class proceeding at a more leisurely and dignified pace towards their
professional or commercial pursuits, the haunts of which lie less to
the eastward and more in the centre of the city. These are dressed
entirely in black, and wear upon their heads the round hat to which
one of my colleagues erroneously gave the title of a religious emblem,
a position from which, I am glad to see, he has recently receded.
Nothing is more striking in the scene than the absolute uniformity of
this costume. In the right hand is carried, according to the ritual
of a secret society to which the greater part of this class belong, a
staff or tube. The left hand grasps a roll of printed paper which we
may premise without too much phantasy to be the original news-sheet
from which the innumerable forgeries and copies of the succeeding dark
ages proceeded. We are, of course, ignorant of its name, but we may
accept it as the prototype of that vast mass of printed matter which
purports to be contemporary in date, but which recent scholarship has
definitely proved to be of far later origin. Beyond these, but in
numbers certainly few, the exact extent of which I shall discuss in
a moment, are the _upper_ classes, or Gentry. How many they may be
in such a crowd, I repeat, we cannot tell. We know that to the whole
population they stood somewhat as one to 10,000. The proportion in
London may have been slightly higher, for we have definite documentary
information that in certain provincial centres ‘not a gentleman’ could
be discovered, though for what reason these centres were less favoured
we are not told. In a street full of some thousands we shall certainly
not be exaggerating if we put the number of the Gentry present at
certainly a couple of individuals, and we may put as our highest limits
half a dozen. How are they dressed? In a most varied manner. Some in
grey, some in pink (these are off to hunt the fox in the fields of
Croydon or upon the heath of Hampstead, or possibly--to follow the
conjecture of the Professor of Geology in his fascinating book on the
Thames Valley--to Barking Level). Others are in black silk with a
large oval orifice exposing the chest. Others again will be in white
flannel, and others in a species of toga known as ‘shorts.’ These are
students from the university, or their professors, and they will be
distinguished by a square cap upon the head which, unlike so many other
conjectural forms of headgear, we can definitely pronounce to have had
a religious character. A tassel sometimes of gold hangs from the centre
of this square. With the exception of this headgear the Gentry discover
upon their heads as uniform a type of covering as their inferiors of
the middle class, who salute them as they pass by lifting the round
hat with the right hand. This headgear is tubular and probably of some
light metal, polished to a highly reflecting surface, and invariably
(as we know by the fascinating diaries recently collected by the
University Press) polished in the same direction upon some sort of
lathe.
“If we are lucky we may see at this hour one member of a class
restricted even among the few gentlemen of that period, the Peers.
Should we see such an one he will be walking in a red plush robe.
It is probable that he will carry upon his head the same species of
hat as the others of his rank, but I admit that it is open to debate
whether this hat were not surrounded by a circle of metal spikes, each
surmounted with a small ball. Such a person will be walking at an even
more leisurely pace than the few other members of the Gentry who may be
present, and upon the accoutrements of his person will be discovered
a small shield, varying in size from a couple of inches to as many
feet, stamped with a representation of animals and often ornamented by
a device in the English or in the Latin tongue. These devices, many
of which have come down to us engraved upon metal, are of the utmost
value to the historian. They have enabled him to reconstruct the exact
appearance of animals now long extinct, and it is even possible in some
cases to ascertain the particular families to which they belonged. No
class of object, however, has suffered more from frequent forgeries
than these emblems. Luckily there is an almost invariable test for
recognising such forgeries, which consists in the use of the French
language misspelt. Of some thousands of such signs many hundreds affect
a legend in the French tongue, and of these hardly one is correctly
spelt. Moreover, essential words are often omitted, and in general the
forgeries betray that imperfect acquaintance with the contemporary
language of Paris which was one of the marks of social inferiority
at that time. When I add that the total number of Peers at any given
moment was less than seven hundred out of forty million people,
while the number of these shields which have been discovered already
amounts to over five hundred thousand, it will be apparent that the
proportion of genuine emblems must be very small. Now and then a house
will bear the picture of some such shield painted and hung out upon a
board before it. This sometimes, but not universally, indicates the
nobility of the tenant. In the matter of religion....” At this point
the professor looked narrowly at his notes, held one sheet of them in
various positions, put it up to the light, shook his head, and next,
observing the hour, said that he would deal with this important subject
upon the following Wednesday or Thursday, according to sale of tickets
during the intervening days. With these words, after a fit of coughing,
he withdrew.
The Reasonable Press
THE OPPOSITION PAPER: LEADER
It is difficult to repress a feeling of natural indignation when one
considers the policy which the Government and Mr. Robespierre have
seen fit to pursue during the last two years, and especially since the
unfortunate blunder of Mr. Danton and Mr. Desmoulins. We have never
hidden our opinion that these two gentlemen--able and disinterested men
as they undoubtedly were--acted rashly in stepping out of the party
(as it were) and attempting to form an independent organisation at a
moment when the strictest discipline was necessary in the face of the
enormous and servile majority commanded by the Government. However
unrepresentative that majority may be of the national temper at this
moment, the business of a member of the Convention lies chiefly on the
floor of the House, and it is the height of unwisdom to divide our
forces even by an act of too generous an enthusiasm for the cause.
We would not write a word that might give offence to the surviving
relatives of the two statesmen we have named, but this much _must_
be said: the genius of the nation is opposed to particular action of
this sort; the electors understand Government and Opposition, by
separate action like Mr. Danton’s and Mr. Desmoulin’s they are simply
bewildered. Such eccentric displays do no good, and may do very great
harm. Meanwhile, we must repeat that the general attitude of the
Government is indefensible. That is a strong word, but hardly too
strong under the circumstances. It is not the executions themselves
which have (as we maintain) alienated public sentiment, nor their
number--though it must be admitted that 1200 in four months is a high
record--it is rather the pressure of business in the Courts and the
disorganisation of procedure which the Plain Man in the Street notices
and very rightly condemns, and we would warn Mr. Robespierre that
unless a larger number of judges are created under his new Bill the
popular discontent may grow to an extent he little imagines, and show
itself vigorously at the polls. We are all agreed that Mr. Carnot shows
admirable tact and energy at the War Office, and it is characteristic
of that strong man that he has left to others the more showy trappings
of power. We would urge upon him as one who is, in a sense, above
party politics, to counsel his colleagues in the Government in the
direction we have suggested. It may seem a small point, but it is one
of practical importance, and the Man in the Street cares more for
practical details than he does for political theories.
THE GOVERNMENT PAPER: LEADER
The present moment is opportune for reviewing the work of the
Government to date, and drawing up a political balance-sheet as it
were of its successes and failures. We have always been open critics
of the present Administration, whenever we thought that national
interests demanded such criticism, and our readers will remember that
we heartily condemned the ill-fated proposal to change the place of
public executions from the Place de la Revolution to the Square de
l’Egalité--a far less convenient spot; but apart from a few tactical
errors of this sort it must be admitted, and is admitted even by his
enemies, that Mr. Robespierre has handled a very difficult situation
with admirable patience and with a tremendous grasp of detail. It is
sometimes said of Mr. Robespierre that he owes his great position
mainly to his mastery over words. To our thinking that judgment is as
superficial as it is unjust. True, Mr. Robespierre is a great orator,
even (which is higher praise) a great _Parliamentary_ orator, but it
is not this one of his many talents which is chiefly responsible for
his success. It is rather his minute acquaintance with the whole of
his subject which impresses the House. No assembly in the world is a
better judge of character than the Convention, and its appreciation
of Mr. Robespierre’s character is that it is above all a practical
one. His conduct of the war--for in a sense the head of the Government
and Leader of the House may be said to conduct any and every national
enterprise--has been remarkable. The unhappy struggle is now rapidly
drawing to a close and we shall soon emerge into a settlement to which
may be peculiarly applied the phrase “Peace with Honour.” The restraint
and kindliness of our soldiers has won universal praise, even from
the enemy, and it is a gratifying feature in the situation that those
of our fellow-citizens in Toulon, Lyons, and elsewhere who could not
see eye to eye with us in our foreign and domestic policy are now
reconciled to both. One last word upon the Judges Bill. We implore Mr.
Robespierre to stand firm and not to increase the present number, which
is ample for the work of the Courts even under the somewhat exceptional
strain of the last four years. After all it is no more fatigue to
condemn sixty people to death than one. The delay in forensic procedure
is (or rather was) due to its intolerable intricacy, and the reforms
introduced by Mr. Robespierre himself, notably the suppression of
so-called “witnesses” and of the old-fashioned rigmarole of “defence,”
has done wonders in the way of expedition. We too often forget that Mr.
Robespierre is not only a consummate orator and a past master of prose,
but a great lawyer as well. We should be the last to hint that the
demand for more judges was due to place-hunting: vices of that kind are
happily absent in France whatever may be the case in other countries.
The real danger is rather that if the new posts were created jealousy
and a suspicion of jobbery might arise _after_ they were filled. Surely
it is better to leave things as they are.
THE OPPOSITION PAPER: LOBBY NOTES
Really the Government Press seems determined to misrepresent last
Friday’s incident! Mr. Talma has already explained that his allusion
to cripples was purely metaphorical and in no way intended for Mr.
Couthon, for whom, like everyone in the House, he has the highest
respect.
THE GOVERNMENT PAPER: LOBBY NOTES
Last Friday’s incident is happily over. Mr. Talma has assured Mr.
Couthon that he used the word “cripple” in a sense quite different from
that in which that highly-deservedly popular gentleman unfortunately
took it.
SOCIAL AND PERSONAL
The Marquis de Misenscene is leaving Paris tonight for Baden Baden.
His Lordship intends to travel in the simplest fashion and hopes his
incognito may be preserved.
Mr. Couthon, the deservedly popular M.P., made a pathetic sight
yesterday at Mr. Robespierre’s party in the Tuileries Gardens. As
most people know, the honourable gentleman has lost the use of his
lower limbs and is wheeled about in a bath-chair, but he can still
gesticulate freely and his bright smile charms all who meet him.
Madame Talma was At Home yesterday on behalf of the Society for the
Aid and Rescue of Criminal Orphans. Whatever our political differences
we all can unite in this excellent work, and the great rooms of Talma
House were crowded. At Madame Talma’s dinner before the reception
were present Major Bonaparte, Mr. Barrere, Mr. St. Just, Mrs. Danton
(widow of statesman), Mrs. Desmoulins (mother of the late well known
author-journalist), and Miss Charlotte Robespierre, who looked charming
in old black silk with a high bodice and jet trimmings.
LETTERS TO THE PAPERS
Sir,--I hope you will find space in your columns for a protest against
the disgraceful condition of the public prisons. I have not a word to
say, sir, against the presence of the prisoners in such large numbers
at this exceptional moment; moreover, as nearly all their cases are
_sub judice_ it would be highly improper in me to comment upon them. I
refer, sir, only to the intolerable noise proceeding from the cells and
rendering life a burden to all ratepayers in the vicinity. Prisoners
are notoriously degenerate and often hysterical, and the nuisance
created by their lamentations and protests is really past bearing. I
can assure the Government that if they do not provide gags, _and use
them_, they shall certainly not have my vote at the next election.--I
am, &c.,
DISGUSTED.
Sir,--_May_ I trespass upon your space to make known to our _many_
friends that the memorial service for my late husband, the Archbishop
of Paris, is postponed till the 1st Decadi in Fructidor?--With many
thanks in advance for your courtesy, I am, &c.,
ASPASIA GOREL.
OFFICIAL NEWS
We are requested by the Home Office to give publicity to the
arrangements for to-morrow’s executions. These will be found on page 3.
There will be no executions on the day after to-morrow.
Asmodeus
“Can you not show me,” said the Student, as they flew swiftly through
the upper air over Madrid, he clinging tightly to the Devil’s skirts,
“can you not show me other sights equally entertaining before we finish
our journey?”
“Readily,” replied Asmodeus, “for I have the power of showing you every
heart and thought in Madrid, and of unroofing every house if it be my
pleasure, and I am determined to repay you in whatever way you choose
for the service you have done me. First, then, cast your eyes down at
the very well-dressed gentleman whom you see in that open taxi-cab,
enjoying as he whirls along the warm air of a night in the season. He
is a wealthy man in charge of one of the great departments of State;
nay, I can tell you which one, for the mines in Peru are his special
department.”
“Doubtless,” said the Student, “he is at this moment considering some
weighty matter in connection with his duties.”
“No,” said the Devil; “you must guess again.”
“Why, then, since you have shown me so many diverting weaknesses in
men I must believe that he is plotting for the advancement of some
favourite.”
“Yet again you are wrong,” said the Devil. “His whole mind is occupied
in watching the sums marked by the taximeter, which he constantly
consults by the aid of a match; only last Wednesday, the Feast of St.
Theresa, he was overcharged a matter of a quarter of a real by one of
these machines, and he is determined this shall not happen again. You
perceive the great house which he is now passing. It is lit up at every
window, and the sounds of music are proceeding from it.”
“I not only see it,” said the Student, “but have seen this sort of
sight so often during the season in Madrid that I am certain you will
not find anything here to surprise me.”
“No,” said the Devil, “I was perhaps wrong in attempting to amuse you
by so commonplace a spectacle as that of a moneylender entertaining
very nearly all those in Madrid with whom he has had no dealings,
and even some of those who are in his power; that is, if, on account
of their nobility or from some other cause, it is worth his while to
have them seen in his rooms. But what I would particularly point out
to you is, not this kind of feast which (as you say) you have seen a
thousand times, but the old man who is mumbling strange prayers over a
dish of food in that common servants’ room which you may perceive to
lie half above the ground and half beneath it next to the kitchen. He
is the father of the wealthy gentleman who is entertaining the guests
upstairs.”
“It is evident,” said the Student, “that he has no liking for High
Life.”
“No,” said Asmodeus, “and in this eccentricity he is supported with
true filial sympathy by his son.”
“I perceive,” said the Student, “a man tossing uneasily in his sleep,
and from time to time crying out as one does to a horse when it is
restive, or rather as men cry to horses which they can hardly control.”
“I am well acquainted with him,” said the Devil. “He is one of my most
earnest clients, but in nothing does he divert me more than in these
nightmares of his wherein he cries ‘Whoa there! Steady, old girl!’
And again, ‘Now then! Now then!’ not omitting from time to time, ‘You
damned brute!’ and a cuff upon his pillow.”
“To what, my dear Asmodeus, do we owe this diversion?” asked the
Student wonderingly. “He seems to be a wealthy man, if we may judge by
the house in which we see him and the furniture of the room in which he
so painfully sleeps. And surely there is nothing upon his mind?”
“You are wrong,” said the Devil; “there is upon his mind a most
weighty matter, for he considers it a necessity in his position to ride
every morning along the soft road especially prepared for that exercise
upon the banks of the Manzanares, where he may meet the wealth and
fashion of Madrid occupied in the same pastime. But unfortunately for
him he is wholly devoid of the art of equitation and stands in as much
terror of his mount as does a lady of her dressmaker. For one hour,
therefore, of every day, he suffers such tortures that I greatly fear
we shall not be able to add to them appreciably in my dominions when
the proper time arrives. But let us leave these wealthy people, whose
foibles are, after all, much the same, and turn to the poorer quarters
which lie south of the King’s Royal Palace.”
In a few moments they had reached these and were examining a mean house
not far from the Church of St. Alphonso, in a bare upper room of which
a woman with a starved and anxious expression was writing, late as was
the hour, at top speed.
“Poor woman!” said the Student. “I perceive that she is one of those
unhappy people whom grinding poverty compels to produce ephemeral
literature which is afterwards printed and sold at one real for the
divertisement of the populace of Madrid. I know of no trade more
pitiful, and I can assure you the sight of her industry moves me to the
bottom of my heart.”
“The sight is indeed pitiful,” said the Devil, “to those at least who
permit themselves the luxury of pity--a habit which I confess I have
long ago abandoned. For you must know that in the company of Belphegor,
Ashtaroth, and the rest even the softest-hearted of devils will grow
callous. But more interesting to you perhaps than the sad necessities
of her trade is the matter which she is at present engaged upon.”
“What is that?” said the Student.
“Why,” said Asmodeus, “she is writing ‘Nellie’s Notes’ for a paper
called _The Spanish Noblewoman_, and she is at this very moment setting
down her opinion that there is no better way to pass a rainy afternoon
than taking out and cleaning one’s Indian Bracelets, Ropes of Pearls,
Diamonds, and other gems. She is good enough to add that she herself
thinks it wise and a good discipline to clean her own jewellery and not
leave it to a maid.”
“In the room below you will see a young man whom I very much regret to
say is in a state of complete intoxication.”
“I do not know,” said the Student, “why you should regret such a sight,
for I had imagined that all human frailty was a matter of pleasure to
your highnesses.”
“Yes,” replied Asmodeus, “in the general it is so, but you must know
that this particular vice is so inimical to the province which I
control that I regard it with peculiar detestation, and I am not upon
so much as speaking terms with Shamarel, who has been deputed by the
Council to look after those who exceed in wine.”
“Is not that the same,” asked the Student, “whom they say twice
appeared to a hermit at Carinena?”
“You are right,” said Asmodeus, betraying a slight annoyance, “but
pray do not put it about that a personage of such importance was at
the pains of appearing to a common hermit. The fact is, he was at that
moment visiting the Campo Romano to assure himself that the vines were
in good condition, and it was by the merest accident that the hermit
caught sight of him during this journey, for you must know that he
makes it a punctilio never to appear in person to one under the rank of
Archbishop, and even then he prefers that the recipient of the favour
should be a Cardinal into the bargain, and if possible a Grandee of
Spain.”
“You have told me so much about your amiable colleague,” said the
Student, “that you have forgotten to tell me whether any moral
divertisement attached to the poor young fellow whom we see in that
offensive stupor.”
“No,” said the Devil, “now I come to think of it, there is perhaps
nothing remarkable in his condition, unless you think it worthy of
notice that he is a medical student and will shortly be entrusted with
the nerves and veins of the poor in the public hospitals of Madrid. It
is to be hoped that he will soon put behind him these youthful follies,
for if he persists in them they will make his hand tremble, and in that
case he will never be permitted to practise the art of surgery upon the
persons of the wealthy and more remunerative classes.”
“Outside the house,” said the Student, “I see a policeman walking with
some solemnity, and I confess that the sight is pleasing to me, for
it gives me a feeling that the good people of Madrid are well looked
after when so expensive an instrument of the law is spared for so poor
a quarter.”
“You are right,” said Asmodeus, “and were I now to show you the inner
heart of the Duke of Medina y Barò who controls the police forces of
Madrid, you would find that his chief anxiety in the distribution of
his men came from the dilemma in which he perpetually finds himself,
whether to furnish them rather in large numbers to the wealthier
quarters for the defence of which policemen exist, or for the poorer
quarters, the terrorising of which is necessarily their function.”
“At any rate,” said the Student, “he need not bother himself about the
houses of that large number of people (and I am one) from whom there
is nothing to steal and who yet have never learnt any of the arts of
theft. In a word, he is spared the trouble either of protecting or of
keeping down what are called the middle classes.”
“True,” said Asmodeus, “but most unfortunately this kind of person does
not herd together in special districts. If they did so it would be a
great relief to the strain upon the Police Department; but they are
scattered more or less evenly throughout the wealthier and the poorer
quarters.”
“Can you tell me,” asked the Student, “whether it is worth our while
to watch the policeman for a few moments in the exercise of his duties
and whether he would provide us with any entertainment as we watched
him unseen?”
“Alas!” answered the Devil sadly, “I have no power to forecast the
future; but from my knowledge of the past I can tell you that during
the ten years since he has joined the force this officer has not once
arrested a rich man in error on a dark night, nor perjured himself
before a Magistrate so openly as to be detected, nor done any of those
things which legitimately amuse us in people of his kind.”
“But do you not think,” said the Student, “that we might by remaining
here see him help an old woman across the road amid the plaudits of the
governing classes, or take a little child that is lost by the hand and
lead it to its mother’s home?”
“Doubtless,” said the Devil, yawning, “we should find him up to tricks
of that sort were we willing to wait here, floating in the air, for
another ten or dozen hours, when the streets will be full of people.
But the play-acting to which you so feelingly allude is but rarely
indulged in by these gallant men when onlookers are wanting. Come, the
sky is already pale in the direction of the eastern mountains; it will
soon be day, and I desire before you are completely tired out to show
you one more sight.”
With these words Asmodeus took the Student by the hand and darted with
inconceivable rapidity over the roofs of the city until he came to a
particular spot which he had evidently marked in his flight.
“Cast your eyes,” he said, “upon this narrow but busy thoroughfare
beneath us. It is the only street in Madrid which at so late an hour is
still full of people and of business. It is called Fleet Street.”
“I have heard of it,” said the Student.
“No doubt,” said the Devil; “but what I particularly desire to point
out to you is a man whom you will see in his shirt-sleeves, seated upon
a swivel-chair and writing away for dear life, matter which will appear
to-morrow in the _Morning Post_.”
“Well,” said the Student, “what of that?”
“Can you guess what he is writing?” asked Asmodeus.
“That I am quite unable to do,” said the Student.
“It is,” said the Devil, “a series of satirical remarks upon the
frailties and follies of others--and yet he is a journalist!”
The Death of the Comic Author