was so loyally filial in its early days and so motherly -in later years, to listen to the gloomy ravings of the Danish prince, -as he speaks of his father in a voice full of tears, in the way Talma -represented him. And at these three lines—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"On remplace un ami, son épouse, une amante;<br /> -Mais un vertueux père est un bien précieux<br /> -Qu'on ne tient qu'une fois de la bonté des cieux!"—<br /> -</p> - -<p>the young actress, who, with the intuition of genius in her, -comprehended the greatness of art displayed, as well as realised, the -depth of the pathos, leant backwards, sobbed and fainted away. They -carried her into an adjoining room; but the play continued in vain, so -far as she was concerned: she would not see any more of it. She did not -see Talma again until ten years later.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> - -<p>The company continued its journey and reached Strassbourg. And then -Mademoiselle Delaunay gradually became famous. She changed her line -of character and played <i>les Dugazon.</i> She made a fascinating young -girl, overflowing with mischievousness and good humour, declaiming M. -Étienne's prose excellently, but singing M. Nicholo's music out of -tune. Now it is a great defect for a <i>Dugazon</i> to sing falsely, while -speaking correctly. Happily, Perrier, who was acting at Strassbourg, -advised Madame Delaunay to let her daughter give up comic opera, and -turn her attention to comedy. In deference to this advice, <i>la Dugazon</i> -became a young lover. Panard was given up for Molière and the actress -and the public profited by the change.</p> - -<p>From that time dated Madame Dorval's first successes. Alas! from that -time dated also her first sorrows. Her mother fell ill of a long and -painful disease. The engagements which Madame Delaunay found as first -singer became fewer as her voice grew weaker. Then the young girl -redoubled her labours; she knew that talent was not only a question -of art, but still more one of necessity. Thanks to her efforts, her -engagements brought in eighty francs to a hundred francs; and those of -her' mother diminished, at the same time, from three hundred francs to -one hundred and fifty francs, and from one hundred and fifty francs -they fell to nothing. From that time began the young girl's life of -devotion which continued on into womanhood.</p> - -<p>For a year Amélie Delaunay did everything for her mother: she was -servant, nurse, comforter; then, at the end of a year, the mother died, -and all those nights of watching and weeping, all her careful tendings, -were lost, except in the sight of God.</p> - -<p>When her mother died the young girl was left alone in the world. She -could never afterwards remember what she did during the two years after -her mother's death: memory was drowned in grief! The company moved -on from Lorient to Strassbourg, from Strassbourg to Bayonne, always -travelling in the same wicker carriage with the same horses, which -belonged to the company. However, one great event came about:</p> - -<p>Amélie Delaunay married a poor boy of fifteen, out of loneliness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> -She had no love for him: he was one of her fellow-actors, who played -the rôle of <i>les Martins;</i> his name was Allan-Dorval. He died at St. -Petersburg. Where he lived nobody ever knew. This marriage had no other -influence on the actress's life beyond giving her the name by which -she became known; her other name, that of Marie, was given her by us. -Antony was her godfather and Adèle d'Hervey her godmother.</p> - -<p>Their journeyings were continued and, as they were <i>en route</i> for -Bayonne, they came close to Paris. I do not know in what village, -upon what road, at what inn, Potier, the great actor whom Talma -admired, met Madame Allan-Dorval, in what theatre he saw her play or -what part she was taking, when she uttered one of those heartfelt -phrases, one of those outbursts of fraternal affection by which great -artistes recognise each other's talents. I know nothing of all this, -for poor Marie forgot it herself; but, in a trice he described to her -Paris—that is to say, splendour, fame, suffering!</p> - -<p>The young wife came to Paris with a letter of introduction from Potier -to M. de Saint-Romain, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin. M. de -Saint-Romain engaged Madame Allan-Dorval on this recommendation, and -from that day her name became part of the recollections of Parisians, -her life became interwoven with the literary life of Paris. This was in -1818.</p> - -<p>What had this poor talented young woman played ere Potier's -encouragement had made a path for her genius? She had acted in the -<i>Cabane du Montagnard,</i> the <i>Catacombes</i>, the <i>Pandoursy</i> and, finally, -in the <i>Vampire</i>, at which my neighbour had hooted so shamelessly. Poor -Marie! only she herself could relate the sufferings of those early -days. There was, I remember, one special costume on which she had to -sew some lace trimming every evening before the performance, and it had -to be unsewn every evening after the play.—O Frétillon! Frétillon! thy -cotillion never saw half what that dress did!</p> - -<p>She whom I now saw for the first time was the Eve from whose womb a -new dramatic world was to spring. As for Philippe, who eclipsed her at -that time, with the dignity and majesty of his steps and gestures, his -was the acting of the pure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> old-fashioned melodrama of Pixérécourt and -Caignez. No one could wear yellow top boots, a buff tunic embroidered -in black, a plumed toque and a cross-handled sword like Philippe. This -attire, at that period, went by the name of the costume of a cavalier. -Lafont carried it off perfectly in <i>Tancrède</i> and in <i>Adélaïde -Duguesclin.</i></p> - -<p>Philippe died the first. His death made almost as much stir as his -life. As I shall not have occasion to speak of him again, and as, had -he lived, he would not have had anything to do with contemporary art, -we will finish his story here. Philippe died on 16 October 1824—that -is to say, one month, to the day, after the death of Louis XVIII. On -the 18th, they brought his body to the church of Saint-Laurent, his own -parish church; but the clergy refused to take it in. The same thing -happened with regard to Mademoiselle Raucourt. But Philippe's comrades -and all his public admirers decided to go forward with stout hearts, to -proceed without uproar, or violent acts, or rebellious deeds. They drew -the shell from the hearse: six actors from the different Paris theatres -bore it on their shoulders, and, followed by over three thousand -people, they took it to the Tuileries. They meant to deposit the coffin -in the Castle courtyard, to demand justice, and not to withdraw until -they had received it. The resolution was all the more impressive as it -was accomplished with composure and solemnity. The cortège was moving -along the boulevards, and had reached the top of the rue Montmartre, -when a squadron of police rushed out at full gallop, swords in hand, -and barred the entire width of the boulevard. Then a council of -deliberation was held over the bier, and, still with the same calmness -and the same composure, a deputation of five was elected to go to the -Tuileries and to ask for the prayers of the Church and a Christian -burial for the body of poor Philippe. These five deputies were: MM. -Étienne, Jourdan, Colombeau, Ménessier and Crosnier. Charles X. refused -to receive them, and sent them back to M. de Corbières, the Minister -for the Interior. M. de Corbières, very brutal by nature, replied -roughly that the clergy had their laws, that it was not his business -to transgress them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> although he was in charge of the police of the -realm. The five deputies brought back this reply to the three thousand -Parisians camped in the boulevard, round the coffin that was craving -burial. The bearers then took the body up again on their shoulders and -pursued their course with it along the road to Père-Lachaise. Victory -remained on the side of authority, as the saying is; only, it is by -such kinds of victories that authority cuts its own throat. "Another -victory like that," said Pyrrhus, after the battle of Heracles, "and we -shall be lost!"</p> - -<p>From that moment the generous promises made by Charles x. on his -accession to the throne were valued at their true worth: and who shall -say that one of the clouds that caused the storm of 27 July 1830, was -not whirled into being on 18 October 1824?</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See <i>les Morts vont vite</i>, vol. ii. pp. 241 ff.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_IV" id="BOOK_IV">BOOK IV</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Ic" id="CHAPTER_Ic">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>My beginning at the office—Ernest Basset—Lassagne—M. Oudard—I see -M. Deviolaine—M. le Chevalier de Broval—His portrait—Folded letters -and oblong letters—How I acquire a splendid reputation for sealing -letters—I learn who was my neighbour the bibliomaniac and whistler</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The next day I waited from eight o'clock in the morning until ten -o'clock; but, as my neighbour in the orchestra had predicted, nobody -came to demand satisfaction for the blow I had dealt on the previous -evening. However, I had now arrived at two convictions—namely, that -there must be something extravagant about my appearance and about -some portion of my clothing. For fear of falling out egregiously with -everybody I met abroad, I ought to cut my locks and to shorten the -length of my coat. My hair was fully two inches too long; my coat -certainly a foot beyond regulation length. I called in a barber and a -tailor. The barber asked me for ten minutes; the tailor for a day. I -gave up my coat to the tailor and my head to the barber. I intended to -go to the office in a morning coat: it should be understood that my -first visit to the office was almost in the nature of a call upon my -chiefs. A morning coat would not be out of place.</p> - -<p>My face was completely changed by the cropping of my hair: when it -was too long, I looked like one of the sellers of "Lion Pomade," who -make their own heads their principal prospectuses; when my hair was -too short, I looked like a seal. Of course the barber cut my hair -too short; unfortunately, there was then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> no remedy left me but to -wait until it grew again. When I had breakfasted fairly well at my -hotel, and given notice that I should settle my account and leave the -establishment that evening, I made my way towards the office.</p> - -<p>As a quarter-past ten struck, I made inquiries of the porter in the -hall and he told me which staircase led to M. Oudard's offices, -otherwise the Secretariat. They were situated at the right angle of -the second court of the Palais-Royal, looking upon the square from -the side of the garden. I went towards this staircase and I furnished -myself with fresh instructions from a second porter: the offices were -on the third floor, so I climbed up. My heart was beating violently: I -was entering upon another life—one which I had desired and chosen for -myself this time. This staircase was leading me to my future office. -Where would my future office lead me?... No one had arrived. I waited -with the office-boys. The first employé who appeared was a fine big -fair youth; he came singing up the stairs, and took down the office -door key from a nail. I rose.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Ernest," said one of the office-boys, the eldest of them, a -lad called Raulot, "this young man wants to speak to M. Oudard."</p> - -<p>The person addressed as Ernest looked at me for a moment with his keen, -clear blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," I said to him, "I am one of the supernumeraries, of whom -you may perhaps have heard."</p> - -<p>"Ah yes! M. Alexandre Dumas," he exclaimed; "the son of General -Alexandre Dumas, recommended by General Foy?"</p> - -<p>I saw he knew all about me.</p> - -<p>"I am the same," I said.</p> - -<p>"Come in," he said, going in before me and opening the door of a small -room, with one window in it and three desks. "See," he continued, "you -are expected; here is your seat. Everything is ready—paper, pens, ink; -you have but to sit down and to draw up your chair to your desk."</p> - -<p>"Have I the pleasure of talking to one of those with whom I am destined -to spend my days?" I asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes.... I have just been promoted as ordinary clerk at eighteen -hundred francs; I am giving up my place as copying-clerk, and that -place will be yours, after a longer or shorter probationary period."</p> - -<p>"And who is our third companion?"</p> - -<p>"He is our deputy head clerk, Lassagne."</p> - -<p>The door opened.</p> - -<p>"Hullo! who is talking about Lassagne?" asked a young man of -twenty-eight to thirty, as he came in.</p> - -<p>Ernest turned round.</p> - -<p>"Ah! it is you," he replied. "I was just saying to M. Dumas,"—he -pointed to me, I bowed,—"I was just telling M. Dumas that this was -your place, that his, and the other mine."</p> - -<p>"Are you our new colleague?" Lassagne asked me.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"You are welcome." And he held out his hand to me.</p> - -<p>I took it. It was one of those warm and trembling hands that it is a -pleasure to shake from the first touch—a loyal hand, revealing the -nature of him to whom it belonged.</p> - -<p>"Good!" I said to myself: "this man will be friendly to me, I am sure."</p> - -<p>"Listen," he said: "a word of advice. It is rumoured that you have come -here with the idea of entering upon a literary career: do not talk too -loudly of such a project; it will only do you harm.... Hush! that is -Oudard entering his room."</p> - -<p>And I heard in the neighbouring room the self-possessed, measured tread -of a man accustomed to rule an office. A moment later, the door of our -office opened and Raulot appeared.</p> - -<p>"M. Oudard wants M. Alexandre Dumas," he said.</p> - -<p>I rose and cast a glance at Lassagne: he understood what I felt like.</p> - -<p>"Go along," he said; "he is a capital fellow, but you have to become -acquainted with him: however, you will soon do that."</p> - -<p>This was not altogether reassuring; so it was with my heart beating -very rapidly that I proceeded along the corridor and entered M. -Oudard's office.</p> - -<p>I found him standing before the fireplace. He was a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> of five feet -six inches high, with a brown complexion, black hair and an impassive -face, gentle although firm. His black eyes had that direct look to be -found in men who have risen from a lower class to a high position; its -expression was almost stonily hard when it was fixed on you; you would -have said he had ridden rough-shod over everything and everybody that -had come in his way, as so many obstacles on the road towards that -goal, known only to himself, which he had made up his mind to reach. -He had fine teeth; but, contrary to the habit of those who possess -this advantage, he rarely smiled: one could see that nothing—not even -the most insignificant event—was indifferent to him; a pebble under -the foot of an ambitious man will raise him higher by the size of that -pebble. Oudard was very ambitious; but as he was also essentially -honest, I doubt whether his ambition had ever, I will not say inspired -him with an evil thought—what man is master of his thoughts?—but -caused him to commit a mean action. Later, it will be seen that he was -hard on me, almost pitiless. He was, I am sure, well intentioned in -being so; he did not think of the future I wanted to carve for myself, -and he feared I should only lose the position I had made—the position -which he had helped me to make. Oudard, unlike other upstarts (and let -us admit, he was really more a man who had achieved success than a mere -parvenu), talked a great deal of the village where he was born, of the -home in which he had been brought up, of his old mother, who came to -see him, dressed in her peasant's costume, with whom he would walk out -in the Palais-Royal or whom he would take to the play, just as she was: -perhaps all this talk was only another form of pride, but it is a pride -I like. He was devoted to his mother—a sentiment sufficiently rare -in ambitious men to be noted here as out of the common. Oudard must -have been thirty-two at that period; he was head of the Secretarial -Department, and private secretary to the Duchesse d'Orléans. These two -posts combined must have been worth about twelve thousand francs a year -to him, perquisites included. He was clad in black trousers, a white -piqué waistcoat and a black coat and cravat. He wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> very fine cotton -stockings and slippers. Such was the get-up of a man who was not merely -chief clerk of an office, but one who might be called into the presence -of a prince or princess at any moment.</p> - -<p>"Come in, Monsieur Dumas," he said.</p> - -<p>I went up to him and bowed.</p> - -<p>"You have been very especially commended to me by two persons, one of -whom I greatly respect and the other of whom I love dearly."</p> - -<p>"Is not General Foy one of these, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he is the man I respect. But how is it you do not guess the name -of the other?"</p> - -<p>"I confess, monsieur, I should be puzzled to name anyone else in whom I -can have inspired sufficient interest to cause him to take the trouble -to recommend me to you."</p> - -<p>"It was M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>"M. Deviolaine?" I repeated, in considerable surprise.</p> - -<p>"Yes, M. Deviolaine.... Is he not related to you?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, monsieur; but when my mother begged M. Deviolaine to have -the goodness to recommend me to Monseigneur le Duc d'Orléans, M. -Deviolaine met the request so coldly...."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know, brusqueness is almost the leading trait in the character -of our worthy Conservator.... You must not pay any heed to that."</p> - -<p>"I fear, monsieur, that if my good cousin spoke much of me to you, in -recommending me to you, he has not flattered me."</p> - -<p>"That would not be bad for you, since it would but give you a chance to -surprise me agreeably."</p> - -<p>"He has probably told you I was idle?"</p> - -<p>"He told me you had never done much work; but you are young, and you -can make up for lost time."</p> - -<p>"He told you I cared for nothing but shooting?"</p> - -<p>"He confessed you were something of a poacher."</p> - -<p>"He told you I was wayward and changeable in my ideas and fancies?"</p> - -<p>"He said you had been under all the solicitors in Villers-Cotterets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> -and Crespy and had not been able to stop with any of them."</p> - -<p>"He exaggerated somewhat.... But if I did not remain with either -of the two solicitors under whom I worked, it was on account of my -unalterable, intense desire to come to Paris."</p> - -<p>"Very well, here you are, and your desire is fulfilled."</p> - -<p>"Was that all M. Deviolaine told you about me?"</p> - -<p>"Well, no; ... he said, too, that you were a good son, and that, -although you constantly made your mother miserable, you adored her; -that you had never really wished to learn anything, but more from -over-quickness, than from want of intelligence; he told me, besides, -that you had certainly a poor head, but that he also believed you were -good-hearted.... Go and thank him, go and thank him."</p> - -<p>"Where shall I find him?"</p> - -<p>"One of the office-boys will take you to him."</p> - -<p>He rang.</p> - -<p>"Take M. Dumas to M. Deviolaine's rooms," he said.</p> - -<p>Then, addressing me—</p> - -<p>"You have already met Lassagne?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have just had five minutes' talk with him."</p> - -<p>"He is a very good fellow with but one failing: he will be too weak -with you; luckily I shall be at hand. Lassagne and Ernest Basset will -tell you what your work will be."</p> - -<p>"And M. de Broval?" I asked.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval was the general manager.</p> - -<p>"M. de Broval will be told you have come, and will probably ask for -you. You know that your whole future depends on him?"</p> - -<p>"And on you, monsieur, yes."</p> - -<p>"I hope, so far as I am concerned, that that will not cause you much -uneasiness.... But go and thank M. Deviolaine; go! You have already -delayed too long."</p> - -<p>I bowed to M. Oudard and I went out. Five minutes afterwards, I was at -M. Deviolaine's. He worked in a large room by himself, and at a desk -which stood alone in the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> the room. As I was preceded by an -office-boy, and as it was presumed that I had been sent by M. Oudard, -they let me enter unannounced. M. Deviolaine heard the door open and he -waited an instant for someone to speak; then, as I also was waiting, he -looked up and asked—</p> - -<p>"Who is there?"</p> - -<p>"It is I, M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>"Who, you? (<i>toi</i>)"</p> - -<p>"I see you recognise me, by the way you speak."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I recognise you.... So there you are! Well, you are a fine lad!"</p> - -<p>"Why, if you please?"</p> - -<p>"Well! you have been to Paris three times without paying me a single -call."</p> - -<p>"I did not know you would care to see me."</p> - -<p>"It was not for you to question whether it would please me or not; it -was your duty to come."</p> - -<p>"Well, here I am; better late than never."</p> - -<p>"What have you come for now?"</p> - -<p>"I have come to thank you."</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>"For what you said about me to M. Oudard."</p> - -<p>"You are not difficult to please, then."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know what I did say?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly: you told him I was an idle lad; that I was no good except -for copying deeds; that I had tired out the patience of every solicitor -in Villers-Cotterets and in Crespy."</p> - -<p>"Well, is there much thanks due to me for all that?"</p> - -<p>"No, it was not for that I came to thank you; it was for what you -added."</p> - -<p>"I did not add anything."</p> - -<p>"But you did!... you went on to say...."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I added nothing; but I will add something now you are here: -that is, that if you are so ill-advised as to write filthy plays and -trashy verses here, as you did in Villers-Cotterets, I will report you, -I will carry you off with me, I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> confine you in one of my offices -and I will lead you a dog's life ... see if I don't!"</p> - -<p>"Let me say, cousin...."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"While I am here...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Even if you do not let me go back."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Because that,—<i>A cause que</i>, a grammatical error, I know quite well; -but Corneille and Bossuet made use of it,—because that I have only -come to Paris to write filthy plays and trashy verses, whether I am -in the Secretarial Department or here, I must still continue to write -them."</p> - -<p>"Ah, is that so? Do you seriously imagine you can become a Corneille, a -Racine or a Voltaire after an education of three francs a month?"</p> - -<p>"If I were to become such a man as any one of those three, I should be -only what another man has been, and that would not be worth while."</p> - -<p>"You mean, then, that you would do better than they?"</p> - -<p>"I would do something different."</p> - -<p>"Come a little nearer me, so that I can give you a good kick, you -conceited lad."</p> - -<p>I went nearer to him.</p> - -<p>"Here I am!"</p> - -<p>"I believe the impudent boy has actually come closer!"</p> - -<p>"Yes.... My mother told me to give you her love."</p> - -<p>"Is your poor mother quite well?"</p> - -<p>"I hope she is."</p> - -<p>"She is a good creature! How the devil did you happen to come into the -world by such a mother? Come, shake hands and be off with you!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, cousin."</p> - -<p>He kept hold of my hand.</p> - -<p>"Do you want any money, you rogue?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks.... I have some."</p> - -<p>"Where did you get it?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I will tell you that some other time; it would take too long now."</p> - -<p>"You are right; I have no time to lose. Be off with you!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, cousin."</p> - -<p>"Come and dine with me when you like."</p> - -<p>"Oh! thanks, yes, for your people to look down on me." "To look down on -you! I would like to see them do that. My wife dined often enough with -your grandfather and your grandmother to justify you in coming to dine -with me as often as you like.... But now be off, cub! you are making me -waste all my time."</p> - -<p>M. Deviolaine's office-boy came in. His name was Féresse. We shall see -more of him later.</p> - -<p>"M. Deviolaine," he said, "M. de Broval wishes to know if the report on -the management of the forest of Villers-Cotterets is finished?"</p> - -<p>"No, not yet ... in a quarter of an hour."</p> - -<p>Then, turning to me—</p> - -<p>"You see?... you see?"</p> - -<p>"I will make myself scarce, M. Deviolaine."</p> - -<p>And off I went, while M. Deviolaine buried his nose in the report, -growling as usual.</p> - -<p>I returned to our common office, and I sat down at my desk. My desk -was next to Lassagne's, so we were only separated from one another by -the width of our tables and by the little black set of pigeon-holes in -which the current work was usually put. Ernest had gone out, I know not -why. I asked Lassagne to tell me what to do. Lassagne got up, leant -over my desk and told me. I always took a great interest in studying -people around me, and especially the man whose position in the office -was that of my immediate superior; for, although Ernest was now a -full-fledged clerk and I only destined to be a simple copying-clerk, he -was more my comrade than my superior.</p> - -<p>Lassagne, as I think I have already said, was at that time a man -of twenty-eight or thirty, with an attractive face, enshrined in -beautiful black hair, animated by black eyes full of intelligence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> and -cleverness, and lighted up (if the phrase may be permitted) by teeth so -white and so regular that the vainest of women might have envied them. -The only defect in his face was his aquiline nose, which was a little -more inclined to one side than the other; but this very irregularity -gave an original touch to his face that it would not have had without -it. Add to these things a sympathetic voice which seemed gently to -vibrate in one's ear, and at the sound of which it was impossible not -to turn round and smile. In short, a delightful person whose like I -have rarely met; well informed; a brilliant song-writer; the intimate -friend of Désaugiers, Théaulon, Armand Gouffé, Brazier, Rougemont and -all the opera-writers of the time; so that he refreshed himself after -his official work, which he loathed, by entering into the literary -world, which he adored, and his daily labour alternated with desultory -work, consisting partly of articles for the <i>Drapeau blanc</i> and the -<i>Foudre</i> and partly of contributions to some of the most delightful -plays of the operatic theatres. It will be admitted that here was the -very superior I needed, and I could not have asked Providence for -anything that would have seemed to me better for me.</p> - -<p>Well, during the five years that we spent in the same office there was -never a cloud, or a quarrel, or a feeling of cross purposes between -Lassagne and me. He made me like the hour at which I began my daily -work, because I knew he would come in immediately after me; he made me -love the time I spent at my desk, because he was always ready there to -help me with an explanation, to teach me something fresh about life, -which had as yet, for me, scarcely opened, about the world of which I -was totally ignorant, and finally about foreign or national literature, -of which in 1823 I knew practically nothing, either of the one or of -the other.</p> - -<p>Lassagne arranged my daily work; it was entirely mechanical, and -consisted in copying out, in the finest handwriting possible, the -largest possible number of letters: these, according to their -importance, had to be signed by M. Oudard, M. de Broval, or even by the -Duc d'Orléans. In the midst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> of this correspondence, which concerned -the whole range of administration and which often, when addressed -to princes or foreign kings, passed from matters of administration -to politics, there occurred reports connected with the contentious -affairs of M. le Duc d'Orléans; for the Duc d'Orléans himself prepared -his litigious business for his counsel, doing himself the work that -solicitors do for barristers—that is to say, preparing the briefs. -These were nearly always entirely in the handwriting of the Duc -d'Orléans, or at all events corrected and annotated in his large thick -writing, in which every letter was fastened to its neighbouring letter -by a solid stroke, after the fashion of the arguments of a logical -dialectician, bound together, entwined, succeeding each other.</p> - -<p>I was attacking my first letter, and, by the advice of Lassagne, who -had laid great stress on this point, I was despatching it in my very -best handwriting, when I heard the door of communication between -Oudard's office and ours open. I pretended, with the hypocrisy of an -old hand, to be so deeply absorbed in my work that no noise could -distract my attention, when I heard the creak of steps advancing -towards my desk and then they stopped by me.</p> - -<p>"Dumas!" called out Lassagne to me.</p> - -<p>I raised my head and I saw, standing close to me on my left, a person -who was totally unknown to me.</p> - -<p>"M. le Chevalier de Broval," added Lassagne, adding information to his -exclamation.</p> - -<p>I rose from my seat.</p> - -<p>"Do not disturb yourself," he said. And he took the letter I was -copying, which was nearly finished, and read it.</p> - -<p>I took advantage of this respite to examine him.</p> - -<p>M. le Chevalier de Broval, as everyone knows, had been one of the -faithful followers of M. le Duc d'Orléans. He had never left him during -the last portion of his exile, serving him sometimes as secretary, -at other times as diplomatist; in this latter capacity he had been -mixed up in all the lengthy discussions over the marriage of the -Duc d'Orléans with Princess Marie-Amélie, daughter of Ferdinand and -Caroline, King and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> Queen of Naples; and in connection with this -marriage he had gained the Order of Saint-Janvier, which he wore on -a braided coat on high festivals, next to the cross of the Legion of -Honour. He was a little old man of about sixty years of age, with short -stubbly hair; he was slightly lame, walked crookedly on his left side, -had a big red nose, which told its own tale, and small grey eyes, that -expressed nothing; he looked a typical courtier, polite, obsequious, -fawning to his master, kind by fits and starts, but generally -capricious with his subordinates; he thought a great deal of trifles, -attaching supreme importance to the manner in which a letter was folded -or a seal was fastened; he really imbibed these notions from the Duc -d'Orléans himself, who was even more particular over little details -than perhaps was M. de Broval.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval read the letter, took my pen, added an apostrophe or a -comma here and there; then, replacing it in front of me: "Finish it," -he said.</p> - -<p>I finished it.</p> - -<p>He waited behind me, literally pressing on my shoulders.</p> - -<p>Every fresh face I saw in turn had its effect on me. I finished with a -very shaky hand.</p> - -<p>"There it is, M. le chevalier," I said.</p> - -<p>"Good!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>He took a pen, signed, threw sand over my writing and over his; then, -giving me back the epistle, which was for a simple inspector,—as, at -first, they did not risk confiding more than that to my inexperienced -hand,—he said—</p> - -<p>"Do you know how to fold a letter?"</p> - -<p>I looked at him with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"I ask you if you know how to fold a letter. Answer me!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes ... at least, I believe so," I replied, astonished at the -fixed stare his little grey eyes had assumed.</p> - -<p>"You believe? Is that all? You are not sure?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, I am not yet sure about anything, as you see, not even about -the folding of a letter."</p> - -<p>"And there you are right, for there are ten ways of folding a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> letter, -according to the rank of the person to whom it is addressed. Fold this -one."</p> - -<p>I began to fold the letter in four.</p> - -<p>"Oh! what are you about?" he said.</p> - -<p>I stopped short. "Pardon, monsieur," I said, "but you <i>ordered</i> me to -fold the letter, and I am folding it."</p> - -<p>M. de Broval bit his lip. I had laid emphasis on the word "ordered" in -the spoken phrase as I have just underlined it in the written phrase.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said; "but you are folding it square—that is all right for -high functionaries. If you give square-folded letters to inspectors and -sub-inspectors, what will you do for ministers, princes and kings?"</p> - -<p>"Quite so, M. le chevalier," I replied; "will you tell me what is the -correct way for inspectors and sub-inspectors?"</p> - -<p>"Oblong, monsieur, oblong."</p> - -<p>"You will pardon my ignorance, monsieur; I know what an oblong is in -theory, but I do not yet know what it is in practice."</p> - -<p>"See...."</p> - -<p>And M. de Broval condescended willingly to give me the lesson in things -oblong I had asked of him.</p> - -<p>"There!" he said, when the letter was folded.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, monsieur," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Now, monsieur, the envelope?" he said.</p> - -<p>I had never made envelopes, except for the rare petitions I had written -for my mother, and once on my own account in General Foy's office, so -I was still more ignorant about the making of envelopes than about -the folding. I took a half-sheet of paper in my left hand, a pair of -scissors in my right hand, and I began to cut the sheet.</p> - -<p>M. le Chevalier de Broval uttered a mingled cry of surprise and terror.</p> - -<p>"Oh! good Lord!" he said, "what are you going to do?"</p> - -<p>"Why, M. le chevalier, I am going to make the envelope you asked me to -make."</p> - -<p>"With scissors?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"First learn this, monsieur: paper should not be cut, it should be -torn."</p> - -<p>I listened with all attention.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"It should be torn," repeated M. de Broval; "and then in this case -there is no need even to tear the paper, which perhaps you do not -realise either?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, I do not."</p> - -<p>"You will learn.... It only wants an English envelope."</p> - -<p>"Ah! an English envelope?"</p> - -<p>"You do not know how to make an English envelope?"</p> - -<p>"I do not even know what it is, M. le chevalier."</p> - -<p>"I will show you. As a general rule, monsieur, square letters and -square envelopes are for ministers, for princes and for kings."</p> - -<p>"Right, M. le chevalier; I will remember."</p> - -<p>"You are sure?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Good.... And for heads of departments, chief assistants, inspectors -and sub-inspectors, oblong letters and English envelopes."</p> - -<p>I repeated, "Oblong letters and English envelopes."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, of course.... There, that is what we call an English -envelope."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Now the seal.... Ernest, will you light me a taper?" Ernest hastened -to bring us the lighted taper; and now, I confess to my shame, my -confusion increased: I had never hitherto sealed my letters except with -wafers—that is to say, when I had sealed them.</p> - -<p>I took the wax in so awkward a fashion, I heated it in such a queer -way, I blew it out so quickly, for fear of burning the paper, that -this time I excited pity rather than impatience in the breast of M. de -Broval.</p> - -<p>"Oh! my friend," he said, "have you really never even sealed a letter?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Never, monsieur," I replied. "Who was there for me to write to, buried -away as I have been in a little country town?"</p> - -<p>This humble confession touched M. de Broval.</p> - -<p>"See," he said, heating the wax, "this is how one seals a letter."</p> - -<p>And, believe me, he sealed the letter at arm's length, with as steady -a hand as though he had been twenty-five years of age. Then, taking -a large silver seal, he pressed it on the lake of burning wax, and -did not withdraw it until the impress was clearly defined and I could -see the escutcheon with the three heraldic fleurs-de-lis of Orléans, -surmounted by the ducal coronet.</p> - -<p>I was disheartened, I must confess.</p> - -<p>"Write the address," M. le Chevalier de Broval said imperiously.</p> - -<p>I wrote the address with a trembling hand.</p> - -<p>"Good, good!" said M. le Chevalier de Broval; "don't be discouraged, my -boy.... It is all right; now countersign it."</p> - -<p>I stopped, completely ignorant of what a countersign was.</p> - -<p>M. de Broval began to realise, as General Foy had done, how ignorant I -was. He pointed with a finger to the corner of the letter.</p> - -<p>"There," he said, "write there <i>Duc d'Orléans.</i> That is to frank the -letter. You hear?"</p> - -<p>I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly -understood what was said.</p> - -<p>"There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it -with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all -these things.... Ernest,"—Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and -in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian -name,—"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and -to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off.</p> - -<p>The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to -begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with -hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making -envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> will into it, and it was not -long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill.</p> - -<p>When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had -become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the -third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was -this—</p> - -<p>"The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have -ever seen."</p> - -<p>While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, -Lassagne was reading the papers.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:—"A scene which recalls -that of la Fontaine at the first representation of <i>Florentin</i> took -place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of -the <i>Vampire.</i> Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled -from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. -Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the <i>Vampire</i>."</p> - -<p>"So!" I cried, "my neighbour of the orchestra was Charles Nodier!"</p> - -<p>"Did you have any talk with him?" asked Lassagne.</p> - -<p>"I did nothing else during the intervals."</p> - -<p>"You were fortunate," continued Lassagne: "had I been in your place, I -should have greatly preferred the intervals to the play."</p> - -<p>I knew Charles Nodier by name, but I was in complete ignorance as to -what he had done.</p> - -<p>As I left the office, I entered a bookshop and asked for a novel by -Nodier. They gave me <i>Jean Sbogar.</i></p> - -<p>The reading of that book began to shake my faith in Pigault-Lebrun.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIc" id="CHAPTER_IIc">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Illustrious contemporaries—The sentence written on my foundation -stone—My reply—I settle down in the place des Italiens—M. de -Leuven's table—M. Louis-Bonaparte's witty saying—Lassagne gives me my -first lesson in literature and history</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>When I came up to Paris, the men who held illustrious rank in -literature, among whom I sought a place, were—MM. de Chateaubriand, -Jouy, Lemercier, Arnault, Étienne, Baour-Lormian, de Béranger, Ch. -Nodier, Viennet, Scribe, Théaulon, Soumet, Casimir Delavigne, Lucien -Arnault, Ancelot, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Désaugiers and Alfred de -Vigny. It will, of course, be understood that I do not rank them in the -order I have written down their names. Then follow men whose interests -were half literary half political, such as—MM. Cousin, Salvandy, -Villemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, -Mérimée and Guizot. Then, finally, those who were not yet famous, but -were gradually coming forward, such as Balzac, Soulié, de Musset, -Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier.</p> - -<p>The three women of the day were all poets—Mesdames Desbordes-Valmore, -Amable Tastu, Delphine Gay. Madame Sand was still unknown, and did not -reveal her powers until the production of <i>Indiana</i>, in 1828 or 1829, I -believe.</p> - -<p>I knew the whole of this <i>pléiade</i>, who entertained the world with -their wit and poetry for over half a century—some as friends and -supporters, others as enemies and adversaries. Neither the benefits -I have received from the former, nor the harm the latter sought to -do me, shall influence in the slightest degree the judgments I shall -pass on them. The first, in supporting me, have not caused me to climb -higher by one step; the second,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> in trying to hinder me, have not kept -me back one step. Through all the friendships, hatreds, jealousies of -a life that has been harassed in its minor details, but ever calm and -serene in its progress, I reached the position God had assigned me; -I attained it without the aid of intrigues or cliques, and advanced -only by my own endeavours. I have reached the summit which every man -mounts half-way through life, and I ask for nothing, I desire nothing, -I covet nothing. I have many friendships, I have not a single enmity. -If, at the starting-point of my life, God had said to me, "Young -man, what do you desire?" I should not have dared to demand from His -infinite greatness that which He has condescended to grant me out of -His fatherly goodness. So I will say all I have to say of the men I -have named, according as they have appeared to me on my path through -life: if I conceal anything, it will be the evil I know about them. -Why should I be unjust to them? Not one among them possessed a single -honour or good fortune in exchange for which I ever had any desire to -barter my reputation or my purse.</p> - -<p>Yesterday I read the following words, written by an unknown hand on the -foundation stone of a house which I had caused to be built for me, and -which, until I or someone else can inhabit it, as yet shelters only -sparrows and swallows:—</p> - -<p>"O Dumas! tu n'as pas su jouir, et pourtant tu regretteras! E. L."</p> - -<p>I wrote underneath:—</p> - -<p>"Niais!... si tu es un homme. Menteuse!... si tu es une femme. A. D."</p> - -<p>But I took good care to obliterate the sentence.</p> - -<p>Let us return to my contemporaries, and add to the list of famous names -that led me to these reflections.</p> - -<p>Among musical composers, Rossini, Meyerbeer, Auber, Donizetti, -Bellini, Liszt, Thalberg. Among dramatic artists, Talma, Lafont, Mars, -Duchesnois, Georges, Leverd, Frédérick (Lemaître), Dorval, Potier, -Monrose père, Déjazet, Smithson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> Lablache, Macready, Karatikin, Miss -Faucit, Schroeder-Devrient, la Malibran, la Hungher.</p> - -<p>I have had the honour to know several kings and princes,—they will -have their place,—but my kings in the realms of art come before all, -my princes in imagination have first place. To each sovereign his due -honour.</p> - -<p>When I came out of my office, or rather from the bookshop where I had -bought <i>Jean Sbogar</i>, I made haste to the place des Italiens. My waggon -load of furniture was waiting at the door; it took but an hour to -settle my household arrangements, and at the end of that time all was -finished.</p> - -<p>Of a poet's usual equipment I now had the attic; of the possessions of -the happy man, I now had a loft under the tiles. Better than all these -things, I was only twenty! I cleared the distance between the place des -Italiens and the rue Pigale in no time. I was longing to tell Adolphe -that I was installed at the Duc d'Orléans'; that I possessed a desk, -paper, pens, ink, sealing-wax, in the Palais-Royal; four chairs, a -table, a bed and a room papered yellow in the place des Italiens.</p> - -<p>Adolphe very sincerely shared my delight. M. de Leuven, chewing his -tooth-pick, gently ridiculed my enthusiasm. Madame de Leuven, the most -perfect of women, rejoiced in the joy my mother would feel.</p> - -<p>I was invited to fix a regular day on which I should dine at M. de -Leuven's. On that day my place should always be laid: it should be an -institution in perpetuity. In perpetuity! What a great word!—one so -often uttered in life, but one which really exists only in death!</p> - -<p>"You are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, monseigneur," said my -dear and good friend Nogent Saint-Laurent to Prince Louis-Bonaparte.</p> - -<p>"How long does perpetuity last in France, Monsieur Saint-Laurent?" -asked the prince.</p> - -<p>His perpetuity, as a matter of fact, lasted at Ham for five years—two -years less than the perpetuity of M. de Peyronnet and M. de Polignac.</p> - -<p>My perpetuity at M. de Leuven's table lasted exactly as long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> as that -of Prince Louis at Ham. I will tell how it came to cease, and I might -as well admit at once that the fault was not M. de Leuven's, nor Madame -de Leuven's, nor Adolphe's. It was arranged that I should dine there on -the following day to make the acquaintance of the Arnault family: this -was to be an extra dinner.</p> - -<p>It can be realised how preoccupied I was, throughout the twenty-two -hours that had to elapse before we sat down to the table, with the -thought of dining with the author of <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>, the man who -had written <i>Régulus.</i></p> - -<p>I announced the great news to Ernest and to Lassagne. Ernest seemed -quite unmoved by it, and Lassagne was only indifferently interested. I -badgered Lassagne to know why he was so cold in matters concerning such -celebrities.</p> - -<p>He answered simply, "I am not of the same political views as those -gentlemen, and I do not think much of their literary value either."</p> - -<p>I stood astounded.</p> - -<p>"But," I asked, "have you not read <i>Germanicus</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but it is very bad!"</p> - -<p>"Have you not read <i>Régulus</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but it is very poor!"</p> - -<p>I lowered my head, more astonished than ever.</p> - -<p>Then, finally, I struggled to rise from under the weight of the -anathema.</p> - -<p>"But why are these plays so successful?"</p> - -<p>"Talma acts in them ..."</p> - -<p>"The reputation of these men ..."</p> - -<p>"They bring that about themselves through their newspapers!... When -M. de Jouy, M. Arnault or M. Lemercier produces a play in which Talma -takes no part, you will see it will only run ten nights."</p> - -<p>Again I hung down my head.</p> - -<p>"Listen, my dear boy," Lassagne went on, with that wonderful sweetness -of his in eyes and voice, and above all with that almost fatherly -kindliness that I still noticed in him, when I met him by chance -twenty-five years later and had the happiness to greet him,—"listen: -you want to become a literary man?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh yes!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Not so loud!" he said, laughing; "you know I told you not to talk so -loud about that ... here, at any rate. Well, when you do write, do not -take the literature of the Empire as your model: that is my advice."</p> - -<p>"But what shall I take?"</p> - -<p>"Well, upon my word, I should be much puzzled to tell you. Our young -dramatic authors, Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot, -certainly possess talent; Lamartine and Hugo are poets—I therefore -leave them out of the question; they have not done theatrical work, and -I do not know if they are likely to, though if they ever do, I doubt -whether they would succeed...."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because the one is too much of a visionary, and the other too much of -a thinker. Neither the one nor the other lives in the actual world, and -the theatre, you see, my lad, is humanity. I say, then, that our young -dramatic authors—Soumet, Guiraud, Casimir Delavigne, Ancelot—have -talent; but take particular notice of what I am telling you: they -belong purely and solely to a period of transition; they are links -which connect the chain of the past to the chain of the future, bridges -which lead from what has been to what shall be."</p> - -<p>"And what is that which shall be ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! there, my young friend, you ask me more than I can tell you. The -public has not made up its mind; it knows already what it does not want -any longer, but it does not yet know what it wants."</p> - -<p>"In poetry, in drama or in fiction?"</p> - -<p>"In drama and in fiction ... there, nothing is settled; in poetry we -need not look farther than to Lamartine and Hugo, who represent the -spirit of the age quite sufficiently."</p> - -<p>"But Casimir Delavigne ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! he is different. Casimir Delavigne is the poet of the people: we -must leave him his circle; he does not enter into competition."</p> - -<p>"Well, in comedy, tragedy, drama, whom ought one to follow?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> - -<p>"In the first place, you should never imitate anybody; you should -study: the man who follows a guide is obliged to walk behind. Will you -be content to walk behind?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then you must study. Do not attempt to produce either comedy, or -tragedy, or drama; take passions, events, characters, smelt them -all down in the furnace of your imagination, and raise statues of -Corinthian bronze."</p> - -<p>"What is Corinthian bronze?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know?"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing."</p> - -<p>"What a happy state to be in!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because then you can find things out for yourself: you need only -measure things by the standard of your own intelligence: you need no -other rule than that of your own capacity. Corinthian bronze?... have -you heard that once upon a time Mummius burnt Corinth?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I think I translated that once somewhere, in the <i>De Viris.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Then you will remember that the heat of the fire melted the gold, -silver and brass, which ran down the streets in streams. Now, the -mingling of these three, the most valuable of all metals, made one -single metal; and they gave to this metal the name of Corinthian -bronze. Well, then, the man who will be endowed with the genius to do -for comedy, tragedy and the drama that which Mummius, in his ignorance, -in his vandalism, in his barbarity, did for gold, silver and brass, who -will smelt by aid of the fire of inspiration, and who will melt into -one single mould Æschylus, Shakespeare and Molière, he, my dear friend, -will have discovered a bronze as precious as the bronze of Corinth."</p> - -<p>I pondered for a moment over what Lassagne had said to me. "What you -say sounds very beautiful, monsieur," I replied; "and, because it is -beautiful, it ought to be true."</p> - -<p>"Are you acquainted with Æschylus?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Do you know Shakespeare?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Have you read Molière?"</p> - -<p>"Hardly at all."</p> - -<p>"Well, read all that those three men have written. When you have read -them, re-read them; when you have re-read them, learn them by heart."</p> - -<p>"And next?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! next?... You will pass from them to those who preceded them—from -Æschylus to Sophocles, from Sophocles to Euripides, from Euripides -to Seneca, from Seneca to Racine, from Racine to Voltaire, and from -Voltaire to Chénier, in the realms of tragedy. Thus you will understand -the transformation that altered a race of eagles into a race of -parroquets."</p> - -<p>"And from Shakespeare to whom shall I turn?"</p> - -<p>"From Shakespeare to Schiller."</p> - -<p>"And from Schiller?"</p> - -<p>"To no one."</p> - -<p>"But Ducis?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't confound Schiller with Ducis. Schiller is inspired, Ducis -imitates; Schiller remains original, Ducis became a copyist, and a poor -copyist."</p> - -<p>"And what about Molière?"</p> - -<p>"As to Molière, if you want to study something that is worth taking -trouble over, you must ascend, not descend."</p> - -<p>"From Molière to whom?"</p> - -<p>"From Molière to Terence, from Terence to Plautus, from Plautus to -Aristophanes."</p> - -<p>"But it seems to me you are forgetting Corneille?"</p> - -<p>"I am not forgetting him: I have put him on one side." "Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because he is neither an ancient Greek nor an old Roman."</p> - -<p>"What is Corneille, then?"</p> - -<p>"He is a Cordouan, like Lucan; you will see, when you compare -them, that his verse has striking resemblance to the metre of the -<i>Pharsalia</i>."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> - -<p>"May I write down all you have told me?"</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>"To act as a guide to my studies."</p> - -<p>"You need not trouble, seeing you have me at hand."</p> - -<p>"But perhaps I shall not always have you."</p> - -<p>"If you have not me, you will have someone else."</p> - -<p>"But he might not perhaps know what you do?"</p> - -<p>Lassagne shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"My dear lad," he said, "I only know what all the world knows; I only -tell you what the first person you met might tell you."</p> - -<p>"Then I must be ignorant indeed!" I murmured, letting my head fall into -my hands.</p> - -<p>"The fact is, you have much to learn; but you are young, you will -learn."</p> - -<p>"Tell me what needs to be done in fiction?"</p> - -<p>"Everything, just as in the drama."</p> - -<p>"But I thought we had some excellent novels."</p> - -<p>"What have you read in the way of novels?"</p> - -<p>"Those of Lesage, Madame Cottin and Pigault-Lebrun."</p> - -<p>"What effect did they have on you?"</p> - -<p>"Lesage's novels amused me; Madame Cottin's made me cry; -Pigault-Lebrun's made me laugh."</p> - -<p>"Then you have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper?"</p> - -<p>"I have not read either Goethe, or Walter Scott, or Cooper."</p> - -<p>"Well, read them."</p> - -<p>"And when I have read them, what shall I do?"</p> - -<p>"Make Corinthian bronze all the time; only, try to put in a slight -ingredient they all lack."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"Passion.... Goethe gives us poetry; Walter Scott character studies; -Cooper the mysterious grandeur of prairies, forests and oceans; but you -will look in vain for passion among them."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So, a man who could be a poet like Goethe, an observer like Walter -Scott, clever at description like Cooper, with the addition of a touch -of passion ...?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! such a man would be almost perfect."</p> - -<p>"Which are the first three works I ought to read of those three -masters?"</p> - -<p>"Goethe's <i>Wilhelm Meister</i>, Walter Scott's <i>Ivanhoe</i> and Cooper's -<i>Spy."</i></p> - -<p>"I read <i>Jean Sbogar</i> through last night."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that is another story altogether."</p> - -<p>"What kind is it?"</p> - -<p>"It belongs to the <i>genre</i> style of novel. But France is not waiting -for that."</p> - -<p>"What is she waiting for?"</p> - -<p>"She is waiting for the historical novel."</p> - -<p>"But the history of France is so dull!"</p> - -<p>Lassagne raised his head and looked at me.</p> - -<p>"What!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"The history of France is so dull!" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>I blushed.</p> - -<p>"People have told me it is."</p> - -<p>"Poor boy! People have told you!... Read for yourself and then you will -have an opinion."</p> - -<p>"What must I read?"</p> - -<p>"Why, there is a whole world of it: Joinville, Froissart, Monstrelet, -Châtelain, Juvénal des Ursins, Montluc, Saulx-Tavannes, l'Estoile, -Cardinal de Retz, Saint-Simon, Villars, Madame de la Fayette, Richelieu -... and so I could go on."</p> - -<p>"How many volumes do those make?"</p> - -<p>"Probably between two and three hundred."</p> - -<p>"And you have read them?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"And I must read them?"</p> - -<p>"If you wish to write novels, you must not only read them, you must get -them off by heart."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why, you frighten me! I should not be able to write a word for two or -three years!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! longer than that, or you will write ignorantly."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my God! what a lot of time I have lost!"</p> - -<p>"You must retrieve it."</p> - -<p>"You will aid me, will you not?"</p> - -<p>"What about the office?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! I will read and study at night; I will work at the office, and we -can have a chat from time to time...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, like to-day's; but we have talked too much."</p> - -<p>"One word more. You have told me what I ought to study in the drama?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In romance?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In history?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, in poetry, what ought I to study?"</p> - -<p>"First, what have you read?"</p> - -<p>"Voltaire, Parny, Bertin, Demoustier, Legouvé, Colardeau."</p> - -<p>"Good! forget the lot."</p> - -<p>"Really?"</p> - -<p>"Read Homer as representative of antiquity; Virgil among the Latin -poets; Dante in the Middle Ages. I am giving you giants' marrow to feed -on."</p> - -<p>"And among the moderns?"</p> - -<p>"Ronsard, Mathurin, Régnier, Milton, Goethe, Uhland, Byron, Lamartine, -Victor Hugo, and especially a little volume which has just been -published by Latouche."</p> - -<p>"What is the name of it?"</p> - -<p>"<i>André Chénier</i>."</p> - -<p>"I have read it...."</p> - -<p>"You have read Marie-Joseph.... Do not confuse Marie-Joseph with André."</p> - -<p>"But how am I to read foreign authors when I do not know either Greek -or English or German?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The deuce! Why, that is simple enough: you must learn those languages."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know; but remember this: one can always learn what one wants -to learn. And now I think it is time we gave our attention to business. -One more piece of advice."</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"If you mean to follow the instructions I give you...."</p> - -<p>"Indeed I do!"</p> - -<p>"You must not say a word to M. Arnault of this little scheme of study."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because you would not be a friend of his for long."</p> - -<p>"You think not?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain of it."</p> - -<p>"Thanks.... I will keep my mouth shut."</p> - -<p>"You will do well. Now, a second word of advice."</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>"You must not repeat a word of our conversation either to Oudard or to -M. de Broval."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because they would not leave us long in the same office."</p> - -<p>"The devil! I want to stay in it dreadfully."</p> - -<p>"Then it depends on yourself."</p> - -<p>"Oh, if it depends on me, we shall be together for many years."</p> - -<p>"So be it."</p> - -<p>At this point M. Oudard entered, and I set to my task with an avidity -that won me many compliments from him at the end of the day.</p> - -<p>I made a splendid discovery—which was that I could copy without -thinking of what I was copying, and consequently I was able to think of -other things whilst copying.</p> - -<p>By the second day I had advanced as far as others who had been at work -for four or five years.</p> - -<p>As will be seen, I was making rapid progress.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIIc" id="CHAPTER_IIIc">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Adolphe reads a play at the Gymnase—M. Dormeuil—<i>Kenilworth -Castle</i>—M. Warez and Soulié—Mademoiselle Lévesque—The Arnault -family—The <i>Feuille—Marius à Minturnes</i>—Danton's epigram—The -reversed passport—Three fables—<i>Germanicus</i>—Inscriptions and -epigrams—Ramponneau—The young man and the tilbury-<i>Extra ecclesiam -nulla est salus</i>—Madame Arnault</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>It was well I could copy without taking in what I was doing; for -Lassagne's conversation, as may be imagined, gave me much to think -about. Every day showed me my deplorable ignorance more and more, and, -like a traveller lost in a marshy, unstable bog, I did not know whereon -to place my feet in order to find that solid ground which would lead me -to the end I was trying to reach.</p> - -<p>How was it Adolphe had never spoken to me of all these matters? So far -reaching were the vistas that opened before me every moment, that I -was bewildered. Did Adolphe think all this of little use in connection -with the art and practice of literature? Or was it that the kind -of literature he wanted me to produce could dispense with all such -knowledge? I had often noticed his father shrug his shoulders at our -theatrical schemes; was it not perchance that his father, who knew so -many things, laughed in his sleeve at me for being so ignorant? And M. -Deviolaine, who instinctively (for, except as a valuer and in questions -of forestry, he hardly knew more than I did) called my attempts filth -and my efforts at poetry mere rubbish, could he by chance be right?</p> - -<p>Of course, one could read, work and study, but how was it possible to -keep all the things I had heard about since the previous evening in my -mind without revealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> them? I resolved to have an open talk about it -all with Adolphe.</p> - -<p>At half-past five I reached M. de Leuven's house, but Adolphe had not -yet returned: he was reading at the Gymnase a play he had written -in collaboration with Frédéric Soulié. He put in an appearance at -a quarter to six, looking more melancholy and more thoughtful than -Hippolytus on the road to Mycenæ.</p> - -<p>"Well, my poor friend," said I, "refused again?"</p> - -<p>"No," he replied; "but only accepted subject to correction."</p> - -<p>"Then all hope is not lost?"</p> - -<p>"True. Dormeuil made us go into his office, after the reading, and as -he thought there were tedious passages in the piece, he said to us,'My -dear fellows, my dear fellows, it must be cut down to the quick.' -At these words Soulié snatched the play out of his hands, crying, -'Monsieur Dormeuil, not a hand must be laid on it.' So, you will -understand, Dormeuil is furious."</p> - -<p>"Who is Dormeuil?"</p> - -<p>"One of the managers of the Gymnase."</p> - -<p>"And that means...."</p> - -<p>"And that means that Soulié has vowed the piece shall be played as it -is or not at all."</p> - -<p>"The deuce! Then Soulié doesn't mind if his things get played or not?"</p> - -<p>"You do not know that fellow's obstinacy; there is no way of turning -him. Did you hear what he said to Warez?"</p> - -<p>"Who is Warez?"</p> - -<p>"Warez is manager to Madame Oudinot, proprietor of the Ambigu."</p> - -<p>"Well, what did he say to Warez?"</p> - -<p>"We took him a melodrama to read, called <i>Kenilworth Castle;</i> Warez -read it. He was not very much struck with the work. When we went, -yesterday, for his answer, 'Gentlemen,' he said to us, 'will you -allow me to read your play to M. Picard?' 'Ah!' replies Soulié, 'in -order that he can steal the idea from us. 'What! Monsieur Soulié,' -exclaims Warez, 'steal your play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> from you—an Academician!' 'Well,' -says Soulié, 'three-fourths of the Academicians certainly steal their -places, why should they stick at stealing other people's work?' I need -not tell you, my dear friend, that that meant another closed door! I -had some sort of an idea of going to Mademoiselle Lévesque, who is all -powerful at the theatre, to offer her the part of Marie Stuart, which -is magnificent...."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"You know what happened to Casimir Delavigne, at the reading of the -<i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, at the Théâtre-Français?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the piece was refused."</p> - -<p>"Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to -give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the -work was badly <i>written</i>.'"</p> - -<p>"And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?"</p> - -<p>"No; but she said that, at the <i>present</i> moment, she had so many new -parts, she could not possibly undertake <i>ours."</i></p> - -<p>"The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study -so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of -my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?"</p> - -<p>"Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn -all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go -in to dinner."</p> - -<p>We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,—I was already -acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis.</p> - -<p>I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet -Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked -to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, -as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. -Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses -of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, -and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since -the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the -underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> up his gun -and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by.</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!"</p> - -<p>"Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then -asked her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, monsieur, you will see...."</p> - -<p>And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which -she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo.</p> - -<p>"You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he -sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and -note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault's family consisted of Lucien and Telleville, his two sons by -a first marriage; of Louis and Gabrielle, his two children by a second -marriage. M. Arnault's second wife was a young lady from Bonneuil. Let -me say a few words about this excellent family. We will begin, like the -Gospels, with the meek and mild members.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle was a pretty child of fourteen or fifteen, with a dazzlingly -white complexion; she was of no more account in the household as yet -than a bud in a bouquet. Louis was about my own age, namely, twenty -or twenty-one. He was a good-looking lad, fair, fresh-coloured, -rosy-cheeked, a trifle spruce, ever laughing, on the most friendly -terms with his sister, full of respect for his mother and admiration -for his father. Telleville was a handsome captain; very brave, very -loyal, very daring, a Bonapartist like the rest of the family, thrown -into the midst of the artistic world, without ever having written a -verse of poetry, but possessing a delightful wit, and being full of -spirit and originality. Lucien, the author of <i>Régulus</i>, and, later, of -<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> and of <i>Tibère,</i> had too cold and calculating a -mind to be really poetical; yet there was a certain boldness of style -in his lines and a certain melancholy about his ideas, that appealed -both to the imagination and to the heart. There is one of the truest -and most charming lines I know, in <i>Pierre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> de Portugal</i>, a line such -as Racine wrote in his best days, universally known because it belongs -to that school:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Les chagrins du départ sont pour celui qui reste."<br /> -</p> - -<p>The year before my arrival in Paris, <i>Régulus</i> had achieved enormous -popularity. I will quote a few lines of it, to give some idea of the -author, who appears to have given up literary work.</p> - -<p>Regulus is about to leave Rome, to which he was devotedly attached, and -he says to Licinius:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je meurs pour la sauver, c'est mourir digne d'elle!<br /> -Mais, toi, Licinius, parjure à l'amitié,<br /> -Disciple de ma gloire, as-tu donc oublié<br /> -Ces jours où j'opposais, dans les champs du carnage,<br /> -Ma vieille expérience à ton jeune courage?<br /> -Aimant un vrai soldat dans un vrai citoyen,<br /> -Ne le souvient-il plus que, par un doux lien,<br /> -Ma tendresse voulait vous unir l'un à l'autre?<br /> -Le hasard a trahi mon espoir et le vôtre;<br /> -Mais, des bords du tombeau, je puis enfin bénir<br /> -Les nœuds qui pour jamais doivent vous réunir.<br /> -Si tu l'aimes, viens, jure au dieu de la victoire<br /> -De servir, aujourd'hui, la patrie et la gloire;<br /> -D'éclairer les Romains par toi seul égarés;<br /> -De rétablir la paix dans ces remparts sacrés;<br /> -Jure! dis-je. A l'instant, je te donne ma fille,<br /> -Je te lègue mon nom, mon honneur, ma famille;<br /> -Et les dieux ne m'auront opprimé qu'à demi,<br /> -Si, dans un vrai Romain, je retrouve un ami!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Lucien was about thirty or thirty-two at this period. Until the -downfall of Napoleon his career had been administrative: he had been -made auditor to the State Council and a prefect at twenty-five. In -spite of much physical suffering which saddened his life, he was indeed -one of the best-hearted and most benevolent persons I ever knew. For -five years I saw Lucien two or three times a week; I do not think -that, during the long period of intimacy, I ever heard him jibe at -his <i>confrères</i>, or complain or whine; he was one of those gentle, -melancholy and tranquil spirits one sees in dreams. I do not know what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> -became of him; after 1829 I lost sight of him completely. Twenty-two -years of absence and of separation will certainly have driven me from -his remembrance; those twenty-two years have engraved him the more -deeply on mine.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault was quite different. I never knew a more subtle, mordant, -satirical nature than this brilliant person owned. In military parlance -he would have been described as a damned good shot. Neither Bertrand -nor Lozes ever returned a straight thrust more rapidly and more surely -than did M. Arnault, on every occasion, by a word or an epigram or -a flash of wit. He was but an indifferent dramatic author, but he -excelled in fables and satire. Once, in a fit of despondency, he let -fall what was probably the only tear he shed, like that of Aramis upon -the death of Porthos: he dipped his pen in the salt drops, and wrote -the following lines—a gem that André Chénier, or Millevoye, Lamartine -or Victor Hugo might have wished to write:—</p> - - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LA FEUILLE</span><br /> -<br /> -"De ta tige détachée,<br /> -Pauvre feuille desséchée,<br /> -Où vas-tu?—Je n'en sais rien.<br /> -L'orage a brisé le chêne<br /> -Qui seul était mon soutien;<br /> -De son inconstante haleine<br /> -Le zéphir ou l'aquilon,<br /> -Depuis ce jour me promène<br /> -De la forêt à la plaine,<br /> -De la montagne au vallon.<br /> -Je vais où le vent me mène<br /> -Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer;<br /> -Je vais où va toute chose,<br /> -Où vont la feuille de rose<br /> -Et la feuille de laurier!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>I do not know what the famous poets of my day would have given to -have written those fifteen lines; I know I would have given any of -my plays the fates might have chosen. M. Arnault's great ambition -was, unluckily, to write for the stage. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> begun by <i>Marius à -Minturnes</i>, at the time when he was with Monsieur. The tragedy was -produced in 1790, and in spite of the prediction of the Comte de -Provence, who had asserted that a tragedy without a woman must be -a failure, it was a great success. Saint-Phal played young Marius, -Vanhove Marius, and Saint-Prix le Cimbre. That was the happy period -when men of the talent of Saint-Prix accepted parts in which they came -on only in one scene, and in that single scene uttered a few lines, -<i>e.g.</i>:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Quelle voix, quel regard, et quel aspect terrible!<br /> -Quel bras oppose au mien un obstacle invincible?...<br /> -L'effroi s'est emparè de mes sens éperdus ...<br /> -Je ne pourrais jamais égorger Marius!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>The play was dedicated to Monsieur. I have heard M. Arnault relate, in -his extremely fascinating way, that success made him very vain, very -peremptory and very scornful. One day, in 1792, he was in the balcony -of the Théâtre-Français, talking loudly, in his customary fashion, -making a great noise with his cane and hindering people from hearing; -this went on from the raising of the curtain till the end of the first -act, when a gentleman, who was behind M. Arnault and only separated -from him by one row, bent forward, and touching his shoulder with the -tips of his gloved hand, said, "Monsieur Arnault, pray allow us to -listen, even though they are playing <i>Marius à Minturnes</i>."</p> - -<p>This polite and, I might even add, witty gentleman was Danton. A -month later, this same polite and witty gentleman had instituted the -September massacres. M. Arnault was so alarmed by these massacres -that he fled on foot. On reaching the barricade, he found it guarded -by a sans-culotte in name and in reality; this sans-culotte was -engaged in preventing a poor woman from passing, under the pretext -that her passport for Bercy had not been <i>vised</i> at the section des -Enfants-Trouvés. Now, while he noted the persistence of this honourable -sentinel, an idea occurred to M. Arnault—that this terrible Cerberus -could not read. Joking is a bad disease, of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> one is rarely cured. -M. Arnault, who suffered much from this malady, boldly walked up to the -sans-culotte and presented his passport upside down to the man, saying—</p> - -<p>"<i>Viséd</i> at the Enfants-Trouvés: there is the stamp."</p> - -<p>M. Arnault guessed rightly.</p> - -<p>"Pass," said the sans-culotte.</p> - -<p>And M. Arnault passed.</p> - -<p>In the interval that had elapsed between <i>Marius</i> and the 3rd of -September, the date at which we have arrived, M. Arnault had produced -his tragedy of <i>Lucrèce.</i> The play falling flat, the author laid its -want of success at Mademoiselle Raucourt's door.... It is known that -this famous actress's aversion to men was not entirely imputed to -virtuous causes. However that may be, later, we shall have to speak -of Mademoiselle Raucourt in connection with her pupil, Mademoiselle -Georges.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very -amusing manner, in his memoirs entitled <i>Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire</i>, -the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an -Ossianic tragedy, called <i>Oscar</i>, which was very successful, and which -he dedicated to Bonaparte; then <i>les Vénitiens,</i> the catastrophe of -which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people -would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good -people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of -Ducis's <i>Othello</i>, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, -according to the choice of the spectators. <i>Les Vénitiens</i> was a -tremendous success.</p> - -<p>While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, -under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into -his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it -was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, the <i>Roi d'Yvetot.</i> -Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and -retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted -with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave -a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed -nearly all his fables, a charming collection but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> little known, as -very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going -to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these -three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, -I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case -of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about -to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams.</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE COLIMAÇON</span><br /> -<br /> -"Sans amis comme sans famille,<br /> -Ici-bas, vivre en étranger;<br /> -Se retirer dans sa coquille,<br /> -Au signal du moindre danger;<br /> -S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes,<br /> -De soi seul emplir sa maison;<br /> -En sortir, selon la saison,<br /> -Pour faire à son prochain les cornes<br /> -Signaler ses pas destructeurs<br /> -Par les traces les plus impures;<br /> -Outrager les plus belles fleurs<br /> -Par ses baisers ou ses morsures;<br /> -Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison,<br /> -Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste;<br /> -C'est l'histoire de l'égoiste<br /> -Ou celle du colimaçon."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LE DROIT DE CHACUN</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Un jour, le roi des animaux</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Défendit, par une ordonnance,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A ses sujets, à ses vassaux,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De courir sans une licence</span><br /> -Sur quelque bête que ce soit;<br /> -Promettant, il est vrai, de conserver le droit<br /> -A quiconque en usait pour motif honnête.<br /> -Tigres, loups et renards, de présenter requête<br /> -A Sa Majesté: loups, pour courir le mouton,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Renards, pour courir le chapon,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tigres, pour courir toute bête.</span><br /> -Parmi les députés, qui criaient à tue-tête,<br /> -Un chien s'égosillait à force d'aboyer.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>'Plaise à Sa Majesté, disait-il, m'octroyer<br /> -Droit de donner la chasse, en toute circonstance,<br /> -A tous les animaux vivant de ma substance.<br /> -—Gentilshommes, à vous permis de giboyer,<br /> -Dit, s'adressant au tigre, au loup, au renard même<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Des forêts le maître suprême</span><br /> -Aux chasseurs tels que vous permis de déployer,<br /> -Même chez leurs voisins, leurs efforts, leurs astuces;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mais néant au placet du chien!'</span><br /> -Que réclamait, pourtant, ce roturier-ta?—Rien,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Que le droit de tuer ses puces."</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LES DEUX BAMBOUS</span><br /> -<br /> -"L'an passé—c'était l'an quarante,—<br /> -L'an passé, le Grand Turc disait au grand vizir:<br /> -'Quand, pour régner sous moi, je daignai te choisir,<br /> -Roustan, je te croyais d'humeur bien différente.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roustan met son plus grand plaisir.</span><br /> -A me contrarier; quelque ordre que je donne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Au lieu d'obéir, il raisonne;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Toujours des <i>si,</i> toujours des <i>mais</i>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Il défend ce que je permets:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ce que je défends, il l'ordonne.</span><br /> -A rien ne tient qu'ici je ne te fasse voir<br /> -A quel point je suis las de ces façons de faire!<br /> -Va-t'en! Qu'on fasse entrer mon grand eunuque noir<br /> -C'est celui-là qui connaît son affaire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">C'est lui qui, toujours complaisant,</span><br /> -Sans jamais m'étourdir de droit ni de justice,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">N'ayant de loi que mon caprice,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sait me servir en m'amusant.</span><br /> -Jamais ce ton grondeur, jamais cet air sinistre!<br /> -Ainsi que tout désir, m'épargnant tout travail,<br /> -Il conduirait l'empire aussi bien qu'un sérail.<br /> -J'en veux faire un premier ministre.<br /> -—En fait de politique et de gouvernement,<br /> -Sultan, dit le vizir, chacun a son système:<br /> -Te plaire est le meilleur; le mien, conséquemment,<br /> -Est mauvais.... Toutefois, ne pourrais-je humblement,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Te soumettre un petit problème?</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Parle.—Ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Que péniblement je me traîne,</span><br /> -Vieux et cassé, sultan, dans ma marche incertaine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma faiblesse a besoin d'appui.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, j'ai deux roseaux de la Chine:</span><br /> -Plus ferme qu'un bâton, l'un ne sait pas plier,<br /> -L'autre, élégant, léger, droit comme un peuplier,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Est plus souple qu'une badine.</span><br /> -Lequel choisir?—Lequel?... Roustan, je ne crois pas<br /> -Qu'un flexible bambou puisse assurer nos pas.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Tu le crois! lorsque tu m'arraches</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ton sceptre affermi par mes mains,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pour le livrer à des faquins</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sans caractere et sans moustaches.'</span><br /> -<br /> -Rois, vos ministres sont, pour vous,<br /> -Ce qu'est, pour nous, le jonc dont l'appui nous assiste,<br /> -Je le dis des vizirs ainsi que des bambous,<br /> -On ne peut s'appuyer que sur ce qui résiste."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">If you read, one after the other, M. Arnault's one hundred and fifty -fables, you will find throughout, the same ease, the same touch, the -same carping spirit. When you have read them, you will certainly not -say of the author, "He is a delightful person," but you will assuredly -say, "He is an honest man."</p> - -<p>In 1815 M. Arnault was exiled. Why? For so slight a reason that no one -bothered even to think of it; his name was on the list, and that was -all! But who signed that list? Louis XVIII., formerly Monsieur—that is -to say, the very same Comte de Provence under whose protection the poet -had begun his career, and to whom he had dedicated his <i>Marius.</i></p> - -<p>Now, although there was no reason for M. Arnault's exile, party spirit -invented one and said that he was proscribed as a regicide. There were, -however, two sufficient reasons why this could not be: first, because -M. Arnault did not belong to the Convention; secondly, because in 1792 -and 1793 he was abroad. Nevertheless, the rumour was tacitly accepted, -and soon nobody doubted that M. Arnault was exiled on that ground.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault sent <i>Germanicus</i> from Brussels: it was played on the -22nd of March 1817, and forbidden the following day. During the -representation the tragedy shifted from the stage to the pit, where a -terrible fight took place, in which several people were hurt and one -even killed. The battle was waged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> between the Life Guards and the -partisans of the late Government. The weapon that was generally made -use of in this skirmish was that kind of bamboo upon which Roustan, -the Grand Turk's first vizir, whose grievances we have just heard, was -wont to lean. One can understand that the thicker and less pliable they -were, the better they served for defence and for attack. From the date -of that fray these canes were dubbed "<i>Germanicus"</i> Angry feelings -waxed strong at this period. The day but one after the representation, -Martainville published a scurrilous article attacking M. Arnault's -private honour. This article, which was the result of a blow given the -critic by Telleville, led to a duel in which, as we said above, the -journalist had his thigh bruised by a bullet.</p> - -<p><i>Germanicus</i> was revived later. We were present at the revival; -but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a -success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added -a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature—a bitterness which cropped out -on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by -the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand -francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house -in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder -sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault -found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than -before he had inherited that sum.</p> - -<p>M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every -occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the -Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait -had been exhibited in the last Salon.</p> - -<p>Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's -wit, but also his very nature:—</p> - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix;</span><br /> -Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN</span><br /> -<br /> -"Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde,<br /> -Je suis votre humble serviteur;<br /> -Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœur<br /> -Ne s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON</span><a name="FNanchor_1_10" id="FNanchor_1_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_10" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /> -<br /> -"Il est altéré de vin;<br /> -Il est altéré de gloire;<br /> -Il ne prend jamais en vain<br /> -Sa pinte ou son écritoire.<br /> -Des flots qu'il en fait couler,<br /> -Abreuvant plus d'un délire.<br /> -Il écrit pour se soûler,<br /> -Il se soûle pour écrire."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN</span><br /> -<br /> -"Je n'attaque jamais en traître,<br /> -Je caresse sans intérêt,<br /> -Je mords parfois, mais à regret:<br /> -Bon chien se forme sur son maître."<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME</span><br /> -<br /> -"Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain,<br /> -En triompher est peu possible:<br /> -L'épée en main il est terrible,<br /> -Terrible il est la plume en main;<br /> -Et pour se battre et pour écrire,<br /> -Nul ne saurait lui ressembler;<br /> -Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire,<br /> -Il écrit à faire trembler."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">No matter what were his troubles, M. Arnault had always worshipped -dogs. Out of fifty of his fables, more than twenty have these -interesting quadrupeds for their heroes. When I was honoured by an -introduction into the private life of his family, the gate was guarded -by a horrible beast, half pug, half poodle, called Ramponneau. M. -Arnault never stirred without this dog:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> he had him in his study while -he worked, in his garden when he took his walks there. Only the king's -highway was denied him by M. Arnault, for fear of poisoned meat. M. -Arnault himself superintended his dog's education, and on one point -he was inexorable. Ramponneau would persist in committing ill manners -in his study. Directly the sight and the odour revealed the crime -committed, Ramponneau was seized by his flanks and the skin of his -neck, conducted to the spot where the indiscretion had been committed -and soundly thrashed. After this, Ramponneau's nose was rubbed in the -subject-matter of his crime, according to an old custom, the origin -of which is lost in the deeps of time—an operation to which he -submitted with visible repugnance. These daily faults and the ensuing -chastenings went on for nearly two months, and M. Arnault began to -fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this point, although he -learnt a crowd of pleasing tricks, such as feigning death, standing to -attention, smoking a pipe, leaping to honour the Emperor. I ask pardon -for the word "uneducatible." I could not find the word I wanted, so I -made one up. M. Arnault, I repeat, began to fear that Ramponneau was -uneducatible on this one point, when, one day, Ramponneau, who had -just committed his usual crime, seeing his master was far too much -absorbed in his tragedy of <i>Guillaume de Nassau</i> to perceive what -had just happened, went and pulled at the hem of his dressing-gown. -M. Arnault turned round: Ramponneau jumped up two or three times to -attract his attention; then, when he was quite sure he had arrested it, -he went straight to the spot which we have termed the subject-matter of -his crime, and rubbed his nose in, purely of his own accord, without -any compulsion, certainly with evident repugnance, but with touching -resignation. The poor beast was deceived. He had thought that the -whippings and punishment which followed the crime had had no other end -than to teach him to rub his nose in the object in question of his own -accord. Ramponneau's education was completely at fault, and he kept -this defect all his life, the muzzle he was provided with making very -little difference to his habit.</p> - -<p>I have already referred to M. Arnault's remarkable gift of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> swift and -witty repartee. I will give two instances of it now, and others in -their due place and season later, as we come across them.</p> - -<p>One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A -young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of -his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. -Arnault, who was not a patient man.</p> - -<p>"You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?"</p> - -<p>"What did you say,—blackguard?" exclaimed the young man.</p> - -<p>"Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my -address!"</p> - -<p>"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to."</p> - -<p>Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without -saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; -besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that -time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round.</p> - -<p>"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not -salute me."<a name="FNanchor_2_11" id="FNanchor_2_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_11" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the -Gospel: <i>Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."</i><a name="FNanchor_3_12" id="FNanchor_3_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_12" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame -Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she -was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, -full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for -five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the -reader shall judge when the time comes.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_10" id="Footnote_1_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_10"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The Abbé Geoffrey.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_11" id="Footnote_2_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_11"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Et qui ne me salue pas.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_12" id="Footnote_3_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_12"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Hors de l'Église, pas de salut!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVc" id="CHAPTER_IVc">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses of the various -plays, sung as prologues and epilogues—Transformation of the -vaudeville—The Gymnase and M. Scribe—The <i>Folle de Waterloo</i></p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric -Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the -Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration -as a refusal.</p> - -<p>I shall often return to, and speak much of Soulié: he was one of the -most powerful literary influences of the day, and his personality was -one of the most marked I have known. He died young. He died, not only -in the full tide of his talent, but even before he had produced the -perfect and finished work he would certainly have created, some day -or other, had not death hastened its footsteps. Soulié's brain was a -little confused and obscure; his thoughts were only lighted up on one -side, after the fashion of this planet; the reverse side to the one -illuminated by the sun was pitifully dark. Soulié did not know how to -begin either a novel or a drama. The opening explanation of his work -was done hap-hazard: sometimes in the first act, sometimes in the -last, if it were a play; if it were a novel, sometimes in the first, -sometimes in the last volume. His introduction, timidly begun, nearly -always was laboriously unravelled. It seemed as though, like those -night birds which need the darkness to develop all their faculties, -Soulié was not at ease save in twilight.</p> - -<p>I was for ever quarrelling with him on this point. As he was gifted -with unrivalled imagination and power, when he was on the warpath, -I used to beseech him continually to let in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> the utmost possible -daylight at the beginning of his action. "Be clear to the verge of -transparency," I continually said to him. "God's greatness consists in -His making of light; without light, we should not have known how to -appreciate the sublime grandeur of creation."</p> - -<p>Soulié was twenty-six when I first knew him. He was a lusty young -man, of medium height, but capitally proportioned; he had a prominent -forehead; dark hair, eyebrows and beard; a well-shaped nose and full -eyes; thick lips and white teeth. He laughed readily, although it was -never a fresh young laugh. It sounded ironical and strident, which gave -it the quality of age. Being naturally of a bantering disposition, -irony was a weapon he could wield admirably.</p> - -<p>He had tried his hand at most things, and he retained some slight -knowledge of everything he had done. After having received an excellent -education in the provinces, I believe he studied law at Rheims, to -which we owe the admirable description of student's life in his book -entitled <i>Confession générale.</i> He passed his legal examinations and -was called to the Bar; but he did not take kindly to the profession. -Rather than follow that very liberal avocation, he preferred a -mercantile calling. This aversion led to his developing the notion of a -big steam sawmill in 1824 or 1825.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, Soulié (who then signed himself Soulié de Lavelanet) -lived upon a small allowance his father made him a hundred louis, as -far as I am able to remember. He lived in the rue de Provence, on the -first floor, in a bewitching room that seemed a palace to us. There -was, above all else, a most unwonted luxury in this room, a piano on -which Soulié could play two or three tunes. He was both very radical -and very aristocratic, two qualities which often went together at that -period: see, for example, Carrel, whom we have already seen in the -Béfort affair, and who will reappear on the scene presently, after the -amnesty to be accorded by Charles X. on his accession to the throne.</p> - -<p>Soulié was brave, without being quarrelsome; but he had the -sensitiveness both of the student and of the Southerner. He was -passably skilful as a swordsman and a first-rate shot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> - -<p>Soulié at first thought me a worthless lad, of no importance; and it -was quite natural he should. He was astonished and almost overwhelmed -by my early successes. By that time I knew Soulié as he was; jealous -almost to envy, but, by reason of the strong kindliness of his good and -upright heart, able to keep all the evil tendencies of his character -under control. A constant struggle was waged within him between good -and bad principles, and yet not once perhaps did the evil principle get -the better of him. He very often tried to hate me, but never managed to -succeed: very often, when he set out to run me down in conversation, -he would end by praising me. And, as a matter of fact, I was the man -who hampered his career more than any other: in the theatre, in the -newspapers, in the matter of books, I was everywhere in his path, doing -him involuntary but actual damage everywhere; and, in spite of this, -I was so certain of Soulié, and so sure of his supreme justice and -goodness of heart, that, if I had needed any act of service, I should -have gone to Soulié to ask it of him, rather than of any other—and he -would have rendered me this service, more readily than any other person -would.</p> - -<p>At first Soulié turned his attention towards poetry. It was in the -domain of poetry, I believe, that he looked to make his conquests. His -first stage-play was an imitation of Shakespeare's <i>Romeo and Juliet.</i> -I never experienced greater emotion than that which I felt at the first -representation of this play.</p> - -<p>We were often months or a year without seeing each other; but when -fate turned us face to face, no matter how far off we might be, we -each walked straight to the other's heart and open arms. Perhaps, -before catching sight of me, Soulié had not particularly cared to meet -me; perhaps, had someone told him, "Dumas is over there," he would -have made a detour; but, directly he caught sight of me, the electric -current dominated his will and he was mine, body and soul, as though -never a single jealous thought had crossed his mind. It was different -with regard to Hugo or Lamartine: he did not like them, and he rarely -spoke impartially of their talent. I feel convinced that it was Hugo's -<i>Odes et Ballades</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> Lamartine's <i>Méditations</i> which led Frédéric -Soulié to write in prose. Rest in peace, friend of my youth, companion -of my first serious efforts, I will depict thee as thou wert; I will -design a statue of thee, not a bust; I will isolate thee; I will place -thee on the pedestal of thy works, so that all those who never knew -thee may take the measure of thy impressive figure; for thou art one -of those who can be studied from all aspects, and who, living or dead, -have no need to be afraid of being placed in a full light.</p> - -<p>At the time of which I am writing, Soulié was linked in literary -friendship with Jules Lefèvre and Latouche,—Latouche, with whom he -quarrelled so fiercely later over <i>Christine.</i> In private life, his -chief friend was a tall, stout fellow called David, who was at that -time, and may still be, a stockbroker. I do not know whether Soulié was -his only friend; but I believe that on the Exchange he made not a few -enemies.</p> - -<p>When we went to see Soulié, he was entertaining a dozen of his friends -to tea, cake and sandwiches. Such luxuries quite dazzled me. Soulié was -conscious of his own powers, and this rendered him extremely scornful -towards second-rate literature. In his efforts to poach upon other -writers' preserves, until the time came when he could do better than -they, he treated certain contemporary celebrities, whose positions I -envied greatly, with lofty off-handedness. He proposed, he said, to -publish an Almanac for the coming year, 1824, entitled the <i>Parfait -Vaudevilliste</i>, which should consist of ready-made verses from old -soldiers and young colonels. Among these verses from old soldiers were -some of the first order, and the following may be taken as a model: it -is one which Gontier sang in <i>Michel et Christine</i>, and for which he -was enthusiastically applauded nightly:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Sans murmurer,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Votre douleur amère,</span><br /> -Frapp'rait mes yeux, plutôt tout endurer!<br /> -Moi, j'y suis fait, c'est mon sort ordinaire;<br /> -Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sans murmurer!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> - -<p>There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of -representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current -events, and these found a fitting place in the <i>Parfait Vaudevilliste.</i> -Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. -Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his -collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the -choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what -period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard -waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and -legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the -names of their begetters.</p> - -<p>These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He -placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty -ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used -a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from the <i>Barbier -châtelain</i>, by Théaulon: to every man his due.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Ça soulage,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">En voyage.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bonne nuit!</span><br /> -Retirons-nous sans bruit."<br /> -</p> - -<p>This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to -hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, -of Brazier and Courcy, in the <i>Parisien à Londres,</i> was also not devoid -of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it -was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair -number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised -during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a -lively curiosity among the audience.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p> - -<p>So the audience sang:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Nous allons voir juger<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Cet étranger,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Qui fut bien léger!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A l'audience,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">On défend l'innocence,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Et l'on sait la venger."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, -left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Nous <i>avons vu</i> juger<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Cet étranger,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Qui fut bien léger!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A l'audience,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">On défend l'innocence,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Et l'on sait la venger."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres -than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus -of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the -table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers.</p> - -<p>They sang this:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Quel repas</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plein d'appas,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Où, gai convive,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">L'Amour arrive!...</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quel repas</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plein d'appas!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On n'en fait pas</span><br /> -De pareils ici-bas!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>In spite of the holy laws of propriety, more respected, one knows, -among dramatic authors than in any other class of society, Adolphe -one day allowed himself the liberty of using this couplet and had the -audacity to put it in one of his plays, without troubling to change -it one single iota. There is quite a long story about this: Adolphe, -threatened with a lawsuit by Dumanoir, was only able to settle matters -by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> offering a chorus for dancers in exchange for the drinking chorus.</p> - -<p>This is de Leuven's chorus: it will be seen that if Dumanoir did not -gain much through this, he did not lose much by it:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"A la danse,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">A la danse,</span><br /> -Allons, amis, que l'on séance!<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Entendez-vous du bal</span><br /> -Les gais accords, le doux signal?..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dumanoir faithfully adhered to the agreement, but only used the chorus -once; then he returned it to Adolphe, who, on regaining possession, -continued to use his chorus, to the great satisfaction of the audience.</p> - -<p>All these choruses, however, pale before that of <i>Jean de Calais</i>. This -was by Émile Vanderburch, one of the authors of the <i>Gamin de Paris</i>, -and it concluded the play. It runs thus:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Chantons les hauts faits<br /> -De Jean de Calais!<br /> -On dira, dans l'histoire,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Qu'il a mérité</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sa gloire</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et sa félicité!..."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Indeed, a great revolution was taking place at this time in comic -opera; and this revolution was brought about by a man who has since -proscribed others as revolutionists. We refer to Scribe, who, in the -literary revolution of 1820 to 1828, played pretty nearly the rôle the -Girondists played in the political revolution of 1792 and 1793.</p> - -<p>Before Scribe, comic operas (with the exception of the delightful -sketches of Désaugiers) were hardly more than bare skeletons, left for -the actors to clothe as they liked. Nowadays the great thing is to -create rôles for M. Arnal, M. Bouffé, or Mademoiselle Rose Chéri, but -at that time no one thought of creating a rôle for M. Potier, M. Brunet -or M. Perrin. M. Perrin, M. Brunet or M. Potier found their rôles -outlined for them at the first rehearsal, and made them what they were -at the first representation.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> - -<p>Scribe was the first author to make plays instead of outline sketches. -Plots developed in his clever hands, and so, in three or four years, -the Théâtre du Gymnase attained its full growth. It was not modelled on -any other company, but created what might well be called M. Scribe's -company: it was composed almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, -old soldiers and faithful servants. Never had such widows been seen, -never such colonels; never had old soldiers spoken thus; never had -such devoted servants been met with. But the company of the Gymnase, -as M. Scribe created it, became the fashion, and the direct patronage -of Madame la Duchesse de Berry contributed not a little towards the -fortune made by the manager, and to the author's reputation. The form -of verse itself was changed. The old airs of our fathers, who had been -satisfied with the gay repetition of <i>lon, lon, la, larira dondaine,</i> -and the <i>gai, gai, larira dondé,</i> were abandoned for the more -artificially mannered comic opera, pointed epigrams and long-drawn-out, -elegantly turned verses. When the situation became touching, eight or -ten lines would express the feelings of the character, borrowing charm -from the music, and sighing declarations of love, for which prose had -ceased to suffice. In short, a charming little bastard sprang into -being, of which, to use a village expression, M. Scribe was both father -and godfather, and which was neither the old vaudeville, nor comic -opera, nor comedy.</p> - -<p>The models of the new style were the <i>Somnambule, Michel et Christine</i>, -the <i>Héritière</i>, the <i>Mariage de raison, Philippe</i> and <i>Marraine.</i> -Later, some vaudevilles went a degree farther; for example, the -<i>Chevalier de Saint-Georges, un Duel sous Richelieu,</i> the <i>Vie de -bohème.</i> These bordered on comedy, and could at a pinch be played -without lines. Other changes will be pointed out, so far as they -affected the arts. Let us briefly state here that we had entered into -the age of transition. In 1818, Scribe began by the vaudeville; from -1818 to 1820 Hugo and Lamartine appeared in the literary world, the -former with his <i>Odes et Ballades</i>, the latter with his <i>Méditations,</i> -the first attempts of the new poetry; from 1820 to 1824 Nodier -published novels of a kind which introduced a fresh type—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>namely, the -picturesque; from 1824 to 1828 it was the turn of painting to attempt -fresh styles; finally, from 1828 to 1835, the revolution spread to the -dramatic world, and followed almost immediately on the footsteps of the -historical and imaginative novel. Thus the nineteenth century, freed -from parental restraint, assumed its true colour and originality. Of -course it will be understood that, as I was so closely associated with -all the great artists and all the great sculptors of the time, each -of them will come into these Memoirs in turn; they will constitute a -gigantic gallery wherein every illustrious name shall have its living -monument.</p> - -<p>Let us return to Soulié. We had reached the date when his first -piece of poetry had the honour of print: it was called the <i>Folk de -Waterloo</i>, and had been written at the request of Vatout, for the work -he produced on the Gallery of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that -Soulié read it to us. Here it is: we give it in order to indicate the -point of departure of all our great poets. When we take note of the end -to which they have attained, we can measure the distance traversed. -Probably some contemporary grumblers will tell us it matters very -little where they started or where they ended: to such we would reply -that we are not merely writing for the year 1851 or the year 1852, but -for the sacred future which seizes chisel, brush, and pen as they drop -from the hands of the illustrious dead.</p> - - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LA FOLLE DE WATERLOO</span><br /> -<br /> -"Un jour, livrant mon âme à la mélancolie,<br /> -J'avais porté mes pas errants<br /> -Dans ces prisons où la folie<br /> -Est offerte en spectacle aux yeux indifférents.<br /> -C'était à l'heure qui dégage<br /> -Quelques infortunés des fers et des verrous;<br /> -Et mon cœur s'étonnait d'écouter leur langage,<br /> -Où se mêlaient les pleurs, le rire et le courroux.<br /> -<br /> -Tandis que leur gardien les menace ou les raille,<br /> -Une femme paraît pâle et le front penché;<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>Sa main tient l'ornement qui, les jours de bataille.<br /> -Brille au cou des guerriers sur l'épaule attaché,<br /> -Et de ses blonds cheveux s'échappe un brin de paille<br /> -A sa couche arrache<br /> -<br /> -En voyant sa jeunesse et le morne délire,<br /> -Qui doit, par la prison, la conduire au tombeau,<br /> -Je me sends pleurer.... Elle se prit à rire,<br /> -Et cria lentement:'Waterloo! Waterloo!'<br /> -<br /> -'Quel malheur t'a donc fait ce malheur de la France?'<br /> -Lui dis-je.... Et son regard craintif<br /> -Ou, sans voir la raison, je revis l'espérance,<br /> -S'unit pour m'appeler à son geste furtif.<br /> -<br /> -'Français, parle plus has, dit-elle. Oh! tu m'alarmes!<br /> -Peut-être ces Anglais vont étouffer ta voix;<br /> -Car c'est à Waterloo que, la première fois,<br /> -Adolphe m'écouta sans répondre à mes larmes.<br /> -<br /> -'Lorsque, dans ton pays, la guerre s'allumait,<br /> -Il me quitta pour elle, en disant qu'il m'aimait;<br /> -C'est là le seul adieu dont mon cœur se souvienne ...<br /> -La gloire l'appelait, il a suivi sa loi;<br /> -Et, comme son amour n'était pas tout pour moi,<br /> -Il servit sa patrie, et j'oubliai la mienne!<br /> -<br /> -'Et, quand je voulus le chercher,<br /> -Pour le voir, dans le sang il me fallut marcher;<br /> -J'entendais de longs cris de douleur et d'alarmes;<br /> -La lune se leva sur ce morne tableau;<br /> -J'aperçus sur le sol des guerriers et des armes,<br /> -Et des Anglais criaient: "Waterloo! Waterloo!"<br /> -<br /> -'Et moi, fille de l'Angleterre,<br /> -Indifférente aux miens qui dormaient sur la terre,<br /> -J'appelais un Français, et pleurais sans remords ...<br /> -Tout à coup, une voix mourante et solitaire<br /> -S'éleva de ce champ des morts:<br /> -<br /> -"Adolphe?" me dit-on. "Des héros de la garde<br /> -Il était le plus brave et marchait avec nous;<br /> -Nous combattions ici.... Va, baisse-toi, regarde,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>Tu l'y retrouveras, car nous y sommes tous!"<br /> -<br /> -'Je tremblais de le voir et je le vis lui-même....<br /> -Dis-moi quel est ce mal qu'on ne peut exprimer?<br /> -Ses yeux, sous mes baisers, n'ont pu se ranimer....<br /> -Oh! comme j'ai souffert à cette heure suprême;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Car il semblait ne plus m'aimer!</span><br /> -<br /> -Et puis ... je ne sais plus!... Connaît-il ma demeure?<br /> -Jadis, quand il venait, il venait tous les jours!<br /> -Et sa mère, en pleurant, accusait nos amours....<br /> -Hélas! il ne vient plus, et pourtant elle pleure!<br /> -<br /> -La folle vers la porte adresse alors ses pas,<br /> -Attache à ses verrous un regard immobile,<br /> -M'appelle à ses côtés, et, d'une voix débile:<br /> -'Pauvre Adolphe, dit-elle, en soupirant tout bas;<br /> -Comme il souffre!... il m'attend, puisqu'il ne revient pas!'<br /> -<br /> -Elle dit, dans les airs la cloche balancée<br /> -Apprit à la douleur que l'heure était passée<br /> -D'espérer que ses maux, un jour, pourraient finir.<br /> -La folle se cachait; mais, dans le sombre asile<br /> -Où, jeune, elle portait un si long avenir,<br /> -A la voix des gardiens d'où la pitié s'exile,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seule, il lui fallut revenir.</span><br /> -<br /> -'Adieu! je ne crains pas qu'un Français me refuse,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dit-elle, en me tendant la main;</span><br /> -Si tu le vois, là-bas, qui vient sur le chemin;<br /> -D'un aussi long retard si son amour s'accuse,<br /> -Dis-lui que je le plains, dis-lui que je l'excuse,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dis-lui que je l'attends demain!'"</span><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> -</p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vc" id="CHAPTER_Vc">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with -him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to gain rank—Her -history—The statement of the Duc d'Orléans—Judgment of the -Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's -certificate of birth</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>I had been installed nearly a month at the office, to the great -satisfaction of Oudard and of M. de Broval (who, thanks to my beautiful -handwriting, thought that M. Deviolaine had been too hard on me), -when the former sent word by Raulot that he wanted me in his office. -I hastened to respond to the invitation. Oudard looked very solemn. -"My dear Dumas," he said, "M. le Duc d'Orléans has just asked me for -someone to copy quickly and neatly a piece of work he has prepared -for his counsel. Although there is nothing secret about it, you must -understand that it will not do to have the papers left about in the -office while being copied. I thought of you, because you write rapidly -and correctly: it will be the means of bringing you before the duke. I -am going to take you into his room."</p> - -<p>I must confess I felt greatly excited on learning that I was about to -find myself face to face with a man whose influence might be of much -importance in the shaping of my destiny.</p> - -<p>Oudard noticed the effect this news produced on me, and tried to -reassure me by telling me of the perfect kindness of the duke. This did -not at all prevent me from feeling very nervous as I approached His -Royal Highness's room. I had a moment's respite, for His Royal Highness -was at breakfast; but I soon heard a step that I guessed was his, -and fear seized me once more. The door opened, and the Duc d'Orléans -appeared. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> had seen him already, once or twice, at Villers-Cotterets, -when he came to the sale of the woods. I believe I said that he stayed -then with M. Collard, from whom he was the recipient of the most lavish -hospitality imaginable, although, so far as he himself was concerned, -the Duc d'Orléans always tried to restrain hospitality offered him -within the limits of a simple family visit.</p> - -<p>M. le Duc d'Orléans had, as a matter of fact, the good feeling to -recognise almost publicly his illegitimate relations: he had his two -natural uncles—the two abbés Saint-Phar and Saint-Albin—living with -him at the Palais-Royal, and he did not make any distinction between -them and the other members of his family.</p> - -<p>The prince would be fifty years old the following October: he was -still a very good-looking man, though his figure was marred by his -stoutness, which had increased during the past ten years; his face was -frank, his eyes bright and intelligent, without depth or steadfastness; -he was fluently affable, but nevertheless his words never lost their -aristocratic savour unless his sole interest were to conciliate a vain -citizen; he had a pleasant voice, which in his good-humoured moments -was usually kind in tone; and, when he was in the mood, he could be -heard, even a long way off, singing the mass in a voice almost as -out of tune as that of Louis XV. I have since heard him sing the -<i>Marseillaise</i> as falsely as he sang the mass. To make a long story -short, I was presented to him: not much ceremony was observed in my -case.</p> - -<p>"Monseigneur, this is M. Dumas, of whom I have spoken to you, the -protégé of General Foy."</p> - -<p>"Oh, good!" replied the duke. "I was delighted to do something to -please General Foy, who recommended you very warmly to me, monsieur. -You are the son of a brave man, whom Bonaparte is said to have left -almost to die of starvation."</p> - -<p>I bowed in token of affirmation.</p> - -<p>"You write a very good hand, you make and seal envelopes excellently; -work, and M. Oudard will look after you."</p> - -<p>"In the meantime," Oudard interposed, "Monseigneur wishes to entrust -you with an important piece of work: His Highness desires it to be done -promptly and correctly."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I will not leave it until it is finished," I replied, "and I will do -my utmost to be as accurate as His Highness requires."</p> - -<p>The duke made a sign to Oudard, as much as to say, "Not bad for a -country lad."</p> - -<p>Then, going before me, he said—</p> - -<p>"Come into this room and sit down at that table."</p> - -<p>And with these words he pointed out a desk to me.</p> - -<p>"Here you will be undisturbed."</p> - -<p>He then opened a bundle in which about fifty pages were arranged in -order, covered on both sides with his big handwriting and numbered at -the front of each page.</p> - -<p>"See," he said, "copy from here to there: if you finish before I come -back, you must wait for me; I have several corrections to make in -certain passages, and I will make them as I dictate them to you."</p> - -<p>I sat down and set to work at my task. The work with which I was -entrusted was concerned with an event which had recently made a great -stir, and which could not fail to take up the attention of Paris. This -was the claim made by Maria-Stella-Petronilla Chiappini, Baroness of -Sternberg, to the rank and fortune of the Duc d'Orléans, which she -contended belonged to her.</p> - -<p>Here is the fable upon which her pretension was founded. We give it -from Maria-Stella's point of view, without, be it well understood, -believing for a single instant in the justice of her claim.</p> - -<p>Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans, who was married in 1768, had, -to the beginning of January 1772, only presented her husband, -Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orléans, with a still-born daughter. The -absence of male issue troubled the Duc d'Orléans greatly, as his -fortune, derived chiefly from portions granted him as a younger son, -would, in default of male issue, revert to the Crown. It was with this -in his mind and in the hope that travel might perhaps lead to the -Duchesse d'Orléans being again pregnant, that Louis-Philippe and his -wife set out for Italy, in the early part of the year 1772, under the -name of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> - -<p>I repeat for the last time, that throughout this narrative it is not I -who am speaking, but the claimant, Maria-Stella-Petronilla.</p> - -<p>Well, the august travellers had scarcely reached the top of the -Apennines before symptoms of a fresh pregnancy declared themselves, -which caused the Duchesse d'Orléans to stay at Modigliana.</p> - -<p>In the village of Modigliana there was a prison, and a gaoler to watch -over the prison. The gaoler was called Chiappini. M. le Duc d'Orléans, -faithful to his traditions of familiarity with the people, became on -still more easy terms with the gaoler as the intimacy took place under -cover of his incognito. There was, besides, a reason for the intimacy. -Chiappini's wife was expecting her confinement just at the same time -as Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans. A treaty was accordingly entered into -between the illustrious travellers and the humble gaoler, to the effect -that should Madame la Comtesse de Joinville by chance give birth to -a girl, and the wife of Chiappini to a boy, the two mothers should -exchange their two children.</p> - -<p>Fate ordained matters as the parents had foreseen: the gaoler's wife -gave birth to a boy, the prince's wife gave birth to a girl; and the -agreed exchange was made, the prince handing over a considerable sum to -the gaoler as well.</p> - -<p>The child destined to play the part of prince was then transported -to Paris, and although he was born as far back as 17 April 1773, the -fact was kept secret till 6 October, on which date it was declared, -and the child was baptized by the almoner of the Palais-Royal, in the -presence of the parish priest and of two valets. In the meantime, the -duchess's daughter, left in Italy, was brought up there under the name -of Maria-Stella-Petronilla. The rest of the story can be guessed. -Nevertheless, we will give it in detail. Maria-Stella did not know -the story of her birth until after the death of the gaoler Chiappini. -She had a melancholy childhood. The gaoler's wife, who regretted her -son and who was for ever reproaching her husband for the agreement -made, rendered the child's life very miserable. The young girl was, it -seems, extremely beautiful, and at the age of seventeen she made such a -deep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> impression upon Lord Newborough, one of the wealthiest noblemen -of England, who was passing through Modigliana, that he married her -almost in spite of herself, and took her away to London. She was left -a widow very young, with several children,—one of whom is now a peer -of England,—but she soon married the Baron de Sternberg, who took her -away to St. Petersburg, where she presented him with a son.</p> - -<p>One day, the Baroness de Sternberg, who was almost separated from her -husband, received a letter with an Italian postmark; she opened it -and read the following lines, written by the hand of the man whom she -believed to be her father:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MILADY</span>,—I have at last reached the close of my life, -without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely -concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:—</p> - -<p>"The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name -I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this -life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked -to make an exchange, and taking into consideration -the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I -consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made -to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and -at the same time the other person adopted my son. I -perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since -you are placed in a higher station in life than your -father—though he was in almost the same rank—and it is -this reflection which allows me to die with some degree -of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you -may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your -forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to -keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be -able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter -will not even be sent you until after my death. <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAURENT -CHIAPPINI</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>Upon receipt of this letter, Maria-Stella at once prepared to travel -to Italy. She did not agree with the gaoler Chiappini in thinking the -matter irremediable: she wished to know who was her true father. She -gathered information wherever she could find it, and at length she -learned that in 1772—in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> words, a year before her birth—two -French travellers arrived at Modigliana, and remained there until the -month of April 1773. These two travellers called themselves the Comte -and Comtesse de Joinville. Upon this slight clue, the Baroness de -Sternberg set off to France, and began by visiting the little town of -Joinville, whose name her father bore. Here she learnt that Joinville -had once been an inheritance belonging to the Orléans family, and that -Duc Louis-Philippe-Joseph, who had been travelling in Italy in 1772, -had died upon the scaffold in 1793.</p> - -<p>Only his son, the Duc d'Orléans, was left (the two younger brothers -having died, the Duc de Montpensier in England and the Duc de -Beaujolais at Malta), the inheritor of the whole of his father's -wealth. He lived in Paris, and he was the only prince of the blood of -the house of Orléans.</p> - -<p>Maria-Stella left immediately for Paris, made useless efforts to gain -access to the duke himself, gave herself into the hands of intriguing -persons who exploited her cause, to business men who cheated her, and -ended by writing to the papers, stating that the Baroness de Sternberg, -who was the bearer of a communication of the greatest importance to -the heirs of the Comte de Joinville, had arrived in Paris, and desired -to acquaint them with this communication at the earliest possible -opportunity.</p> - -<p>The Duc d'Orléans did not wish to receive this communication direct; -neither did he desire to have recourse to the agency of a business man: -he commissioned his uncle, the old Abbé of Saint-Phar, to call on the -baroness.<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Then everything was laid bare, and the duke discovered -the whole plot that was being weaved about him. Learning that, whether -from honest belief or from cupidity, Maria-Stella seriously meant to -pursue her cause, and that she was going to return to Italy to furnish -herself with documents wherewith to establish her identity, he hastened -to take the precaution of preparing a memoir, intended for his counsel, -to refute the fabrication by the aid of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> Maria-Stella intended to -take away his rank and his fortune, or at all events to make him pay -for the right to keep them. In the meantime, she was appealing to the -Duchesse d'Angoulême as the likeliest person to harbour the liveliest -feelings of resentment against the Orléans family.</p> - -<p>It was this memoir that I was called upon to copy. I must own that I -did not transcribe it without reading it, although my total ignorance -of history left many points obscure to me in the prince's refutation. -Not only was this paper based upon fact, but it was written with that -customary power of reasoning which the Duc d'Orléans was noted for -exercising, even in minor matters of diplomacy. He employed counsel for -form's sake only, for he himself drew up not merely notes on the case -he wished to prove, but lengthy statements, which roused the admiration -of the celebrated barrister Me. Dupin, to whom they were always sent.</p> - -<p>I came to the end of the portion the duke had told me to write, after a -couple of hours' work; so I put down my work and waited. When the duke -returned, he came to the table at which I was writing, picked up my -copy, made a gesture indicative of his approval of my handwriting, but -almost immediately afterwards said—</p> - -<p>"Oh! oh! you have a punctuation of your own, I see;" and taking a pen, -he sat down at a corner of the table and began to punctuate my copy -according to the rules of grammar.</p> - -<p>The duke flattered me highly by saying I had a punctuation of my -own. I knew no more about punctuation than about anything else: I -punctuated according to my fancy, or rather, I did not punctuate at -all. To this day, I only punctuate on my proofs: I believe you could -take up any of my manuscripts hap-hazard and run through a whole volume -without finding a single exclamation mark, or an acute accent or a -grave accent. After the duke had read the statement and corrected my -punctuation, he got up and, walking up and down, dictated to me the -part he wanted to correct. I wrote almost as quickly as he dictated, -which seemed to please him extremely. I reached this sentence: "And if -there were nothing else but the <i>striking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> resemblance which exists -between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis -XIV.</i>, would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the -falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?"</p> - -<p>Although, as I have previously stated, I was not very well read in -history, yet in this matter I knew quite enough (as they say in -duelling of a man who has had three months' training in a fencing -school) to make a fool of myself—that is to say, I knew that M. le Duc -d'Orléans was descended from Monsieur, that Monsieur was the son of -Louis XIII. and brother of Louis XIV., and that, consequently, Louis -XIV., being Monsieur's brother, could not be the grandfather of the Duc -d'Orléans, who was honouring me by dictating to me a memorandum against -Maria-Stella's claim. So, when he came to these words, "And if there -were nothing else but the <i>striking resemblance which exists between -the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV."</i> I looked -up. It was most impertinent of me! A prince is never mistaken, and in -this instance the prince did not allow himself to be taken in.</p> - -<p>So, the Duc d'Orléans stopped in front of me and said to me, "Dumas, -you should know this: when a person is descended from Louis XIV. even -if only through bastards, it is a sufficiently great honour to boast -about!... Proceed."</p> - -<p>And he resumed: "Would not that likeness alone be sufficient to -demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?..."</p> - -<p>I wrote this time without raising an eye, and I never looked up again -throughout the remainder of the sitting.</p> - -<p>At four o'clock the Duc d'Orléans set me free, asking me if I could -come to work in the evening.</p> - -<p>I replied that I was at His Highness's disposition. I picked up my hat, -I bowed, I went out, I took the stairs four at a time and I ran to find -Lassagne. He chanced to be still at his desk.</p> - -<p>"How can Louis XIV. be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans?" I asked -as soon as I got in, without any preliminary explanation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Good gracious!" he said, "it is plain enough: because the regent -married Mademoiselle de Blois, who was Louis XIV.'s natural daughter by -Madame de Montespan—a marriage that procured him a sound smack in the -face when it was announced by him to the Princess Palatine, Monsieur's -second wife, who thus expressed her feelings at the <i>mésalliance.</i> ... -You will find all this in the memoirs of the Princess Palatine and in -Saint-Simon."</p> - -<p>I felt extinguished by the ready and accurate answer given me.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I said, with downcast head, "I shall never be as learned as that!"</p> - -<p>I finished the copy of the statement by eleven o'clock that same -evening. It was sent next day to M. Dupin, who should have it still, -written in my handwriting.</p> - -<p>We will now finish the story of Maria-Stella.</p> - -<p>When she had threatened the Duc d'Orléans, she returned to Italy, to -hunt up evidence that would establish the authenticity of her birth, -and the substitution of the daughter of the Comtesse de Joinville for -the son of the gaoler Chiappini.</p> - -<p>She did, in fact, obtain the following decree from the Ecclesiastical -Court of Faenza, on 29 May 1824: we will give it for what it is worth, -or rather for what it was worth. This decree is followed by the -official rectification of the birth certificate:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA</span></p> - -<p>"Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, -sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and -His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded -or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any -other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, -petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles -Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte -Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other -person not present having or claiming an interest in -the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> most excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at -Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before -the law;—whereas the petitioner, appearing before this -episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of -the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to -its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to -have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the -insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas -the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the -claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and -whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not -appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by -an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, -according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the -effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its -bearing on the case;</p> - -<p>"In virtue of the acta, etc.;—having heard the -respective defendants, etc.;—Considering that Laurent -Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, -by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after -the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said -petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to -her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of -a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; -that it has been clearly proved by experts that this -letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that -the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is -not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, -presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that -such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a -solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of -his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee -would essay in vain to impair the validity of the -evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention -is made therein as to who were the real father and mother -of the petitioner, seeing that—though such mention is -in effect wanting—recourse has nevertheless been had, -on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, -to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is -written proof, as in the present case, testimonial -proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when -it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a -case of identity, following on the principle of written -proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much -the more should it hold good in this case, where the -demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, -in the question of identity;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>—considering that it -clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of -the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters -Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte -and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective -children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter -and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in -effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come -to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of -the priory of Modigliana, in the name of <i>Maria-Stella</i>, -her parents being falsely declared to be the couple -Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the -date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the -birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons -in support of their cognisance, etc.;—considering that -it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood -of this evidence, since not only is there nothing -impossible in their statements, but they are, on the -contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large -number of other presumptions and conjectures; that -one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour -and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection -with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to -past events, having the value of truth and of full -cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only -by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, -but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique -de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of -Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which -were legally and judicially examined in their places of -origin and before their respective tribunals; that the -vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing -testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is -documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of -the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the -said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to -take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. -Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he -was arrested, and then, after having been detained some -time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken -by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. -le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that -M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial -examination, that, while sorting some old papers of -the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from -Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he -does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' -which stated that the changeling had died, and that any -scruple on its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> account was now removed;—considering -that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance -in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is -further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes -of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the -exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; -that the petitioner received an education suitable to -her distinguished rank, and not such as would have -been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it -results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, -and from several others contained in the pleadings, -that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of -birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, -and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame -la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, -a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of -the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said -Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead -of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy;</p> - -<p>"Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we -declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as -follows:—that the objections raised by the trustee, the -aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; -and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely -adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April -1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory -church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, -in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that -Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and -of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and -that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter -of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de -Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also -order that the rectification in question be forthwith -executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, -by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, -Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, -to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and -rectified to all who may demand it, etc.;</p> - -<p>"Preambles pronounced by me:—domestic canon</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;">"<i>(Signed)</i> <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">VALERIO BORCHI</span>, Pro-Vicar General</p> - -<p class="p2">"The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by -these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and -very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting -in public audience, and it has been read and published -by me, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> undersigned prothonotary, in the year of our -Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 -May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in -the first year of his pontificate, there being present, -amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. -Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 40%;">(<i>Signed</i>) <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">ANGE MORIGNY</span></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 45%;">"Episcopal Prothonotary General</p> - -<p class="p2">"Correction of the Certificate of Birth:—</p> - -<p>"This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the -holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, -happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, -indiction XII, at Faenza;—the delay of ten days, the -time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the -day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the -Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,—in -the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de -Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that -town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis -and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others -absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, -or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as -well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in -the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered -an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers -given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded -to put the same judgment into execution—namely, the -rectification of the certification of birth produced in -the pleadings of the trial, as follows:—</p> - -<p>"In the name of God, <i>Amen</i>, I the undersigned canon -chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of -Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of -Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese -of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth -book of the birth register, the following notice: -'<i>Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the -married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, -public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia -Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, -was baptized, on</i> 17 <i>April</i> 1773, <i>by me, Canon -François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather -and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and -Stella<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> Ciabatti</i>.—Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April -1824; (<i>signed</i>) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I -say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into -execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, -which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms -following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday -of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la -Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,—then -dwelling in the district of Modigliana,—was baptized on -April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the -chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François -Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.'</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;">"<i>(Signed)</i> <span style="font-size: 0.8em;">ANGE MORIGNY</span></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;">"Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"<a name="FNanchor_2_14" id="FNanchor_2_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_14" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p></blockquote> - -<p class="p2">Furnished with these documents, the Baroness de Sternberg returned -to Paris towards the close of the year 1824; but, it seems, neither -these documents nor the personages who had set her going inspired -great confidence; for, neither from Louis XVIII.,—who was not very -fond of his cousin, since, under no pretext, would he ever allow him -to be styled Royal Highness, while he reigned, saying that he would be -always quite close enough to the throne,—nor from Charles X., could -she obtain any support in aid of the restitution of her name and of her -estates.</p> - -<p>When Charles X. fell and the Duc d'Orléans became king, matters were -even worse for her. There was no means of appealing from Philip asleep -to Philip awake. Intimidation had no effect; the most determined -enemies of the new king did not wish to soil their hands with -this claim, which they regarded in the light of a conspiracy, and -Maria-Stella remained in Paris, without so much as the notoriety of the -persecution she expected to receive. She lived at the top of the rue -de Rivoli, near the rue Saint-Florentin, on the fifth floor; and in -the absence of two-footed, featherless courtiers, she held a court of -two-clawed feathered creatures which waked the whole rue de Rivoli at -five o'clock in the morning with their chatter. Those of my readers who -live in Paris may perhaps recollect to have seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> flocks of impudent -sparrows swooping down, whirling by thousands about the balconied -windows: these three windows were those of Maria-Stella-Petronilla -Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, who, in order not to give the lie to -herself, to the end of her life signed herself "Née Joinville."</p> - -<p>She died in 1845, the day after the opening of the Chambers. Her last -words were—</p> - -<p>"Hand me the paper, that I may read the speech of that villain!"</p> - -<p>She had not been outside her door for five years, for fear, she said, -of being arrested by the king. The poor creature had become almost -mad....</p> - -<p>About three weeks after I had made the copy of the memorandum -concerning her, M. Oudard called me into his office and informed me -that I had been <i>placed on the regular staff.</i> In other words, I was -given a berth at a salary of twelve hundred francs, in reward for my -good handwriting and my cleverness in the matter of making envelopes -and sealing. I had no reason to complain: Béranger had exactly the same -on his entry into the University.</p> - -<p>I sent my mother this good news the same day, begging her to get -ready to come to me as soon as I had received the first payment of my -increased salary.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I do not know whether the Abbé de Saint-Phar saw or did -not see Maria-Stella. I merely transcribe the memoirs of that lady.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_14" id="Footnote_2_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_14"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The translator is obliged to a legal friend for the -version of the above documents.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIc" id="CHAPTER_VIc">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The "year of trials"—The case of Potier and the director of -the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin—Trial and condemnation -of Magallon—The anonymous journalist—Beaumarchais sent to -Saint-Lazare—A few words on censorships in general—Trial of -Benjamin Constant—Trial of M. de Jouy—A few words concerning the -author of <i>Sylla</i>—Three letters extracted from the <i>Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin</i>—Louis XVIII. as author</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>My anxiety to bring my readers along, without interruption, to the -moment when my lot and that of my mother was settled, by my being -placed on the staff as a copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs, has -caused me to pass over a host of events of far greater interest, no -doubt, to strangers, than those I have related, but which—if egotism -may be permitted me—in my own eyes, and to my mind, should take a -secondary place.</p> - -<p>The year 1823, which we might style the "year of trials," opened by the -trial of Potier on 7 January. Those who never saw Potier can form no -conception of the influence this great comedian, who was much admired -by Talma, had on the public; yet the damages and compensation that M. -Serres, the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin, demanded from him, may -give some idea of the value that was put upon him. One morning Potier, -faithful, as M. Étienne would have said, to his <i>first loves</i>, took it -into his head to return to the Variétés, a project which he carried -out, it appears, forgetting to ask M. Serres to cancel his engagement -before he left. Now Potier had been acting the part of old Sournois -in <i>Petites Dandaïdes</i>, with such success both in the way of applause -and in packed houses, that M. Serres not only refused to sanction this -desertion, but reckoning up the losses which he considered Potier had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> -caused him by his departure, and would cause him in the future, because -of this same departure, decided, after sending through the sheriffs -officer his account to the famous comedian, to send a duplicate copy -of it to the first Chamber of the Royal Court. The odd thing about the -account was that the manager of the theatre of Porte-Sainte-Martin -claimed absolutely nothing but what was due to him under the terms of -his contract. These are the particulars of his claim:—</p> - -<pre style="margin-left: 15%;"> -1. For each day's delay, reckoning at the -highest receipts taken in the theatre, -from 1 March 1822 to 1 April in -the same year, being at a rate -of three thousand six hundred and -eleven francs ... 144,408 fr. -2. Restitution of money.. 30,000 " -3. Amount paid in advance, forfeited. 20,000 " -4. Damage and compensation.. 60,000 " -5. For one hundred and twenty-two days - which have expired since the first claim.... 440,542 " -6. For the seven years and ten months - which remain to run before the end of the - engagement.. 10,322,840 " -7. Finally, as damages and compensation - in respect of this period of seven years.... 200,000 " - Total. 11,217,790 " -</pre> - -<p>If the manager of the Porte-Sainte-Martin had had the misfortune to win -his case, he would have been obliged to pay Potier, in order to notify -the sentence, a registration fee of three to four hundred thousand -francs.</p> - -<p>The Court condemned Potier to resume his engagement within a week's -time: as to damages and compensation, it condemned him, <i>par corps</i>, -to pay them according to the estimated scale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> Three days later, it -was known that the matter had been settled, less a discount of eleven -million two hundred and seven thousand seven hundred and ninety francs -made by the manager.</p> - -<p>On 8 February it was the turn of Magallon, the chief editor of the -<i>Album.</i> Magallon appeared before the seventh Chamber of the Police -Correctional Court, accused of having hidden political articles under -the cloak of literature, with intent to incite hatred and contempt -towards the Government. The Court condemned Magallon to thirteen -months' imprisonment and to pay a fine of two thousand francs.</p> - -<p>It was a monstrous sentence, and it created great uproar; but a far -greater scandal still, or rather, what converted a matter of scandal -into an outrage, was that for this slight literary offence, and on the -pretext that the sentence exceeded one year, Magallon was taken to the -central prison of Poissy, on foot, with his hands bound, tied to a -filthy criminal condemned afresh to penal servitude, who, dead-drunk, -kept yelling unceasingly the whole way, "Long live galley slaves! -honour to, all galley slaves!"</p> - -<p>When they reached Poissy, Magallon was put into prison clothes. From -that evening he had to live on skilly and learn to pick oakum.... We -content ourselves with relating the bare facts; although we cannot -resist adding that they happened under the reign of a prince who -pretended to be a man of letters, since he had ordered a quatrain from -Lemierre and a comedy from Merville....</p> - -<p>We have already related that M. Arnault, whose <i>Marius à Minturnes</i> had -succeeded, in spite of Monsieur's prediction, paid, in all probability, -for this want of respect for the opinion of His Royal Highness by four -years of exile, on the return of the Bourbons.</p> - -<p>And this was not Louis XVIII.'s first attempt on his <i>confrères</i>, -the men of letters. Without mentioning M. de Chateaubriand, whom he -hounded out of the ministry as though he were a lackey,—an act which -caused that worthy gentleman to remark, on receiving his dismissal, -"It is strange, for I have not stolen the king's watch!"—without -counting Magallon, whom he sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> to Poissy chained to a scurvy convict; -without counting M. Arnault, whom he banished from the country; there -was, besides, a little story of the same kind in connection with -Beaumarchais.</p> - -<p>More than once has M. Arnault related in my hearing the curious and too -little known history of Beaumarchais' imprisonment. These are the facts.</p> - -<p>There is always a public Censorship, except during the first two or -three months following the accession of princes to the throne, and the -two or three months after they are deposed; but when these three months -have elapsed, the Censorship reappears on the waters after its plunge, -and proceeds to discover some minister, preferably of Liberal or even -Republican tendencies, and to lay a snare for him.</p> - -<p>When the <i>Mariage de Figaro</i> was running its course, M. Suard was -censor, and he was also a journalist. He was one of those who had most -bitterly opposed the representation of Beaumarchais' work, and he -was largely responsible for the fifty-nine journeys—<i>du marais à la -police</i>—that the illustrious author made without being able to obtain -leave for his play to be performed.</p> - -<p>At length, thanks to the intervention of the queen and the Comte -d'Artois, the <i>Folle Journée</i>, recovered intact out of the claws of -these gentlemen, was played on 27 April 1784. M. Suard was vindictive -both in his capacity as censor and as a journalist; so that if he -could not exercise the Censorship by the use of scissors, he had -recourse to his pen. M. Suard was on very familiar terms with the -Comte de Provence, and he served the Comte de Provence as a screen -when His Royal Highness wished to give vent, incognito, to some petty -literary spite. M. le Comte de Provence detested Beaumarchais almost -as much as did M. Suard himself; the result was that the Comte de -Provence hastened to unburden himself, by means of M. Suard, in the -<i>Journal de Paris</i>, against the unfortunate <i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, which -continued its successful run, in spite of M. Suard's signed articles -or the anonymous articles of His Royal Highness. In the meantime, -Beaumarchais<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> handed over the sum of about thirty or forty thousand -francs which he received as author's rights in the <i>Mariage de Figaro</i> -to the <i>association for helping poor foster-mothers.</i></p> - -<p>Monsieur, who had not got a child (a less polite chronicler than myself -would say who was incapable of begetting one), and who consequently, -owing to his failing in this respect, had not much sympathy with -<i>foster-mothers</i>, indulged himself, always under the cloak of -anonymity, in attacking the man, after having attacked the play, and -wrote a letter against him in the <i>Journal de Paris</i>, overflowing with -venomous spleen. Beaumarchais, who thought he recognised this onslaught -as from the hand of M. Suard, proceeded to lash the pedant soundly. -As ill-luck would have it, it was His Royal Highness who received the -tanning intended for the censor's hide. Monsieur, smarting under the -stripes, went with the story of his grievances to Louis XVI., giving -him to understand that Beaumarchais was perfectly well aware that he -was not replying to the royal censor, but to the brother of the king. -Louis XVI.; offended on behalf of Monsieur, commanded the citizen who -dared to take the liberty of chastising a royal personage, regardless -of his rank, to be arrested and taken to a house of correction—not -to the Bastille, that prison being considered too good for such a -worthless scamp; and as His Majesty was playing loo when he made this -decision, it was on the back of a seven of spades that the order was -written for Beaumarchais' arrest and his committal to Saint-Lazare.</p> - -<p>Thus we see that, when Louis XVIII. had Magallon taken to Poissy, he -remained faithful to Monsieur's traditions.</p> - -<p>... Apropos of the Censorship, a good story of the present censor is -going the rounds this 6th of June, 1851. We will inquire into it and, -if it be true, we will relate it in the next chapter.</p> - -<p>This excellent institution furnishes so many other instances of a like -nature that its facts and achievements have to be registered regardless -of chronological order, where and when one can, lest one run the risk -of forgetting them, and that I would indeed be a sad pity!...</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Revenons à nos moutons!</i> our poor <i>moutons</i> shorn to the quick, like -Sterne's lamb.</p> - -<p>I have remarked that the year 1823 was the "year of trials"; let us see -how it earned that name.</p> - -<p>During the week that elapsed between the Magallon affair and the -sentence passed on him, Benjamin Constant appeared before the Royal -Court, on account of two letters: one addressed to M. Mangin, -procurator-general at the Court of Poitiers, and the other to M. -Carrère, sub-prefect of Saumur. As it was a foregone conclusion that -Benjamin Constant was to be condemned, the Court sentenced him to pay a -fine of a thousand francs and costs.</p> - -<p>On 29 January—a week before this happened—the Correctional Police -sentenced M. de Jouy to a month's imprisonment, a fine of a hundred -and fifty francs and the costs of the trial, for an article in the -<i>Biographie des contemporains</i> which had been recognised as his. This -article was the biography of the brothers Faucher. The sentence created -a tremendous sensation. M. de Jouy was then at the height of his fame: -the <i>Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin</i> had made him popular, the hundred -representations of <i>Sylla</i> had made him famous.</p> - -<p>I knew M. de Jouy well: he was a remarkably loyal man, with a -delightful mind and an easy pen. I believe he had been a sailor, -serving in India, where he knew Tippo-Sahib, upon whom he founded a -tragedy, commissioned, or very nearly so, by Napoleon, which was acted -on 27 January 1813. The work was indifferent and did not meet with much -success.</p> - -<p>On the return of the Bourbons, the Court was half-heartedly willing -to encourage men of letters, M. de Jouy in particular, who held one -of the highest positions among them. It was the more easily managed -since M. de Jouy was an old Royalist, and I believe a soldier of -Condi's army; it was not a case of making a convert but retaining an -old partisan. His articles in the <i>Gazette</i>, signed "l'Ermite de la -Chaussée-d'Antin," had an enormous success. I heard it said at the -time that M. de Jouy was called up before M. de Vitrolles and asked to -mention what it was he wanted. What he wanted was the due recognition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> -of his services, namely, the Cross of Saint-Louis,—for, as a rule, -straightforward men only desire things they are entitled to;—desiring -the Cross, and having deserved it, he asked for it. But they wished to -force conditions upon him: they desired that he should not merely be -satisfied with refraining from pointing fun at the absurdities of the -Restoration; they wanted him to emphasise the glories of the Empire. -They wanted him to do a base action before he, a loyal soldier, a -clean-handed man, a poet of considerable repute among his <i>confrères</i>, -could obtain the Cross. What happened? The noted poet, the loyal -soldier, the honest man, said that the Cross should go to Hades first, -and he showed the person who came to propose these conditions to the -door. It was the right way to treat the minister, but it was unlucky -for the Cross, which would not have honoured M. de Jouy, but which M. -de Jouy would have honoured! And behold M. de Jouy in the Opposition, -behold M. de Jouy writing articles in the <i>Biographie</i> which cost him a -month's imprisonment, and which increased his popularity twofold. What -fools Governments are to refuse a man the Cross he asks, and to grant -him the persecution he does not desire, the persecution which will be -far more benefit to him, in honour and in worldly goods, than the bit -of ribbon which nobody would have noticed! Moreover, M. de Jouy did not -write anything so very reprehensible. No; on the contrary, M. de Jouy -was distinguished for the suavity of his criticism, the urbanity of his -opposition, the courtesy of his anger. The manner adopted by this good -Ermite has long since been forgotten; and the generation which followed -ours has not even read his works. Heigho! if the said generation reads -me, it will read him; for I am about to open his works and to quote -some pages from them at hap-hazard. They go back to the first months -of the second return of the Bourbons, to the period when all the world -lived out in the squares, to the time when everybody seemed eager after -I know not what: after a Revolution, one has need to hate men; but -after a Restoration, one can do nothing but despise them!</p> - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">M. B. de L</span>—— is overwhelmed with requests for positions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> and writes -to the Ermite de la Chaussée-d'Antin to beg him to insert the following -letters in his paper:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MONSIEUR</span>,—We have neither of us time to spare, so I -will explain to you the object of my letter in a very few -words. I formerly had the honour to be attached to one -of the princes of the house of Bourbon; I may even have -been so fortunate as to show some proofs of my devotion -to that august family at a time when, if not meritorious, -it was at least dangerous to allow one's zeal to leak -out; but I endeavour not to forget that the Mornays, -the Sullys, the Crillons would modestly style this the -fulfilment of one's duty. I am unaware upon what grounds -people in my province credit me with what I do not enjoy, -and to which I am indebted for the hosts of solicitations -I receive, without being able to be of service to those -who apply to me. I have only discovered one method of -escaping from this novel form of persecution—that is, to -publish a letter of one of my relatives and the answer I -thought fit to make to it. The first is in some measure -a résumé of three or four hundred letters that I have -received on the same topic. I am the less reluctant to -make it public since I reserve to myself the right of -holding back the writer's name, and besides, this letter -reflects as much credit on the heart of the writer as it -displays the good sense of the mind that dictated it.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"B. DE L——"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This is the relative's letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"How glad I am, my friend, that events have brought back -our illustrious princes to the throne! What good fortune -it is! You have no notion what reputation these events -and your stay in Paris give me here. The prefect is -afraid of me, and his wife, who never used to bow to me, -has invited me twice to dinner. But there is no time to -be lost, and we rely on you. Would you believe that my -husband has not yet taken any steps whatever to regain -his position, pretending that it exists no longer, and -that the commission was made up to him in assignats? -There isn't a more apathetic man in the whole of France.</p> - -<p>"My brother-in-law has laid claim to the Cross of -Saint-Louis: he had been waiting for it for nine years -when the Revolution broke out. It would be unjust of -them not to compensate him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> for the twenty years of -his services, the troubles and the misfortunes he has -undergone on his estates; he is counting on you to hasten -the prompt despatch of his patent.</p> - -<p>"I append a memorandum to my letter, from my oldest son, -the marquis; he had the right to his uncle's reversion, -and it will be easy for you to obtain it for him. I am -anxious that his brother, the chevalier, shall be placed -in the navy, but in a rank worthy of his name and the -past services of his family. And as my grandson, Auguste -de G——, is quite old enough I to become a page, you -have only to speak a word on his behalf.</p> - -<p>"We are coming to Paris early next month. I shall bring -my daughter with me, as I wish to present her at Court. -They will not refuse you this favour if you solicit it -with sufficient perseverance and willingness.</p> - -<p>"Think of poor F——. He failed us, it is true, at the -time of the Revolution; but he has made ample amends -during the past month: you know he is penniless, and -is ready to sacrifice everything for our rulers. His -devotion goes even so far as to be willing to take a post -as prefect, and he is well fitted for it. Do you not -remember the pretty song he made about me?</p> - -<p>"M. de B——, son of the late intendant of the province, -is coming to see you; try and be useful to him; he -is a friend of the family. If they are not going to -re-establish intendancies, he will be satisfied with a -post as receiver-general; it is the least they can do for -a man devoted to his sovereign, one who was imprisoned -for six months during the Terror.</p> - -<p>"I must not forget to recommend M—— to your notice. He -has been blamed for having served all parties, because -he has been employed in every Government in France for -the last twenty years; but he is a good fellow—you can -take my word for it: he was the first to don the white -cockade; besides, all he asks is to be allowed to keep -his place as superintendent of the posting service. Be -sure and write to me under cover of his frank.</p> - -<p>"I append my father-in-law's papers: a sum of forty-five -thousand francs is still owing to him from the estates -of Languedoc; I hope they will not keep you waiting for -its reimbursement, and that you will not hesitate to -make use of the money if you are under any temporary -embarrassment, though this is very unlikely in your -present situation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> Adieu, my dear cousin. With greetings -in which the whole family unite, and expecting the -pleasure of seeing you soon in Paris.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"J. DE P——"</p></blockquote> - -<p><i>[Answer]</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 60%;">"PARIS, 15 <i>June</i> 1814</p> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR COUSIN</span>,—You can hardly conceive with what -interest I have read the letter you have done me the -honour to send me, or with what zeal I have tried to -further the just and reasonable demands of all the -persons you recommend to my notice. You will, not be -more astonished than I have been myself at the obstacles -placed in my way, which you would deem insurmountable if -you knew as well as I the people with whom we have to -deal.</p> - -<p>"When I spoke of your son, who has long been desirous -of service, and asked for a berth as major in his -father's old regiment, they urged, as a not unreasonable -objection, that peace was concluded, and that before -thinking of a position for the Marquis de V——, they -must consider the lot of 25,000 officers, some of whom -(would you believe it?) press for the recognition of -their campaigns, their wounds, and even go so far -as to urge the number of battles in which they were -engaged; whilst others more directly associated with the -misfortunes of the royal family had returned to France -without any fortune beyond the goodwill and complaisance -of the king. I then asked, with a touch of sarcasm, what -they meant to do for your son and for the multitude of -brave Royalists who have suffered so much through the -misfortunes of the realm, and whose secret prayers for -the recall of the royal family to the throne of its -ancestors had been unceasing. They replied that they -rejoiced to see the end of all our afflictions and the -fulfilment of our prayers.</p> - -<p>"Your husband is a very extraordinary man. I can well -understand, my dear cousin, all you must be suffering -on account of his incredible apathy. To be reduced at -the age of sixty-five, or sixty-six at the outside, to -a fortune of 40,000 livres income, to bury himself in -the depth of a château, and to renounce all chance of an -ambitious career, as though a father had no duty towards -his children, as though a gentleman ought not to die -fighting!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am sorry your brother-in-law should have laid claim -to the Cross of Saint-Louis before it had been granted -to him; for it may happen that the king will not readily -part with the right to confer this decoration himself, -and that he will not approve of the honour certain -persons are anxious to have conferred upon them. You will -realise that it would be less awkward not to have had the -Cross of Saint-Louis than to find oneself obliged to give -it up.</p> - -<p>"I did not forget to put forward the claims of your -son, the chevalier, and I do not despair of getting him -entered for the examination of officers for the Royal -Marines. We will then do our utmost to get him passed -into the staff of one hundred officers, who are far too -conscious of their worth, of the names they bear and of -the devotion they profess to have shown at Quiberon.</p> - -<p>"Your grandson Auguste is entered for a page; I cannot -tell you exactly when he will be taken into the palace, -my dear cousin, as your request followed upon three -thousand seven hundred and seventy-five other requests, -made on behalf of the sons of noblemen or officers slain -on the field of battle, though they cannot show the -slightest claim on account of services rendered to the -State or to the princes.</p> - -<p>"You are well advised in wishing to place your daughter -at Court, and it will not be difficult when you have -found a husband for her whose rank and fortune will -entitle her to a position there. If this is not arranged, -I do not quite see what she would do there, or what -suitable post she could occupy there, however able she -may be: maids of honour are not yet reinstated.</p> - -<p>"I have presented a petition in favour of F, to which I -annexed the pretty song he composed for you; but they -have become so exacting that such claims no longer -suffice to obtain a post as prefect. I will even go so -far as to tell you that they do not think much of your -protégé's conversion and of the sacrifices he is prepared -to make; his enemies persist in saying that he is not a -man who can be relied upon.</p> - -<p>"I witnessed his powers of work in former times, and I am -convinced that if he would serve the good cause nowadays -with half the zeal he formerly exerted on behalf of the -bad cause, they would be able very usefully to employ -him. But will this ever be put to the test?</p> - -<p>"I have not learnt whether intendances are to be -re-established, but they seem to think that public -receiverships will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> diminished, if only in the number -of those which exist in departments beyond our bounds. -This makes me fear that M. de B—— will have to be -satisfied with the enormous fortune his father made -in the old revenue days, which he found means to hide -during the Revolutionary storms: he must learn to be -philosophical.</p> - -<p>"Do not be in the least uneasy over the lot of M——. I -know him: he has considerable elasticity of character -and of principle—for twenty years he has slipped in and -out among all parties, without having offended any. He -is a marvellously clever fellow, who will serve himself -better than anyone else ever will be served: he is no -longer superintendent of the posting bureau, having just -obtained a more lucrative post in another department of -the Government. Do you always take such great interest in -his affairs?</p> - -<p>"I return you your father-in-law's papers, dear cousin, -relative to the debt on the Languedoc estates. From -what I can gather, the liquidation does not seem likely -to take place yet a while, in spite of the justice of -your claim. They have decided that arrears of pay due -to troops, the public debt, military pensions and a -crowd of other objects of this nature shall be taken -into consideration—this measure is evidently the fruit -of some intrigue. You should tell F—— to draw up a -pamphlet upon the most urgent needs of the State and to -endeavour to refer to this debt in the first line of his -pamphlet. You have no idea how much the Government is -influenced by the multitude of little pamphlets which are -produced every day by ill-feeling, anger and hunger with -such commendable zeal.</p> - -<p>"You will see, my dear cousin, that, at the rate things -are going, you must possess your soul in patience. I -would even add that the journey you propose to take -to Paris will not advance your affairs. According to -the police reckoning, there are at this present moment -a hundred and twenty-three thousand people from the -provinces, of all ranks, of all sexes, of all ages, who -are here to make claims, furnished with almost as good -credentials as yours, and who will have the advantage -over you in obtaining a refusal of being first in the -field to put forward their cases. Finally, as I know you -are acquainted with philosophy and the best things in -literature, I beg you to read over again a chapter in -the English <i>Spectator</i>, on the just claims of these who -ask for posts: it is in the thirty-second section of the -seventh volume in the duodecimo edition: history repeats -itself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Accept, my dear cousin, an expression of my most -affectionate greetings, coupled with my sincere regrets.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%;">"B. DE L——"</p></blockquote> - -<p>In 1830, after the Revolution of July, Auguste Barbier produced a poem -on the same subject, entitled the <i>Curée.</i> When one re-reads those -terrible verses and compares them with work by M. de Jouy, the writings -of the latter seem a model of that Attic wit which was characteristic -of the old school, and Barbier an example of the brutal, fiery, -unpremeditated writing I so typical of his Muse.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, at about the period we have reached, whilst Louis XVIII. was -hunting down men of letters with that ruthlessness of which we have -just cited a few examples, he was laying claim to a place in their -midst. Through the foolish advice of his sycophants, the regal author -published a little work entitled <i>Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles.</i> I do -not know whether it would be possible to-day to procure a single copy -of the royal brochure, wherein were to be found not only such errors -in French grammar as "J'étais déjà un peu gros, à cette époque, pour -<i>monter et descendre de cabriolet</i>," but, worse still, revelations of -ingratitude and heartlessness.</p> - -<p>A poor widow risks her head to take in fugitives, and sacrifices her -last louis to give them a dinner; Monsieur relates this act of devotion -as though it were no more than the fugitives' due, and ends the chapter -by saying, "The dinner was execrable!"</p> - -<p>It was written in kitchen French, as Colonel Morisel observed to M. -Arnault.</p> - -<p>"That is easily explained," replied the author of <i>Germanicus</i>, "since -the work was by a <i>restaurateur"</i>.</p> - -<p>The <i>Miroir</i>, ordered to review the <i>Voyage de Paris à Bruxelles</i>, -contented itself by saying, "If the work is by the august personage to -whom it is attributed, it is above the region of criticism; if it is -not by him, it is beneath criticism."</p> - -<p>Let us revert to Colonel Morisel, one of the most interesting -characters of the time. They could not get up the same kind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> trial -against the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, of the <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, -of the <i>Comédiens</i> and of <i>Paria</i>, as they did against M. de Jouy and -Magallon; they could not imprison him in Sainte-Pélagie or send him to -Poissy, bound hand to hand and side by side with a filthy convict; but -they could reduce him to poverty, and that is what they did.</p> - -<p>On 15 April we read in the Liberal papers: "We hear that M. Ancelot, -author of <i>Louis IX.</i> and of <i>Maire du Palais</i>, has just received -letters patent of nobility, and that M. Casimir Delavigne, author -of <i>Vêpres siciliennes</i>, of <i>Paria</i> and of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, has -just lost his post in the Library of the Minister of Justice." It was -quite true: M. Ancelot had been made a baron, and M. Casimir Delavigne -was turned out into the street! It was at this juncture that, on the -recommendation of Vatout, who had just published the <i>Histoire de la -Fille d'un Roi</i>, the Duc d'Orléans appointed Casimir Delavigne to the -post of assistant librarian at the Palais-Royal, where, six years -later, I became his colleague.</p> - -<p>Vatout was an excellent fellow, a trifle conceited; but even his vanity -was useful as a spur which, put in motion by the example of others, -goaded him to do the work he would otherwise not have attempted. One -of his conceits was to pretend he was a natural son of a prince of the -House of Orléans—a very innocent conceit, as it did not harm anyone, -and nobody considered it a crime; for he used the influence he acquired -by his post at the Palais-Royal in rendering help to his friends, and -sometimes even to his enemies.... Just at this moment the information -I have been seeking concerning the last act of the Censorship has been -brought me.</p> - -<p>Ah! my dear Victor Hugo, you who are busy trying to wrest from the -jury, before whom you are defending your son, the entire abolition -of the death penalty; make an exception in favour of the censor, and -stipulate that he shall be executed twice over at the next Revolution, -since once is not nearly enough.</p> - -<p>I wish here to swear on my honour that what I am about to state is -actual truth.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIc" id="CHAPTER_VIIc">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The house in the rue Chaillot—Four poets and a doctor—Corneille and -the Censorship—Things M. Faucher does not know—Things the President -of the Republic ought to know</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In the year III of the Second French Republic, on the evening of 2 -June, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon Faucher minister, M. -Guizard director of the Fine Arts, the following incident occurred, -in a salon decorated with Persian draperies, on the ground floor of a -house in the rue de Chaillot.</p> - -<p>Five or six persons were discussing art—a surprising fact at a time -when the sole topics of conversation were dissolution, revision and -prorogation. True, of these five persons four were poets, and one a -doctor who was almost a poet and entirely a man of culture. These four -poets were: first, Madame Émile de Girardin, mistress of the house in -the rue de Chaillot where the gathering took place; second, Victor -Hugo; third, Théophile Gautier; fourth, Arsène Houssaye. The doctor's -name was Cabarus.</p> - -<p>The gentleman indicated under number four held several offices: perhaps -he was rather less of a poet than were the other three, but he was far -more of a business man, thus equalizing the balance; he was manager of -the Théâtre-Français, the resignation of which post he had already sent -in three times, and each time it had been refused.</p> - -<p>You may perhaps ask why M. Arsène Houssaye was so ready to send in his -resignation.</p> - -<p>There is a very simple answer: the members of the Théâtre-Français -company made his life so unendurable that the poet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> was ever ready -to send to the right about his demi-gods, his heroes, his kings, -his princes, his dukes, his marquises, his counts and his barons of -the rue de Richelieu, in order to re-engage his barons, his counts, -his marquises, his dukes, his princes, his kings, his heroes and -his demi-gods of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whom he -knew and whose strings he could pull as though he were the Comte de -Saint-Germain, who was their familiar friend.</p> - -<p>Now why should the members of the Théâtre-Français company make their -manager's life so hard? Because he made money, and nothing irritates a -member of the Théâtre-Français company so much as to see his theatre -<i>make money.</i> This may seem inexplicable to sensible folk: it is indeed -a mystery; but I have not set myself to explain the fact; I state it, -that is all.</p> - -<p>Now, in his capacity as manager of the Théâtre-Français, M. Arsène -Houssaye thought of something which had not occurred to anyone else. -This was that as the day in question was 2 June 1851, in four days' -time—that is to say, on 6 June—it would be the two hundred and -forty-fourth anniversary of the birth of Corneille.</p> - -<p>He translated his thought into words, and turning to Théophile Gautier, -he said, "Come now! my dear Théo, you must write for me some sixty -lines, for the occasion, upon the Father of Tragedy: it will be much -better than what is usually given us on such anniversaries, and the -public will not grumble."</p> - -<p>Théophile Gautier pretended not to hear.</p> - -<p>Arsène Houssaye repeated his request.</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! no," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because I do not know anything more tiresome to write than an official -panegyric, were it on the greatest poet in the world. Besides, the -greater the poet, the more difficult is it to praise him."</p> - -<p>"You are mistaken, Théophile," said Hugo; "and if I were in a position -at this moment to do what Arsène asks, I would undertake it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Would you think of passing in review Corneille's twenty or thirty -plays? Would you have the courage to speak of <i>Mélite</i>, of <i>Clitandre</i>, -of the <i>Galerie du Palais</i>, of <i>Pertharite</i>, of <i>Œdipe</i>, of <i>Attila</i>, -of <i>Agésilas</i>?"</p> - -<p>"No, I should not mention any one of them."</p> - -<p>"Then you would not be extolling Corneille: when a poet is praised, you -must praise his bad work loudest of all; when one does not praise, it -savours of criticism."</p> - -<p>"No," said Hugo, "I do not mean anything like that: I would not -undertake a vulgar eulogy. I would describe the agèd Corneille, -wandering through the streets of old Paris, on foot, with a shabby -cloak on his shoulders, neglected by Louis XIV., who was less generous -towards him than his persecutor Richelieu; getting his leaky shoes -mended at a poor cobbler's, whilst Louis XIV., reigning at Versailles, -was promenading with Madame de Montespan, Mademoiselle de la Vallière -and Madame Henriette, in the galleries of Le Brun or in the gardens of -Le Nôtre; then I would pay compensation to the poet's shade by showing -how posterity puts each one in his proper place and, as days are added -unto days, months to months and years to years, increases the poet's -fame and decreases the power of the king...."</p> - -<p>"What are you looking for, Théophile?" asked Madame de Girardin of -Gautier, who had got up hastily.</p> - -<p>"I am looking for my hat," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Girardin is asleep on it," replied Cabarus drily.</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't wake him," said Madame de Girardin. "It will make an -article!"</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, I cannot go without my hat," said Gautier.</p> - -<p>"Where are you off to?" asked Arsène Houssaye.</p> - -<p>"I am going to write you your lines, of course; you shall have them -to-morrow."</p> - -<p>They pulled Théophile's hat from under Girardin's shoulders. It had -suffered by reason of its position; but what cared Théophile for the -condition of his hat?</p> - -<p>He returned home and set to work. The next day, as he had promised, -Arsène Houssaye had the verses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p> - -<p>But both poet and manager had reckoned without the Censorship.</p> - -<p>These are Théophile Gautier's lines on the great Corneille,—they were -forbidden by the dramatic censor, as I have said, in the year III -of the Second Republic, M. Louis Bonaparte being president, M. Léon -Faucher minister and M. Guizard director of the Fine Arts:—</p> - -<p class="p2"> -"Par une rue étroite, au cœur du vieux Paris,<br /> -Au milieu des passants, du tumulte et des cris,<br /> -La tête dans le ciel et le pied dans la fange,<br /> -Cheminait à pas lents une figure étrange.<br /> -C'était un grand vieillard sévèrement drapé,<br /> -Noble et sainte misère, en son manteau râpé!<br /> -Son œil d'aigle, son front, argenté vers les tempes<br /> -Rappelaient les fiertés des plus mâles estampes;<br /> -Et l'on eut dit, à voir ce masque souverain,<br /> -Une médaille antique à frapper en airain.<br /> -Chaque pli de sa joue, austèrement creusée,<br /> -Semblait continuer un sillon de pensée,<br /> -Et, dans son regard noir, qu'éteint un sombre ennui,<br /> -On sentait que l'éclair autrefois avait lui.<br /> -Le vieillard s'arrêta dans une pauvre échoppe.<br /> -<br /> -Le roi-soleil, alors, illuminait l'Europe,<br /> -Et les peuples baissaient leurs regards éblouis<br /> -Devant cet Apollon qui s'appelait Louis.<br /> -A le chanter, Boileau passait ses doctes veilles;<br /> -Pour le loger, Mansard entassait ses merveilles;<br /> -Cependant, en un bouge, auprès d'un savetier,<br /> -Pied nu, le grand Corneille attendait son soulier!<br /> -Sur la poussière d'or de sa terre bénie,<br /> -Homère, sans chaussure, aux chemins d'Ionie,<br /> -Pouvait marcher jadis avec l'antiquité,<br /> -Beau comme un marbre grec par Phidias sculpté;<br /> -Mais Homère, à Paris, sans crainte du scandale,<br /> -Un jour de pluie, eut fait recoudre sa sandale.<br /> -Ainsi faisait l'auteur d<i>'Horace</i> et de <i>Cinna</i>,<br /> -Celui que de ses mains la muse couronna,<br /> -Le fier dessinateur, Michel-Ange du drame,<br /> -Qui peignit les Romains si grands, d'après son âme.<br /> -O pauvreté sublime! ô sacré dénûment!<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>Par ce cœur héroique accepté simplement!<br /> -<br /> -Louis, ce vil détail que le bon goût dédaigne,<br /> -Ce soulier recousu me gâte tout ton règne.<br /> -A ton siècle en perruque et de luxe amoureux,<br /> -Je ne pardonne pas Corneille malheureux.<br /> -Ton dais fleurdelisé cache mal cette échoppe;<br /> -De la pourpre où ton faste à grands plis s'enveloppe,<br /> -Je voudrais prendre un pan pour Corneille vieilli,<br /> -S'éteignant, pauvre et seul, dans l'ombre et dans l'oubli.<br /> -Sur le rayonnement de toute ton histoire,<br /> -Sur l'or de ton soleil c'est une tache noire,<br /> -O roi! d'avoir laissé, toi qu'ils ont peint si beau,<br /> -Corneille sans souliers, Molière sans tombeau!<br /> -Mais pourquoi s'indigner! Que viennent les années,<br /> -L'équilibre se fait entre les destinées;<br /> -A sa place chacun est remis par la mort:<br /> -Le roi rentre dans l'ombre, et le poëte en sort!<br /> -Pour courtisans, Versaille a gardé ses statues;<br /> -Les adulations et les eaux se sont tues;<br /> -Versaille est la Palmyre où dort la royauté.<br /> -Qui des deux survivra, génie ou majesté?<br /> -L'aube monte pour l'un, le soir descend sur l'autre;<br /> -Le spectre de Louis, au jardin de Le Notre,<br /> -Erre seul, et Corneille, éternel comme un Dieu,<br /> -Toujours sur son autel voit reluire le feu,<br /> -Que font briller plus vif en ses fêtes natales<br /> -Les générations, immortelles vestales.<br /> -Quand en poudre est tombé le diadème d'or,<br /> -Son vivace laurier pousse et verdit encor;<br /> -Dans la postérité, perspective inconnue,<br /> -Le poëte grandit et le roi diminue!"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p2">Now let us have a few words on this matter, Monsieur Guizard, for you -did not reckon things would end here; you did not hope to escape at -the cost of a few words written with a double meaning, inserted in a -newspaper printed yesterday, published to-day and forgotten on the -morrow.</p> - -<p>No, when such outrages are perpetrated upon art, it is meet that the -culprit should be deprived of his natural judges and taken to a higher -court, as your models carried Trélat and Cavaignac to the House of -Peers, as your friends carried Raspail, Hubert and Sobrier to the Court -of Bourges. And I call upon you to appear, Monsieur Guizard, you who -took the place of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> my friend Cavé, as superintendent of the department -of Fine Arts.</p> - -<p>Look you, now that things are being cut down all round, has not -a letter been economised in the description of your office? and -instead of being responsible for the <i>department</i>, are you not really -responsible for the <i>departure</i> of the Fine Arts? Moreover, I have -something to relate that passed between us, three months ago. Do you -remember I had the honour of paying you a visit, three months ago? I -came to give you notice, on behalf of the manager of the Cirque, that -while we were waiting for the <i>Barrière de Clichy</i> we were going to put -the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> in rehearsal.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i>!" you exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"But is not the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> a drama written by -yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Is it not in the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> that the famous chorus -occurs—</p> - -<p> -'Mourir pour la patrie'?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, we will not allow the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> to be -played."</p> - -<p>"You will not allow the <i>Chevalier de Maison-Rouge</i> to be played?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, no, no, no!"</p> - -<p>"But why not?"</p> - -<p>Then you looked me in the face and you said to me—</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to tell me you do not know that the <i>Chevalier de -Maison-Rouge</i> contributed to the establishment of the Republic?"</p> - -<p>You said that to me, Monsieur Guizard! You made that extraordinary -avowal to me, in the year III of the Republic! M. Léon Faucher being -minister of the Republic! you, Monsieur Guizard, being director of the -Fine Arts of the Republic!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was so astounded at the reply that I could find nothing else to say -than "How the devil does it come about that I, who lost nearly 200,000 -francs by the coming of the Republic, am a Republican, whilst you, who -gained thereby a post bringing you in 12,000, are a Reactionary?"</p> - -<p>True, you did not condescend to explain this anomaly: I left your -office without discovering a reason, and now, as I write these lines, I -am still at a loss for one!</p> - -<p>Now, in the hope that someone more clever than I at guessing riddles -might be found, I decided to print what happened to me, three months -ago, side by side with what happened to Gautier to-day!</p> - -<p>What can one expect? Every man makes use of the tool or of the -instrument he has in his hand: some have scissors, and they cut; others -have an engraver's tool, and they etch.</p> - -<p>What I write, I warn you, M. Guizard, is translated into eight or nine -different languages. So we shall have the assistance of learned men in -many lands to help us in our researches, and the archæologists of three -generations; for, suppose my works live no longer than the time it -will take for rats to devour them, it will take those creatures quite -a hundred years to eat my thousand volumes. You may tell me that the -order to stop M. Théophile Gautier's verses came from a higher source, -from the minister. To that I have nothing to say: if the order came -from the minister, you were obliged to obey that order. And I must in -that case wend my way to M. Léon Faucher. So be it!</p> - -<p>O Faucher! is it really credible that you, who are so halfhearted a -Republican, you who were so ill-advised, according to my opinion, as to -pay a subsidy to the Théâtre-Français to have the dead exhumed and, the -living buried,—is it really credible, I repeat, that so indifferent -a Republican as yourself, did not wish it said, on the stage that -Corneille created, that genius is higher than royalty, and that -Corneille was greater as a poet than Louis XIV. was as a monarch?</p> - -<p>But, M. Faucher, you know quite as well as I that Louis XIV. was only a -great king because he possessed great ministers and great poets.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps you will tell me that great ministers and poets are created by -great kings?</p> - -<p>No, M. Faucher, you will not say that; for I shall retort, "Napoleon, -who was a great emperor, had no Corneille, and Louis XIII., who was a -pitiable king, could boast a Richelieu."</p> - -<p>No, M. le ministre, Louis XIV., believe me, was only great as a king -because (and Michelet, one of the greatest historians who ever lived, -will tell you exactly the same) Richelieu was his precursor, whilst -Corneille's precursor was ... who? Jodelle.</p> - -<p>Corneille did not need either Condé, or Turenne, or Villars, or de -Catinat, or Vauban, or Mazarin, or Colbert, or Louvois, or Boileau, -or Racine, or Benserade, or Le Brun, or Le Nôtre, or even M. de -Saint-Aignan to help him to become a great poet.</p> - -<p>No; Corneille took up a pen, ink and paper; he only had to lean his -head upon his hand and his poetry came.</p> - -<p>Had you but read Théophile Gautier's lines, M. le ministre,—but I am -sure you have not read them,—you must have seen that these verses are -not merely the finest Théophile Gautier ever penned, but the finest -ever written since verses came to be written. You must have seen that -their composition was excellent and their ideas above reproach. A -certain emperor I knew—one whom apparently you did not know—would -have sent the officer's Cross of the Legion of Honour and a pension to -a man who had written those verses.</p> - -<p>You, M. le ministre, sent orders that Théophile Gautier's lines were -not to be read on the stage of the Théâtre-Français!</p> - -<p>But perhaps this order came from higher authority still? Perhaps it -came from the President of the Republic?</p> - -<p>If it came from the President of the Republic, it is another matter -... and it is with the President of the Republic that I must settle my -grievance.</p> - -<p>I shall not take long in dealing with the President of the Republic.</p> - -<p>"Ah! M. le président de la République," I shall say to him, "you -who have forgotten so many things in the overwhelming rush of state -affairs, have you, by any chance, forgotten what Monsieur your uncle -said of the author of the <i>Cid</i>, 'If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> Corneille had lived in my time, I -would have made him a prince.'"</p> - -<p>Now that I have said to the President of the Republic, to M. le -Ministre de l'Intérieur, and to M. le Chef de Division Chargé du -Département des Beaux-Arts, what I had it in my mind to say, let us -return to the year 1823, which also possessed its Censorship, but one -that was much less severe than that of 1851.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="BOOK_V" id="BOOK_V">BOOK V</a></h3> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Id" id="CHAPTER_Id">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Chronology of the drama—Mademoiselle Georges Weymer—Mademoiselle -Raucourt—Legouvé and his works—Marie-Joseph Chénier—His letter -to the company of the Comédie-Française—Young boys <i>perfectionnés</i> -—Ducis—His work</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Now the Royalist reaction of which we were speaking—before we -interrupted ourselves to address the high public functionaries who had -the honour of appearing before our readers in the last chapter—did -not only strike at literary men, but it hit out cruelly, bitterly and -mortally at public men. It began by the expulsion of Manuel from the -Chamber; it closed with the execution of Riégo. But I must confess I -was not so much occupied at that time with the quarrels of the Chamber, -or the Spanish War, or the fête that Madame de Cayla (who was very -kind to me later) gave to Saint-Ouen to celebrate the return of Louis -XVIII., or the death of Pope Pius VII.; there were two events which -were quite as important to my thinking: the first production of Lucien -Arnault's <i>Pierre de Portugal</i>, and that of the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, -by Casimir Delavigne. Although the dramatic statistics for the year -1823 showed a total production of 209 new plays and of 161 authors -acted, the best theatres, especially during the first nine months of -the year, presented but a sorry show, and were very far removed from -reaching the level of the preceding year.</p> - -<p>Thus, on 26 April, 1822, the Odéon had produced <i>Attila</i> by M. -Hippolyte Bis. On 5 June the Théâtre-Français played Lucien Arnault's -<i>Régulus.</i> On 14 June the Odéon played the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> <i>Macchabées</i> by M. Guiraud: -Frédérick Lemaître, who belonged to the Cirque, played one of the -brothers Macchabées. On 7 November the Théâtre-Français produced M. -Soumet's <i>Clytemnestre</i>, in which Talma gave a realistic representation -of the tragic and unhappy fate of Orestes. On 9 November the Odéon put -on its boards the same author's <i>Saül,</i> in which Joanny first began -to make his reputation. Finally, on 21 December, the Théâtre-Français -produced <i>Valérie</i>, by MM. Scribe and Mélesville. As against all these -new plays, the year 1823 only offered us the comedy of l'<i>Éducation -ou les Deux Cousines</i> by M. Casimir Bonjour, and <i>Comte Julien</i> by M. -Guiraud.</p> - -<p><i>L'Éducation ou les Deux Cousines</i> is M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy; -but M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy had the option of being a feeble -production, and it exercised that option.</p> - -<p>While <i>Comte Julien</i> was honest, careful work, as were all the -author's plays, its principal attraction was that the company acting -it contained Mademoiselle Georges, who made her reappearance in Paris -after an absence of four or five years. Mademoiselle Georges was -extremely beautiful at that period, and still had <i>all her diamonds.</i> -Those who knew Harel and the fantastic posters he invented know -the part which Mademoiselle Georges' diamonds played in the rôles -Mademoiselle Georges acted.</p> - -<p>I have told my readers that as celebrated characters appear in these -Memoirs I will describe them all as clearly as I can, in the light of -contemporary knowledge; some of them only shone for a very short time -and their light is now extinguished for ever. But what I have to say -about them will be all the more interesting on that account, for what -follows describes my first impressions of them, when they were in the -zenith of their popularity.</p> - -<p>We have remarked that the age of any living actress is not to be -known; but reckoning from the year when Mademoiselle Georges made -her début—that is to say, from 29 November 1802—she must have been -thirty-eight in 1823. Just a word to explain how Mademoiselle Georges -gained access to the theatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> and how she managed to remain on the -boards. Loved by Bonaparte, and retained in his favour when he became -Napoleon, Mademoiselle Georges, who begged to be allowed to accompany -Napoleon to Saint-Helena, is almost a historical personage.</p> - -<p>Towards the close of the year 1800 and the beginning of 1801 -Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was leading lady in tragedy at the -Théâtre-Français, went on tour in the provinces. This was at a time -when although Government had plenty to do, it was not ashamed to -concern itself with the arts in its spare moments. Mademoiselle -Raucourt had therefore received orders from the Government to look out -for any pupil during her tour whom she might think worth instruction, -and to bring her back to Paris. This young lady was to be considered -the pupil of the Government, and would receive a grant of 1200 francs.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt stopped at Amiens. There she discovered a -beautiful young girl of fifteen years of age who looked to be eighteen; -you might have thought that the Venus of Milo had descended from her -pedestal. Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was almost as classic in her -tastes as the Lesbian Sappho, admired statuesque beauty immensely. When -she saw the way this young girl walked—her gait that of the goddess, -to use Virgil's phrase—the actress made inquiries and found that her -name was Georges Weymer; that she was the daughter of a German musician -named Georges Weymer, manager of the theatre, and of Mademoiselle -Verteuil the actress who played the chambermaid parts.</p> - -<p>This young lady was destined for tragedy. Mademoiselle Raucourt -made her play Élise, with her, in <i>Didon</i>, and Aricie in <i>Phèdre.</i> -The experiment succeeded, and the very night of the performance of -<i>Phèdre,</i> Mademoiselle Raucourt asked the young tragédienne's parents' -leave to take her.</p> - -<p>The prospect of being a Government pupil, and, better still, the pupil -of Mademoiselle Raucourt, was, with the exception of some slight -drawbacks in the way of regulations to which the young girl had -perforce to agree, too tempting an offer in the eyes of her parents to -be refused. The request was granted, and Mademoiselle Georges departed, -followed by her mother.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> The lessons lasted eighteen months. During -these eighteen months the young pupil lived in a poor hotel in the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs, which, probably ironically, was named the -<i>hôtel du Pérou.</i></p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt lived at the end of the allée des Veuves, in a -magnificent house which had belonged to Madame Tallien and which, no -doubt also ironically, was called <i>The Cottage (la Chaumière).</i> We have -called Mademoiselle Georges' residence "a magnificent house": we should -also have said "a small house," for it was a perfect specimen of a -bijou villa in the style of Louis XV.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of the eighteenth century—that strange epoch when -people called things by their right names—Sapho-Raucourt enjoyed a -reputation the originality of which she took not the least pains to -hide.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Raucourt's attitude towards men was more than -indifference, it was hatred. The writer of these lines has in his -possession a memorandum signed by this famous actress which is a -regular war-cry against the masculine sex, and in which the modern -Queen of the Amazons calls upon every lovely warrior enrolled under her -orders to open rupture with men.</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more odd than the form and, above all, the -subject-matter of this manifesto. And yet, strange to relate, in -spite of this contempt towards us, Mademoiselle Raucourt, whenever -the costume of her sex was not indispensable to her, adopted that of -our sex. Thus, very often, in the morning, Mademoiselle Raucourt gave -lessons to her beautiful pupil in trousers, with a dressing-gown over -them,—just as M. Molé or M. Fleury would have done,—a pretty woman by -her side who addressed her as "dear fellow," and a charming child who -called her "papa."</p> - -<p>We did not know Mademoiselle Raucourt,—she died in 1814, and her -funeral created a great sensation,—but we knew her mother, who died -in 1832 or 1833; and we still know the <i>childy</i> who is to-day a man of -fifty-five.</p> - -<p>We were acquainted with an actor whose whole career<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> was blighted by -Mademoiselle Raucourt on account of some jealousy he had the misfortune -to arouse in the terrible Lesbian. Mademoiselle Raucourt appealed to -the Committee of the Théâtre-Français, reminded them of her rights of -possession and of priority in respect of the girl whom the impertinent -comedian wished to seduce from her, and, the priority and the -possession being recognised, the impudent comedian, who is still living -and is one of the most straightforward men imaginable, was hounded -out of the theatre, the members of the company believing that, as in -the case of Achilles, Mademoiselle Raucourt, because of this modern -Briseis, would retire in sulks.</p> - -<p>Let us return to the young girl, whose mother never left her a -single instant during the visits she paid to her teacher: three -times a week had she to traverse the long distance between the rue -Croix-des-Petits-Champs and the allée des Veuves in order to take -her lessons. Her first appearances were fixed to take place at the -end of November. They were to be in <i>Clytemnestre</i>, in <i>Émilie,</i> in -<i>Aménaïde</i>, in <i>Idamé</i>, in <i>Didon</i> and in <i>Sémiramis.</i></p> - -<p>A début at the Théâtre-Français in 1802 was a great affair both for -the artiste and for the public; it was a still greater matter to be -received into the company; for if one joined the troupe, it meant, -in the case of a man, becoming a colleague of Monvel, of Saint-Prix, -of Baptiste senior, of Talma, of Lafond, of Saint-Phal, of Molé, of -Fleury, of Armand, of Michot, of Grandménil, of Dugazon, of Dazincourt, -of Baptiste junior, of la Rochelle; in the case of a woman, one became -the companion of Mademoiselle Raucourt, of Mlle. Contat, of Mlle. -Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. -Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars.</p> - -<p>The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre -Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: -Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and -Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in -due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but -who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I -came to Paris.</p> - -<p>Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. He it was who, -when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance, was directing the -débuts of Mademoiselle Duchesnois with an almost fatherly affection; -he had produced the <i>Mort d'Abel</i> in 1793, a patriarchal tragedy which -owed its success, first to the talent of the author, secondly and more -especially, to its opposition to current events. It was played between -the execution of Louis XVI. and that of Marie-Antoinette, between the -September Massacres and the execution of the Girondists; it distracted -people's minds for the moment from the sight of the blood which flowed -down the gutters. When they had witnessed all day long bodies hanging -from the lamp-posts and heads carried on the ends of pikes, they were -not sorry to spend their evening with shepherds and shepherdesses. Nero -crowned himself with roses and sang Ionic verses after watching Rome -burn.</p> - -<p>In 1794 Legouvé had produced <i>Épicharis.</i> The last act contained a very -fine monologue, which he certainly had not created himself, but which -he had borrowed from a page of Mercier. This final act made the success -of the play. I heard Talma declaim the monologue in his pompous style.</p> - -<p>Finally, in 1799, Legouvé had produced <i>Étéocle. Étéocle</i> was a -failure, or nearly so; and, seeing this, instead of providing a fresh -tragedy for the Théâtre-Français, Legouvé introduced a new tragic -actress. Mademoiselle Duchesnois had just completed her exceedingly -successful début when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance.</p> - -<p>As I have promised to speak in due course of Lemercier, Alexandre Duval -and Picard, I will now finish what I have to say about Chénier and -Ducis, of whom I shall probably not have occasion to speak again.</p> - -<p>Marie-Joseph Chénier possessed singular conceit. I have a dozen of his -letters before me, written about <i>Charles IX.</i>; I will pick out one -which is a model of naïvete: it will show from what standpoint men whom -certain critics have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> audacity to call masters, and who probably -are masters in their eyes, look upon historic tragedy.</p> - -<p>The letter was addressed to French comedians: it was intended to -make them again take up <i>Charles IX.,</i> which those gentlemen refused -absolutely to play. Why did not French comedians want to play <i>Charles -IX.,</i> since <i>Charles IX.</i> made money? Ah! I must whisper the reason in -your ear, or rather, say it out loud: it was because Talma's part in it -was such an enormous success. Here is the letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Pressed on all sides, gentlemen, by the friends -of liberty, several of whom are of the number -of confederated deputies, to give at once a few -representations of <i>Charles IX.,</i> I ask you to announce -the thirty-fourth appearance of this tragedy on your -play-bills, for one day next week, independently of -another work that I have composed to celebrate the -anniversary of the Federation.</p> - -<p>You may like to know that I intend to add <i>several lines -applicable to this interesting event,</i> in the part of the -Chancellor of the Hospital, for I am always anxious to -pay my tribute as a citizen; and you, gentlemen, could -not show your patriotism on this occasion in a better -way than by playing the only <i>truly national</i> tragedy -which still exists in France, a tragedy philosophical in -subject, and worthy of the stage, even in the opinion of -M. de Voltaire, who, you will admit, knew what he was -talking about. In this tragedy I have made a point of -<i>sounding the praises of the citizen king</i> who governs us -to-day.—Accept my sincere regards," etc.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Can you imagine the Chancellor of the Hospital lauding the Fete of the -Federation, and Charles IX. singing the praises of Louis XVI.?</p> - -<p>Ah well!...</p> - -<p>Chénier had made his début in <i>Charles IX.,</i> which he wanted to have -reproduced, and its reproduction caused Danton and Camille Desmoulins -to be taken before the police magistrate, accused of having got up -conspiracies in the pit. <i>Henri VIII.</i> followed <i>Charles IX.</i> with -similar success. Two years after <i>Henri VIII., Calas</i> was produced. -Finally, on 9 January<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> 1793, at the height of Louis XVI.'s trial, and -some days before that poor king's death, Chénier produced <i>Fénélon,</i>, -a rose-water tragedy, of the same type as the <i>Mort d'Abel</i>, which had -that kind of success one's friends term a triumph, and one's enemies a -failure.</p> - -<p>Chénier counted on reviving his success by <i>Timoléon</i>. But Robespierre, -who had heard the work talked of, read it and stopped it. Listen, you -wielders of the Censorship! Robespierre trod in your footsteps; he -stopped <i>Timoléon</i> as your confrères, before him, had stopped <i>Tartufe</i> -to no purpose; <i>Mahomet</i>, to no purpose; <i>Mariage de Figaro</i>, to no -purpose; and so we come at last to you, who have stopped <i>Pinto</i> to no -purpose, <i>Marion Delorme</i> to no purpose, and <i>Antony</i> to no purpose.</p> - -<p>Robespierre, we repeat, stopped <i>Timoléon</i>, declaring that, as long as -he was alive, the piece should never be played. Yes, but Robespierre -proved himself ignorant of the temper of the age in which he and his -contemporaries lived; he counted without 9 Thermidor.... Robespierre -followed Danton to the scaffold, and <i>Timoléon</i> was played.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, two days before Robespierre, death claimed the -sweet-voiced swan whom men called André Chénier, a poet even as his -brother, though of a different make, and no writer of tragedies.</p> - -<p>How was it that Marie-Joseph Chénier found time to look after the -rehearsals of his tragedy, so soon after Thermidor, and immediately -upon the death of his brother?</p> - -<p>Ah! André was only his brother, and <i>Timoléon</i> was his child.</p> - -<p>But many-headed Nemesis was watching over the forgotten poet and -preparing a terrible vengeance. <i>Timoléon</i> killed his brother, and -Chénier was accused of not having saved his.</p> - -<p>Cries were raised for the name of the author.</p> - -<p>"No need!" cried a voice from the pit. "The author's name is <i>Cain</i>!"</p> - -<p>From that day Chénier renounced the theatre, although there were -rumours of two plays lying waiting to come forth some day from his -portfolio, called <i>Tibère</i> and <i>Philippe II.</i></p> - -<p>Ducis succeeded Chénier.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p> - -<p>After the death of Beaumarchais—who had written two charming comedies -of intrigue and three poor dramas—Ducis became the patriarch of -literature.</p> - -<p>There was in Rome, under all the popes down to the days of Gregory -XVI., who had them removed, a sign over certain surgeon's doors with -the inscription—</p> - -<p>"Ici on <i>perfectionne</i> les petits garçons."</p> - -<p>The reader will understand what that means: parents who desired that -their boys should remain beardless, and possess pretty voices, took -their children to these establishments, and by a twist of the hand they -were ... <i>perfectionnés</i>.</p> - -<p>Ducis did to Sophocles and to Shakespeare pretty much what Roman -surgeons did to small boys. Those who like smooth chins and sweet -voices may prefer the <i>Œdipe-roi, Œdipe à Colone, Hamlet, Macbeth, -Roméo and Juliet</i> and <i>Othello</i> of Ducis, to the <i>Œdipus</i> of -Sophocles and the <i>Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet</i> and <i>Othello</i> -of Shakespeare; but we must confess that we like Nature in all her -virility, that we think the stronger a man is, the more beautiful he -is and that we prefer entire dramas to castrated ones: this being -so, whether in the case of small boys or of tragedies, we hold all -<i>perfectionnement</i> to be sacrilege. But let us give Ducis his due. He -led the way to Sophocles by a poor road, to Shakespeare by a narrow -path; but, at all events, he left those guide-posts by the way, -which Voltaire had taken such pains to remove. When Voltaire made a -veil for Zaire out of Desdemona's handkerchief, he was very careful -to obliterate the mark on the linen he stole. This was more than -imitation—it was theft.</p> - -<p>In the period that elapsed between 1769 and 1795, Ducis produced -<i>Hamlet, Œdipe chez Admète, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello</i> and <i>Abufar.</i> -This was the condition of the Théâtre-Français, this was the state of -French literature, in the year of grace 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte -was First Consul, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were assistant consuls.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IId" id="CHAPTER_IId">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Bonaparte's attempts at discovering poets—Luce de Lancival -—Baour-Lormian—<i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>—Lucien Bonaparte, the author—Début -of Mademoiselle Georges—The Abbé Geoffroy's critique—Prince -Zappia—Hermione at Saint-Cloud</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Let us here insert a word or two about Bonaparte's little Court. We are -writing memoirs now, and not novels; we must therefore replace fiction -by truth, plot by digressions and intrigue by desultory pages.</p> - -<p>Oh! if only some man had left us information about the sixteenth, -seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, such as I have attempted to leave -about the nineteenth, how I should have blessed him, and what hard work -he would have spared me!</p> - -<p>A few words, therefore, as I have hinted, about Bonaparte and his -little Court.</p> - -<p>The début of Mademoiselle Georges had made a great sensation at Paris -and at la Malmaison. Formerly, one would have said at Paris and at -Versailles,—but Versailles was no more in 1802.</p> - -<p>The First Consul and his family were greatly interested in literature -at that time. Bonaparte's favourite poets were at the two extremes of -art, Corneille and Ossian: Corneille as representative of the powers of -the intellect, Ossian in the realms of imagination. So Corneille and -Ossian took the most prominent place among the poets who figured in the -catalogue of his Egyptian library. This partiality for the Scottish -bard was so well known that Bourrienne, when he organised the library, -guessed who was meant, though Bonaparte had written the word "<i>Océan</i>."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was not Bonaparte's fault if poets failed him, although he had -proscribed three of the greatest of his time: Chateaubriand, Madame -de Staël and Lemercier. Bonaparte demanded poets from the Chancellor -of the University, just as he demanded soldiers from his Minister for -War. Unhappily, it was easier for M. le Duc de Feltre to find 300,000 -conscripts than for M. de Fontanes to find a dozen poets. So Napoleon -was obliged to hang on to all he could find, to Lebrun, to Luce de -Lancival, to Baour-Lormian: they all had posts and incomes as though -they were true poets—in addition to compliments.</p> - -<p>"You have written a fine tragedy," Napoleon once said to Luce de -Lancival, about his <i>Hector</i>: "I will have it played in one of my -camps." And on the night of the representation he authorised a pension -of six thousand francs to be granted Luce de Lancival, with the -message, "seeing that poets are always in need of money," he should be -paid a year in advance. Read <i>Hector</i> and you will see that it was not -worth the first payment of six thousand francs. Napoleon also placed -Luce de Lancival's nephew, Harel, under Cambacérès, and made him a -sub-prefect in 1815.</p> - -<p>Baour-Lormian also received a pension of six thousand livres; but -according to the witty complaint he laid before the Bourbons concerning -the persecutions of the usurper, despotism had been pushed "to the -extreme of punishing him with a pension of two thousand crowns," which, -he adds, admitting his weakness, he had not dared to decline.</p> - -<p>One day—during the rumours of war that were spread abroad in the year -1809—an ode fell into Napoleon's hands which began with this strophe:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Suspends ici ton vol.... D'où viens-tu, Renommée?<br /> -Qu'annoncent tes cent voix à l'Europe alarmée?...<br /> -—Guerre!—Et quels, ennemis veulent être vaincus?<br /> -—Russe, Allemand, Suédois déjà lèvent la lance;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Ils menacent la France!</span><br /> -—Reprends ton vol, déesse, et dis qu'ils ne sont plus!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>This beginning struck him, and he asked—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Whose verses are these?"</p> - -<p>"M. Lebrun's, sire."</p> - -<p>"Has he a pension already?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sire."</p> - -<p>"Add a second pension of one hundred louis to that which he already -has."</p> - -<p>And they added one hundred louis to the pension already drawn by -Lebrun, who went by the name of <i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>, because he turned out -ten thousand lines of this kind of thing:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"La colline qui vers le pôle<br /> -Domine d'antiques marais,<a name="FNanchor_1_15" id="FNanchor_1_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_15" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /> -Occupe les enfants d'Éole<a name="FNanchor_2_16" id="FNanchor_2_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_16" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /> -A broyer les dons de Cérès;<a name="FNanchor_3_17" id="FNanchor_3_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_17" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /> -Vanvres, qu'habite Galatée,<a name="FNanchor_4_18" id="FNanchor_4_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_18" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /> -Du nectar d'Io, d'Amalthée,<br /> -Epaissit les flots écumeux;<br /> -Et Sèvres, de sa pure argile,<br /> -Nous pétrit l'albâtre fragile<br /> -Où Moka nous verse ses feux."<a name="FNanchor_5_19" id="FNanchor_5_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_19" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /> -</p> - -<p>But something happened that no one had foreseen: there lived another -poet called Pierre Lebrun—not Lebrun-Pindare. The ode was written -by Pierre Lebrun, not by Lebrun-Pindare. So it came to pass that -Lebrun-Pindare enjoyed for a long time the pension earned by Pierre -Lebrun. Thus we see that Napoleon did his utmost to discover poets, and -that it was not his fault if they were not found.</p> - -<p>When Casimir Delavigne published his first work in 1811, a dithyrambic -to the King of Rome, it began with this line:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Destin, qui m'as promis l'empire de la terre!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Napoleon scented a poet, and, although the lines smacked of the -schoolboy, he bestowed the academic prize and a post in the excise on -the author.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p> - -<p>Talma was poetry personified. So, since 1792, Napoleon had allied -himself with Talma. Where did he spend his evenings? In the wings -of the Théâtre-Français; and more than once, pointing out the man -who, twenty years later, was to send from Moscow his famous decree -concerning comedians, the porter asked Talma—</p> - -<p>"Who is that young officer?"</p> - -<p>"Napoleon Bonaparte."</p> - -<p>"His name is not down on the free list."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; he is one of my friends: he comes with me." "Oh, if he is -with you, that is another matter."</p> - -<p>Later, Talma had, in his turn, the run of the Tuileries, and more than -one ambassador, more than one prince, more than one king asked the -emperor—</p> - -<p>"Sire, who is that man?"</p> - -<p>And Napoleon would reply—</p> - -<p>"He is Talma, one of my friends."</p> - -<p>Once, when noticing the ease with which Talma draped himself in his -toga, Napoleon said, "That man will be able to teach me one day how to -wear the imperial mantle."</p> - -<p>It was not all joy to have a First Consul who liked Corneille and -Ossian; this First Consul had brothers who tried to become poets. -They did not succeed; but, at all events, they made the attempt. We -must give credit to good intentions. Lucien wrote poetry. The fierce -Republican—who refused kingships, and who ended by allowing himself -to be made a Roman prince: a prince of what? I ask you! Prince de -Petit-Chien (<i>Canino</i>),—wrote poetry. A poem of his, entitled -<i>Charlemagne</i>, remains to remind us of him, or rather, it does not -remain, for it is dead enough. Louis took up another line: he wrote -blank verse, finding it easier than to compose rhymed verse. He -travestied Molière's <i>l'Avare</i> in this fashion. Joséphine, the creole -coquette, with her nonchalant grace and her adaptable mind, welcomed -everyone, letting the world spin as it liked around her, like Hamlet -and, like Hamlet, praising everybody.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p> - -<p>Talma was a privileged guest in the little bourgeois Court. He talked -of the débutante, Mademoiselle Georges; he spoke of her beauty and -promising talent. Lucien became excited over her, and for all the -world like John the Baptist in the rôle of a precursor, he managed to -have a peep at the subject of the talk of the day, through a keyhole -somewhere, or mayhap through a wide open door, and he returned to -Malmaison, with a rather suspicious enthusiasm, to report that the -débutante's physical beauty was certainly below the praises sung -concerning it.</p> - -<p>The great day arrived—Monday, 8th Frimaire, year XI (29 November -1802). There had been a crowd waiting outside the Théâtre de la -République since eleven o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>Here, with the reader's permission, we will introduce Geoffroy's -account. Geoffroy was a worthless, shallow, unconscientious critic, who -had won his reputation at the time of the Terror, and who handed on his -pen to a wretch of his own kidney, to whom justice had several times -been dealt by the police courts;-a way of dealing with things which -seems to me to be a great improvement on the times of our forefathers. -We cannot possibly have degenerated in everything!</p> - -<p>Geoffroy did not spoil débutants, male or female, especially if they -were not wealthy. Hear what this sometime prince of critics had to say -about Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>There has always been a man called the prince of critics in France. -It is not the rank that is called in question, but the dignity of the -particular holder of it.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center"> - -<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE</span><br /> -<i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i><br /> -Pour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymer<br /> -élève de Mademoiselle Raucourt<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Sufficient measures were not taken to control the -extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. -All the police were busily engaged at the box offices -during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors -were almost unprotected and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> sustained a terrific siege. -Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic -account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary -actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I -was acquainted with the danger.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi,<br /> -Et quorum pars magna fui!'<br /> -</p> - -<p>"The assailants were inspired with the desire to see -the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a -celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity -is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such -scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, -suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot -all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent -only on opening a passage at the expense of all who -surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than -such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and -philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among -a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have -better plays and better actors than the Athenians,—that -is not yet sufficiently established,—but it is certain -that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility -at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress -of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for -frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since -history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of -intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is -also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends -countenance to the theory that the plays most run after -must necessarily be the best...."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Would my readers have suspected that the famous Geoffroy could write in -such a style?—No?—Well, neither would I.</p> - -<p>Let us proceed. As we advance, its dulness ceases: it becomes almost -fanciful.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they -exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth -fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace -is more to be desired.'</p> - -<p>"And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be -wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order -to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible -for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> her to be more beautiful than she is, it would still -be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; -for spectators will be more severely critical in their -estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a -sight of her.</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly -extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does -not fall below expectation. Her features combine the -regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; -her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she -walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, -her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect -model for Guérin's chisel...."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Ah, Geoffroy, I do not know whether the critics of the time of Pericles -were better than those of the age of Bonaparte, first of that name; -but I do know that at least one or two of ours can write in a better -style....</p> - -<p>You think not?</p> - -<p>Well, then, here is a portrait of the same person, written by a critic -in 1835. Notice the progress in style made in the thirty-three years -between Geoffroy's time and that of Théophile Gautier.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"If I mistake not, Mademoiselle Georges is like a -medallion from Syracuse or an Isis from an Æginæan -bas-relief. The arch of her eyebrows, traced with -incomparable fineness and purity, extends over dark eyes -which are full of fire and flashes of tragic lightning. -Her nose is thin and straight, with obliquely cut -nostrils which dilate when she is passionately moved; her -whole profile is grand in its simple uniformity of line. -The mouth is strong, superbly haughty and sharp at its -corners, like the lips of an avenging Nemesis, who awaits -the hour to let loose her iron-clawed lion; yet over her -lips flickers a charming smile, full of regal grace; and -it would be impossible to believe, when she chooses to -express the tender passions, that she has hurled forth, -but a short while before, a classic imprecation or a -modern anathema. Her chin is full of character and of -determination; it is firmly set, and its majestic curves -relieve a profile that belongs rather to a goddess than -to a mortal. Mademoiselle Georges possesses, in common -with all the beautiful women of pagan ages, a broad -forehead, full at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> temples, but not high, very like -that of the Venus de Milo, a wilful, voluptuous, powerful -forehead. There is a remarkable peculiarity about her -neck: instead of rounding off inwardly from the nape, it -forms a full and unbroken curve and unites the shoulders -to the base of her head without the slightest flaw. The -set of her arms is somewhat formidable by reason of the -strength of the muscles and the firmness of contour; one -of her shoulder-straps would make a girdle for the waist -of a medium-sized woman; but they are very white, very -clear, and they end in a wrist of childlike fragility -and tiny dimpled hands—hands which are truly regal, -fashioned to hold the sceptre and to clasp the dagger's -hilt in the plays of Æschylus and Euripides."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Thank you, my dear Théophile, for allowing me to quote that splendid -passage, and pardon me for placing you in such bad company. Faugh!</p> - -<p>I now return to Geoffroy. He continues:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Talent responded to beauty. The theatre was packed -throughout and thoroughly excited; the First Consul -and all his family were in the box to the right of the -proscenium; he clapped his hands several times, but this -did not prevent some signs of opposition breaking out at -the line—</p></blockquote> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -'Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit.' ..."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Excuse me! I must again interrupt myself, or rather, I must interrupt -Geoffroy.</p> - -<p>The reader knows that it was the custom for the audience to look -forward to the way in which debutantes delivered this line.</p> - -<p>Why so? the reader may inquire.</p> - -<p>Ah! truly, one does not know these things unless one is compelled to -know them.</p> - -<p>I will explain.</p> - -<p>Because that line is too simple, and unworthy of tragedy.</p> - -<p>You may not, perhaps, have been aware of that, monsieur? Perhaps it -is news to madame, who does me the honour to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> listen to me? But your -servant Geoffroy, who is obliged to read everything, knew it.</p> - -<p>Now, listen carefully; for we have not reached the end. This line -being, from its simplicity, unworthy of tragedy, the audience wanted to -see how the actress, correcting the poet, would treat it.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges did not pretend to possess greater genius than -Racine: she delivered the line simply, and with the most natural -intonation imaginable, since it was written with the simplicity of -passion. The audience dissented; she repeated it with the same accent; -again they demurred.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, Raucourt was present, in spite of an accident she had met -with; she had had herself carried to the theatre, and encouraged her -pupil from a little box, concealed behind a harlequin's cloak.</p> - -<p>"Be bold, Georgine! Stick to it!" she cried.</p> - -<p>And Georgine—it will appear odd to you, I imagine, that Mademoiselle -Georges should ever have been called <i>Georgine</i> repeated the line for -the third time in the same simple and natural accent. The audience -applauded. From that moment her success was assured, as they say in -theatrical parlance.</p> - -<p>"The only thing that marred the play (said Geoffroy) was <i>Talma's lack -of intelligence, proportion and nobility in the part of Achilles.</i>"</p> - -<p>I begin to think we must have been deceived in the matter of worthy M. -Geoffroy's impartiality and that he had received before the play a very -significant message from one of the members of the Bonaparte family who -was in the box of the First Consul.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges played the part of Clytemnestra three times -running. It was an immense success. Then she went on to the part of -Aménaïde,—<i>that maiden attacked with hysterical vapours</i>, as Geoffroy -said later,—and her popularity went on increasing. Then, after the -rôle of Aménaïde, she took the part of Idamé in <i>l'Orphelin de la -Chine.</i></p> - -<p>If men wondered how debutantes in the part of Clytemnestra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> would -deliver the famous line so unworthy of Racine—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit...."<br /> -</p> - -<p>women waited just as impatiently for the appearance of debutantes in -the part of Idamé to see how they would dress their hair.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges' hair was arranged very simply <i>à la -chinoise</i>—that is to say, with her locks arranged on the top of -her head and tied with a golden ribbon. This arrangement suited her -admirably, so I was told, not by Lucien but by his brother King Jérôme, -a keen appreciator of beauty in all its forms, who, like Raucourt, kept -the habit of calling Georges, <i>Georgine.</i></p> - -<p>The night that the <i>Orphelin de la Chine</i> was to be played, whilst -Georgine, about whom, at that hour, the whole of Paris was talking, -was partaking of a lentil supper at the <i>hôtel du Pérou</i>,—not -because, like Esau, she was fond of this fare, but because there was -nothing else in the house,—Prince Zappia was announced. Who might -Prince Zappia be? Was he, too, a prince among critics? Not so: he was -a real prince, one of those art-loving princes whose line died out -with the Prince de Ligne, a Prince Hénin, one of those princes who -frequented the lounge of the Comédie-Française, as Prince Pignatelli -did the lounge of the Opéra. The lounge of the Comédie-Française was, -apparently, a wonderful place in those days—I only saw the remains of -it.</p> - -<p>After each great representation—and every time such actors as Talma, -Raucourt, Contat, Monvel or Molé played was a great occasion—all the -noted people in the artistic, diplomatic or aristocratic circles went -to have a few minutes' chat in the box of the hero or of the heroine of -the evening; then they returned to the lounge and joined the general -company there.</p> - -<p>Bonaparte's budding Court, which made such efforts to establish -itself as a Court, was rarely as brilliant as the lounge of the -Théâtre-Français.</p> - -<p>We were privileged to witness the fading light of those brilliant days -when it shone on the box of Mademoiselle Mars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p> - -<p>All came to these assemblies in full dress. There were scarcely -any who had not their own footstools, chairs and lounges. These -were very formal occasions and, indeed, to be called a "<i>dame de la -Comédie-Française</i>" meant a great deal; people still remember the -occasion of the first attack upon this crusted etiquette.</p> - -<p>It was Mademoiselle Bourgoin who broke through it, by asking for some -cakes and a glass of Alicante. The old members of the company raised -their hands to Heaven in that day and cried out at such an abomination -of desolation. And their dismay was quite logical: a breach, if not -repaired, is ever apt to grow larger, especially in a theatre. And that -very infraction is responsible for the beer and fried eggs of to-day.</p> - -<p>Well, as Georgine was eating her lentils, Prince Zappia was announced -to her. What did Prince Zappia want at such an hour? He came to offer -the key of a suite of rooms in the rue des Colonnes, which he had -furnished since the previous evening at a cost of over fifty thousand -francs. He assured the fair Georgine, as he handed her this key, that -it was the one and only key that existed.</p> - -<p>An oath was needed to induce the débutante to leave the <i>hôtel du -Pérou.</i> This oath Prince Zappia took. On what did he swear? We don't -know. We inquired of Mademoiselle Georges herself; but she replied to -us, with the magnificent naïvete of a Lucrezia Borgia—</p> - -<p>"Why do you wish to know that, my dear fellow? Many people have sworn -oaths to me which they have not kept."</p> - -<p>Lucien was not at all pleased at this change of residence. Lucien was -not a prince at that time; Lucien was not wealthy; Lucien made love to -her as a scholar; Lucien laid claim to the position of lover, which is -always a rather difficult matter when one's apartments are dingy and -cupboards bare: he was present one evening, I repeat, when Hermione's -chambermaid came into her apartment, thoroughly scared, and told her -that the First Consul's valet de chambre had come.</p> - -<p>The First Consul's valet de chambre? he who had dressed him on the -morning of 18 Brumaire? No! quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> another person than Prince Zappia! -They showed the First Consul's valet de chambre in with as much -deference as they would have shown in 1750 to M. Lebel when he visited -Madame Dumesnil.</p> - -<p>The First Consul awaited Hermione at Saint-Cloud. Hermione was to come -as she was: she could change her clothes there. The invitation was -curt, but quite characteristic of the First Consul's manners.</p> - -<p>Antony, it will be remembered, bade Cleopatra join him in Cilicia. -Bonaparte might well beg Hermione to join him at Saint-Cloud. The -Grecian princess was not prouder than the Queen of Egypt; Hermione -was not less beautiful than Cleopatra, and ought to have been taken -down the Seine in a gilded galley, just as the Queen of Egypt ascended -the Cydnus. But that would have taken too long: the First Consul was -impatient to pay his addresses and, admitting the weakness artistes -have for flattery, the débutante was probably in no less hurry to -receive them.</p> - -<p>Hermione reached Saint-Cloud half an hour after midnight, and left -it at six in the morning. She came out victorious as Cleopatra: like -Cleopatra, she had had the conqueror of the world at her feet. But the -conqueror of the world, who thought it astonishing that a débutante, -whom his brother had told him lived in the <i>hôtel du Pérou</i>, drank -water and lived on lentils, should possess an English veil worth a -hundred louis and a cashmere shawl worth a thousand crowns, tore in -pieces, in a fit of jealousy, both the cashmere shawl and the English -veil.</p> - -<p>I have often argued with Georges that this was not done out of -jealousy, but simply for the fun of the thing. She always persisted it -was done out of jealousy, and I had not the desire to contradict her.</p> - -<p>Some days after Georgine's little nocturnal journey, the rumour of her -triumph leaked out; she was playing the part of Émilie, and when she -declaimed, in accents of true Roman pride, the line—</p> - -<p>"Si j'ai séduit Cinna, j'en séduirai bien d'autres...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> the whole -audience turned towards the First Consul's box and burst into applause.</p> - -<p>From that night there sprang up two dramatic, and almost political, -factions in the Théâtre-Français: the partisans of Mademoiselle -Georges, and the partisans of Mademoiselle Duchesnois—the <i>Georgians</i>, -and the <i>Carcassians.</i> The word <i>Carcassians</i> was doubtless substituted -for <i>Circassians</i> as being more expressive. But what is the meaning of -the word? Upon my word, I dare not say: I leave it to the investigation -of savants and the research of etymologists. Lucien Bonaparte, Madame -Bacciochi and Madame Lætitia were at the head of the <i>Georgians</i>; -Joséphine flung herself headlong into the <i>Carcassian</i> party; -Cambacérès remained neutral.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_15" id="Footnote_1_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_15"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Montmartre.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_16" id="Footnote_2_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_16"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Le vent.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_17" id="Footnote_3_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_17"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Le blé.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_18" id="Footnote_4_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_18"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Galatée ayant été nymphe, <i>Vauvres, qu'habite Galatée</i>, -signifie: Vauvres où il y a des bergers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_19" id="Footnote_5_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_19"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Façon poétique de dire qu'il y a une manufacture de -porcelaines à Sèvres.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span></p></div> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IIId" id="CHAPTER_IIId">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Imperial literature—The <i>Jeunesse de Henri IV</i>.—Mercier -and Alexandre Duval—The <i>Templiers</i> and their author—César -Delrieu—Perpignan—Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the -Théâtre-Français—Her flight to Russia—The galaxy of kings—The -tragédienne acts as ambassador</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français -under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at -a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were -practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour -that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of -Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that -this double result was attained.</p> - -<p>"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day.</p> - -<p>"He left me to become an emperor," she replied.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges -and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as -emperor.</p> - -<p>This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; -but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his -usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until -the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his -audience with him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course.</p> - -<p>In 1803, Hoffmann's <i>Roman d'une heure</i> was played. In 1804, -<i>Shakespeare amoureux</i> by Alexandre Duval, <i>Molière avec ses amis</i> -by Andrieux, and the <i>Jeune Femme colère</i> of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> Étienne were played. -In 1805, the <i>Tyran domestique</i> and the <i>Menuisier de Livonie</i> of -Alexandre Duval were played; Charon's <i>Tartufe de mœurs</i>, Bouilly's -<i>Madame de Sévigné</i> and the <i>Filles à marier</i> of Picard; and in 1806 -appeared Picard's <i>Marionnettes</i>, Alexandre Duval's <i>Jeunesse de Henri -V.</i> <i>Omasis</i> or <i>Joseph en Égypte</i> by Baour-Lormian and the <i>Templiers</i> -by Raynouard.</p> - -<p>The two greatest successes of this last period were the <i>Templiers</i> -and the <i>Jeunesse de Henri V.</i> The <i>Jeunesse de Henri V.</i> was borrowed -from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and -published but not played, was called <i>Charles II, dans un certain -lieu.</i> One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier -had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its -offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the -theatre of the rue de Richelieu.</p> - -<p>On the night of the representation of the <i>Jeunesse de Henri V</i>., -Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to -him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the -Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, -the idiots!"</p> - -<p>Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and -wrote nothing for two years.</p> - -<p>But the real success of the year, the literary success, was the -<i>Templiers.</i> This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic -work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous -success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at -one bound into the Academy.</p> - -<p>The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had -created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. -At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. -Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy of <i>Télémaque.</i> Who -ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out of <i>Télémaque</i>?</p> - -<p>A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in -danger of deluding myself. Was it <i>Lebrun-Pindare</i>? Was it Lebrun the -ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> future Academician, peer of France, -director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I -do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and -whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound -as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of -Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined -talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did the -<i>Cid d'Andalousie,</i> twenty years later, in spite of the combined -efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars.</p> - -<p>As we were present at the first representation of the <i>Cid -d'Andalousie</i>, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. -Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of the <i>Templiers.</i> He -continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts -from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the -University.</p> - -<p>He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. -Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on -Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more -than three tragedies: the <i>Templiers</i>, of which we have spoken; the -<i>États de Blois</i>, which was not so good as the <i>Templiers</i>; and <i>Caton -d'Utique</i>, which was not so good as the <i>États de Blois</i>. Napoleon -was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand -conscripts and his poet.</p> - -<p>In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and -M. Baour-Lormian, the author of the <i>Templiers</i> and the author of -<i>Omasis</i>. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of -fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad.</p> - -<p>We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the -Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets -of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who -counted only the dukes of his own creation.</p> - -<p>It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes -began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just -discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. -This poet's name was Luce de Lancival.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> We have already spoken of him, -when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy -M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions -called <i>Mucius Scævola</i> and ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten -the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall -had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store by <i>Hector.</i> He was -appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." -This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands.</p> - -<p>A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the -preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy of -<i>Artaxercès.</i> There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time -Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" -This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him -thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less -talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings -of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the -archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called -Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended -by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals -of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the -actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which -might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of -the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece -performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection -with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the -expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play -was called the <i>Oncle d'Amérique</i>, and by inscribing Perpignan upon -the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow -with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to -add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this -privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did -take advantage of it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> - -<p>One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase -that led to the lounge of the Odéon.</p> - -<p>"Good-evening, confrère," he said.</p> - -<p>"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu.</p> - -<p>"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded -Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable.</p> - -<p>When <i>Artaxercès</i> was again put on the stage, at the time when we saw -it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, -the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what -is called in theatrical parlance <i>a dead failure (un four complet).</i></p> - -<p>A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him—</p> - -<p>"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?"</p> - -<p>"With them? Never!"</p> - -<p>"What have they done to you now?"</p> - -<p>"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know -my <i>Artaxercès</i>, a chef-d'œuvre?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its -emptiest!"</p> - -<p>And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the -Comédie-Française.</p> - -<p>But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from -the revival of <i>Artaxercès</i> to its first performance, which will bring -us to 30 April 1808.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played -it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous -rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the -town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had -carried her off—His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias.</p> - -<p>The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than -ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk -much better French than we do.</p> - -<p>The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. -In tragedy queens alone it could boast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> Mademoiselle Raucourt, -Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should -lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz -and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The -business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian -diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand -Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, -to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. -Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were -busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of -Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français -fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever -been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the -news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection -the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful -Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not -stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; -but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred -himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, -in diplomatic terms, to a <i>casus belli</i>, and Mademoiselle Georges -received an invitation to continue her journey.</p> - -<p>If the reader does not know what a <i>casus belli</i> is, he can learn it -from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. -Thiers presented two or three <i>casus belli</i> to the Powers, to which the -Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to -him, quite fresh and unused.</p> - -<p>Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of -Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause -from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout -the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly -scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, -unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was -in St. Petersburg.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p> - -<p>When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before -his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning -empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded -by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in -St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. -Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might -carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his -poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on -those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great -poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic -poets.</p> - -<p>So <i>Mérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, Iphigénie</i> and <i>Andromaque</i> were played -in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. -Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, -kept to the front.</p> - -<p>Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree -concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother -Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his -brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of -Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he -deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded -her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful -strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever -a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his -footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden -behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave -birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose -fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, -Antony had offered to Cæsar.</p> - -<p>Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a -few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think -of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave -a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old -and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this -sumptuous entertainment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p> - -<p>Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings -and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, -princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the -rendezvous.</p> - -<p>On 28 September 1808, <i>Cinna</i> was performed before the Emperor -Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the -following day, the 29th, <i>Britannicus</i> was played. In that interval of -twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William -of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, -who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the -death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, -mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost -that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre called <i>the sceptre of -the world.</i></p> - -<p>On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to -present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned -(without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de -Grenelle) the name of the author of <i>Faust</i> is perhaps the only one -which will survive.</p> - -<p>On the 3rd, <i>Philoctète</i> was played. It was during this performance -that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>—the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want -of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to -Waterloo. During the second act of <i>Philoctète</i> the King of Wurtemberg -arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on -one of the seats reserved for kings.</p> - -<p>On 4 October, <i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i> was played. The King and the Queen -of Westphalia arrived during the piece.</p> - -<p>Next day, <i>Phèdre</i> was performed. The King of Bavaria and the -Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée.</p> - -<p>On the 6th, the <i>Mort de César</i> was represented. The crowned audience -was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one -queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes.</p> - -<p>After the play, the emperor said to Talma—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I -have made you play before an audience of kings."</p> - -<p>On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left -Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe.</p> - -<p>Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of -the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree -from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, -regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. -Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at -Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were -called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the -world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East -and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five -years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the -other on the shores of the Sea of Azov.</p> - -<p>The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news -of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's -capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which -they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges.</p> - -<p>A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the -head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time -being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his -fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in -Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. -They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. -On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly -staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be -utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from -Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. -This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know -how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. -Hermione hid the letter among the busks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> of her corset. The busk of a -woman's corset is the sheath of her sword.</p> - -<p>M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn -from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left -in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She -held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred -thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns -without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, -and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within -two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of -Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the -diamonds were such a source of fear!</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, -and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting -arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd -of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young -Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful -in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect -the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their -knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than -before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly -escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached -the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, -Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. -King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick.</p> - -<p>King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was -hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great -haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not -know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know -that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be -readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest -after such an adventurous journey.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IVd" id="CHAPTER_IVd">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The Comédie-Française at Dresden—Georges returns to -the Théâtre-Français—The <i>Deux Gendres</i>—<i>Mahomet -II.</i>—<i>Tippo-Saëb</i>—1814—Fontainebleau—The allied armies enter -Paris—Lilies—Return from the isle of Elba—Violets—Asparagus -stalks—Georges returns to Paris</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges left for Dresden the day after her arrival -at Brunswick. The giant who had been confounded at Beresina had, -Anteus-like, recovered his strength as he neared Paris. Napoleon left -Saint-Cloud on 15 April 1813. He stopped on the 16th at Mayence, left -it on the 24th, and reached Erfürt the same day.</p> - -<p>Napoleon was still in command of forty-three millions of men at this -time, and had as his allies against Russia all the kings who had been -present at the theatrical entertainments recently mentioned by us. But -Napoleon had lost his prestige. The first bloom of his glory had been -smirched; the invincible one had been proved vulnerable. The snowy -campaign of 1812 had chilled all the friendships professed towards him. -Prussia set the example of defection.</p> - -<p>On 3 May—that is to say, eighteen days after his departure from -Paris—Napoleon despatched couriers to Constantinople, Vienna and Paris -from the battlefield of Lutzen, where slept twenty thousand Russians -and Prussians, to announce a fresh victory. Saxony had been won back in -a single battle. On 10 May, the emperor installed himself at Dresden, -in the Marcolini Palace. On the 12th, the King of Saxony, who had taken -refuge on the frontiers of Bohemia, returned to his capital. On the -18th, Napoleon proposed an armistice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span></p> - -<p>As it was ignored, he fought and won the battles of Bautzen and of -Lutzen on the 20th and 21st. On 10 June, the emperor returned to -Dresden, still in hopes of the desired armistice.</p> - -<p>On 16 June, MM. de Beausset and de Turenne were appointed to look after -the Comédie-Française. M. de Beausset's work was to see to the stage -management of the theatre, to obtain lodgings for the actors and to -arrange the repertory. M. de Turenne took upon him the invitations and -all matters connected with court etiquette. On 19 June, the company of -the Comédie-Française arrived. It consisted of the following actors and -actresses: MM. Fleury, Saint-Phal,</p> - -<p>Baptiste junior, Armand, Thénard, Vigny, Michot, Bartier; and Mesdames -Thénard, Émilie Contat, Mézeray, Mars and Bourgoin. We have followed -the observances of etiquette <i>à la</i> M. de Turenne, and placed these -gentlemen and ladies in the order of their seniority.</p> - -<p>All was ready to receive them by 15 June. Lodgings, carriages and -servants had all been hired in advance. An hour after their arrival, -the thirteen artistes were duly installed. At midnight, on the -following day, Mademoiselle Georges also arrived in Dresden. By one -o'clock the Duc de Vicence had taken up his residence with her. The -next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, she was received by the -emperor. That very day, a courier was sent off to command Talma -and Saint-Prix to set out for Dresden instantly, no matter in what -part of France they might be when the order reached them. The order -reached Saint-Prix in Paris, and found Talma in the provinces. Twelve -days after, Talma and Saint-Prix arrived, and the company of the -Comédie-Française was complete.</p> - -<p>A theatre had been arranged for comedy in the orangery belonging to the -palace occupied by the emperor.</p> - -<p>Tragedies, which require far more staging and much more scenery, were -to be performed in the town theatre. The first representation of comedy -took place on 22 June; it consisted of the <i>Gageure imprévue</i> and -the <i>Suites d'un bal masqué.</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> The first representation of tragedy -was <i>Phèdre</i>, played on the 24th. But these entertainments were very -different from those at Erfürt! A veil of sadness had crept over the -past; a cloud of fear hung over the future. People remembered Beresina; -they foresaw Leipzig. Talma looked in vain among the audience for the -kings who had applauded him at Erfürt. There was only the old and -faithful King of Saxony, the last of those crowned heads who remained -true to Napoleon.</p> - -<p>The performances lasted from 22 June until 10 August. The emperor -invited either Talma or Mademoiselle Mars or Mademoiselle Georges to -lunch with him most mornings. They talked of art. Art had always filled -an important place in Napoleon's mind. He was in this respect not -only the successor, but also the heir to Louis XIV. It was on these -occasions that he gave expression to those incisive appreciations -peculiar to himself, and to his opinions on men and on their works. -It must have been fine indeed to listen to Napoleon's appreciation of -Corneille and his criticism of Racine. And it should be remembered -that, to be able to speak of Corneille or of Racine, his powerful mind -had to put aside for the moment all thought of the material world -which was beginning to press heavily upon him. It is true that he was -continually being deluded by hopes of peace; but on the evening of 11 -August all hopes of that nature were dispelled.</p> - -<p>On the 12 th, at three o'clock in the morning, M. de Beausset received -the following letter from Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">MY DEAR BEAUSSET</span>,—The emperor commands me to tell you -that the French actors who are here must leave either -to-day or to-morrow morning at the latest, to return to -Paris. Have the goodness to inform them of this.—Yours, -etc.,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 75%; font-size: 0.8em;">"ALEXANDRE"</p></blockquote> - -<p>The actors left, and then the battle of Leipzig took place. The -Empire's dying struggle had begun. The actors meanwhile returned -to Paris. Mademoiselle Georges resumed her ascendency<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> at the -Comédie-Française, after an absence of five years. Raucourt, though -still alive, had practically abandoned her career. For a long time -past the theatrical life had weighed upon her; she only acted when -obliged, and remained almost all the year round in the country. When -Mademoiselle Georges was reinstalled, it was arranged that she should -become a full member of the company, and her absence was reckoned -as though she were present. She reappeared as Clytemnestre when she -was still only twenty-eight years of age. Her success was immense. -There had not been many changes during those last five years at the -Théâtre-Français. The important pieces played during the absence of -Mademoiselle Georges were, <i>Hector</i> and <i>Christophe Colombo</i> to which -we have referred; the <i>Deux Gendres,</i> by M. Étienne; <i>Mahomet II</i>., by -M. Baour-Lormian; and <i>Tippo-Saëb,</i> by M. de Jouy.</p> - -<p>The success of the <i>Deux Gendres</i> was not contested, and it could not -be contested. But since people must always contest some point or other -in the case of an author of any merit, the paternity of M. Étienne's -comedy was contested.</p> - -<p>A worm-eaten manuscript written by a forgotten Jesuit was dragged out -of some bookcase or other, and it was said that M. Étienne had robbed -this unlucky Jesuit. It should be stated that the plot of the <i>Deux -Gendres</i> was the same that Shakespeare had utilised two centuries -before, in <i>King Lear</i>, and that M. de Balzac made use of twenty-five -years later, in <i>Père Goriot.</i> All these polemical discussions greatly -annoyed M. Étienne, and probably hindered him from writing a sequel to -the <i>Deux Gendres. Mahomet II.</i> met with but indifferent success: the -play was lifeless and dull.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, M. Baour-Lormian was a meritorious writer: he left, or -rather he will leave, a few poems charged with melancholy feeling, all -the more striking as such a sentiment was entirely unknown during the -Empire, which can offer us, in this respect, nothing save the <i>Chute -des Feuilles</i> by Millevoie, and the <i>Feuille de Rose</i> by M. Arnault. -Besides, the <i>Chute des Feuilles</i> was written before, and the <i>Feuille -de Rose</i> after, the Empire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p> - -<p>Let me quote a few of M. Baour-Lormian's pleasant lines:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ainsi qu'une jeune beauté<br /> -Silencieuse et solitaire,<br /> -Du sein du nuage argente<br /> -La lune sort avec mystere....<br /> -Fille aimable du ciel, à pas lents et sans bruit,<br /> -Tu glisses dans les airs où brille ta couronne;<br /> -Et ton passage s'environne<br /> -Du cortège pompeux des soleils de la nuit....<br /> -Que fais-tu loin de nous, quand l'aube blanchissante<br /> -Efface, à nos yeux attristés,<br /> -Ton sourire charmant et tes molles clartés?<br /> -Vas-tu, comme Ossian, plaintive et gémissante,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dans l'asile de la douleur</span><br /> -Ensevelir ta beauté languissante?<br /> -Fille aimable du ciel, connais-tu le malheur?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>We must now return to Mademoiselle Georges.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Georges, as we have remarked, found, it seems, the -Théâtre-Français pretty much as she had left it. She resumed her old -repertory. Is it not curious that during the nine years she was at the -Théâtre-Français Mademoiselle Georges, who has created so many rôles -since, only created those of Calypso and of Mandane there?...</p> - -<p>All this time, the horizon in the North was growing darker and darker: -Prussia had betrayed us; Sweden had deserted us; Saxony had been -involved in the rout at Leipzig; Austria was recruiting her forces -against us. On 6 January 1814, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, signed -an armistice with England, the expiration of which had to be notified -three months in advance. On the 11th, he promised the Emperor of -Austria to go to war against France with thirty thousand men; in -exchange for which the Austrian monarch guaranteed the throne of Naples -to him and his heirs.</p> - -<p>Napoleon then began the marvellous campaign of 1814, that titanic -struggle in which a single man and one nation faced two emperors, four -kings and six nations of the first rank, including Russia, England, -Prussia and Spain.</p> - -<p>If we turn over the pages of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> -for the whole of the year 1814, the only new play we shall find is the -<i>Hôtel garni</i>, a comedy in one act, and in verse, by Désaugiers.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, at each fresh victory, Napoleon lost a province. Driven-to -bay at Fontainebleau, he abdicated. Three days later, the allied forces -marched into Paris, and Napoleon left for the isle of Elba. There were -still two factions at the Comédie-Française, as there had been during -the time of the Revolution. Talma, Mars and Georges remained loyally -faithful to the emperor. Raucourt, Mademoiselle Levert, Madame Volnais -espoused the Royalist cause. Raucourt was the first to tear down the -eagle which decorated the imperial box. Poor soul! she little knew that -those whom she helped to recall would refuse her Christian burial, one -year later!</p> - -<p>The same kings who had been present at the Erfürt representations, -as Napoleon's guests and friends, came as enemies and conquerors to -see the same plays in Paris. Everybody knows the terrible reaction -that took place at first against the Empire. The actors who remained -faithful to the emperor were not persecuted, but they were made to -exclaim as they came on the stage, "Vive le roi!"</p> - -<p>One day Mademoiselle Levert and Madame Volnais outdid even the -exacting demands of the public: they came on the stage, in the <i>Vieux -Célibataire</i>, with huge bouquets of lilies in their hands.</p> - -<p>So things went on until 6 March 1815. On that day a strange, -incredible, unheard-of rumour spread through Paris, and, from Paris, to -all the four quarters of the earth. Napoleon had landed. Many hearts -trembled at the news; but few were more agitated than those of the -faithful actors who had not forgotten that once, when he was master of -the world and emperor he had conversed upon art and poetry with them.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, nobody dared express his joy: hope was faint, the truth -of the rumour uncertain.</p> - -<p>According to the official newspapers, Napoleon was wandering, hunted -and beaten, among the mountains, where he could not avoid being -captured before long. Truth, like everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> that is real, makes -itself seen in the end. A persistent rumour came from Gap, from -Sisteron, from Grenoble; the fugitive of the <i>Journal des Débats</i> was -a conqueror round whom the people rallied in intoxicated delight. -Labédoyère and his regiment, Ney and his army corps rallied round him. -Lyons had opened its gates to him, and from the heights of Fourvières -the imperial eagle had started on the flight which, from tower to -tower, was to bring it at last to the towers of Nôtre Dame.</p> - -<p>On 19 March, the Tuileries was evacuated: a courier was sent to carry -this news to Napoleon, who was at Fontainebleau. People expected him -all day long on the 20th; they felt confident that he would make a -triumphal entry along the boulevards. Mars and Georges had taken a -window at Frascati's. They wore hats of white straw, with enormous -bunches of violets in them. They attracted much notice, for it was -known that they had been persecuted for a year at the Comédie-Française -on account of their attachment to the emperor.</p> - -<p>The bouquets of violets symbolised the month of March: the King of -Rome's birthday was in the month of March, and also the return of -Napoleon. From that day violets became a badge. People wore violets in -all sorts of fashions—in hats, hanging by their sides, as trimmings -to dresses. Some, more fanatic than others, wore a gold violet in -their buttonholes, as an order of chivalry. There was quite as great a -reaction against the Bourbons as there had been in their favour a year -before.</p> - -<p>When Talma, Mars and Georges appeared, they were overwhelmed with -applause. Georges saw the emperor again at the Tuileries. By dint of -his powerful character, Napoleon seemed to have put everything behind -him. One might have said he had not left the château of Catherine de -Médicis save, as had been his custom, to bring back news of a fresh -victory. The only thing that distressed him was that they had taken -away some of his favourite pieces of furniture.</p> - -<p>He missed greatly a little boudoir, hung with tapestry that had been -worked by Marie-Louise and the ladies of the Court.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Would you believe it, my dear," he said to Georges, "I found asparagus -stalks on the arm-chairs!" This was the worst with which he reproached -Louis XVIII.</p> - -<p>The return of the god was of as short duration as the apparition of a -ghost. Waterloo succeeded Leipzig; Saint-Helena, the isle of Elba. It -was a more terrible, a more melancholy counterpart! Leipzig was but a -wound, Waterloo was death; the isle of Elba was but exile, Saint-Helena -was the tomb!</p> - -<p>One might almost say that he carried everything away with him. We again -turn over the leaves of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français and we do -not find any play of importance produced throughout the year 1815. The -lilies reappeared and the poor violets were exiled;—with the violets, -Georges exiled herself. She went to the provinces, where she remained -for several years; she reappeared in 1823, more beautiful than she had -ever been. She was then thirty-eight.</p> - -<p>I will find an opportunity to pass in review the men of letters and -the literary works of the Empire, to which, on account of my callow -youth, I have scarcely referred, during the period in which these men -and their works flourished. Indeed, when Georges made her début, the -two men who were to add to her reputation by means of <i>Christine, -Bérengère</i> and <i>Marguerite de Bourgogne, Marie Tudor</i> and <i>Lucrèce -Borgia</i>, were still wailing at their mothers' breasts. Taken all round, -whatever people may say, these five rôles were Georges' greatest -successes. Meanwhile, on 12 April 1823, the great actress played in -<i>Comte Julien</i> at the Odéon.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_Vd" id="CHAPTER_Vd">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of a great -actor—Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de Portugal upon Talma declining -it—Lafond—His school—His sayings—Mademoiselle Duchesnois—Her -failings and her abilities—<i>Pierre de Portugal</i> succeeds</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The great day for the representation of <i>Pierre de Portugal</i> came at -last. Talma, preoccupied with his creation of the part of Danville in -the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, had declined to take the rôle of Pierre de -Portugal. Lafond had accepted it, and he and Mademoiselle Duchesnois -had to bear the brunt of the whole play. Herein lay the indisputable -test pointed out by Lassagne: could the play possibly succeed without -Talma? The great inconvenience of that <i>rara avis</i>, as Juvenal puts -it, or, in theatre parlance, the actor who brings in the receipts, is -that on days when he does not play the theatre loses heavily; plays in -which he does not figure are judged beforehand to be unworthy of public -notice, since they have not been honoured by the actor's concurrence.</p> - -<p>At the time to which we are referring the Théâtre-Français was better -off than it is now. One day it made money by Talma's tragic acting; the -next, it made money by Mademoiselle Mars in comedy. Casimir Delavigne -began its downfall by making the two eminent artistes appear together -in the same play and on the same day. As for Lafond and Mademoiselle -Duchesnois, neither apart nor together did they bring in sufficient -receipts.</p> - -<p>Lafond would be about forty then: he came out first in 1800, at the -Théâtre-Français, in the part of Achilles. Later, when supported by -Geoffroy, in <i>Tancrède</i>, in <i>Adélaïde Duguesclin</i> and in <i>Zaire</i>, he -became as successful as Talma. The scurvy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> race of sheep which we -have always with us, which takes its nutriment in the pastures of -poetry and which is too feeble to form its own opinion based on its -own mental capacity, adopts a judgment ready made wherever it can. It -bleated concerning Lafond, "Lafond is inimitable in the rôle of French -cavalier."</p> - -<p>There was always, at this period of the drama, a part called the -French cavalier. This part was invariably played by a person decorated -with a plumed toque, clad in a yellow tunic braided with black, -ornamented with representations of the sun, or of golden palms when -the cavalier was a prince, and wearing buff-leather boots. It was not -imperative that the hero should be French, or wear golden spurs, to -be a French cavalier: the rôle was designed on well defined lines, -and belonged to a particular school. Zamore was a French cavalier, -Orosmane was a French cavalier, Philoctètes was a French cavalier. -The only distinctions between them were as follows: Zamore played in -a cap decorated with peacock feathers, and in a cloak of parrot's -feathers, with a girdle of ostrich plumes. Orosmane played in a long -robe of white taffeta dropping with spangles and trimmed with minever, -in a turban opening out wide like a blunderbuss and decorated with a -crescent of Rhine stones, in red foulard trousers and yellow slippers. -Philoctètes played in a loose coat of red horse-hair, a cuirass of -velvet embroidered with gold, and was furnished with a warlike sword.</p> - -<p>Vanhove, in order to play Agamemnon, had a cuirass which cost him a -small fortune, two hundred louis, I believe; it was ornamented by two -trophies, hand-worked—a magnificent bit of work, representing cannons -and drums.</p> - -<p>I once said to Lafond—</p> - -<p>"M. Lafond, why do you play Zamore in such a shabby girdle? Your -feathers look like fish-bones; they are positively indecent!"</p> - -<p>"Young man," replied Lafond, "Zamore is not rich; Zamore is a slave; -Zamore could not afford to buy himself a new girdle every day; I am -true to history."</p> - -<p>What was perhaps less true to history was the expansive Stomach which -the girdle enclosed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p> - -<p>Lafond's triumphs in these cavalier parts made Talma nearly die of -envy. One day Geoffroy's articles exasperated him to such a degree -that, on meeting the critic in the wings, he flew at him and bit -him—at the risk of poisoning himself. But as the law of universal -stability decrees that every bullet shall find its billet, the -populace, by degrees, grew tired of Lafond's redundant declamation and -emphatic gestures, which, at the time of which we are speaking, being -used only by a few old-fashioned members of the school of Larive, drew -receipts no longer, even when they played the parts of <i>chevaliers -français.</i></p> - -<p>Lafond was an odd fellow in other ways besides. Thanks to his Gascon -accent and to his way of saying things, one never knew whether he were -talking nonsense or saying something witty.</p> - -<p>He once came into the lounge of the Théâtre-Français when Colson (an -indifferent actor who was often hissed) was blurting out his caricature -of Lafond's trick of over-acting. Colson pulled himself up; but it was -too late: Lafond had heard his voice in the corridor. He made straight -for Colson.</p> - -<p>"Eh! Colson, my friend," he said, in that Bordelais accent of which -none but those who have heard and followed it could form any idea, -"they tell me you have been taking me off?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! M. Lafond," Colson replied, trying to recover himself, "take you -off?... No, I swear I...."</p> - -<p>"All right! all right! that was what I was told.... Come, Colson, do me -a favour."</p> - -<p>"What is it, M. Lafond?"</p> - -<p>"Act my part before me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, M. Lafond...."</p> - -<p>"I beg you to do it; I shall really be extremely obliged to you."</p> - -<p>"The deuce!" said Colson. "If you really wish it...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do wish it."</p> - -<p>Colson yielded, and began Orosmane's tirade—</p> - -<p> -"Vertueuse Zaire, avant que l'hyménée...."<br /> -</p> - -<p>and declaimed it from the first line to the last, with such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> fidelity -of imitation that one might have thought Lafond himself were declaiming.</p> - -<p>Lafond listened to the end with the deepest attention, nodding his head -up and down and expressing his approbation by frequent and obvious -signs.</p> - -<p>Then, when Colson had finished, he said, "Well! why ever don't you act -like that, my dear fellow? The public would not hiss you if you did!"</p> - -<p>In the interval between the first and second acts of <i>Pierre de -Portugal</i>, Lucien Arnault was in the wings; during the second act, -Pierre de Portugal, disguised as a soldier of his army, insinuates -himself unrecognised into the house of Inès de Castro, who takes him -for a common soldier.</p> - -<p>Lucien saw Lafond advance in a costume resplendent with gold and jewels.</p> - -<p>He ran up to him. "Ah! my dear Lafond," he said, "your costume is all -wrong!"</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say against my costume?"</p> - -<p>"Rather, I should just think so."</p> - -<p>"But it is blatantly new."</p> - -<p>"That is precisely what I take exception to: you have put on the garb -of a prince, not that of a common soldier."</p> - -<p>"Lucien," replied Lafond, "listen to this: I would rather arouse envy -than pity." Then, turning haughtily on his heels, no doubt in order -to show the back of his costume to Lucien, since he had shown him the -front, he said, "They can ring: Pierre de Portugal is ready."</p> - -<p>When, five years later, I read <i>Christine</i> before the Théâtre-Français, -whether or not Lafond was a member of the committee, or whether he -did not care to trouble himself to listen to the work of a beginner, -I had the misfortune to read it in his absence. Although, as we shall -see in its proper place, the play was rejected, the reading excited -some interest, and it was thought that a drama might be made out of it -sooner or later.</p> - -<p>One day I saw the door of my humble office open and M. Lafond was -announced. I raised my head, greatly surprised,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> unable to imagine -why I should be favoured by a visit from the viceroy of the tragic -stage: it was indeed he! I offered him a chair; but he refused it -with a nod of the head, and stopping close to the door, with his -right foot forward and his left hand resting on his hips, he said, -"Monsieur Dumas, do you happen to have, by any chance, in your play, -a well-set-up gallant who would say to that queer queen Christine, -'Madame, your majesty has no right to kill that poor devil of a -Monaldeschi, for this, that, or any other reason'?"</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur, no! I have no such gallant in my play."</p> - -<p>"You are quite sure you haven't?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In that case I have nothing to say to you.... Good-day, M. Dumas." -And, turning on his heel, he went out as he had entered. He had come -to ask me for the part of this well-set-up gallant, as he called it. -Unfortunately, as I had been compelled to acknowledge, I had no such -part in my play.</p> - -<p>In the heyday of his popularity M. Lafond never spoke of Talma, or of -M. Talma: he said, <i>the other person</i>.</p> - -<p>The Comte de Lauraguais, who had been Sophie Arnould's lover, and who, -like the Marquis de Zimènes, was one of the most constant visitors to -the actors' green-room, said one day to M. Lafond, "M. Lafond, I think -you are too often <i>the one</i> and not often enough <i>the other?</i>"</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Duchesnois was quite different from Lafond: she was really -kind-hearted, and her great successes never made her vain. She was -born in 1777, one year before Mademoiselle Mars, at Saint-Saulve, near -Valenciennes, and she changed her name, after her début in <i>Phèdre</i>, -in 1802, from Joséphine Ruffin to Duchesnois. We have said that she -was Mile. Georges' rival in everything: her rival on the stage, her -rival in love. Harel was the handsome Paris who was the object of this -rivalry. Harel, who was in turn manager of the theatre de l'Odéon and -of the théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, will play a great part in -these Memoirs—the part that a clever man, be it known, has the right -to play everywhere.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Duchesnois had had to struggle all her life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> against -her plain looks: she was like one of those china lions one sees -on balustrades; she had a particularly big nose which she blew -stentoriously, as befitted its size. Lassagne did not dare to go -into the orchestra on days when she acted; he was afraid of being -blown away. On the other hand, she had a marvellous figure, and her -body could have rivalled that of the Venus de Milo. She doted on the -part of Alzire, which allowed her and Lafond to appear almost naked. -She possessed a certain simplicity of mind which her detractors -called stupidity. One day—in 1824—people were busy talking about -the inundation of St. Petersburg, and of the various more or less -picturesque accidents that had occurred through this inundation.</p> - -<p>I was in the wings, behind Talma and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, to whom -an actress, who had just arrived from the first, or rather from the -second, capital of the Russian Empire, was relating how one of her -friends, overtaken by the flood, had only had time to climb up on a -crane.</p> - -<p>"What! on a crane?" said Mademoiselle Duchesnois, in great -astonishment. "Is it possible, Talma?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! my dear," replied the actor questioned so oddly, "no one ought to -know better than yourself that it is done every day."</p> - -<p>But, in spite of her ugliness, in spite of her simplicity, in spite of -her hiccough, in spite of her nose-blowing, Mademoiselle Duchesnois -possessed the most profoundly tender inflections in her voice, and -could express such pathetic sorrow, that most of those who saw her in -<i>Marie Stuart</i> prefer her to-day to Mademoiselle Rachel. Especially did -her qualities shine when she played with Talma. Talma was too great an -artiste, too superb an actor to fear being outbidden. Talma gave her -excellent advice, which her fine artistic nature utilised, if not with -remarkable intelligence, at least with easy assimilation.</p> - -<p>The poor creature retired from the stage in 1830, after having -struggled as long as she could against the pitiless indifference of the -public, and the cruel hints from other actors which generally embitter -the later years of dramatic artistes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> She reappeared once again before -her death in 1835, in <i>Athalie</i> at the Opera, I believe.</p> - -<p>It was very sad to see her: it inevitably brought to mind the line from -<i>Pierre de Portugal</i>—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Inès, vivante ou non, tu seras couronnée!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Alas! poor Duchesnois was crowned when she was more than half dead. She -had a son, a good honest lad. After the Revolution of July, Bixio and I -got him a sub-lieutenancy; but he was killed, I believe, in Algeria.</p> - -<p>The tragedy of <i>Pierre de Portugal</i> was a success; it was even a great -success; but it only ran fifteen or eighteen nights, and did not bring -in any money.</p> - -<p>Lassagne was right.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VId" id="CHAPTER_VId">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>General Riégo—His attempted insurrection—His escape and flight—He is -betrayed by the brothers Lara—His trial—His execution</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>We have mentioned that the <i>École des Vieillards</i> ought to have come -after <i>Pierre de Portugal</i>, but between the comedy and tragedy two -terrible dramas took place in Madrid and Paris. In Madrid they made a -martyr; in Paris they executed a criminal. The martyr's name was Riégo: -the guilty criminal's Castaing.</p> - -<p>Riégo was born, in 1783, in the Asturias, so he would be about forty: -he was of a noble but poor family and, since the invasion of 1808, he -had enlisted as a volunteer. He became an officer in the same regiment -in which he had enlisted; he was taken prisoner and led away to France. -Sent back to Spain, when peace was declared, he attained the rank of -lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment, and, leading this regiment -into insurrection, seduced by him, it proclaimed the constitution of -1812 at las Cabesas-de-San-Juan. It will be seen later that it was -desired that his head should be exposed, in order that his mute lips -and the eyes closed by death might bear witness to the fact that -royalty can be cruel for more than a day's span, and common people -ungrateful. On 27 September he was arrested at Cadiz. Let us say a few -words concerning his arrest and death,—the latter especially, for, -alas I it belongs almost to French history. After his last defeat, -General Riégo wandered in the mountains with a score of his comrades, -all of whom belonged, like himself, to the Liberal party. Fifteen of -these fugitives were officers. They were all exhausted by fatigue and -hunger, and did not know either where to look for shelter or from whom -to beg food, when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> caught sight of two men. They made straight for -them. These two men were the hermit of the district of Pédrogil and a -native of Valez named Lopez Lara. The general took them aside.</p> - -<p>"My friends," he said to them, "you have a chance to win a fortune for -yourselves and your families."</p> - -<p>"What must we do to gain it?" the two men asked.</p> - -<p>"Conduct me safe and sound to Carolina, to Carboneras and to Novas de -Tolosa."</p> - -<p>"And there...?"</p> - -<p>"There I shall find friends who will take me on to Estremadura, where I -have business to transact."</p> - -<p>Whether the journey appeared to them too long, or whether they fancied -they had to deal with outlaws, the hermit and his companion declined. -So Riégo arrested them, put them on a couple of mules, and told them -that, whether willingly or under compulsion, they would have to act as -guides to his band. The party waited until nightfall and then set forth.</p> - -<p>During the march in the darkness, Riégo talked with his comrades -concerning various events that had recently occurred, from which the -hermit and Lopez Lara soon guessed that they were in the company of -the notorious Riégo. From that moment Lopez Lara's whole thoughts were -filled with the idea of handing Riégo over to the Royalist authorities. -When daytime came, they had to stop. They were near the farm of -Baquevisones: Riégo announced that he meant to ask for shelter there, -so he ordered Lara to knock at the door. Lara obeyed. By chance, his -own brother Matéo opened it. Lara perceived that chance had brought him -the assistance he needed. Riégo, realising that too large an escort -might betray him, would only allow three of his comrades to go in with -him. One of these companions was an Englishman, even more daring than -Riégo. He at once locked the door of the farm behind him and put the -key in his pocket. When they had given the horses fodder, they rested -in the stable, each with his naked sword by his side. Three slept, -while the fourth mounted guard. When Riégo awaked, he discovered -that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> horse was unshod. He ordered Lopez Lara to shoe the horse -immediately.</p> - -<p>"All right," replied he; "but I must take him to Arguillos to get him -shod."</p> - -<p>"No," returned Riégo; "you shall stay here and Matéo shall have him -shod. But the farrier shall come here; the horse shall not go to him."</p> - -<p>Lopez appeared to conform with indifference to this order; but, as he -transmitted it to his brother, he managed to say—</p> - -<p>"The man who owns the horse is General Riégo."</p> - -<p>"So ho!" said Matéo; "arrange for him to be at breakfast by the time I -return; do not leave the place where they are or let them out of your -sight."</p> - -<p>Matéo returned, and made a sign to his brother that the commission was -executed. Then to Riégo he said—</p> - -<p>"Señor, as the farrier will be here in five minutes, you had better -breakfast, if you wish to proceed on your journey directly your horse -is shod."</p> - -<p>Riégo went to breakfast without making any objection. But not so the -Englishman.</p> - -<p>The Englishman searched the high road with his field-glasses from a -window as far as he could see. Suddenly a score of armed men came into -sight, headed by an <i>alcade</i> (magistrate).</p> - -<p>"General," he exclaimed, "we have been betrayed! There are soldiers -coming."</p> - -<p>"To arms!" cried Riégo, rising. He had time to utter this cry, but not -to accomplish its fulfilment. Lopez and Matéo seized their guns and -covered the outlaws with them.</p> - -<p>"The first man who moves is dead!" cried Lopez.</p> - -<p>"All right," said Riégo, "I surrender; but warn the soldiers who are -coming not to harm us, since we are your prisoners."</p> - -<p>The soldiers entered, led by the alcade.</p> - -<p>"Shake hands, brother, and do us no harm," said Riégo to the alcade.</p> - -<p>After some objection, the alcade greeted Riégo. But, in spite of this, -he told him he must bind his hands. Whereupon, Riégo took out of his -pocket all the money he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> had with him and distributed it among the -soldiers, asking them to treat him mercifully. The alcade, however, -forbade the soldiers to accept anything. A quarter of an hour later, -the civil commandant arrived from Arguillos with a guard, and they took -the prisoners to Andujar.</p> - -<p>When the captives entered that town, the people wanted to tear them -limb from limb. Riégo was accompanied by a French officer. When he -arrived in front of the same balcony from which, a year ago, he had -harangued the people, he pointed to the crowd which surrounded him -howling and shaking their fists and knives at him, and in a tone of -profound sadness he said to the officer, "These people whom you see -so relentless towards me, these people who if I had not been under -the protection of your escort would have butchered me long since, -these people carried me here in triumph only last year; the town was -illuminated the whole night through, and the very same individuals whom -I recognise surrounding me here, who then deafened me with cries of -'Vive Riégo!' now shout 'Death to Riégo!'"</p> - -<p>He was taken to the seminary of nobles; his trial lasted over a month. -A decree dated 1 October, the very day on which he was freed from -prison and reached the port of Sainte-Marie, degraded the general of -all his honours; consequently, he was tried by a civil court. The King -of Spain gained a twofold advantage by depriving the general of a -military court martial.</p> - -<p>First he knew that the civil court would condemn Riégo to death. -Second, if the sentence were pronounced by a civil court, the death -would be ignominious. Vengeance is such a sweet mouthful that it must -not be permitted to lose any of its flavour.</p> - -<p>On 4 November they led Riégo from the seminary of nobles to the -prison of la Tour. The court had not obtained all it demanded. The -attorney-general requisitioned that Riégo should be condemned to -the gallows; that his estate should be confiscated and given to the -Commune; that his head should be exposed at las Cabesas de San-Juan; -that his body should be quartered and one quarter sent to Seville, -another to the isle of Leon, the third to Malaga and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> fourth -exposed in Madrid, in the usual places for such exhibitions,—"these -towns being," the attorney-general added, "the principal places where -the traitor Riégo scattered the sparks of revolt."</p> - -<p>The alcades decided that the mode of death should be by hanging and -that the goods should be confiscated; but they refused the request -concerning the four quarters.</p> - -<p>Once, towards the end of the fifteenth century, the inhabitants of -Imola, a small town in the Romagna, found, on waking up, the four -quarters of a man hanging each by a hook at the four corners of -the square. They recognised the man cut into four quarters for a -Florentine, and wrote to the worshipful Republic to advise them of -the unforeseen accident that had overtaken one of its citizens. The -Republic learnt of this by means of Machiavelli, its ambassador to -the Legations. Machiavelli's only reply was as follows: "Noble lords, -I have but one thing to say to you apropos of the corpse of Ramiro -d'Orco, which was found cut up into four quarters in the square of -Imola, and it is this: the illustrious Cæsar Borgia is the prince who -best knows how to deal with men according to their deserts."</p> - -<p>It riled the King of Spain not to be able to deal with Riégo as Borgia -had dealt with Ramiro d'Orco; but he had to content himself with the -prisoner being borne to the gibbet on hurdles and with the confiscation -of his property. Even that would be quite a pretty spectacle.</p> - -<p>On 5 November at noon Riégo's sentence was read to him: he listened -to it very calmly. This calmness disturbed the judges for it would -set a bad example if Riégo died bravely. They took him to the chapel, -and under pretence that fasting induced penitence sooner than -anything else, they gave him nothing to eat from that time. Two monks -accompanied him to his cell and never left him. At the prison door, -in the street, he could see a table with a crucifix thereon, and -passers-by placed their alms on the table. These alms were destined to -pay the expenses of his mass and funeral.</p> - -<p>On the 7th, at nine in the morning, the prison was besieged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> by over -thirty thousand curious spectators; a much greater number than that -lined the whole of the route, and formed a double line from the prison -square to the square where the execution was to take place.</p> - -<p>Riégo had asked that only Spanish troops should be present during his -last moments. This favour was granted him, because France did not wish -to dip one corner of its white flag in the blood of the unlucky Riégo.</p> - -<p>At half-past twelve, after fifty hours of fasting, the general was -led forth to the prison door. He was pale and weak. They had stripped -him of his uniform and they had clothed him in a dressing-gown with -a girdle fastened round his waist; his hands and feet were likewise -bound. He was laid on a hurdle, with a pillow under his head. Monks -walked on both sides of this hurdle to administer spiritual consolation -to him. An ass drew the hurdle, led by the executioner. The victim was -preceded and followed by a corps of cavalry.</p> - -<p>It was difficult to get a good sight of the general, so great was the -curiosity of the crowd: his head fell forward on his breast, and he had -only sufficient strength to raise it two or three times to reply to the -exhortations of the priests.</p> - -<p>The cortège took nearly an hour to get from the prison to the place of -execution. When the foot of the gallows was reached, the general was -raised from the hurdle, covered with dust, and placed on the first step -of the scaffold. There he made his last confession. Then they dragged -him up the ladder; for, his feet being bound, he could not mount it -himself. All the while a priest kept beseeching God to forgive him his -sins, as he forgave those who had trespassed against him. When they -had hauled him a certain height, those who raised the condemned man -stopped. The act of faith was begun and, at the last word, the general -was hurled from the top of the ladder. At the very instant that the -priest pronounced the word <i>Jésus-Christ</i>, which was the signal, the -executioner leapt on the shoulders of the martyr, while two men hung -from his legs, completing the hideous group. Twice the shout of "Vive -le roi!" went up, first from the rows of spectators near by; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> -second time from a few individuals alone. Then a man leapt from out the -crowd, stepped towards the scaffold, and struck Riégo's body a blow -with his stick. That night they carried the corpse into the nearest -church, and it was interred in the Campo-Santo by the Brothers of -Charity.</p> - -<p>Nothing is known of Riégo's last moments, as no one was allowed to come -near him; the monks, his bitterest enemies, being desirous of throwing -all possible odium on his dying moments.</p> - -<p>"The last of the Gracchi," according to Mirabeau, "in the act of death, -threw dust steeped in his own blood into the air. Thence was born -Marius."</p> - -<p>Riégo left a song; from that song was born a revolution, and from that -revolution the Republic.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIId" id="CHAPTER_VIId">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>The inn of the <i>Tête-Noire</i>—Auguste Ballet—Castaing—His trial—His -attitude towards the audience and his words to the jury—His execution</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The second drama which happened in Paris, and which was to have its -denouement on the place de Grève, on the same day that the <i>École des -Vieillards</i> was played, was the poisoning of Auguste Ballet.</p> - -<p>We have spoken of the death of poor little Fleuriet, who was as -pretty, fresh and flower-like as her name, and who was carried off in -twenty-four hours without any apparent reason for her death. May I be -forgiven the accusation implied in this statement, for it may be a -calumny; but when the facts cited below are considered, the cause of -her death may be guessed.</p> - -<p>On 29 May, two young people arrived in what at that period was -called "une petite voiture," and drew up at the <i>Tête-Noire</i> inn, at -Saint-Cloud. They had set off without leaving word where they were -going. Towards nine o'clock in the evening they were installed in a -double-bedded chamber. One of the couple paid a deposit of five francs. -The two friends walked about together the whole of the next day, -Friday, the 30th; they only appeared at the hotel at dinner-time, and -went out again immediately after their repast for another walk. It was -nine o'clock at night before they returned for the second time. When -going upstairs, one of them asked for a half-bottle of mulled wine, -adding that it need not be sugared, as they had brought sugar with -them. The wine was taken up a few minutes after nine, sugared with -the sugar that they had brought, and made tasty with lemons bought in -Saint-Cloud. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> same young man who made the five francs deposit for -the room, who ordered the dinner, and forbade the sugar to be brought -upstairs, mixed the sugar and lemon juice in the bowl of warmed wine.</p> - -<p>One of the two seemed to be a doctor; for, having heard that one of -the servants of the house was ill, he went upstairs to see him, before -tasting the prepared wine, and felt his pulse. However, he did not -prescribe anything for him, and returned to his friend's room after an -absence of a quarter of an hour. The said friend had found the wine -very nasty, and had only drunk about a tablespoonful of it. He had -stopped short because of the bitter flavour of the beverage. In the -midst of all this, the chambermaid entered. "I must have put too much -lemon in this wine," said the young man, holding the bowl towards her: -"it is so bitter I cannot drink it." The servant tasted it; but she -spat it out as soon as she had had a mouthful of it, exclaiming, "Oh -yes!... rather, you have made it bitter!" Upon which she left the room. -The two friends went to bed.</p> - -<p>Throughout the night the young man who had tasted the wine was seized -with violent spasms of nervous shivering, which did not give him a -moment's rest; he complained to his companion several times that he -could not keep himself still. Towards two o'clock, he had fits of -colic and, at daybreak, about half-past three in the morning, he -said he did not think he would be able to get up, that his feet were -on fire and that he could not possibly put on his boots. The other -young man said he would take a turn in the park, and recommended his -friend to try and sleep in the meantime. But, instead of going for a -walk in the park, the young man whose visit to the sick servant led -people to suppose him a doctor, took a carriage, returned to Paris, -bought twelve grains of acetate of morphine from M. Robin, rue de la -Feuillade, and one drachm from M. Chevalier, another chemist, obtaining -them readily in the capacity of a medical man. He returned to the inn -of the <i>Tête-Noire</i> at eight o'clock, after four hours' absence, and -asked for some cold milk for his friend. The sick man felt no better; -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> drank the cup of milk prepared by the young doctor, and almost -immediately he was taken with fits of vomiting which rapidly succeeded -each other. Soon he was seized by colic. Strange to say, in spite of -the attack becoming worse, the doctor again left the patient alone, -without leaving any instructions and without appearing to be uneasy -at a condition of things which was arousing the anxiety of strangers. -While he was absent, the hostess of the hotel and the chambermaid went -up to the sick man and did what they could for him. He was in great -agony. The young doctor returned in about half an hour's time. He found -the patient in an alarming condition; he was asking for a doctor, -insisting that one should be fetched from Saint-Cloud, and he opposed -his friend's suggestion that one should be fetched from Paris. He felt -so ill, he said, that he could not wait.</p> - -<p>So they ran for the nearest available; but nevertheless it was not -until eleven o'clock in the morning that the doctor whom they went to -seek arrived. His name was M. Pigache.</p> - -<p>The sick man was a little easier by that time. M. Pigache asked to -see the evacuations, but he was told that they had been thrown away. -He ordered emollients, but the emollients were not applied. He came -back an hour later and prescribed a soothing draught. The young doctor -administered it himself to the invalid; but the effect it produced -was prompt and terrible: five minutes after, the patient was seized -by frightful convulsions. In the midst of these convulsions he lost -consciousness, and from that moment never regained it.</p> - -<p>Towards eleven o'clock at night, the young doctor, weeping bitterly, -informed a servant that his friend could not survive the night. The -servant ran for M. Pigache, who decided, in spite of the short time he -had attended him, to pay the dying man one more visit. He found the -unhappy youth lying on his back, his neck rigidly strained, his head -uncovered, hardly able to breathe; he could neither hear nor feel; -his pulse was slow, his skin burning; his limbs were stiff and rigid, -his mouth clenched; his whole body was running with a cold sweat and -marked with bluish spots. M. Pigache decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> he must at once bleed -the patient freely, and he bled him twice—with leeches and with the -lancet. It made the sick man a little easier. M. Pigache pointed this -out to his young confrère, saying that the condition of the dying -man was desperate and that, as the good effect produced by the two -bleedings was so noticeable, he did not hesitate to propose a third. -But this the young doctor opposed, saying that the responsibility was -too great, and that, if the third bleeding ended badly, the whole of -the responsibility for the ending would rest on M. Pigache. Upon this, -the latter peremptorily demanded that a doctor should be sent for from -Paris.</p> - -<p>This course would have been quite easy, for, during that very day, -as the result of a letter despatched by the young doctor couched in -the following terms, "M. Ballet being ill at Saint-Cloud, Jean must -come to him at once, in the gig, with the grey horse; neither he nor -mother Buvet must speak a word of this to a single soul; if anybody -makes inquiry, they must say he is going into the country by order of -M. Ballet," Jean, who was a negro servant, arrived with the grey horse -and the gig. In spite of this facility of communication, the young -doctor made out that it was too late to send for a doctor from Paris. -They waited, therefore, until three o'clock, and at three o'clock Jean -started off with two letters from M. Pigache to two of his medical -friends.</p> - -<p>M. Pigache left the house, and as the young doctor accompanied him, -he said, "Monsieur, I think no time should be lost in sending for -the priest of Saint-Cloud; your friend is a Catholic and I think so -badly of his condition that you ought to have the last sacraments -administered to him without delay."</p> - -<p>The young man recognised the urgency of the advice, and, going himself -to the house of the curé, he brought him back with the sacristan.</p> - -<p>The priest found the dying man in the same unconscious condition. "What -is the matter with your unfortunate friend, monsieur?" asked the priest.</p> - -<p>"Brain fever," replied the young man.</p> - -<p>Then, as the curé was preparing to administer extreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> unction, the -young doctor knelt down, and remained in that position, with clasped -hands, praying to God with such fervour that the sacristan could not -refrain from remarking when they had both left, "What a very pious -young man that was!" The young doctor went out after the priest, and -remained away for nearly two hours.</p> - -<p>Towards three o'clock, one of the two doctors that had been sent for -arrived from Paris. It was Doctor Pelletan junior. M. Pigache, informed -of his arrival, came and joined his confrère at the bedside of the sick -man. But, after a rapid examination, both concluded that the patient -was beyond human aid.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, they tried various remedies, but without success. All -this time the young doctor appeared to be overcome with the most -poignant grief—a grief that expressed itself in tears and sobs. These -demonstrations of despair impressed M. Pigache all the more because, in -course of conversation, the young doctor had said to him, "I am all the -more unhappy as I am my unfortunate friend's legatee."</p> - -<p>Thereupon M. Pelletan, addressing the weeping young man, said to him, -"Have you reflected, monsieur, on the peril of your position?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Well, listen! You come, with your friend, for a couple of days to -Saint-Cloud; you are a doctor; you are, anyway, his legatee...."</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur, I am his residuary legatee."</p> - -<p>"Very well: the man who has bequeathed you his entire fortune is dying; -the symptoms of his illness are extremely peculiar and, if he dies, as -is probable, you will find yourself in a very awkward position...."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed the young man. "You think I shall be suspected?"</p> - -<p>"I think that, at any rate," replied M. Pelletan, "all imaginable -precautions will be taken to ascertain the cause of death. As far as M. -Pigache and myself are concerned, we have decided that there ought to -be a post-mortem examination."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh! monsieur," cried the young man, "you could not do me a greater -service; insist upon it, demand a post-mortem examination, and you will -play the part of a father to me if you do."</p> - -<p>"Very well, monsieur," replied Doctor Pelletan, seeing him so much -excited; "do not be troubled. Not only shall the matter be carried -through, but it shall be carried through as delicately as possible, and -we will pay our utmost attention to it."</p> - -<p>Between noon and one o'clock—that is to say, within thirty or forty -minutes of this conversation—the dying man expired.</p> - -<p>The reader will already have recognised the two principal actors in -this drama by the designation of the place where it happened, and by -the details of the victim's agony.</p> - -<p>The dead man was Claude-Auguste Ballet, lawyer, aged twenty-five, son -of a rich Paris solicitor. His friend was Edme-Samuel Castaing, who in -a few days' time would be twenty-seven, doctor of medicine, born at -Alençon, living in Paris, No. 31 rue d'Enfer. His father, an honourable -and universally respected man, was Inspector-General of Forests, and -Chevalier of the <i>Légion d'honneur.</i></p> - -<p>One hour after the death of Auguste Ballet, M. Martignon, his -brother-in-law, warned by a letter from Castaing that Auguste Ballet -could not live through the day, hurried to Saint-Cloud, where he found -the sick man already dead.</p> - -<p>While they were proceeding to search every object in the inn that might -possibly throw some light on the cause of death, Castaing, still at -large, absented himself for nearly two hours. No one knew what he did -in his second absence. He pretended he wanted fresh air, and stated -that he was going for a walk in the bois de Boulogne.</p> - -<p>M. Pelletan returned at ten o'clock next morning to make the -post-mortem examination.</p> - -<p>He had left Castaing in full possession of his liberty, but when he -returned he found him under the surveillance of two policemen. Castaing -appeared very uneasy at the results to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> which a post-mortem examination -might lead; but he seemed to feel sure that if the body did not present -any trace of poison, he would be set at liberty immediately.</p> - -<p>The examination took place and an extremely circumstantial official -report was drawn up; but nowhere, either in tongue, or in stomach or in -intestines, could they detect the presence of any poisonous substance. -As a matter of fact, acetate of morphine, like brucine and strychnine, -leaves no more trace than is left by congestion of the brain or a bad -seizure of apoplexy. It was because of this, a fact which Castaing -knew well, that when the priest had asked him from what his friend was -suffering, he had replied, "He has brain fever."</p> - -<p>When the post-mortem was finished, without having revealed any material -proof against the suspected person, M. Pelletan asked the <i>procureur du -roi</i> if he had any objection to Castaing being informed of the result.</p> - -<p>"No," replied <i>the procureur du roi</i>; "simply communicate the result to -him in general terms, without making him think it is going to be either -in his favour or to his detriment."</p> - -<p>M. Pelletan found Castaing waiting for him upon the staircase.</p> - -<p>"Well," he asked the doctor eagerly, "have you concluded and come to -release me?"</p> - -<p>"I am unaware," replied M. Pelletan, "whether they mean to release you -or to detain you; but the truth is we can find no trace of violent -death in the body of Auguste Ballet."</p> - -<p>In spite of the temporary absence of material proof, Castaing was kept -a prisoner. The preliminary investigation began: it lasted from the -month of June to the end of September.</p> - -<p>On 10 November, Castaing appeared at the prisoner's bar. The affair -had created a great sensation even before it was made public; and the -Assize Court presented the appearance usual when an important case is -on—that is to say, so many lovely women and fashionably dressed men -put in an appearance that one might have thought it the first night -of a new play which had been announced with great pomp. The accused -was brought in. An indefinable movement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> of interest agitated the -spectators: they bent forward and oscillated with curiosity, looking -like a field of corn tossed about by the wind. He was a handsome young -man, well set up, with a pleasant face, although there was something -rather odd in his expression as he looked at you. Without being -elegantly attired, he was dressed with care.</p> - -<p>Alas! the preliminary investigation had revealed terrible facts. -Auguste Ballet's death had caused judicial attention to be bestowed -upon this unlucky family, and it was discovered that, since Castaing -had known the family, the father, the mother, the uncle had all -disappeared, struck down mortally within five months of each other, -leaving the two brothers Hippolyte and Auguste a very considerable -fortune; and, finally, Hippolyte died in his turn in Castaing's arms, -without either his brother Auguste or his sister Madame Martignon being -able to get to him. All these deaths had successively concentrated -pretty nearly the whole of the family fortune on the head of Auguste -Ballet.</p> - -<p>On 1 December 1822, Auguste Ballet, aged twenty-four, in health of -mind and body at the time, made a will, constituting Castaing, without -any motive, his residuary legatee, with no reservations beyond a few -small bequests to two friends and three servants. Auguste Ballet died -in his turn on 1 June, seven months after his brother. Now this is -what the proceedings had elicited concerning the two points which in -similar cases are specially investigated by those in charge of the -case—namely, Castaing's intellectual and his physical life. With -regard to his intellectual life, Castaing was a hard worker, urged -on by ambition, burning with the desire to become rich; his mother -revealed horrible things concerning him, if a letter that was seized -at her house was to be believed; his father reproached him with his -licentious life and the sorrow with which he overwhelmed both his -parents. In the midst of all this, he worked on perseveringly: he -passed his examinations; he became a doctor.</p> - -<p>Anatomy, botany and chemistry were the subjects to which he devoted -most time. Especially chemistry. His note-books<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> were produced, full -of observations, extracts, erasures. They attested the determination -shown in his researches and the profound study he had made of poisons, -of their various kinds, of their effects, of the palpable traces some -leave on different bodily organs, whilst some, quite as deadly and more -insidious, kill without leaving any vestiges perceptible to the eyes of -the most learned and experienced anatomist.</p> - -<p>These poisons are all vegetable poisons: brucine, derived from false -angostura; strychnine from Saint-Ignatius nut; morphine from pure -opium, which is extracted from the Indian poppy. Now, it was a strange -and terrible coincidence that on 18 September 1822, seventeen days -before the death of Hippolyte Ballet, Castaing bought ten grains of -acetate of morphine. Twelve days later, Hippolyte, suffering from a -serious pulmonary disease, but not yet in danger, was seized with a -deadly attack and died, as we have said, far from his sister and his -brother, after five days' illness! He died in Castaing's arms.</p> - -<p>Then Castaing's fortunes changed: he who had been very hard up -heretofore lent his mother thirty thousand francs and invested under -assumed names or in bearer stock the sum of seventy thousand francs. -The matter was further complicated by matters arising out of the will -of Hippolyte Ballet, questions which will never be properly cleared up, -even in the law courts, and which seemed to imply that Auguste Ballet -became Castaing's accomplice. Hence Auguste's weakness for Castaing; -hence that will in his favour; hence the intimacy between these two -men, who never separated from one another; all these things were -explained, from the moment when, instead of the ordinary bond of pure -and simple friendship, the link between them was supposed to be the -indestructible chain of mutual complicity.</p> - -<p>For—and this is the time to return to his outward life, that we have -put to one side in order to speak of the intellectual life—Castaing -was not wealthy: he lived on a moderate income allowed him by his -mother; his own efforts barely produced him five or six hundred francs -per annum; he had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> mistress, also very poor, a widow with three -children; he had two other children by her, so the young doctor had to -keep a family of six persons whilst as yet he had no practice. It seems -that he adored his family, especially his children. Letters were found -showing warm fatherly affection in a heart that was consumed, even -more on behalf of others than on his own account, with that thirst of -ambition and that craving for riches which brought him to the scaffold.</p> - -<p>We have seen that Castaing's finances suddenly became easier, that he -lent his mother thirty thousand francs and that he invested seventy -thousand francs in assumed names or in bearer bonds.</p> - -<p>Then, next, we saw that on 29 May he arrived at Saint-Cloud with -Auguste Ballet, and that, on 1 June, Auguste Ballet died, leaving him -residuary legatee. Castaing was in Paris on the evening he was absent -under pretence of taking a walk: he bought twelve grains from one -chemist and one drachm from a second, of acetate of morphine, or, in -other words, of that vegetable poison which leaves no traces and of -which he had already bought ten grains, seventeen days before the death -of Hippolyte Ballet.</p> - -<p>The above is a résumé of the accumulated evidence brought against -Castaing, who had to face the jury under the weight of fifteen charges -relative to the poisoning of Hippolyte Ballet, of thirty-four connected -with the business of the will and of seventy-six relative to the -poisoning of Auguste Ballet. People will remember the different phases -gone through during that long and terrible trial; the steady denials of -the prisoner, and his bearing on receipt of the sentence condemning him -to death; a sentence decided by the turn of only one vote—that is to -say, by seven against five.</p> - -<p>The criminal stood, with bared head, and listened with frigid -resignation to the sentence, his hands clasped together, silent, his -eyes and hands raised to Heaven.</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to say why sentence should not be carried out?" -asked the judge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span></p> - -<p>Castaing sadly shook his head, the head so soon to feel the chilly grip -of death.</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur," he said in a deep but gentle voice,—"no, I have -nothing to say against the carrying out of the sentence decreed against -me. I shall know how to die, although it is a great misfortune to die, -hurried to the grave by such a dire fate as has overtaken me. I am -accused of having basely murdered my two friends, and I am innocent.... -Oh! indeed, I repeat it, I am innocent! But there is a Providence: that -which is immortal in me will go forth to find you, Auguste, Hippolyte. -Oh yes, my friends" (and here the condemned man stretched out both his -arms to heaven most impressively),—"oh yes, my friends, yes, I shall -meet you again, and to me it will be a happy fate to rejoin you. After -the accusation brought against me, nothing human can affect me. Now I -look no longer for human pity, I look only for Heaven's mercy; I shall -mount the scaffold courageously, cheered by the thought of seeing you -again! Oh! my friends, this thought will rejoice my soul even when I -feel.... Alas!" continued the accused, passing his hand across his -neck, "alas! it is easier to understand what I feel than to express -what I dare not utter...." Then, in a lower tone, "You have decided -on my death, messieurs; behold, I am ready to die." Then, turning -to his counsel, Maître Roussel, he said, "Look, look, Roussel, turn -round, come here and look at me.... You believed in my innocence, and -you defended me believing in that innocence; well, it is even so, I -am innocent; take my farewell greetings to my father, my brothers, my -mother, my daughter!" Then, without any pause, he went on, addressing -the amazed spectators: "And you, young people, you who have been -present at my trial; you, my contemporaries, will be present also at my -execution; you will see me there animated with the same courage as now, -and if the shedding of my blood be deemed necessary to society, well, I -shall not regret that it has to flow!"</p> - -<p>Why have I related the details of this terrible trial in such fulness? -Is it in order to awake gloomy memories of the past in the hearts of -the members of those two unhappy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> families who may still be alive? -No! It was because, by reason of the reports connecting poor Fleuriet -with Castaing, I was present at the final tragedy; I begged a day's -holiday from M. Oudard in order to see the end; I was present among the -number of those young people whom the condemned man, in a moment of -exaltation, of delirium, perhaps, invited to his execution; and when -I saw that man so exuberantly young, so full of life, so eager after -knowledge, condemned to death, bidding farewell to his father, his -mother, his brothers, his children, society, creation, light, in those -poignant tones and miserable accents, I said to myself in inexpressible -anguish of heart, "O my God! my God! suppose this man should be another -Lesurques, another Labarre, another Calas!... O my God! my God! suppose -this man be not guilty!"</p> - -<p>And, then and there, before the tribunal which had just condemned a man -to death, I vowed that, no matter to what position I might attain, I -would never look upon it as justifiable to punish a sentient, suffering -human being like myself by the deprivation of life.</p> - -<p>No, I was not present at the execution; for, I must admit, I could not -possibly have borne such a spectacle; and now twenty-eight years have -flown by between Castaing's execution and Lafourcade's, and they have -been full of such cases, in spite of the penalty of death, which is -meant to be a deterrent and does not deter! Alas! how many wretched -criminals have passed along the route that led from the Conciergerie to -the place de Grève, and now leads from la Roquette to the barrière de -Saint-Jacques, during those twenty-eight years!</p> - -<p>On 6 December, at half-past seven in the morning, Castaing was led from -Bicêtre to la Conciergerie. A moment later, the gaoler entered his cell -and told him of the rejection of his petition. Behind the gaoler came -the abbé Montes.</p> - -<p>Castaing then turned his attention to his prayers, praying long and -earnestly. He did not utter a single word during the whole of the -time he spent in the vestibule of the Conciergerie, while they were -preparing him for his execution.</p> - -<p>When he looked round at the vast crowd that awaited his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> appearance as -he mounted into the cart, his cheeks grew suddenly purple, and then -gradually subsided to a deathly paleness. He only lifted his head at -the foot of the scaffold; it had remained sunk on his breast during the -journey; then, glancing at the crowd again as he had done on coming -out of the Conciergerie, he knelt at the foot of the ladder and, after -he had kissed the crucifix and embraced the worthy ecclesiastic who -offered it him, he climbed the scaffold, held up by the executioner's -two assistants. He raised his eyes twice quite noticeably to Heaven -while they pinioned him on the fatal block; then, at fifteen minutes -past two, as the quarter chimed, his head fell.</p> - -<p>Castaing had experienced the sensation of death that he had not dared -more clearly to define to the audience when he drew his hand across his -neck—Castaing had passed before his Creator—if guilty, to receive -forgiveness, if innocent, to denounce the real criminal.</p> - -<p>He had asked to see his father, to receive his benediction <i>in -extremis</i>; the favour was refused him. He next asked for this -benediction to be sent him in writing. It was sent to him thus, but was -first passed through vinegar before being handed to him. They feared -the paternal benediction might hide some poison by the aid of which -Castaing might find means to cheat the scaffold of its due.</p> - -<p>All was ended by half-past two, and those who wished to have comedy -after tragedy still had time to go from the place de Grève to take -their stand in the queue outside the Théâtre-Français. On that day, 6 -December 1823, the <i>École des Vieillards</i> was played.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIIId" id="CHAPTER_VIIId">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Casimir Delavigne—An appreciation of the man and of the poet—The -origin of the hatred of the old school of literature for the new—Some -reflections upon <i>Marino Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard</i>—Why -Casimir Delavigne was more a comedy writer than a tragic poet—Where he -found the ideas for his chief plays</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The first representation of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> played by Talma -and Mademoiselle Mars was a great occasion. It was the first time -indeed that these two great actors had appeared together in the same -play.</p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne had laid down his own conditions. Expelled from the -Théâtre-Français under pretext that <i>his work was badly put together</i>, -he had profited by the proscription. His <i>Messéniennes,</i> his <i>Vêpres -siciliennes</i>, his <i>Comédiens</i> and the <i>Paria,</i> and perhaps even more -than all these, the need felt by the Opposition party for a Liberal -poet to set against Lamartine and Hugo, the Royalist poets of the -period, had made the author of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> so popular -that, with this popularity, all difficulties were cleared away, perhaps -even too smoothly; for, like Richelieu in his litter, Casimir Delavigne -returned to the Théâtre-Français not through the door, but by means of -a gap.</p> - -<p>I knew Casimir Delavigne very well as a man, I studied him very much as -a poet: I never could get up much admiration for Casimir Delavigne as -a poet, but I have always had the greatest respect for him as a man. -As an individual, in addition to his uncontested and incontestable -literary probity, Casimir Delavigne was a man of pleasant, polite, even -affable demeanour. The first sight of him gave one the disagreeable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> -impression that his head was much too big for his small body; but his -fine forehead, his intelligent eyes, his good-natured mouth, very soon -made one forget this first impression. Although a man of great talent, -he was of the number of those who display it only when pen in hand. His -conversation, pleasant and affectionate, was colourless and insipid; -as he lacked dignity of expression and strength of intonation, so he -lacked strength and dignity of actual words. He attracted no notice at -a salon: people needed to have Casimir Delavigne pointed out before -they paid any attention to him. There are men who bear the stamp of -their kingly dignity about with them: wherever these people go they -instantly command attention; at the end of an hour's intercourse -they reign. Casimir Delavigne was not one of them: he would have -declined the power of commanding attention, had it been offered him; -had sovereignty been thrust upon him, he would have abdicated. All -burdens, even the weight of a crown, were embarrassing in his eyes. He -had received an excellent education: he knew everything that could be -taught when he left college; but since he left college he had learnt -very little by himself, had thought but little, had reflected but -little.</p> - -<p>One of the chief features of Casimir Delavigne's character—and, in -our opinion, one of his most unlucky attributes—was his submission -to other people's ideas, a submission that could only arise from -want of confidence in his own ideas. Oddly enough, he had created -among his friends and in his family a kind of censorship, a sort of -committee of repression, commissioned to watch over his imagination -and to prevent it from wandering; this was all the more futile since -Casimir Delavigne's imagination, enclosed in decidedly narrow limits, -needed stimulating much more than restraining. The result was that -this Areopagitica, inferior as it was in feeling and, above all, in -style to Casimir Delavigne himself, played sad havoc with what little -picturesqueness of style and imagination in plot he possessed. This -depreciatory cenacle often reminded him that Icarus fell because -he flew too near the sun; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> I am sure he did not even dream of -replying, that if the sun melted Icarus's wings, it must have been -because Icarus had false wings fastened on with wax, and that the -eagle, which disappears in the flood of fiery rays sent forth by the -god of day, never falls back on the earth as the victim of a similar -accident.</p> - -<p>The result of this abdication of his own will was that just when -Casimir Delavigne's talent was at its best and his reputation was -at its height, he dared not do anything by himself, or on his own -initiative. The ideas that arose in his brain were submitted to this -committee before they were worked into proper shape; the plot decided -upon, he would again put himself in the hands of this commission, -which commented upon it, discussed it, corrected it and returned it -to the poet signed <i>examined and found correct.</i> Then, when the plot -became a play and was read before (of course) the same assembly, one -would take a pencil, another a pair of scissors, a third a compass, a -fourth a rule, and set to work to cut all vitality out of the play; to -such purpose that, during the sitting, the comedy, drama or tragedy -was lopped, trimmed and cut about not according to the notions of the -author but as MM. So and So, So and So, So and So thought fit, all -conscientious gentlemen after their own fashion, all talented men in -their own line, wise professors, worthy savants, able philologists, but -indifferent poets who, instead of elevating their friend's efforts by -a powerful breath of inspiration, only thought instead of keeping him -down on the ground for fear he should soar above them to realms where -their short-sighted glance could not follow him.</p> - -<p>This habit of Casimir Delavigne, of submitting his will to that of -others, gave him, without his being aware of it himself, a false -modesty, an assumed humility, that embarrassed his enemies and disarmed -those who were jealous of him. How indeed could anyone begrudge a man -his success who seemed to be asking everybody's leave to succeed and -who appeared surprised when he did succeed; or be envious of a poor -poet who, if they would but believe it, had only succeeded through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> -the addition to his feeble intelligence of abilities superior to his -own; or be vexed with such a quaking victor, who implored people, in -the moment of his triumph, not to desert him, as beseechingly as a -vanquished man might pray them to remain true to him under defeat? -And people were faithful to Casimir Delavigne even to the verge of -fanaticism: they extended hands of flattering devotion in homage to his -renown, the diverging rays of which, like the flame of the Holy Spirit, -became divided into as many tongues of fire as the Casimirian cult -could muster apostles.</p> - -<p>We have mentioned the drawbacks, now let us point out the advantages, -of his popularity. His plays were praised abroad before they were -finished, spoken highly of before they were received, in the three -classes of society to which Casimir Delavigne belonged by birth, and -I will even go so far as to say above all by his talent. Thus his -clientèle comprised: through Fortune Delavigne, who was an advocate, -all the law students in Paris; through Gustave de Wailly, professor, -all the students of the Latin quarter; through Jules de Wailly, chief -clerk in the Home Office, all the Government officials.</p> - -<p>This sort of family clientèle was extremely useful for the purpose of -doing battle with theatrical managers and publishers.</p> - -<p>It knew Casimir and did not allow him to undertake any business -arrangements: he was so modest that he would have unconditionally given -his plays to the comedians, his manuscripts to the publishers without -any agreements. Casimir was aware of his failing in this direction: he -referred publishers and managers to his brother Germain, his brother -Germain referred them to his brother Fortune, and his brother Fortune -managed the affair on a business footing.</p> - -<p>And I would point out that all this was done simply, guilelessly, in -kindly fashion, out of the admiration and devotion everybody felt -towards Casimir; without intrigue, for this assistance never prejudiced -anyone who rendered it; and I might even say without there being any -coterie; for, in my opinion, where there is conviction coteries do not -exist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, every friend of Casimir Delavigne was absolutely and perfectly -convinced that Casimir Delavigne was the first lyric poet of his -time, the first dramatic poet of his century. People who never came -in touch with him, and those who were stopped by the vigilant cordon -which surrounded him, acted for and praised him, might well believe -that these opinions emanated from himself, as from the centre to the -circumference; but if they did get to close quarters with him, they -were soon persuaded of the simplicity, the sincerity and the kindliness -of that talented man.</p> - -<p>I believe Casimir Delavigne never hated but one of his confrères. But -him he hated well. That man was Victor Hugo. When the author of <i>Odes -et Ballades</i>, of <i>Marion Delorme</i> and of <i>Nôtre-Dame de Paris</i> was -taken with the strange fancy of becoming the colleague of M. Droz, of -M. Briffaut and of M. Viennet, I took upon myself to go personally on -his account to ask for Casimir Delavigne's vote. I thought that such an -intelligent person as the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i> would regard it -as the duty of one in his position to help as much as was in his power -in providing a seat for his illustrious rival, a candidate who had done -the Academy the honour of applying for a seat therein.</p> - -<p>I was quite wrong: Casimir Delavigne obstinately declined to give his -vote to Victor Hugo, and that with such vehemence and tenacity as I -should have dreamt him incapable of feeling, especially towards me, -of whom he was extremely fond. Neither entreaty nor supplication nor -argument could, I will not say convince, but even persuade him to -agree. And yet Casimir Delavigne knew well enough that he was rejecting -one of the eminent men of his time. I never found out the reason for -this antipathy. It was certainly not on account of their different -schools: I was most decidedly not of the school of Casimir Delavigne, -and he offered me the vote he withheld from Victor Hugo.</p> - -<p>The poor Academicians were in a sorry fix in my case; for, if I had put -myself up, I believe they would have elected me! They nominated Dupaty.</p> - -<p>Hugo comforted himself by one of the wittiest sayings he ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> made. -"I believed," he said, "that one could enter the Academy <i>par le pont -des Arts</i>; I was mistaken, for it appears it is by the Pont Neuf that -entrance is effected."</p> - -<p>And now that I have criticised the man, perhaps it may be thought that -it will be a much more difficult matter still for me his confrère, his -rival, at times his antagonist, to criticise his poetry. No! my readers -are labouring under a misapprehension: nothing is difficult to whoso -speaks the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Moreover, -I have never written anything about a man that I was not ready to tell -him to his face.</p> - -<p>In order to judge Casimir Delavigne fairly, we must glance over the -period at which he was born and in which he lived. We must speak of the -imperial era. What occasioned the burst of hatred that made itself felt -after the appearance of <i>Henri III</i>., of <i>Marion Delorme</i> and of the -<i>Maréchale d'Ancre</i>, between the new and the old school of poetry and -their representatives?</p> - -<p>People have stated the fact without inquiring into its causes: I can -tell you them.</p> - -<p>Because, during all the years that Napoleon was levying his toll of -300,000 conscripts, he did not perceive that the poets he looked for, -and looked for so vainly, had been compelled to change their calling, -and that they were in camp, sword, musket or sabre in hand, instead of -pen in hand in their studies. And this state of things lasted from 1796 -to 1815—a period of nineteen years.</p> - -<p>For nineteen years the enemy's cannon swept down the generation of men -from fifteen to thirty-six years of age. So it came about that when the -poets of the end of the eighteenth century and those of the beginning -of the nineteenth confronted one another, they found themselves hemmed -in on each side by an immense ravine which had been hollowed out by the -grapeshot of five coalitions: at the bottom of this ravine a million of -men were stretched, and among this million of men, snatched away before -they had added to the population, were those twelve poets that Napoleon -had so insistently demanded of M. de Fontanes, without being able to -obtain them from him.</p> - -<p>Those who escaped were consumptive poets, considered too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> feeble to -undertake soldiers' duties, who died young, like Casimir Delavigne and -Soumet. These were bridges thrown across the ravine of which we have -just spoken, but quite unequal to the task allotted them.</p> - -<p>Napoleon, with his eighteen years of warfare and his ten years' reign, -the re-constructor of religion, the re-builder of society, he who -established legislation on a firm basis, was foiled in the matter of -poetry. Had it not been for the two men whom we have named—Soumet and -Casimir Delavigne—the thread of continuity would have been broken.</p> - -<p>So it came about that Casimir Delavigne, the connecting link between -the old and the new schools, showed always in his poetry a little of -that anæmic quality which was evident in his person; in any work by -Casimir (which never exceeded the limits of one, three or five acts -ordained by the old theatrical régime) there was always something -sickly and airless; his plays lacked breath, as did the man; his work -was as consumptive as the poet.</p> - -<p>No one ever made three acts out of his one; no one ever made five acts -out of his three; no one ever made ten acts out of his five. But it was -a simple task to reduce five of his acts to three; three of his acts to -one.</p> - -<p>When imagination failed him, and he appealed to Byron or Shakespeare, -he could never attain their sublime heights; he was obliged to stop -short a third of the way up, midway at the very utmost, like a child -who climbs a tree to gather apples and finds he cannot reach the -ripest, which always grow on the highest branches, and are the most -beautiful because they are nearest the sun, save at the risk of -breaking his neck—a risk he is wise enough not to venture to take.</p> - -<p>We will make our meaning clearer by a couple of instances: <i>Marino -Faliero</i> and the <i>Enfants d'Édouard.</i></p> - -<p>In Byron's <i>Marino Faliero</i>, the doge plots to revenge himself on the -youthful satirist, who has insulted him by writing on his chair "Marin -Falier, the husband of the fair wife; others kiss her, but he keeps -her." This was a calumny: the fair Angiolina is as pure as her name -implies, in spite of being but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> eighteen and her husband eighty. It is -therefore to defend a spotless wife, and not to avenge the husband's -outraged honour, that Byron's Marino Faliero conspires, and we hardly -need say that the play gains in distinction by the passage across it of -a sweet and lofty figure, inflamed with devotion, rather than suffused -with repentance.</p> - -<p>Now, in Casimir Delavigne's imitation, on the contrary, the wife is -guilty. Héléna (for the poet, in degrading her, has not ventured to -keep her heavenly name) deceives her husband, an old man! She deceives -him, or rather she has deceived him, before the rising of the curtain. -The first lines of the tragedy are concerned with a scarf that she is -embroidering for her lover—a serious blunder in our opinion; for there -could be only one means of making Héléna interesting, if she were to -be made guilty, and that would be to show the struggle in her between -passion and virtue, between love and duty; in short, to have done, only -more successfully, what we did in <i>Antony.</i></p> - -<p>But we reiterate that it was far better to make the wife innocent, as -Byron does; far better to put a faithful wife alongside the old man -than an adulterous one; far better in the fifth act, where the wife -seeks out her husband, to let him find devotion and not repentance -when his prison doors are opened. When Christ was bowed down under His -bloody agony, God chose the purest of His angels, not a fallen one, to -carry Him the cup of bitterness!</p> - -<p>We will pass over the conspiracy which takes place in Venice at -midnight, in the middle of the square of Saint Mark, where fifty -conspirators cry in eager emulation, "Down with the Republic!" In -Venice and at midnight! in Venice, the city of the Council of Ten! in -Venice, the city that never really sleeps, where at least half the -populace is awake while the other half sleeps!</p> - -<p>Casimir Delavigne did not venture to borrow anything from Shakespeare's -<i>Richard III.</i> but the death of the two princes: instead of that -magnificent historical play by the Elizabethan poet, he substituted -an insignificant little drama, replete with infantine babblings and -maternal tears; of the great figure of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> Richard III., of the marvellous -scene between the murderer and the wife of the murdered man and of the -assassination of Buckingham, of the duel with Richmond and Richard's -remorse, nothing is left.</p> - -<p>The gigantic statue, the Colossus of Rhodes, between whose legs the -tallest galleys can pass, has become a bronze ornament suitable for the -top of a timepiece.</p> - -<p>Did Casimir Delavigne even take as much of the subject of the <i>children -of Edward</i> as he might have taken? Has he not turned aside from his -model, Shakespeare, with regard to the dignified way in which the -characters of the heir to the throne and his gentle brother the Duke of -York are treated? We will adduce one example to demonstrate this.</p> - -<p>In Casimir Delavigne, when the young Richard takes refuge in -Westminster Abbey, the church possessing the right to offer sanctuary, -the author of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, in order to compel the young prince -to come out of the church, causes a letter to be written, apparently -from his brother, inviting him to come back to him at the palace. The -poor fugitive, although surprised at receiving it, puts reliance on -this letter, and comes out of his place of safety. When he reaches the -palace, Richard III. immediately arrests him.</p> - -<p>In Shakespeare, the young prince also seeks this refuge. What does -Richard III. do? He sends for the archbishop and says to him, "Has the -crown prince sought refuge in your church?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"You must give him up to me."</p> - -<p>"Impossible, monseigneur."</p> - -<p>"Why so?"</p> - -<p>"Because the church is a place of sanctuary."</p> - -<p>"For guilty men, idiot!" replies Richard, "but not for innocent -ones...."</p> - -<p>How small, to my thinking, is Mézence, that scoffer at men and at -gods, by the side of Richard III., who kills his innocent enemies -just as another would kill his guilty enemies. It will be understood -that, since Casimir Delavigne was devoid both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> of picturesqueness and -dignity, he succeeded much better in comedy than in tragedy; and we -think his two best productions were the two comedies, <i>Les Comédiens</i> -and the <i>École des Vieillards.</i> It should be clearly understood that -all we have to say is said from the point of view of a rigid standard -of criticism, and it does not therefore follow that Casimir Delavigne -was not gifted with very genuine qualities. These good qualities were: -a facile aptitude for versification which only occasionally rises to -poetic expression, it is true, but which on the other hand never quite -descends to flabbiness and slackness; and, indeed, from the beginning -to the end of his work, from the first line to the last, whatever -else his work may be, it is careful, presentable and particularly -honest; and please note that we have used the word "honest" as the most -suitable word we could choose; for Casimir Delavigne was never the kind -of man to try and rob his public by stinting the work he had in hand -in order to use similar material in his next piece. No; in the case of -Casimir Delavigne, <i>one got one's money's worth</i>, as the saying is: -he gave all he possessed, to the last farthing. The spectators at the -first production of each of his new plays had everything he had at that -time to give them. When midnight arrived, and, amidst the cheering of -the audience, his signature was honoured—that is to say, what he had -promised he had performed—he was a ruined man. But what mattered it to -be reduced to beggary! He had owed a tragedy, a drama, a comedy, he had -paid to the uttermost farthing; true, it might perhaps mean his being -compelled to make daily economies of mind, spirit and imagination, -for one year, two years, three years, before he could achieve another -work; but he would achieve it, cost what it might, at the expense of -sleepless nights, of his health, of his life, until the day came when -he died worn out at fifty-two years of age, before he had completed his -last tragedy.</p> - -<p>Well, there was no need for the poet of the <i>Messéniennes</i>, the -author of the <i>École des Vieillards</i>, of <i>Louis XI.</i> and of <i>Don -Juan</i> to commiserate himself. He who does all he can does all that -can be expected of him. Nevertheless, we shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> always maintain that -Casimir Delavigne would have done better still without his restraining -body-guard; and we need not seek through his long-winded works for -proof of what we assert; we will take, instead, one of the shorter -poems, which the poet wrote under stress of sadness—a similar effort -to M. Arnault's admirable <i>Feuille</i>—M. Arnault, who was not only far -less of a poet but still less of a versifier than Casimir Delavigne.</p> - -<p>Well, we will hunt up a little ballad which Delavigne relegated to -notes, as unworthy of any other place and which we, on the contrary, -consider a little masterpiece.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"La brigantine</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Qui va tourner,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roule et s'incline</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pour m'entraîner ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Provence, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mon pauvre père</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Verra son vent</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pâlir ma mère</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Au bruit du vent ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mon père, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">La vieille Hélène</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Se confira</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dans sa neuvaine,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et dormira ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hélène, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma sœur se lève,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Et dit déjà:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'J'ai fait un rêve,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Il reviendra!'</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma sœur, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De mon Isaure</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Le mouchoir blanc</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">S'agite encore</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">En m'appelant ...</span><br /> -O Vierge Marie!<br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Isaure, adieu!</span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brise ennemie,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pourquoi souffler,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quand mon amie</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Veut me parler?</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Vierge Marie!</span><br /> -Pour moi priez Dieu.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adieu, patrie!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bonheur, adieu!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Scudo, the author of that delightful melody, <i>Fil de la Vierge</i>, -once asked Casimir Delavigne for some lines to put to music. Casimir -seized his pen and dashed off <i>Néra.</i> Perhaps you do not know <i>Néra</i>? -Quite so: it is not a poem, only a simple song: the <i>Brigantine</i> was -relegated to the notes; <i>Néra</i> was excluded from his works.</p> - -<p>A day will come—indeed, we believe that day has already come—when the -<i>Messéniennes</i> and <i>Néra</i> will be weighed in the same balance and we -shall see which will turn the scale.</p> - -<p>This is <i>Néra</i>:—</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Ah! ah!... de la montagne<br /> -Reviens, Néra, reviens!<br /> -Réponds-moi, ma compagne,<br /> -Ma vache, mon seul bien.<br /> -La voix d'un si bon maître,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Peux-tu la méconnaître?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Reviens, reviens; c'est l'heure<br /> -Où le loup sort des bois.<br /> -Ma chienne, qui te pleure,<br /> -Répond seule à ma voix.<br /> -Hors l'ami qui t'appelle,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Qui t'aimera comme elle?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Dis-moi si dans la crêche,<br /> -Où tu léchais ma main,<br /> -Tu manquas d'herbe fraîche,<br /> -Quand je manquais de pain?<br /> -Nous n'en avions qu'à peine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Et ta crêche était pleine!<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Hélas! c'est bien sans cause<br /> -Que tu m'as délaissé.<br /> -T'ai-je dit quelque chose,<br /> -Hors un mot, l'an passé?<br /> -Oui, quand mourut ma femme,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -J'avais la mort dans l'âme,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -De ta mamelle avide,<br /> -Mon pauvre enfant crira;<br /> -S'il voit l'étable vide,<br /> -Qui le consolera?<br /> -Toi, sa mère nourrice,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Veux-tu donc qu'il périsse?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Lorsque avec la pervenche<br /> -Pâques refleurira,<br /> -Des rameaux du dimanche<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span>Qui te couronnera?<br /> -Toi, si bonne chrétienne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Deviendras-tu païenne?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Quand les miens, en famille,<br /> -Tiraient les Rois entre eux,<br /> -Je te disais: 'Ma fille,<br /> -Ma part est à nous deux!'<br /> -A la fête prochaine,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Tu ne seras plus reine.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Ingrate! quand la fièvre<br /> -Glaçait mes doigts roidis,<br /> -Otant mon poil de chèvre,<br /> -Sur vous je l'étendis ...<br /> -Faut-il que le froid vienne,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Pour qu'il vous en souvienne<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Adieu! sous mon vieux hêtre<br /> -Je m'en reviens sans vous;<br /> -Allez chercher pour maître<br /> -Un plus riche que nous ...<br /> -Allez! mon cœur se brise,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!...</span><br /> -Pourtant, Dieu te conduise<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Je n'ai pas le courage<br /> -De te vouloir du mal;<br /> -Sur nos monts crains l'orage<br /> -Crains l'ombre dans le val.<br /> -Pais longtemps l'herbe verte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -Nous mourrons de ta perte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!</span><br /> -<br /> -Un soir, à ma fenêtre,<br /> -Néra, pour t'abriter,<br /> -De ta come peut-être<br /> -Tu reviendras heurter;<br /> -Si la famille est morte,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra,</span><br /> -Qui t'ouvrira la porte?<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! ah!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Néra!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IXd" id="CHAPTER_IXd">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<blockquote> -<p>Talma in the <i>École des Vieillards</i>—One of his letters—Origin of his -name and of his family<i>—Tamerlan</i> at the pension Verdier—Talma's -début—Dugazon's advice—More advice from Shakespeare—Opinions of the -critics of the day upon the débutant—Talma's passion for his art</p></blockquote> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The <i>École des Vieillards</i> was very successful. A fatal Dud, which had -recently taken place under pretty nearly similar conditions to those -that operated between Danville and the duke, gave the piece just that -appropriate touch which captivated the Parisian public. We ought also -to add that Talma had perhaps never looked finer; the play of emotions -in the part of the old and betrayed lover could not have been rendered -in more moving accents. It was a part that interested the audience from -an entirely different point of view than that of the part of Marino -Faliero, who shares with Danville the lot of a betrayed lover.</p> - -<p>Oh! what an inestimable gift a good voice is to the actor who knows -how to use it! How tender were Talma's tones in the first act, how -impatient in the second, uneasy in the third, threatening in the -fourth, dejected in the fifth! The part is gracious, noble, pleasing -and harmoniously consistent throughout. How the old man's heart goes -out to Hortense partly from paternal feeling, partly as a lover! And, -while complaining of the wife who allows herself to be snared, like a -foolish lark, by the mirror of youth and the babblings of coquetry, how -he despises the man who has in some inexplicable way managed to catch -her fancy! Alas! there is in every maiden's heart one vulnerable place, -open to unscrupulous attack.</p> - -<p>The wife's part is very much below that of the man. Does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> Hortense love -the duke or does she not? Is she a flirt or is she not? It is a serious -flaw that the situation is not more clearly defined, and the following -passage shows it: in the fourth act, while Hortense is conversing -with the duke in a salon at one o'clock in the morning, she hears her -husband's footsteps, and hides the duke.</p> - -<p>Now, I appeal to all wives: would any wife hide a man whom she did not -love when surprised by her husband, no matter at what hour of the day -or night it might be?</p> - -<p>Hortense must love the duke, since she hid him. If Hortense loves the -duke, she cannot escape from an accusation of ingratitude; for it is -impossible to comprehend how an honourable wife, who had a good and -thoughtful husband, young-hearted in spite of his white hairs, could -for one moment fall in love with such a colourless creature as the Duke -Delmas.</p> - -<p>With what moving accents does Talma utter the words</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 15%;"> -"Je ne l'aurais pas cru! C'est bien mal! C'est affreux!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>as he gets up and traverses the stage in despair. No human anguish was -ever more clearly revealed than in this sob.</p> - -<p>Vulgar amateurs and second-rate critics praised exceedingly the -character of one of Danville's college chums, in this comedy by Casimir -Delavigne, played with much humour by an actor called Vigny. It is the -part of an old bachelor, who, after remaining in single blessedness -for sixty years, decides to marry on the strength of the description -Danville draws of conjugal happiness, and comes to tell his friend of -his decision at the very moment when he is racked with jealous pangs.</p> - -<p>No, indeed, a hundred times no, it is not here where the real beauty -of the <i>École des Vieillards</i> lies. No, it is not that scene wherein -Danville repeats incessantly: "<i>Mais moi, c'est autre chose!"</i> that -should be applauded. No, the matter to be applauded is the presentation -of the deep and agonising torture of a broken heart; what should be -applauded is the situation that gives scope for Talma to display both -dignity and simplicity at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> same time, and that shows how much -suffering that creature, born of woman, cradled in grief and brought up -to grief, whom we call <i>man</i>, is capable of enduring.</p> - -<p>Talma's friends blamed him for playing the part in a frock-coat; he -told them he had been sacrificed to Mademoiselle Mars. They asked him -why he had so easily allowed himself to be made the footstool of an -actress placed above him, the pedestal for one whose renown rivalled -his own: Talma let them say.</p> - -<p>He knew well enough that in spite of all Mademoiselle Mars' talent, -all her winsomeness, all her ease of manner on the stage, all the -pretty things she said in her charming voice, everything was eclipsed, -effaced, annihilated, by a single utterance, a sob, a sigh of his. It -must have been a proud moment for the poet when he saw his work thus -finely interpreted by Talma; but it must have been quite a different -matter to Talma, for he felt that the limits of art could be extended -farther, or rather that art has no boundaries. For Talma had been -educated in the spacious school of Shakespeare, which intermingles -laughter with tears, the trivial with the sublime, as they are -intermingled in the pitiful struggle which we call life. He knew what -the drama should aim at: he had played tragedy all his life and had -never ventured to attempt comedy. We will briefly relate how he came to -be the man we knew.</p> - -<p>Talma was born in Paris, in the rue des Ménétriers, on 15 January 1766. -When I became acquainted with him he would be about fifty-seven. He -received from his godfather and godmother the names François-Joseph -and from his father that of Talma. In a letter from Talma which I have -by me, it is stated that the name of Talma, which became celebrated by -the deeds of the great artiste, was several times made the subject of -investigation by etymologists.</p> - -<p>This autograph letter by Talma is the copy of one in which he replies -in 1822 to a savant of Gruningen, named Arétius Sibrandus Talma, who, -after giving details of his ancestry, asks the modern Roscius if he -cannot lay claim to the honour of relationship with him. This is -Talma's reply:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"I do not know, monsieur, and it would be a difficult -matter for me to find out, whether you and I are of the -same family. When I was in Holland, more than fifteen -years ago, I learnt that there were many people bearing -the same name as myself in the land of Ruyter and of Jan -de Witt My family mainly inhabited a little strip of -country six leagues from Cambrai, in French Flanders. -This is not the first time, monsieur, that my name has -given rise to discussion with regard to my origin, on the -part of foreigners. About forty or fifty years ago, a son -of the Emperor of Morocco staying in Paris and hearing -mention of my father's name came and asked him if it were -not of Arabian derivation—a question that my father was -unable to answer. Later, an Arab merchant whom I met in -Paris in my youth put the same question to me: I could -not answer him more explicitly than could my father, the -son of His Majesty of Morocco.</p> - -<p>"M. Langlais, a distinguished savant, who had made a very -profound study of Oriental languages, told me, at that -time that the word Talma, in the Arabic tongue, meant -<i>intrepid</i>, and that it was a very customary name among -the descendants of Ishmael, to distinguish the different -branches of the same family. You may be sure, monsieur, -that such an interpretation ought to make me very proud, -and I have ever done my utmost not to fall short of it. -I have consequently given rein to my imagination and -conjecture that a Moorish family remained in Spain, -embraced Christianity and wandered from that kingdom to -the Netherlands, which were formerly under allegiance to -the Spaniards, and that by degrees members of this family -wandered into French Flanders, where they settled. But, -on the other hand, I have been informed that our name has -a Dutch ending and that it was once very common in one of -the provinces of Holland. This new version has completely -upset my castle in Spain, and conveyed me from the -African deserts to the marshes of the United Netherlands. -Now, monsieur, you ought to be able to decide better than -anyone, certainly better than I, since you speak Dutch, -whether we really came from the North or from the South, -whether our ancestors wore turbans or hats, whether they -offered their prayers to Mahomed or to the God of the -Christians.</p> - -<p>"I have omitted to give you another piece of information, -which is not without its relevancy—namely, that the -Count de Mouradgea d'Olisson, who lived in the East -for some years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span> and who has brought out a work on the -religious systems of Oriental peoples, quotes a passage -from one of their authors which tells us that the king, -or rather the pharaoh, who drove the Israelites out of -Egypt, was called Talma. I have to admit that that king -was a great scoundrel, if the account given of him by -Moses (surely a reliable authority) be correct; but we -must not look too closely into the matter if we wish to -claim so illustrious an origin.</p> - -<p>"You see, monsieur, there is not a single German baron -who boasts his sixteen quarterings, not even a king, -throughout the four quarters of the globe, were he -even of the house of Austria, that oldest of all royal -families, who can boast such a lofty descent as mine. -However it may be, monsieur, believe me, I hold it a -much greater honour to be related to so distinguished -a savant as yourself than to be the descendant of a -crowned head. Such men as you work only for the good of -men, whilst others—and by others I mean kings, pharaohs -and emperors—think only of driving them mad. I trust, -monsieur, that, since you seem to have made up your -mind on this matter, you would be so good as to inform -me whether the name we bear is Dutch or Arabian. In any -case, I congratulate myself, monsieur, upon bearing the -name that you have made celebrated.—Believe me, etc. etc.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"TALMA"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This letter serves to give us both positive information concerning -Talma's family and a good idea of his way of looking at things.</p> - -<p>Talma often told me that his remotest recollections carried him back to -the time when he lived in a house in the rue Mauconseil, the windows of -which looked towards the old Comédie-Italienne theatre. He had three -sisters and one brother; also a cousin whom his father, who was a -dentist by profession, had adopted.</p> - -<p>One day, Lord Harcourt came to Talma's father to have a troublesome -tooth extracted, and he was so pleased with the way the operation was -performed that he urged Talma's father to go and live in London, where -he promised to procure him an aristocratic clientèle. Talma's father -yielded to Lord Harcourt's pressure, crossed the Channel and set up -in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> Cavendish Square. Lord Harcourt kept his promises: he brought the -French dentist such good customers that he soon became the fashionable -dentist, and included the Prince of Wales,—afterwards the elegant -George IV.,—among his clients.</p> - -<p>The whole family followed its head; but Talma's father, considering a -French education better than any other, sent his son back to Paris in -the course of the year 1775. He was then nine years old and, thanks -to having spent three years in England at the age when languages are -quickly picked up, he could speak English when he reached Paris as -well as he could speak French. His father chose M. Verdier's school -for him. A year after he joined the school, great news began to leak -out. M. Verdier, the head of the school, had composed a tragedy -called <i>Tamerlan.</i> This tragedy was to be played on Prize Day. Talma -was hardly ten at that time, so it was probable that he would not be -allotted a leading part, even if he were allowed to take any part in it -at all. The assumption is incorrect. M. Verdier gave him the part of -a confidential friend. It was like all such parts,—a score of lines -strewn throughout the play and a monologue at the end.</p> - -<p>In this peroration the bosom-friend expatiates on the death of his -friend, who was condemned to death, like Titus, by an inexorable -father. The beginning of this recitation went like a charm; the bulk -of it was successfully delivered also; but, towards the end, the -child's emotion grew to such a pitch that he burst into tears, and -fainted away. This fainting fit marked his destiny, for the child was -an artiste! Ten years later, on 21 November 1787, Talma made his first -appearance at the Théâtre-Français, in the part of Séide.</p> - -<p>On the previous day, he paid a visit to Dugazon, and Dugazon gave him -a paper containing the following advice. I copy it from the original, -which is now in my possession.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Aim at greatness, from your first entry, or at any -rate at something above the common. You must try to -leave your mark and to make an appeal to the spirit of -curiosity. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> it may be better to hit straight than -to strike hard; but amateurs are legion and connoisseurs -are scarce. However, if you can unite both truth and -strength, you will have the suffrages of all. Do not -be carried away by applause; nor allow yourself to be -discouraged by hissing. Only fools allow themselves to -be disconcerted by cat-calls; none but idiots are made -dizzy by applause. When applause is lavished without -discrimination, it injures talent at the very outset of -its career. Some artistes have failed, instead of having -passed through their careers with distinction, because of -faults which genuine criticism might have pointed out or -hissing punished.</p> - -<p>"Lekain, Peville, Fleury were all hissed and they are -immortal. A. and B. and C. have succumbed beneath the -hail of too much applause. What has become of them?</p> - -<p>"Fewer means and more study, less indulgence and more -discipline, are all pledges of success; if not immediate -and striking, at least permanent and substantial. Do -you want to captivate women and young people? Begin in -the <i>genre sensible.</i> 'Tout le monde aime,' as Voltaire -says, 'et personne ne conspire.' At the same time, what -may have been good advice in his day may not be worth -very much in ours. If you want chiefly to delight the -multitude, which feels much and reasons but little, adopt -either a magnificent or an awe-inspiring style: they will -instantly take effect. How is it possible to sustain the -dignified part of Mahomed, the condescension of Augustus, -the remorse of Orestes? The impression to be made by -such parts as Ladislas, Orosmane and Bajazet should be -carefully prepared and it will then be ineffaceable.</p> - -<p>"True talent, well supported, and a fortunate début are -a guarantee of immediate popularity; but the artiste -should strive to perpetuate them; he must compel the -public to go on appreciating. After having applauded -from conviction, people should be made to continue their -applause from habit. That collective body of people whom -we call the public has its caprices like any ordinary -individual; it must be coaxed; and (may I go so far as -to say that) if it be won over by good qualities, it is -not impossible to keep its favour by faults; you may -use defects, then, to that end! Nevertheless, you must -be careful that they are those with which your judges -will be in sympathy. Should the case be otherwise, you -may still have defects; but they will be poor relations -dogging the footsteps of your talent and welcomed only -by reason of its greater<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> authority. Molé stammered and -slurred, Fleury staggered and I have been reproached with -over-acting; but Molé had indescribable charms, Fleury an -alluring delivery, and I make people laugh so heartily -that the critic who tries to be solemn at my expense is -never given a hearing.</p> - -<p>"There are débutants who shoot up like rockets, shine for -a few months and fall back into utter darkness. There are -several causes for such disasters: their talents were -either forced, or without range, or immature; as the -English say, a few exhibitions have used them up; one or -two efforts have exhausted them. Perhaps, too, deviating -from the path trodden by the masters, they have entered -the crooked labyrinths of innovation, wherein only genius -can lead temerity aright. Perhaps also, and this is more -hopeless still, they have been bad copies of excellent -originals. And the public, seeing that they have aped -defects rather than copied excellences, has taken them -for parodists and called their efforts caricatures. When -a comedian has reached this point, the best thing for -him to do is to escape out of it by the prompters side -door, and fly to Pan to amuse the Basques, or to Riom to -entertain the Auvergnats. But Paris lays claim to you, my -dear Talma, Paris will cleave to you, Paris will possess -you; and the land of Voltaire and of Molière, of which -you will become the worthy interpreter, will not be long -in giving you letters of naturalisation.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 75%">"DUGAZON</p> - -<p>"20 <i>November</i> 1787"</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is interesting to read the advice that Shakespeare gave two -centuries before, through the mouth of Hamlet, to the players of his -time. It was as follows:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to -you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as -many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier -spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with -your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very -torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your -passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that -may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to -hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion -to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the -groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of -nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would -have such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it -out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.</p> - -<p>"Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be -your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the -action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep -not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is -from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first -and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up -to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her -own image, and the very age and body of the time his -form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, -though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the -judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in -your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, -there be players that I have seen play, and heard others -praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that -neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of -Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, -that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made -men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so -abominably.</p> - -<p>"And let those that play your clowns speak no more than -is set down for them; for there be of them that will -themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren -spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, some -necessary question of the play be then to be considered: -that's villanous, and shows' a most pitiful ambition in -the fool that uses it."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Let the successors of Lekain and of Garrick, of Molé and of Kemble, of -Talma and of Kean, compare this last advice with the first, and profit -by both!</p> - -<p>Talma succeeded, but there was nothing extraordinary about his success. -The débutant was marked out rather by amateurs than by the general -public. It was agreed that his acting was simple and natural. The -account books of the Comédie-Française show that the receipts at -Talma's first appearance amounted to three thousand four hundred and -three francs, eight sous.</p> - -<p>Now shall we hear the opinion of the critics on Talma's début? The -<i>Journal de Paris</i> wrote thus: "The young man who has just made his -début in the character of Séide gives promise of most pleasing talents; -he possesses, besides, every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span> natural advantage that it is possible to -desire, in the rôle of a <i>jeune premier</i>,—figure, grace, voice,—and -the public were justified in their applause."</p> - -<p>We will next see what Bachaumont had to say about him. "The débutant -possesses besides his natural gifts, a pleasing face, and a sonorous -and expressive voice, a pure and distinct pronunciation; he both feels -and can express the rhythm of his lines. His deportment is simple, his -movements are natural; moreover, his taste is always good and he has no -affectation; he does not imitate any other actor, but plays according -to his own ideas and abilities."</p> - -<p>Two months later, <i>Le Mercure</i> said, apropos of the revival of Ducis' -<i>Hamlet</i>: "We mean soon to speak of a young actor, M. Talma, who has -caught the fancy of playgoers; but we will wait until he has played -more important parts. His taste lies in the direction of tragedy."</p> - -<p>It will readily be understood that the appearance of Mademoiselle -Rachel met with a very different reception from these mild -approbations. And the explanation is not far to seek. Mademoiselle -Rachel was a kind of fixed star, which had been discovered in the -high heavens, where she dwelt unmoved, shining brilliantly. Talma, -on the contrary, was a star destined to shine during a definite -period, to describe the gigantic arc that separates one horizon from -another horizon, to have his rising, his zenith, his setting—a -setting equivalent to that of the sun in mid-August, more fiery, more -magnificent, more splendid in his setting than during the noontide of -his brightness. And indeed what a triumphant progress his was! from -Séide to Charles IX., from Charles IX. to Falkland, from Falkland -to Pinto, from Pinto to Leicester, from Leicester to Danville, from -Danville to Charles VI.!</p> - -<p>But in spite of the brilliant career that was Talma's lot, he always -regretted that he did not see the full dawn of the modern drama. I -spoke to him of my own hopes several times. "Make haste," he would say -to me, "and try to succeed in my time."</p> - -<p>Well, I saw Talma play what very few people outside his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> intimate -circle were privileged to see him play—the <i>Misanthrope</i>, which he -never dared to put upon the boards of the Théâtre-Français, though he -was anxious to do so; a part of <i>Hamlet</i> in English, particularly the -monologue; also some farcical scenes got up at the Saint-Antoine for M. -Arnault's fête.</p> - -<p>Art was Talma's only care, his only thought, throughout his life. -Without possessing a brilliant mind, he possessed fine feeling, much -knowledge and profound discernment. When he was about to create a new -part, he spared no pains in investigating what history or archæology -might have to offer him in the way of assistance; every gift, good -or indifferent, that he possessed, qualities as well as defects, -was utilised by him. A fortnight before his death, when he rallied -a little, and the rally gave rise to the hope that he might again -reappear at the Théâtre-Français, Adolphe and I went to see him.</p> - -<p>Talma was having a bath; he was studying Lucien Arnault's <i>Tibère</i>, in -which he hoped to make his reappearance. Condemned by a disease of the -bowels to die literally of starvation, he was terribly thin; but he -seemed to find consolation even in his emaciated state and to derive -hope of a success from it.</p> - -<p>"Well, my boys," he said to us, as he pressed his hanging cheeks -between his hands, "won't these be just right for the part of old -Tiberius?"</p> - -<p>Oh! how great and glorious a thing art is! It shows more devotion than -a friend, is more faithful than a mistress, more consoling than a -confessor!</p> - -<h4>END OF VOL. 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