Opera, of which France is proud, and to the support of which her
Government directly and liberally contributes. It is not only a National
institution, but a National trait, and as such I visited it.
The house is very spacious, admirably planned, superbly fitted up, and
every way adapted to its purpose; the charges moderate; the audience
large and well dressed; the officers and attendants up to their
business, and everything orderly and quiet. The play was Scribe's
"L'Enfant Prodigue" (The Prodigal Son), which in England they soften
into "Azael the Prodigal," but here no such euphemism is requisite, and
indeed I doubt that half who witness it suspect that the idea is taken
from the Scriptures. The idea, however, is all that is so borrowed.
There were no great singers included in the cast for this evening, not
even Alboni who remains here, while most of her compeers are in London.
I am a poor judge, but I should say the music is not remarkable.
This is a drama of Action and of Spectacle, however, to which the Music
is subordinate. Such a medley of drinking and praying, dancing and
devotion, idol-worship and Delilah-craft, I had not before encountered.
At least three hundred performers were at once on the stage. The
dancing-girls engaged were not less than one hundred in number,
apparently all between fourteen and eighteen years of age, generally
good-looking, and with that aspect of innocence and freshness to which
the Stage is so fatal. The most agile and eminent among them was a Miss
Plunkett, said to be an American, with a face of considerable beauty and
a winning, joyous manner. I should say that half the action of the
piece, nearly half the time, and more than half the attention of the
audience, were engrossed by these dancing demoiselles.
France is the cradle and home of the Ballet. In other lands it is an
exotic, here a natural outgrowth and expression of the National mind. Of
the spirit which conceived it, here is the abode and the Opera Francais
the temple; and here it has exerted its natural and unobstructed
influence on the manners and morals of a People. If you would comprehend
the Englishman, follow him to his fireside; if a Frenchman, join him at
the Opera and contemplate him during the performance of the Ballet.
I am, though no practitioner, a lover of the Dance. Restricted to proper
hours and fit associates, I wish it were far more general than it is.
Health, grace, muscular energy, even beauty, might be promoted by it.
Why the dancing of the Theater should be rendered disgusting, I can not
yet comprehend. The "poetry of motion," of harmonious evolutions and the
graceful movement of "twinkling feet," I think I appreciate. All these
are natural expressions of innocent gaiety and youthful elasticity of
spirits, whereof this world sees far too little. I wish there were more
of them.
But what grace, what sense, what witchery, there can be, for instance,
in a young girl's standing on one great toe and raising the other foot
to the altitude of her head, I cannot imagine. As an exhibition of
muscular power, it is disagreeable to me, because I know that the
capacity for it was acquired by severe and protracted efforts and at the
cost of much suffering. Why is it kept on the stage? Admit that it is
not lascivious; who will pretend that it is essentially graceful? I was
glad to see that the more extravagant distortions were not specially
popular with the audience--that nearly all the applause bestowed on
those ballet-feats which seem devised only to favor a liberal display of
the person came from the little knot of hired "claqueurs" in the center
of the pit. If there were many who loved to witness, there were few so
shameless as to applaud.
If the Opera is ever to become an element of Social life and enjoyment
in New-York, I do trust that it may be such a one as thoughtful men may
take their daughters to witness without apprehension or remorse. I do
not know whether the Opera we now have is or is not such a one; I know
_this_ is not. Its entire, palpable, urgent tendency, is "earthly,
sensual, devilish." In none was the instinct of Purity ever strengthened
by beholding it; in many, it must, in the nature of things, be weakened
with each repetition of the spectacle. It is no marvel that the French
are reputed exceedingly reckless of the sanctions and obligations of
Marriage, if this is a part of their State-supported education.
I came away at the close of the third act, leaving two more to be
performed. The play is transcendent in spectacle, and has had a very
great success here.
XVII.
PARIS, POLITICAL AND SOCIAL.
PARIS, Sunday, June 15, 1851.
I marvel at the obliquity of vision whereby any one is enabled, standing
in this metropolis, to anticipate the subversion of the Republic and the
restoration of Monarchy. Such prophets must belong essentially to that
school which teaches the omnipotence of paper Constitutions and dilates
with bristling hair on the appalling possibility that Washington, or
Hamilton, or Franklin, might not have been chosen to the Convention
which framed our Federal Constitution, and that Constitution
consequently have remained unperfected or unadopted. The true view I
understand to be that if the Constitution had thus failed to be
constructed in '87 or adopted in '88, the necessity for it would still
have existed, growing daily more urgent and palpable, so that Convention
after Convention would from time to time have been called, and sooner or
later a Constitution would have been elaborated and adopted; and the
longer this consummation was delayed the stronger and more controlling
the Constitution ultimately formed would have been. So with the French
Republic. It is simply an expression of the intellectual convictions and
social instincts of the French People. You meet it on the Boulevards and
in the cafes where the wealthy and luxurious most do congregate; your
cabman and boot-black, though perfectly civil and attentive, let you
understand, if you have eyes, that they are Republicans; while in the
quarters tenanted or frequented only by the Artisan and the Laborer you
meet none but devotees of "the Republic Democratic and Social." The
contrast between the abject servility of the Poor in London and their
manner here cannot be realized without actual observation. A hundred
Princes or illustrious Dukes in Paris would not attract as much
attention as any one of them would in London. Democracy triumphed in the
drawing-rooms of Paris before it had erected its first barricade in the
streets; and all subsequent efforts in behalf of Monarchy here have
produced and can produce only a fitful, spasmodic, unnatural life. If
three Revolutions within a life-time, all in the same direction, have
not impressed this truth conclusively, another and another lesson will
be added. The French have great faults of character which imperil the
immediate fortunes of the Republic but cannot affect its ultimate
ascendency. Impulsive and egotistic, they may seem willing to exchange
Liberty for Tranquillity or Security, but this will be a momentary
caprice, soon past and forgotten. The Nation can never more be other
than Republican, though the possessors of power, controlling the Press,
the Bureaux, the Assembly and the Army, may fancy that their personal
interests would be promoted by a less popular system, and so be seen for
a season following strange gods. This delusion and apostacy will
speedily pass, leaving only their shame behind.
The immediate peril of the Republic is the Election of May, '52, in view
of the arbitrary disfranchisement of nearly one-half the Democratic
voters, the manacled condition of the Press, the denial to the People of
the Right of Meeting for deliberation and concert, and the betrayal of
all the enormous power and patronage of the State into the hands of the
Aristocratic party. If the Republicans were to attempt holding a
Convention to select a candidate for President, their meetings would be
promptly suppressed by the Police and the Bayonet. This may distract
and scatter them, though I trust it will not. Their Presidential
candidate will doubtless be designated by a Legislative Caucus or
meeting of Representatives in the Assembly, simply because no fairer and
fuller expression of the party's preference would be tolerated. And if,
passing over the mob of Generals and of Politicians by trade, the choice
should fall on some modest and unambitious citizen, who has earned a
character by quiet probity and his bread by honest labor, I shall hope
to see his name at the head of the poll in spite of the unconstitutional
overthrow of Universal Suffrage. After this, though the plurality should
fall short of a majority and the Assembly proceed to elect Louis
Napoleon or Changarnier, there need be no further apprehension.
I hear, as from an official source, that there are now Three Thousand
Americans in Paris, most of them residing here for months, if not for
years. It gives me pleasure to state that, contrary to what I have often
heard of the bearing of our countrymen in Europe, a large majority of
these, so far as I may judge from meeting a good many and learning the
sentiments of more, are warmly and openly on the side of the Republic
and opposed to the machinations of the motley host who seek its
overthrow.
The conviction of Charles Hugo, and his sentence to six months'
imprisonment, for simply writing a strong Editorial in the _Evenement_
in condemnation of Legal Killing, is making a profound sensation here. I
think it will hasten the downfall both of the Guillotine and the "party
of Order" which thus assumes the championship of that venerated
institution. The _Times'_ Paris correspondent, I perceive, takes up the
tale of Hugo's article having been calculated to expose the ministers of
the law to popular odium, and naively protests against a line of
argument by which "those who _execute_ the law are stigmatized as
_executioners_." I suppose we must call them _executors_ hereafter to
obviate the hardship complained of. How singular that those who glory in
the deed should shrink indignantly from the name?
American attention will naturally be drawn to the recent debate in the
Assembly involving the principle of the _Higher Law_. The subject was a
bill reorganizing the National Guard, with the intent of sifting it as
clean as possible of the popular element, and thus rendering it either a
nullity, or an accomplice in the execution of the Monarchical
conspiracies now brewing. It is but a few days since Gen. Changarnier
solemnly informed the Assembly, in reply to President Bonaparte's covert
menaces at Dijon, that the army could not be made to level its muskets
and point its cannon at the Assembly: "Wherefore, Representatives of
France, deliberate in Peace." Following logically in the same train, a
"Red" saw fit to affirm that the Army could not be brought to use its
bayonets against the People who should take up arms, in defense of the
Republic. No stick thrown into a hornets' nest ever excited such
commotion as this remark did in the camp of "Order." In the course of a
violent and tumultuous debate, it came out that Gen. Baraguay
d'Hilliers, a leader on the side of "Order," refused in 1848 to take the
proffered command of the troops fighting on the side of Order in the
deplorable street combats of June. This was excused on the ground of his
being a Representative as well as a General! The Champions of "Order,"
having said all they wished and allowed their opponents to say very
little, hastily shut down the gate, and refused to permit further
discussion. No matter: the truth has been formally proclaimed from the
tribune that _No one has a moral right to do as a soldier that which it
would be wrong for him to do as a man_--that, no matter what human
rulers may decree, every man owes a paramount obedience to the law of
God, and cannot excuse his violation of that law by producing an order
to do so from any functionary or potentate whatever. The idea is a
fruitful one, and France is now pondering it.
I attended divine worship to-day at NOTRE DAME, which seems to me not
only the finest Church but the most imposing edifice in Paris. The
Pantheon may vie with it, perhaps, but it has to my eye a naked and
got-up look; it lacks adequate furnishing. Beside these two, nearly all
the public buildings of Paris strike me as lacking height in proportion
to their superficial dimensions. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall) has a
fine front, but seems no taller while more extensive than our New-York
City Hall, which notoriously lacks another story. Even the Louvre, with
ample space and a rare position, which most of the Paris edifices want,
seems deficient in height. But Notre Dame, on the contrary, towers
proudly and gracefully, and I have not seen its general effect surpassed.
It reminded me of Westminster Abbey, though it is less extensive. As a
place of worship it is infinitely superior to the Abbey, which has the
damp air and gloom of a dungeon, in each most unlike Notre Dame. I trust
no American visits Paris without seeing this noble church, and on the
Sabbath if possible.
AMERICAN ART AND INDUSTRY--BRITISH JOURNALISM.
Since I left London, _The Times_ has contained two Editorials on
American contributions to the Great Exhibition, which seem to require
comment. These articles are deprecatory and apologetic in their general
tenor, evincing a consciousness that the previous strictures of the
London Press on American Art had pushed disparagement beyond the bounds
of policy, and might serve to arouse a spirit in the breasts of the
people so invidiously and persistently assailed. So our countryman are
now told, in substance, that they are rather clever fellows on the
whole, who have only made themselves ridiculous by attempting to do and
to be what Nature had forbidden. Nothing but our absurd pretensions
could thus have exposed us to the world's laughter. America might be
America with credit; she has broken down by undertaking to be Europe
also, &c., &c.
"It is the _attempt_, and not the _deed_, confounds me."
But what are the nature and extent of this American audacity? Our
countrymen have undertaken to minister to their own wants by the
production of certain Wares and Fabrics which they had formerly been
content either to do without or to buy from Europe. Being urgently
invited to do so, they have sent over some few of these results of their
art and skill to a grand exposition of the World's Industry. Even if
they were as bad as they are represented, these products should be here;
since the object of the Exhibition is not merely to set forth what is
best but to compare it with the inferior, and so indicate the readiest
mode of improving the latter. Russia, Turkey, Egypt, Barbary, Persia,
have sent hither their wares and fabrics, which hundreds of thousands
have examined with eager and gratified interest--an interest as real as
that excited by the more perfect rival productions of Western Europe,
though of a different kind from that. No one has thought of ridiculing
these products of a more primitive industry; all have welcomed and been
instructed by them. And so ours would have been treated had they been in
fact the wretched affairs which the London Commercial press has
represented them. It is precisely because they are quite otherwise that
it has been deemed advisable systematically to disparage them--to
declare our Pianos "gouty" structures--"mere wood and iron;" our
Calicoes beneath the acceptance of a British servant-girl; our Farming
Tools half a century behind their British rivals; our Hats "shocking
bad," &c., &c.,--all this, in the first months of the Exhibition, while
the Jurors appointed to judge and report upon the merits of rival
fabrics were making the requisite investigations. Their verdict is thus
substantially forestalled, and the millions who visit the Exhibition are
invited to look at the American department merely to note the bad taste
and incapacity therein displayed, and learn to avoid them.
But the self-constituted arbiters who thus tell the American people that
Art is not their province--that they should be content to grow Corn and
Cotton, looking to Europe for the satisfaction of their less urgent
necessities, their secondary wants--are they impartial advisers? Are
they not palpably speaking in the interest of the rival producers of
Europe, alarmed by the rapid growth and extension of American Art? Would
they have taken so much trouble with us if American taste and skill were
really the miserable abortions they represent them?
These indications of paternal care for American Industry, in danger of
being warped and misdirected, are not quite novel. An English friend
lately invited me to visit him at his house in the neighborhood of
Birmingham, holding out as an inducement the opportunity of inspecting
the great Iron and Hardware manufactories in that neighborhood. A moment
afterward he recollected himself and said, "I am not quite sure that I
could procure you admittance to them, because the rule has been that
_Americans were not to be admitted_. Gentlemen taking their friends to
visit these works were asked, at the door, 'Is your friend an American?'
and if the answer was affirmative, he was not allowed to enter--but I
think this restriction has been generally abrogated." Here you see, was
a compassionate regard for American Industry, in danger of being misled
and deluded into unprofitable employments, which neither The Times nor
any of its co-laborers has been able to more than humbly imitate.
To my mind, nothing can be more unjust than the intimation that, in
attempting to supply her own wants (or some of them) in the domain of
Art and Manufacture, America has rushed madly from her sphere and sought
to be Europe. She has already taught Europe many things in the sphere of
Invention, and is destined to teach her many more; and the fact that her
Carriages are condemned as too light and her Pianos as too heavy, her
Reaping Machines as "a cross between a treadmill and a flying chariot,"
&c., &c., by critics very superficially acquainted with their uses, and
who have barely glanced at them in passing, proves nothing but the
rashness and hostility of their contemners. From such unworthy
disparagement I appeal with confidence to the awards of the various
Juries appointed by the Royal Commissioners. They are competent; they
have made the requisite examinations; they (though nearly all European
and a majority of them British) are honorable men, and will render an
impartial judgment. That judgment, I firmly believe, will demonstrate
that, in proportion to the extent of its contributions, no other country
has sent more articles to the Exhibition by which the whole world may be
instructed and benefited than our own.
XVIII.
THE PALACES OF FRANCE.
PARIS, Monday, June 16, 1851.
France, now the most Democratic, was long the most absolutely governed
and the most loyally infatuated among the great Nations of Europe. Her
cure of the dust-licking distemper was Homoeopathic and somewhat slow,
but it seems to be thorough and abiding. Those who talk of the National
passion for that bloody phantom Glory--for Battle and Conquest--speak of
what was, rather than of what is, and which, even in its palmiest days,
was rather a _penchant_ of the Aristocratic caste than a characteristic
of the Nation. The Nobles of course loved War, for it was their high
road to Royal favor, to station and renown; all the spoils of victory
enured to them, while nine-tenths of its calamities fell on the heads of
the Peasantry. But, though all France rushed to arms in 1793 to defend
the National liberties and soil, yet Napoleon, in the zenith of his
power and glory, could only fill the ranks of his legions by the
abhorred Conscription. The great body of the People were even then
averse to the din of the camp and the clangor of battle: the years of
unmixed disaster and bitter humiliation which closed his Military
career, served to confirm and deepen their aversion to garments rolled
in blood; and I am confident that there is at this moment no Nation in
Europe more essentially peaceful than France. Her Millions profoundly
sympathise with their brethren of Germany, Italy and Hungary, groaning
beneath the heavy yoke of the Autocrat and his vassals; but they
realize that the deliverance of Nations must mainly be wrought out from
within, and they would much rather aid the subject Nations to recover
their rights by the influence of example and of a Free Press than by
casting the sword of Brennus into the scale where their liberties and
happiness hang balanced and weighed down by the ambition and pride of
their despots. The establishment of the Democratic and Social Republic
is the appointed end of war in Europe. It will not erase the boundaries
of Nations, but these boundaries will no longer be overshadowed by
confronted legions, and they will be freed from the monster nuisance of
Passports. Then German, Frank, Briton, Italian, will vie with each
other, as now, in Letters, Arts and Products, but no longer in the
hideous work of defacing and desecrating the image of God; for Liberty
will have enlightened and Fraternity united them, and a permanent
Congress of Nations will adjust and dispose of all causes of difference
which may from time to time arise.--Freedom, Intelligence and Peace are
natural kindred: the ancient Republics were Military and aggressive only
because they tolerated and cherished Human Slavery; and it is this which
recently fomented hostilities between the two Republics of North
America, and now impotently threatens the internal peace of our own.
Liberty, if thorough and consistent, always did and must incline to
Peace; while Despotism, being founded in and only maintainable by Force,
inevitably fosters a martial spirit, organizes Standing Armies, and
finds delight and security in War.
These reflections have been recalled by my walks through several of the
late Royal (now National) Palaces of France, the most striking monuments
which endure of long ages of absolute kingly sway. How many there are of
these Palaces I have forgotten or never knew; but I recall the names of
the Luxembourg, the Tuileries, the Elisee Bourbon, St. Germain, St.
Cloud, Versailles, Meudon, and Rambouillet. These do not include the
Palais Royal, which was built by the Orleans branch of the Bourbon
family, nor any of the spacious edifices erected for the several
Ministers of State and for the transaction of public business. The
Palaces I have named were all constructed from time to time to serve as
residences for the ten to thirty persons recognized as of the blood
Royal, who removed from one to the other as convenience or whim may have
suggested. They are generally very spacious, probably averaging one to
two hundred apartments each, all constructed of the best materials and
furnished and adorned with the most lavish disregard of cost. I roughly
estimate the cost of these Palaces, if they were now to be built and
furnished in this style, at One Hundred Millions of Dollars; but the
actual cost, in the ruder infancy of the arts when most of them were
erected, was probably much more. Versailles alone cost some Thirty
Millions of Dollars at first, while enormous sums have since been
expended in perfecting and furnishing it. It would be within the truth
to say that France, from the infancy of Louis XIV. to the expulsion of
Louis Philippe, has paid more as simple interest on the residences of
her monarchs and their families than the United States, with a larger
population and with far greater wealth than France has averaged through
that period, now pays for the entire cost of the Legislative, Executive
and Judicial departments of her Government. All that we have paid our
Presidents from Washington inclusive, adding the cost of the
Presidential Mansion and all the furniture that has from time to time
been put into it, would not build and furnish one wing of a single Royal
Palace of France--that of Versailles.