REMINISCENCES OF PARIS.*

IN the year of the Great Exhibition, a work made its appearance on the horizon of the literary world, which, although not heralded by any flourish of trumpets, was speedily recognised as a star of no ordinary magnitude. It was called "Erinnerungen aus Paris," and contained a very interesting sketch of persons and things as they appeared in that metropolis during the years included between 1817 and 1848. After a rest of two years, the talented authoress has favoured us with a second volume, the probable result of the universal attention the first excited. We will not positively assert that the last is better than the first; for, in truth, it bears more than one mark of bookmaking, through the interpolation, for instance, of a long conversation between Lacratelle and Madame de Staël, which appears a translation of some pre-existing paper, and by a very copious review, or rather examination, of Aimé Martin's "Maternal Education." Still, there is much that is novel and interesting to be found in the book, and we will proceed to select those episodes which will amuse the general reader.

The first literary portrait to which we are introduced is that of Chateaubriand, whom our authoress had an opportunity of seeing at the Tuileries; and we cannot refrain from making an extract, to show the mournful hilarity in which the elder Bourbons were wont to indulge :

Through the melancholy condition into which Louis XVIII. had fallen, it was not the custom for any of the royal family to visit the public theatres, with the exception of the Duchesse de Berri, and her husband, while still living. If the king wished to be present at a representation-or rather, if it was thought right to mention court fêtes in the papers-the different companies were ordered to perform in turn, at the theatre in the Château. Only those belonging to the court, or strangers who had been presented by their ambassadors, were permitted to appear in the open side balcony. All the places were here alike, and the guests were expected to wear full court dress; the gentlemen appeared in a richly-embroidered coat, called habit Français, with broad lace frills and ruffles, which frequently alone cost from 500 to 1000 francs. The royal family occupied exclusively a small low division in the centre of this balcony. Any one not belonging to the court obtained-and that as a special mark of distinction-a seat in the second rank of a loge grillée, so that it might be impossible for the unbefeathered head to peer out. Although you were not seen here, and were not supposed to belong to the company, yet it was possible to see and hear in a much more interesting manner, as you were master of your movements. The behaviour of the court was indescribably formal. No one dared to utter the slightest expression of applause or disapproval, and a company of mechanically moved Marionettes would probably have imitated life better, than the living here sought to suppress all signs of it through propriety. I carefully noticed that no one even whispered the slightest remark to his neighbour. All looked fixedly at the stage, and the king slept the whole evening.

In the midst of this quasi-petrified assembly, Chateaubriand's features

* Personen und Zustände aus der Restauration und dem Julikönigthum, von der Verfasserin der "Erinnerungen aus Paris, 1817-1848." Williams and Norgate.

attracted the attention of our authoress; for, at the first glance, the poet might be recognised in him. He was then in the full flush of his successful career as a politician; for, according to his own opinion at least, he had just shown the world how correct his judgment was as to what could alone benefit France; and the momentary success of his plans had covered him with glory. Chateaubriand thirsted for the reputation of being considered a great statesman, a great poet, a very noble, liberal, and perfectly catholic Christian. He was all this, in fact, but none of them had reached its highest development, probably because the natural repugnance of these varying elements can be hardly reconciled. Active, practical statesmen found him too devoted to idealism; poets, those world ameliorators according to imaginary rules, considered him far too politic; the old nobility called him a partisan of the modern liberal school; with the liberals he was too much a courtier of the old stamp; and finally, rationalists thought him too much, Jesuits too little, imbued with religious principles. The torch of his celebrity would, probably, have been longer enkindled had the scene of his activity been removed from Paris.

In fact, in this city, where nothing remains long in fashion, and after Napoleon's purposes had been served by the génie du Christianisme, and religion became once more so prominent in France, the consecrated water of the Jordan was, in its turn, ridiculed by public opinion. Bourbons and Jesuit sway appeared to the nation inseparable, and, as the latter was always detested, the first were always distrusted. From the same reason Paris was not at all affected by the success of the lately terminated Spanish war, although it might have been reasonably expected after the announcement of a victory. The government had a large majority in the Chamber, but it was far otherwise with public opinion. The court only saw through its never particularly bright spectacles, and this representation at the theatre of the Tuileries was a portion of the court amusements, as they were termed, held in honour of the easily gained victory of 1823.

It will probably be remembered that events in Spain, towards the end of 1822, assumed a very threatening aspect for the neighbouring thrones. It would be difficult to decide whether the ultra-liberal party in France thought that their confederates in Spain acted from the influence of noble sentiments—namely, liberation from monastic superstition and feudal oppression, or whether they were pleased with the outbreak in Spain as a direct attack on the throne. In any case, the government seemed better informed than its opponents; but still it appears certain that the expectation of slight opposition was the first cause of its firm determination to send an army to Spain, under the command of the Duc d'Angoulême. The congress of Verona, at which Chateaubriand voted for intervention, in unison with the European powers, was compelled to await patiently the meeting of the French Chambers; but as soon as they had commenced their proceedings, Chateaubriand defended the measure with all the strength at his command-that is, with poesy and eloquence—in favour of Legitimacy and Catholicism, all of which supported the views of the government.

The reasons he alleged, however, contained too much of the terrible past, and, on the other hand, too much of the seductive future, to satisfy

the Left. storm."

Chateaubriand's speech aroused the well-known "Manuel

Manuel, an advocate, and native of the Barcelonnette, belonged to the extreme Left. Although this party was, at that day, very weak in number, its adherents possessed great influence; in fact, the moral effect of the opposition at that day was more dangerous, through the persons from whom it emanated, than it was later I might almost say it was not so exploité.

:

Chateaubriand's opinion as to intervention led Manuel to offer the most strenuous opposition.

If you desire to save Ferdinand," he said, "do not your utmost to recal those circumstances which led those in whom you take such interest to the scaffold. When the misfortunes of the royal family in 1792 set foreign powers in motion, and their interference in our affairs was only too much apprehended, France felt the necessity of defending herself with freshs trength and energy."

These words had scarce passed Manuel's lips, when a terrible tumult arose, and the cry of " Order" sounded from the whole Right, who rose, and refused to vote with the defender of the royal murder. Manuel looked round calmly and defiantly.

"He must be expelled," the whole Right repeated. His expulsion was immediately proposed and carried. By the advice of his friends, Manuel went to the Chamber the next day, and, after refusing to retire voluntarily, he was removed by the gendarme. The whole Left party followed him.

On this occasion Chateaubriand's views and the interest of the government coalesced; and the poet went so far into the snare, that he dreamed himself absolutely necessary for the welfare of France from this time forth, and only recognised his error when too late. From that day a devouring grief never quitted him.

His ever-memorable speech on the 7th of August, 1830, deserves respect and the highest admiration, when he had the courage and magnanimity to defend the unhappy throne of the expelled dynasty with all the power of his genius. He was, however, but slightly listened to, and he termed himself "a useless Cassandra," the justice of whose prophecies we should now admire, after an interval of twenty years.

The reign of Louis XVIII. drew rapidly to a close, and the king heard with patience and philosophy accidental remarks, which reminded him of his melancholy condition. Once, as he held the young Duke of Bordeaux on his lap, and sportively asked him, " And would you like to be a king?" "Oh, no!" the child replied, considering lameness to be a requisite for reigning, "I would sooner be able to walk."

The chief cause, however, which led to the succession of Charles X. being looked upon with tolerable indifference, lay in the fact, that the

existence of the Carbonari and other affiliated societies was not then generally known, though there is no doubt that the propagation of these societies in France led to the intervention in Spain. Had the public been as well acquainted then, as it is now, with the extension of these sects and propaganda, the reign of Charles X. would have been regarded with great anxiety, for from this monarch might be expected more obstinacy and severity, and less ability to conquer enemies without cruelty, by firmness at one moment and concessions at another.

Of these societies we have mentioned, the St. Simonians were the only one at that day universally known in France and publicly mentioned; of the politically much more influential party, whose motto was "Aide toi

et Dieu t'aidera," little was known. It was not till the revolution of 1830, which, as it was afterwards stated, was greatly supported by this fraternity, that the world became better acquainted with them. The following is the description our authoress gives of the St. Simonians:

The strange system of Saint Simon-a partial development of Fourier's still stranger one (although real St. Simonians deny it)-was, after the death of the great apostle in 1825, attacked and defended with increased passion, and St. Simon, as well as his doctrines, revered or ridiculed. His disciples took every opportunity of praising his heroic conduct in the North American war of Liberation, under Bouillé and Washington, and sought there the first impulse for his ideas of amelioration; others fancied that his incarceration on two occasions had aroused increased reflection in him as to the errors of society. This may have been the case in his French prison, for St. Simon had never mixed himself up in political affairs, and was imprisoned for eleven months in consequence of a mistake. The 9th Thermidor liberated him again. Till the year 1807 he was exclusively engaged in industrial speculations, which were, however, unsuccessful, and he afterwards devoted ten years to the preparation of his later doctrines. Various travels, and a few pamphlets, served to inform the public of his views, which, however, were not received with that enthusiasm he had anticipated. Disgust at his ill-success drove him into a state of monomania, during which he sought to put an end to his life. He, however, was unsuccessful in his attempt, and the loss of an eye was the only result of the desperate design. His actual disciples only adhered to his doctrines after his death, while, on the other hand, older and calmer observers, who had an insight into his former life, felt so much the less sympathy with him. Exaltation, nearly equivalent with madness, had disturbed his senses, long before his death; and the compassionate remark, "Ce pauvre fou," which I heard from his intimate friends and relations, confirmed me in the idea I had formed of his character, as a good-tempered but weak one. He felt himself strong enough to make every sacrifice for his fancied amelioration of society; but he was much too weak to see through intriguers and adventurers, who took advantage of his good-nature and generosity. The highest degree of exaltation led him to the most extravagant actions. The best proof of this will be found in the following anecdote, which I mention with the permission of still living persons, who were very closely connected with him:

Madame de Staël was sitting one day in her garden at Coppet, when a gentleman, perfectly unknown to her, rushed, in an indescribably excited condition, towards her, threw himself at her feet, and incessantly repeated:

"Madame, you are the greatest woman on earth, I am the greatest man, you must become mine-two minds in such affinity as ours must be united," &c. It may be easily imagined that such an address from a perfect stranger appeared to Madame de Staël a plain proof of his madness, and she escaped from him as soon as she could. I do not know what passed in St. Simon's mind, when he found that the greatest woman on earth preferred to finish her career without the greatest man; but it was certainly one of his fixed ideas to develop great moral powers in the same way as Frederick William of Prussia strove to propagate great physical strength in his army. In consequence of this fancy, he had travelled with extra post night and day from Paris to Coppet.

Among the St. Simonians there were, however, many simpletons, whom the device of the fraternity, "each according to his ability," led to join it, as boot cleaning and potato peeling were more comfortable avocations than a study of the classics, or the acquirement of scientific knowledge. There were, though, many very talented young men among them; for instance, Michel Chevalier and Felicien David, whose names require no further commentary.

As the chief residence of the fraternity lay in Menilmontant, a quarter thronged with workmen and labourers, and they purposely opened their doors and windows on summer evenings, so that their behaviour might be easily noticed from the street, and the large garden in which they met to sing was open to the public, they soon excited sympathy and attention, and made proselytes. But they at length sunk utterly in public opinion, by rendering themselves the objects of public ridicule. Many of these really talented men, who sought greater union and equality in human society, felt a strong desire for external signs. They chose a style of dress utterly at variance with that in vogue, and which necessarily drew great attention. The short, light-blue tunic, the broad girdle, the black velvet cap, the long beard, to which Paris was not so accustomed as it is now, caused the mob to cut the most comical capers whenever one of them was seen in the street; and on that day, when they walked, two and two, and slowly, along the road from Menilmontant to the Sessions House, where they were summoned to answer the charge of contravening the law relative to public assemblies, public ridicule did more to cause the dissolution of the fraternity than even the judge's sentence effected.

Our authoress had an opportunity of forming the acquaintance of the great astronomer, François Arago, through the kindness of Alexander von Humboldt, and she speaks in terms of delight of the very agreeable evening she passed at the observatory in the company of these two extraordinary men. She does not, however, favour us with any novelty relative to the brothers Arago, but proceeds at once to tell us something about the Dupins, also three in number, and whose acquaintance she formed at about the same time. The following anecdote relative to André Dupin, the President of the Chamber of Deputies, we may be permitted to quote:

Dupin was ever regarded as the leader of the opposition in the hour of necessity, and his advice was sought by several journalists at the time of the promulgation of the "Ordonnances" of the 25th July, 1830. His reply was, that the laws alone must remain in effect, and the ordonnances should not be obeyed. It is certain that this advice did much to overthrow the throne. When he saw it fall, after the three days' struggle, he, like most of his friends, felt more terror than joy. He was an earnest defender of legal measures, and could, by no possibility, suffer the ever-increasing obscurantism of the clergy, and the tyranny of the king: but he was not the less disinclined towards democracy. He plainly expressed his opinion in his pamphlet, "The Revolution of July, 1830," in which he stated that France would not, and must not, have a republic, and that the Duc d'Orleans (Louis Philippe) must mount the throne, both from his situation and his antecedents; not because he was the nearest relation to the overthrown royal family-pas parceque Bourbon, mais quoique Bourbon. I do not know whether M. Dupin will like to be reminded of this pamphlet at the present day, but I am relating facts.

Although the three Dupins, like the three Aragos, were known as very liberal men and haters of the Jesuits, still the manner in which the idea of liberty revealed itself in the two families was very different. The brothers from the Pyrenees, with their burning, southern fire, openly declared that the tree must be plucked up by the roots, and then cast away. The Nivernois also desired reformation, but in moderation. The former became afterwards republicans, body and soul-that is to say, what