GUIZOT--DUMAS--SUE--THIERS--SAND.
[Illustration: M. GUIZOT.]
M. GUIZOT
Pierre Francois Guillaume Guizot, was born at Nismes in 1787. At the age
of seven years he saw his own father guillotined during the reign of
terror, and without doubt this fact made a deep impression upon his
heart, and led him ever after instinctively to dislike the people and a
popular government. His mother took refuge in Switzerland. She was a
strong Calvinist, and from her the son imbibed his rigid Calvinistic
sentiments. He had no youth, properly speaking, for he was apparently
devoid of youthful feeling and passions. He was educated in the strict
and formal school of Geneva, and his education, together with his
nature, made him a stoic, a man with no sympathies for the people,
lacking heart, possessing a great intellect, and rigidly honest.
At the age of nineteen he left Geneva for Paris, to study law, and his
poverty was such that he was obliged to seek employment. M. Stopper, an
old minister of the Helvetic confederation, took him as a tutor for his
children. His pride rebelled against his situation, for the children of
the minister were spoiled, and whenever he went into the street they
made him stop before every confectioner's shop to satisfy their depraved
appetites. This he refused to do, and the children made loud complaints,
the result of which was, that Guizot left his place, declaring that it
was not his mission to buy candies for the minister's children! In
endeavoring to teach these children the grammar of their language, M.
Guizot made a _Dictionary of Synonymes_, which he sold to a bookseller
for a reasonable price. This was his first attempt at authorship. He
made the acquaintance of M. Luard, who was the chief censor of new
books, before whom his little dictionary came. M. Luard discovering in
the young Guizot great talents and capacity, prevailed upon him to give
up writing of synonymes, and devote himself to more honorable and
lucrative labors.
Recommended by his friend, he wrote for nearly all the public journals
in turn, giving them specimens of his cold, unimpassioned style, which
was never after changed. He wrote _himself_ upon his paper, and like
himself was his style--cold and dignified. But his style had admirers,
though not many readers. He was accorded genius and an exalted
intellect, but he was not loved. His first books were the _Annals of
Education_, _Lives of the French Poets of the Age of Louis XIV._, and a
translation of _Gibbon's Fall of the Roman Empire_. These volumes were
noticed in a flattering manner by all scholars and critics, and the
young author very soon occupied a high position in Paris. After this he
did not seem to succeed, and he wrote a couple of pamphlets upon the
condition of French literature and fine arts. He failed as a critic, and
was appointed to the chair of modern history in the university. His
political fortunes now commenced. His manners, his dress, which was
severe in style, and his pale face, all combined to make him for the
time a lion, and he drew crowds to his lectures. This was in 1812. M.
Guizot was one of the first to foresee and prepare for the restoration.
M. Guizot met in society a Mademoiselle Meulan, a literary woman of
note, and fancied her. She was utterly poor, and during a severe fit of
illness he wrote articles which she signed, and thus earned enough for
her support. When she had recovered, she gave him her heart and hand in
marriage, though she had not a _sou_ of dowry. She was older than he,
but was a woman of many virtues. Madame Guizot was an intimate friend of
the Abbe Montesquieu, who was the principal secret agent of Louis XVIII.
As soon as Guizot was married, he was let into these secrets, and became
private secretary to the abbe. He was in the habit of meeting the
friends of the restoration every evening at a club, and he did not
hesitate to take a bold part in its proceedings. Royer-Collard said to
him after one of these meetings, "Guizot, you will rise high." Guizot
demanded an explanation He replied, "You have ambition; you have much
head but no heart; you will rise high. When the restoration comes the
abbe will be minister, and he will make you secretary-general." Such was
the fact eighteen months after. The Calvinistic religion of Guizot was
no bar to his promotion, so long as his conscience permitted him to
serve with unquestioned zeal his master, and he was never troubled on
that score. The return of Napoleon from Elba was a sudden blow to the
fortunes of Guizot, and he became the friend of the new minister, who
kept him provisionally in office. He was suddenly dismissed, however,
because, he declares, he would not sign an additional act to the
constitution, but the minister denied this. He returned to Ghent, where
in the _Moniteur_ he published bitter articles against Napoleon and his
government. The columns were filled with criticisms of this nature. He
endeavored afterward to disown some of these articles, but the
authorship clung to him.
Napoleon was vanquished, but Guizot continued to write books. Some of
them were as follows: _"Some Ideas upon the Liberty of the Press;" "Of
the Representative Government;" "Essay upon the state of Public
Instruction."_ He was a _busy_ man--he was never idle. This is in his
favor, and undoubtedly he honestly sought the good of the nation, though
mixed with this desire there was a strong love of fame, and great
ambition. He wrote a book upon the elections, and the king created a new
department for him--that of director-general of the communes and
departments. He made use of his position to extend his influence. He
became chief of the doctrinaire school, which included many eminent men
of that time, and acquired great political power. It occupied a kind of
middle ground between the _ancien regime_ and pure liberalism. There
came a reaction, and Guizot again took to his pen, leaving office and
emolument. The king did not like his writings, and even his office of
professor of history in the university was taken from him. He was a man
who was not dejected through misfortune, and grew stronger as he was
persecuted. His wife was taken very ill, and finally died. The Catholic
priests endeavored to gain access to her bed-side, but were not
permitted. She died a convert to Protestantism. Guizot was to her a good
husband, but she always felt keenly the fact that she was older than her
husband. He married a young and beautiful English woman, of whom he was
passionately fond, if so cold a man ever possessed passions. His first
wife, it is said, knew who was to succeed her. He now wrote a _History
of Representative Government_, in which he gave the administration
repeated blows.
He issued new books often enough to keep his name constantly before the
public, and these volumes were loudly praised by the opposition
journals. The administration modified its conduct toward him, and he
again participated in public affairs. But he foresaw the great change
which was coming, and this time made sure to make no blunders. Perhaps,
indeed, it is probable that he was honest in desiring a government like
that of Louis Phillippe--at any rate, he saw with great shrewdness the
revolution, and profited by his foresight.
Guizot became the minister of Louis Phillippe. He commenced a system of
corruption which long after ruined his fortunes and those of his master.
It is, perhaps, difficult to say who was the soul of this system--the
king or the minister; but both were heartily in it and approved it, and
M. Guizot, of course, is responsible for it. He did not forget his
friends during his good fortune, but imitating Louis Phillippe, he gave
place to all his old companions. His _valet de chambre_, even, was made
_sous-prefet_, but this appointment raised such a storm that the king
made a change in the ministry. But during his short retirement from
office he never for a moment lost the ear of his royal master, who well
knew the capabilities of the man--and too well to spare his services for
any great length of time. The two men were suited to each other, and
united their fortunes. The queen was conscious of Guizot's ambition, and
it is said spoke of it to the king. But Louis Phillippe could not have
expected pure devotion without hope of reward. He ruled through bribery,
and could not blame a minister for being animated in his service by
personal considerations. The plan of Guizot seemed to be to buy up all
malcontents who could not be awed into subjection, or in fact, all who
were _worth_ buying. This corrupt system he carried as far as it was
possible, and avoid too much scandal. He bought up constituencies for
the king, and with his fellows he successfully silenced the opposition.
One of his enemies was M. Thiers, who constantly persecuted him through
a long course of years. The bearing of Guizot while minister, was
dignified, calm, and indeed grand. He could never, by passionate attacks
or bitter persecutions, be tempted into any undignified displays of
temper. He was a stoic everywhere--in politics as well as in his
religion, and at home. It is a singular fact that M. Guizot, who was a
great minister of corruption, who bought votes by the wholesale, never
allowed himself to profit pecuniarily, in the slightest degree, by his
position. He did not amass a franc save by his honest earnings, and so
well was his character known in this respect, that he was above all
suspicion. He did not love money--but power. He was economical in his
habits, caring nothing for idle pomp or extravagant show. While
ambassador in London he walked the streets with a plain umbrella,
instead of riding in his carriage, and such were his general habits of
economy that he amassed a fine property.
His second wife now died, and it is said that after the event, he
carried on intrigues with women; it is certain that he was very
susceptible to female beauty and accomplishments. He was thought
fine-looking by the ladies, and did not lack admirers among them. It is
said by his enemies that he greatly admires himself, and that his home
abounds with portraits of himself from chamber to kitchen. It is also
told of him, to illustrate his hatred of M. Thiers, that when he was
ambassador in London, he would not receive his instructions from his
enemy, who was the minister in power, but received secret notes from
Louis Phillippe, and in the king's own hand.
But the system adopted by the king and M. Guizot, ended in ruin. The
latter saved himself by ignominious flight. He clothed himself as a
peasant, and in this manner crossed the frontier. He afterward gave an
eloquent description of his escape. So hurried was his departure from
Paris, that he could not even bid his mother good-bye. He loved her
fondly; indeed his affection for her was the strongest sentiment of his
heart. It was the link which connected him with humanity. His mother set
out to rejoin him in London, and died on the way. It was unquestionably
the hardest trial, the most dreadful shock of his life, but he was true
to his stoical nature, and manifested not the sign of an emotion when
the news came to him.
The king and the minister were together in England, in exile, but they
did not visit each other. They had had both learned a lesson--that a
system of corruption will in the end defeat itself. Since his flight to
London, M. Guizot has written two or three works, but they have not had
a marked success, and only prove that he clings tenaciously to his old
conservative opinions.
ALEXANDER DUMAS.
[Illustration: Alexander Dumas.]
Alexander Dumas, one of the most celebrated authors of France, was born
on the 24th of July, 1802, in the village of Villars-Coterets. His
grandfather, the marquis de la Pailletrie, was governor of the island of
St. Domingo, and married a negress called Tiennette Dumas. Some declare
that this woman was his mistress, and not his wife, but we will not
pronounce upon this point. The marquis returned to France, bringing with
him a young mulatto--the father of the subject of this sketch. The youth
took the name of his mother, and entered the army as a private soldier.
He soon achieved renown and rose step by step to the rank of general of
a division. Under the empire, he died without fortune, leaving his
son--Alexander Dumas--to the care of his widow, who was quite poor.
Alexander commenced his studies under the Abbe Gregoire, who found it
impossible to teach him arithmetic, and with great difficulty beat a
little Latin into him. This arose, not from the boy's stupidity, but
because he did not apply himself. He was exceedingly fond of out-door
sports and exercise, and to such an extent did he follow his
inclinations in this particular, that he laid the foundation for a
vigorous health, that years of labor have never impaired. He was very
handsome when a boy, with long, curling hair, blue eyes, and a skin a
little tinged with the tropical hue, to denote his African descent. At
the age of eighteen, he entered a notary's office in his native village,
with the purpose of studying law.
Leuven, exiled from Paris until the return of the Bourbons, resided in
the village, and forming the acquaintance of young Dumas and noticing
that he was ambitious, he counseled him to write dramas, and he would
make money. Dumas followed his advice--wrote three, which were offered
to the directors of the Paris theaters, and were each rejected by all.
But Dumas was made of stuff of the better sort, and was not thus to be
discouraged. Leuven soon returned to Paris, and Dumas longed to follow
him there. But he was too poor. He formed a plan, however, of gaining
his point, for he was anxious to see and know the actors of Paris, and
with a fellow-clerk he set out on foot for the great city. The two
young men were without money, but each carried a gun. They shot hares
and partridges as they journeyed toward Paris, and sold them to dealers
in game, and thus paid their expenses from day to day.
Leuven received him with open arms, and gave the delighted youth a
ticket to hear Talma. He was privileged to go behind the scenes between
the acts, and converse with the actors. He was filled with delight.
Talma saw him, and at once pronounced him a genius. In his memoirs, he
declares that he said, "Alexander Dumas, I baptize you a poet, in the
name of Shakspeare, Corneille, and Schiller. Return to your native
village, enter your study, and the angel of Poesy will find you there,
and will raise you by the hair, like the Prophet Habakkuk, and transport
you to the spot where duty lies before you."
Alexander soon came to Paris again, not this time supporting himself by
his gun, but with money which his mother gave him. He had letters of
recommendation to some of the old generals of the empire, and installed
himself comfortably in the _Place des Italiens_. Some of the men to whom
he had letters received him coldly, but in General Foy he found a warm
friend and protector. He introduced him to the notice of the duke of
Orleans, who finding that the young man possessed a good hand-writing,
which, by the way, he preserves to this day, he made him one of his
secretaries, and gave him a salary of twelve hundred francs. Alexander
now considered himself on the high road to fortune. He was in Paris--and
with a salary! It was small, to be sure, but he was where he could
frequent the theaters, and his patron was a man of eminence. He had
little to do, and read Shakspeare, Scott, Goethe, and Schiller. He said
to General Foy, "I live now by my hand-writing, but I assure you that
one day I will live by my pen." This shows that he looked forward to a
literary life--that he foresaw, in a measure, his after success in
literature. He soon began to write, and some of his plays were so well
liked by the managers of different theaters, that they bought them and
brought them out. He had already, while a secretary, begun to receive
money for his writings. He wrote for his mother who came up to Paris,
and the couple took up their residence in a humble apartment in the
faubourg St. Denis. For a time after this, his efforts were attended
with poor success, but he had the good fortune to please the
director-general of the theaters by a tragedy, and he promised him that
it should be brought out. Before this was done the director left for the
east, and in his absence the man who took his place refused to bring out
the play. Dumas made loud complaint. The censor asked him if he had
money, and he replied that he had not a _sou_. He demanded of him what
he depended upon for his support, Dumas referred to his salary of twelve
hundred francs, as secretary to the duke of Orleans. The censor advised
him to stick to his writing-desk. This was not only cruel, but very
unjust treatment of an author of great promise. In this play, it is but
right to state, Dumas exhibited the weakness which has almost uniformly
characterized his career--that of plagiarism. His situations, and
sometimes his language, were stolen from Goethe, Scott, etc., etc. His
next play was entitled _Henry III._, and was brought out under the
protection of the duke of Orleans. It was very successful, and he
received for it the sum of fifty thousand francs. It was, like the play
which preceded it, filled with stolen passages and scenes, but this did
not detract from its success. He now left his humble lodgings and took
up his residence in the Rue de l'University, where he lived in splendid
style. He was not a man to hoard his money, but to enjoy it as it was
earned.
His life at this time was almost a ludicrous one. He lived in the most
luxurious manner, dressed fantastically, and loved a great number of women.
After the great success of _Henry III._, the play--_Christine_--which had
previously been rejected, was brought forward with success.
In the revolution of July Dumas acted bravely, and has himself told the
story of his conduct with not a little boasting. He brought out the
drama of _Napoleon Bonaparte_, and that of _Charles VII._, after Louis
Phillippe was upon the throne. These dramas he had the fame of writing,
but other persons wrote largely in them. He adopted the plan of
employing good writers upon the different parts of a drama, and while
himself superintending the whole and writing prominent parts, yet
entrusting to his assistants a great portion of the composition. It was
his genius which arranged the plot and guided the selection of
characters, but the glory should have often been divided with his
humbler co-laborers. Victor Hugo wrote a play which the censors would
not allow to be brought out. He read it to Dumas. The latter soon issued
a play which was so very like that of Hugo, that when sometime after the
interdict was taken off from the play of Hugo, he was accused of
stealing from Dumas. But the truth was easily to be proved--that Hugo's
play was _first_ written--and Dumas declared in the public newspapers
that if there was any plagiarism in anybody, himself was the guilty
party! A new play now appeared which was principally written by
assistants, and which was also defaced by plagiarisms. Like some of
those which preceded it, it made light, indeed glorified, vices of the
darkest dye.
A person by the name of Gillardet wrote a play, and presented it to the
manager of a theater, who not liking it, asked Jules Janin, the critic,
to revise it. Not liking it any better after the work of Janin upon it,
he handed it over to Dumas for a similar revision. He rearranged it and
brought it out as his own play! M. Gillardet went to law upon the matter
and recovered his rights. A duel was the result of the quarrel. Many
plays after this were written, until at last Janin, the critic, wrote a
severe article upon one of Dumas' plays. The author was wroth, and
replied. Janin made a second attack, and Paris laughed at the author.
Dumas swore that he would have blood, and author and critic went on to
the field for combat. Dumas demanded to fight with the sword--Janin with
the pistol--and finally not coming to agreement upon this point, the
parties made up their quarrel and became friends.
The reader will have seen by this time where Dumas' genius lies--it is
in the arrangements for a drama--in working a subject up for the stage.
It is not so much in the matter, as the manner. Give him incidents, and
he will group them so as to produce a great effect. This is his power.
Dumas' income grew large, and he took a new and more princely residence.
He associated himself with the great, and even went so far as to take an
actress to a ball given by his patron, the duke of Orleans. The woman
acted in his plays, and his relations with her were too intimate, but he
soon afterward married her. They lived so extravagantly that a
separation soon followed, and though Dumas' income was two hundred
thousand francs a year, yet he was constantly in debt from his
astonishing extravagance. He built at St. Germain his villa of Monte
Christo, which required enormous sums of money. He imported two
architects from Algiers, to decorate at a great expense one room after
the fashion of the east, and pledged them not to execute any similar
work in Europe. He has twelve reception-rooms in his house, and it is
magnificently furnished throughout. He keeps birds, parrots, and
monkeys, and a collection of fine horses.
From 1845 to 1846 he issued sixty volumes, the majority, of course,
written _for_, not by him. As a matter of course, if these volumes sold
successfully, his income was enormous, and his name upon the cover of a
book seemed to insure its success. A theater was erected for the express
purpose of representing his plays alone, called the Theater of History.
He now visited Spain, and was present at the marriage of the duke of
Montpensier. Coming home, he made a short tour in Africa, where he
engaged in rare sports. He was accompanied by his son Alexander, who is
a distinguished author.
After the revolution of 1848 Dumas appeared among the people, who
welcomed him as a pure democrat. He started a journal which soon died. A
good story is told of him about this time. A great admirer said to him
that there was a gross historical error in one of his romances. "Ah!"
said Dumas, "in what book?" The volume and error were pointed out, when
he exclaimed, "Ah! I have not read the book. Let me see--the little
Augustus wrote it. I will cut his head off!"
He got so rapidly in debt soon after' this, that he left France for
Brussels. Monte Christo was seized to pay his debts.
He broke off with one of the most eminent of his assistants, and since
then, his romances and plays have lacked much of the interest and
ability which they formerly possessed, and he is not regarded to-day as
he once was in Paris. This may be owing in part to the sickly condition
of literature under the despotism of Louis Napoleon. In his personal
appearance he is burly; he has large, red cheeks, his hair is crisped
and piled high upon his forehead. His eyes are dark, his mouth a
sensuous one; his throat is generally laid bare, and in short, he is a
good looking man. It is said that he has thought of visiting the United
States, and would do so, were it not for the prejudice against color in
America.
EUGENE SUE.
[Illustration: EUGENE SUE.]
Marie-Joseph Sue, was born on the first day of January, 1801, in Paris.
His family was from Provence. His great-grandfather, Pierre Sue, was a
professor of medicine in the faculty of Paris, and was the author of
several excellent works, but died poor. His grandfather was not a
learned man, but was exceedingly wealthy. He was physician to the family
of Louis XVI. His father was professor of anatomy, and was appointed by
Napoleon surgeon of the Imperial Guard, and was, later, physician to the
family of Louis XVIII. He was married three times, and his wives each
bore him children. The second wife was the mother of the great novelist,
and she died soon after giving birth to her child. The Prince Eugene and
the Empress Josephine stood sponsors at the baptism of the child, and in
after life he relinquished his two given names for that of Eugene--after
the prince--by which he is now universally known.
While at school, Eugene and an intimate companion were noted for the
mischief they wrought. One of their mischievous acts was, to raise
Guinea pigs and then turn them loose in the botanical garden of the
elder Sue, where, of course, they destroyed many of the plants.
A tutor was engaged to school the refractory boys--one that was very
poor, and who dreaded above all things else, to lose his situation.
Whenever the tutor required that the boys should study their Latin, they
threatened him with a dismissal from his place, and so intimidated him
by this and other means, that he was content to let them alone. The
elder Sue asked him how the boys progressed in their Latin. He was
compelled to reply that they were excellent scholars, whereupon the old
gentleman demanded a specimen of the Latin they had acquired. They at
once manufactured a torrent of atrocious sentences, and palmed them off
upon him as genuine Latin, he not knowing enough to detect the
imposition, but the remorseful tutor had to listen to it in silence! The
father was delighted.
The elder Sue was a very easy, good-natured man, but had no learning,
though he was reckoned a _savan_ of the first water. Eugene knew this, and
wickedly took advantage of it. His father--the doctor--was in the habit of
delivering a course of botanical lectures to a circle of very select
ladies, and Eugene suspected that his father, notwithing his voluble
discourse, had little knowledge of botany. He, therefore, with one or two
of his companions, took occasion (as it was their task to prepare plants
and flowers in vases, with their names written upon the vases for
examination) to insert new and unheard of names to puzzle the old man. He
entered the hall one day, smiling to the ladies on either hand, and stood
before them. He took up a vase, and for an instant was staggered by the
name, but it would not do to let his ignorance be known, so he very coolly
said, "This, ladies, is the _concrysionisoides_." He hemmed a little, and
then for more than an hour descanted upon the character and nature of the
fabulous plant, it is needless to add, fabricating all the way through.
Eugene was unkind enough not only to enjoy the scene, but to go and tell
the ladies of the joke.
About this time, the since celebrated Dr. Veron became a fellow-pupil of
Sue's, and made the fourth of this band of youthful jokers. They were
now assistant surgeons in one of the Paris hospitals. Eugene one day
made the discovery that in his father's cabinet there was an apartment
in which he kept a very choice collection of wines, which were presents
from the allied sovereigns, when they were in Paris. There were among
others, sixty bottles of delicate Johannisberg, a present from Prince
Metternich. The students soon found the way, led by Eugene, to this
wine, and drank time after time. The question came up as to what should
be done with the bottles. Eugene proposed that the empty ones be
concealed, but Dr. Veron remarked that their absence would bring
detection. So a plan was hit upon which was far better--the bottles were
half-filled with wine and then water was added. The doctor was fond on
great occasions of bringing out this old wine and telling the story
connected with it, and drinking a few bottles. He thus ordered it on the
table one day, and prepared his guests to expect a remarkable wine. They
drank in silence, while the doctor exclaimed, "Delicious!--but _it is
time it was drunk_." Eugene was present and drank his wine and water
without any emotion. But not long after, while the students were
drinking the pure wine, the old doctor entered the cabinet and caught
them at their wicked work. It was an act never to be forgotten by him,
and he was astounded beyond measure. About this time he also discovered
that Eugene had been borrowing money at usurious interest to pay debts
he had contracted, and he was so indignant that he ordered him to leave
his house. Eugene joined the army and went to Spain. His father became
anxious for his safety, and had him attached to the staff of the duke of
Augouleme. But young Sue took good care not to expose himself to much
danger. He passed through the siege of Cadiz, the taking of Trocadero,
and returned to Paris in safety. His father was delighted to see him,
and received him kindly. But the doctor did not open his purse.
Young Sue found his old companion faring sumptuously, being attached to
a liberal man named De Forges, who also supplied Sue occasionally with
money. Dr. Veron drove a fine horse and tilbury, and Sue was not content
until he could do the same. He applied to the Jewish money-lenders, who
replied that if he would sell a lot of wines for them, they would allow
him a handsome commission. As a last resort he sold the wine, and
procured a fine horse and phaeton. Driving out one day very rapidly in
the streets, he ran down a pedestrian, and looking at the unfortunate
man he discovered that it was his own father! The old man was
exceedingly angry and caned him on the spot. He demanded an explanation
of his son for this apparent wealth, and commanded him at once to go to
Toulon and enter the military hospital there, in the practice of his
profession. In Toulon his personal appearance was so fascinating that
the women fell in love with him, and he carried on many shameful
intrigues.
In 1825 he returned to Paris, and found an old friend of his the
director of a little journal. He commenced writing articles for this
little journal, some of them light and others of a _spirituel_
character, which were highly admired. In Paris he was also given to
intrigues with women. In 1826 he made many aristocratic conquests, and
frequented the home of a celebrated female novelist. In his first
romances, his high-born mistresses figure as his principal characters.
The elder Sue now formally declared that he would pay no more debts of
his son, and he was again reduced to poverty. He had recourse to the
Jews, who lent him money upon his expectations from his grandfather. He
plunged again into extravagance, and this time his father placed him as
surgeon in the navy, and in this capacity he made voyages round the
world. Soon after his return, his maternal grandfather died, and his
father a little later left him a large fortune, and he commenced a life
of gorgeous extravagance and sensuality, which has often been described.
From 1831 to 1833, he published a series of sea-romances, which had a
great success, and the French critics called him the French Cooper. He
was very proud, frequented the most gay and fashionable circles, and
assumed airs above his station. He was, however, one day excessively
mortified by the sarcastic allusion of one of his noble friends to the
business or profession of his father. He once more tried the pen to
achieve a name for himself, and this time in history. For the Naval
History of France which he wrote, he received eighty thousand francs, an
enormous price for a poor book. The more renown he acquired, the less
pains he took with his books, but he always made good any losses
incurred by publishers in publishing his works.
Finding himself in years, he bethought himself of marriage, and turned
his attention to a relative of Madam de Maintenon, who refused him
upon the pretext of the disparity in their ages. He had his revenge in
writing against marriage, and against all aristocracies in his romances.
His _Mysteries of Paris_ appeared in the _Debats_, and the _Wandering
Jew_ in the _Constitutionel_. He endeavored through his fiction to teach
Socialistic doctrines, and so far carried them into practice that he
appeared in the streets in a blouse. There can be no question that his
later novels were written with a far higher aim than the early ones,
which were reeking with a refined, yet none the less loathsome
sensuality. An enormous price was paid for the _Wandering Jew_ by the
editor of the _Constitutionel_, who was none other than his old
companion of the wine-closet--Dr. Veron. The latter made a bargain with
the author to write ten small volumes a year for fourteen consecutive
years, for which he agreed to pay one hundred thousand francs a year, or
nearly a million and a half for the whole engagement. He presented Dr.
Veron with the manuscript of the _Seven Capital Sins_, when the worthy
editor found himself drawn to the life, under the title of the Gourmand.
He protested against it, but Sue pleading the bargain, would not abate
one sentence. Dr. Veron would not, of course, publish it, and finally
the contract was annulled. The Gourmand--Dr. Veron--was published in the
_Seicle_, and the others of the _Capital Sins_, were published in the
_Presse_.
Sue had at this time a splendid chateau in the environs of Orleans--the
chateau des Bordes. Here he lived in great luxury and splendor. In the
days of the republic he was elected a member of the legislative
assembly, which office at first he was backward in assuming. In 1852
Sue sold his Orleans property, and removed to a beautiful place in
Savoy, where his life was described as follows: "He rises in the morning
and receives from a servant a long bamboo cane, and walks in the region
of his house until breakfast. A pretty house-keeper waits upon him while
he partakes of a sumptuous meal, and when it is finished, he enters his
study to write. The servant presents him with a spotless pair of kid
gloves in which he always writes. At each chapter a new and perfumed
pair is presented him. He writes five or six hours steadily, without
correcting or reading. His income is from sixty to eighty thousand
francs a year from these writings. After laborious writing, Sue makes
his toilet in the best style, and prepares for dinner, which is
everything that an epicure might desire. After dinner he mounts a fine
horse and rides among the hills which surround his home, until his
digestion is completed. He returns, smokes tobacco from an amber pipe,
and enjoys himself at his leisure."
Of Eugene Sue's character it is, perhaps, needless for me to make any
criticisms. He has many admirers in all parts of the world--and also
many enemies. That he is a romancer of astonishing powers nobody will
deny, but we well may question the use he has made of those powers.
Nearly all of his earlier romances are unfit for the eyes of pure men
and women, and now that he is dead, let us hope that they too will
perish. In later years, M. Sue has endeavored to advocate the cause of
the poor, and with great eloquence, in his fictions. But he has probably
caused as much harm by the licentiousness of his style, as he has
accomplished good by his pleas for the poor. It is stated that he has
given very liberally to the poor, and in practice exemplified his
doctrine. His books give an indication of the present fashionable
morality of Paris and France, and though they have sold largely in
America, their influence cannot be good.
M. THIERS
[Illustration: M. THIERS.]
M. Thiers has figured prominently in French politics, was a minister of
Louis Phillippe, and is a historian. He is a man of a singular nature,
witty and eccentric, rather than profound and dignified, and it will not
do to pas him by without a notice. He was born in Marseilles, in the
year 1797. His father was a common workman, but his mother was of a
commercial family which had been plunged into poverty by a reverse of
fortune. The young Thiers was educated through the bounty of the state,
at the school of Marseilles, and was, when a boy, known principally for
his rogueries. He sold his books to get apples and barley-sugar.
Punishments seemed never to have any terror for him. At one time he
concealed a tom-cat in his desk in the school, with its claws confined
in walnut shells, and suddenly in school hours let him loose, to the
great astonishment and anger of his teachers. He was condemned to a
dungeon for eight days, and received a terrible reprimand. The effect of
either the lecture or the imprisonment was decided. He became docile and
obedient, and paid attention to his studies. For seven years he studied
with unremitting attention, and during all that time took the first
prizes of his class. He now went to Aix to study law, where his old
habits returned to him, and he became wild and mischievous in his ways.
At eighteen Adolphe Thiers was a favorite with the liberals and a terror
to the royalists, and was the leader of a party at Aix. He already
showed fine powers of oratory and composition, which later conducted him
to power. He spoke and wrote in the interest of the enemies of the
restoration. He wrote for the newspapers whose columns were open to him,
and increased the vigor and eloquence of his style by this constant
practice.
There was at Aix an academy which awarded prizes to the best writers
upon given subjects. Thiers wrote for the prize, but was foolish enough
to reserve a copy of his treatise and read it to his companions, who
loudly proclaimed that he must win. The persons who were to award the
prizes were royalists, and hated Thiers for his liberalism, and when
they heard the vauntings of Thiers' friends, they were prepared to
decide against him, which they did when the day of examination came. The
prize was reserved, and another trial was instituted. Thiers put in his
old treatise, and this time the judges awarded to it the second prize,
and gave _the first_ for a treatise which came to them from Paris. Judge
of their chagrin when they found that this treatise was written by
Thiers! The little student had fairly taken them in his net. Great were
the rejoicings of the liberals in Aix.
Among the friends of Thiers was Mignet, since a historian, and the young
men full of hope came together to Paris, where, poor as they were
hopeful, they took lodgings in a miserable street. Mignet determined to
follow literature and by it gain a living and fame, but Thiers resolved
upon intrigue. He made himself known to the liberal leaders, and with
great tact exhibited his abilities. He was instantly offered employment
of various kinds, and chose that of editor. He took charge of the
_Constitutionel_, and plunged into the heat and strife of party
politics. His witty, hornet-like nature fitted him well for the
position. He attained great influence and power, and the great men of
the time, even Talleyrand, came to him, while he exclaimed bombastically
and blasphemously, "Suffer little children to come unto me."
He went into society, made the acquaintance of the old men of the
revolution, and gathered the materials for the _History of the
Revolution_, which afterward carried him to the height of his
popularity. He fought two duels about this time--one with the father of
a young lady whom he had seduced. He started a new journal called the
_National_, which should be more fully under his control than the
_Constitutionel_ had been, and which should entirely meet his views of
what a journal should be. But the new journal seriously offended the
government, the officers of which attempted to put it down, for on the
morning of the 26th of July, they nearly destroyed the presses of the
establishment. The opposition journalists had a meeting to express their
opinions upon this outrage upon the rights of the press. During the
three troublous days of fighting, Thiers left Paris for the suburbs, and
came back in time to make his fortune, for he was soon named
secretary-general to the government. He had the principal management of
the finances, which at that time were in a state of great disorder.
Thiers delivered a public speech upon the law of mortgages, and
Royer-Collard approached him with open arms, exclaiming, "Your fortune
is made!"
In the meantime, M. Thiers, as the holidays were approaching, thought it
wise to run down to Aix, which he represented in the chamber of
deputies. Since he was last there he had changed his course upon many of
the important questions of the day. Formerly he was extremely liberal,
but for the sake of power he had deserted the cause of Poland and Italy.
He let the inhabitants of Aix know that he was coming, that no excuse
might be wanting for a grand reception. Surely the people of Aix would
feel proud of their fellow-citizen who had been so highly honored by the
government!
He arrived before the gates of the town and was surprised at the silence
everywhere. No crowd came out to greet him--the people were about their
business. A few officials alone met and welcomed him back to the scene
of his early triumphs. He went to his hotel, and when night came, it was
told him that crowds of people were gathered in the street below. He
went to the window--ah! now the people were come to do him honor! What
was his chagrin to hear the multitudes commence a serenade of the vilest
description. Tin horns were blown, tin pans were pounded, and every
species of execrable noise was made, and M. Thiers came to the
conclusion that the people of Aix did not admire his late political
conduct. To satisfy him, the leaders cried aloud, "Traitor to Poland,
to Italy, and France!" He was satisfied, and hurried back to Paris,
where Louis Phillippe met him, and as if to console him for his
reception in Aix, gave him a portfolio--and he was the king's minister.
One of his first acts was to destroy the character of the duchess of
Berri, who pretended that the French throne belonged to her son. Louis
Phillippe gave him almost unlimited power to accomplish this object, and
he set to work coolly and with deliberate calculation. It is said he
bribed an intimate friend of the duchess, who knew where she was, with a
million of francs to betray her, and she was thrown into prison. Once
there, he found means to ruin her fame and destroy her influence, though
the measures he took excited the indignation of France. He extorted from
her a secret confession, under the promise that it should always remain
strictly secret, and then coolly published it in the government organ.
Under M. Thiers the finances of the country improved, and many of the
public works were completed. The splendid Quai d'Orsay and the Place
Vendome were finished, and the Madeleine begun. At the ceremonies which
attended the inauguration of the column upon the Place Vendome, a good
thing was said in the ears of the minister by a Parisian wit. Thiers was
at the foot of the column--the statue of Napoleon at the top. The height
of the column is one hundred and thirty-two feet. Said the wit aloud,
"There are just one hundred and thirty-two feet from the ridiculous to
the sublime!"
But M. Thiers was not in reality a ridiculous man. Under his management
France saw prosperity. He developed its resources and exhibited great
abilities. He was constantly subjected to attacks from his old radical
associates and he deserved them. The great quarrel of his life,
however, was with Guizot. These two men were constantly by the ears with
each other, and the king gave one a certain office and the other
another. He changed these officers from time to time, until at last both
saw that one alone must triumph. Guizot was the triumphant man, and
Thiers fell. He became more radical as he lost office, and published (in
1845) two volumes of his _History of the Consulate_. They had a splendid
success; he sold the whole work for five hundred thousand francs--an
enormous price. But the concluding volumes were not forthcoming, and the
publisher demanded them--but in vain. For the last thirty years M.
Thiers has lived in a beautiful house in the place Saint Georges. He is
wealthy, and has always lived in good style.
It is currently reported that M. Thiers has been guilty of treating
certain members of his family with great meanness, and in society many
scandalous stories have been repeated illustrating his miserly economy.
When the revolution of 1848 broke out, M. Thiers ran away from Paris,
but afterward returned, and has since lived a very quiet life.
GEORGE SAND
[Illustration: GEORGE SAND.]
One of the most distinguished of the living writers of France is Madam
Dudevant, or GEORGE SAND, which is her _nom de plume_. She is by no
means a woman either after my ideal or the American ideal, but is a
woman of great genius. Her masculinity, and, indeed, her licentious
style, are great faults: but in sketching some of the most brilliant of
French writers, it would not do to omit her name.
The maiden name of George Sand was Amantine Aurore Dupin, and she is
descended from Augustus the Second, king of Poland. Her ancestors were
of king's blood, and the more immediate of them were distinguished for
their valor and high birth. She was born in the year 1804. She was
brought up by her grandmother, at the chateau Nahant, situated in one of
the most beautiful valleys of France. The old countess of Horn, her
grandmother, was a woman of brilliant qualities, but not a very safe
guide for a young child. Her ideas were anti-religious, and she was a
follower of Rousseau rather than of Christ. When Aurore was fifteen
years old, she knew well how to handle a gun, to dance, to ride on
horseback, and to use a sword. She was a young Amazon, charming, witty,
and yet coarse. She was fond of field sports, yet knew not how to make
the sign of the cross. When she was twenty years old she was sent to a
convent in Paris, to receive a religious education. She loved her
grandmother to adoration, and the separation cost her a great deal of
suffering. She often alludes in her volumes to this grandparent, in
terms of warm love and veneration. In her "_Letters of a Traveller_" she
gives us some details of her life with her grandmother at the chateau de
Nahant. She says:
"Oh, who of us does not recall with delight the first, books
he devoured! The cover of a ponderous old volume that you
found upon the shelf of a forgotten closet--does it not bring
back to you gracious pictures of your young years? Have you
not thought to see the wide meadow rise before you, bathed in
the rosy light of the evening when you saw it for the first
time? Oh! that the night should fall so quickly upon those
divine pages, that the cruel twilight should make the words
float upon the dim page!
"It is all over; the lambs bleat, the sheep are shut up in
their fold, the cricket chirps in the cottage and field It is
time to go home.
"The path is stony, the bridge narrow and slippery, and the
way is difficult.
"You are covered with sweat, but you have a long walk, you
will arrive too late, supper will have commenced.
"It is in vain that the old domestic whom you love will retard
the ringing of the bell as long as possible; you will have the
humiliation of entering the last one, and the grandmother,
inexorable upon etiquette, will reprove you in a voice sweet
but sad--a reproach very light, very tender, which you will
feel more deeply than a severe chastisement. But when, at
night, she demands that you account for your absence, and you
acknowledge, blushing, that in reading in the meadow you
forgot yourself, and when you are asked to give the book, you
draw with a trembling hand from your pocket--what? _Estelle et
Nemorin_.
"Oh then the grandmother smiles!
"You regain your courage, your book will be restored to you,
but another time you must not forget the hour of supper.
"Oh happy days! O my valley Noire! O Corinne! O Bernardin de
Saint Pierre! O the Iliad! O Milleroye! O Atala! O the willows
by the river! O my departed youth! O my old dog who could not
forget the hour of supper, and who replied to the distant
ringing of the bell by a dismal howl of regret and hunger!"
In other portions of her books George Sand refers to her early life, and
always in this enthusiastic manner.
Her grandmother exercised no surveillance upon her reading--she perused
the pages of Corinne, Atala, and Lavater, and the two former would raise
strange dreams in the head of a girl only fourteen years old. She read
everything which fell in her way.
In reading Lavater's essays upon Physiogomy, she noticed the array of
ridiculous, hideous, and grotesque pictures, and wished to know what they
were for. She saw underneath them the words--drunkard--idler--glutton, etc.
etc. She very soon remarked that the drunkard resembled the coachman, the
cross and meddling person the cook, the pedant her own teacher, and thus
she proved the infallibility of Lavater!
Once, when in the convent at Paris, she was misled by the poetry of
Catholicism, and abandoned herself to the highest transports of
religious fervor. She passed whole hours in ecstasy at the foot of the
altar. This shows the susceptibility of her imagination. About this time
her grandmother died, and she left the convent to close the eyes of her
much-loved grandparent. She returned, with the full determination of
becoming religious. All the authority of her family was required to
break this resolution, and, six months after, to prevail upon her to
marry M. le baron Dudevant, the man they had sought out to be her
husband. He was a retired soldier and a gentleman farmer. The union was
a very unhappy one. She was sensitive, proud, and passionate, while he
was cold, and entirely swallowed up in his agricultural pursuits. The
dowry of Aurore amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, and this money
M. Dudevant spent with a lavish hand upon his farm, but bestowed little
attention upon his wife. At first she endured this life, for two
children were given to her to alleviate her sorrows. But finding her lot
grow more sad, and her health failing, she was ordered to taste the
waters of the Pyrenees, whither she went, but without her husband. She
rested at Bordeaux, and there made her entrance into society, through
some kind friends residing in that city. She was received with praises.
A wealthy shipping merchant fell deeply in love with her; she did not
give way to it, however, but returned to her family, where she found no
affection to welcome her.
Jules Sandeau, a student of law, spent one of his vacations at the
chateau Nahant, and was the first person who turned Madame Dudevant's
attention to literary pursuits. He returned to Paris profoundly in love
with the lady, though he had not dared to mention it. M. Nerard, a
botanist, came also to the chateau, to give lessons to M. Dudevant, and
his wife was charmed with him, and they spent happy hours together. But
in time love grew out of the intimacy--a love which of course was
wicked, but which according to French ideas, was innocent. The husband
was justly suspicious, and a voluntary separation took place, he
retaining all her property in exchange for her liberty, which he gave
her, and she set out for Bordeaux. She recounts a part of her subsequent
history in "_Indiana_." She found her lover in Bordeaux, but he had
changed, and was on the eve of marriage, and she went to Paris. She
returned to the same convent where she had spent a part of her youth, to
weep over her lot. She soon left the convent for an attic in the Quai
St. Michel, where Jules Sandeau, the law-student, soon discovered her.
She was in very destitute circumstances, and Sandeau was also very poor.
She knew a little of painting, and obtained orders of a toyman to paint
the upper part of stands for candlesticks, and the covers of
snuff-boxes. This was fatiguing but not remunerative, and they wrote to
the editor of the _Figaro_ newspaper. He replied, and invited them to
visit him at his home, where he received them with kindness. When Aurore
spoke of her snuff-boxes, he laughed heartily; "but," said he to
Sandeau, "why do not you become a journalist? It is less difficult than
You think."
Sandeau replied, "I am too slow for a journalist."
"Good!" replied Aurore; "but I will help you!"
"Very good!" replied the editor; "but work, and bring me your articles
as soon as you can."
Madame Dudevant laid aside her pencil and took up the pen--not to lay it
down again. She commenced a series of articles which puzzled the
Parisian press. The editor liked them, but desired that she should try
her hand at romance. In about six weeks Madame Dudevant and Jules
Sandeau had completed a volume entitled "_Rose and Blanche, or the
Comedian and the Nun_;" but they could find no publisher. The editor
came to their aid, and persuaded an old bookseller to give them four
hundred francs for the manuscript. When the book was to be published,
they deliberated upon the name of the author. _She_ disliked the scandal
of authorship--_he_ feared his father's curse; and the editor advised
that the name of the law-student should be divided, and no friend would
recognize the name. So the story came out as written by Jules Sand.
The young people thought their fortunes made--that the four hundred
francs were inexhaustible. Madame Dudevant now adopted a man's costume
for the first time, that she might go to the theater with advantage--at
least this was her excuse. The young couple visited the theater at
night, and Sandeau slept the days away. The money soon was gone, and
Madame Dudevant in her new extremity was advised to return to the
chateau Nahant, and endeavor to get a legal separation from her husband,
and an annual allowance. When she set out, she left with Sandeau the
plan of "_Indiana_." They were to divide the chapters of the new story;
but when she came back he had not written a line of his task. To his
great surprise Aurore put into his hands the whole of the manuscript of
the book.
"Read," said she, "and correct!" He read the first chapter, and was full
of praise. "It needs no revision," he said; "it is a master-piece!" He
then declared that as he had not written any of the book, he would not
allow the common name to be used. She was greatly troubled, and had
recourse to the editor. He proposed that she still keep the name of
Sand, but select another first name. "Look in the calendar," said he;
"to-morrow is the day of St. George; take the name of George--call
yourself George Sand!" And this is the origin of that distinguished
name.
"_Indiana_" was purchased for six hundred francs, but it sold so well
that the publisher afterwards gave her a thousand francs more. The
editor of _Figaro_ put two of his critics upon the book to review it.
They both condemned it as mediocre and without much interest. But the
book had a wonderful success, and Paris was thrown into a state of
excitement about the author. The journals added fuel to the fire by
their remarks and criticisms, and at once Madame Dudevant was a great
authoress. She took elegant apartments, where she received the artists
and authors of the gay city, herself arrayed in a man's costume, and she
astonished her male friends by smoking and joking with them like a man.
She was known only by the name of George Sand, and preferred to be
called simply George. She walked the Boulevards in a close fitting
riding coat, over the collar of which fell her dark, luxuriant curls.
She carried in one hand her riding whip and in the other her cigar,
which from time to time she would raise to her mouth. Jules Sandeau was
forgotten, and fled to Italy. In after years George Sand bitterly
repented her neglect of this friend, and she has written very touchingly
in one of her books her repentance. She now wrote two or three other
stories which were caught up eagerly by the publishers. She wrote
against the institution of marriage and the critics at once attacked
her, and with justice. Story followed story from 1835 to 1837--each
filled with passionate, magnificent writing, and selling with great
rapidity. Her style was brilliant and elegant, and appealed to the
French taste with great success.
In 1836 George Sand assumed her old name, that she might demand from her
husband her fortune and children. It was proved upon trial that he had
treated her with brutality in the presence of her children, and in her
absence had lived shamefully, and the judge gave back to Madame Dudevant
her children and her fortune. The children accompanied their mother to
Paris, where she superintended their education. She now became intimate
with M. Lamnenais and went so far as to repudiate the bad sentiments of
many of her books. An end however soon came to her friendship for
Lamnenais, and they separated in anger, and hating each other heartily.
She now wrote and published several Socialistic novels, which met with a
poor sale in comparison with that of some of her previous works. In
fact, for the last ten years, her works have been decreasing in sale. In
the revolution of 1848, George Sand took side with the republicans. At
present she resides almost entirely at the chateau Nahant, where she has
erected a little theater in which her pieces (for she wrote for the
stage) are acted previous to their being brought out in Paris. Her
income is from ten to twelve thousand francs a year, and her life is
pleasant and patriarchal. She gathers the villagers round her, invites
them to her table, and instructs them. She once took into her house a
woman covered with leprosy, who was cast off by all others, and with her
own hand ministered to her wants, dressed her sores, and nursed her
until she was cured. George Sand lives in a plain style, clinging to
everything which recalls her early life and her love of early friends.
She sleeps but five or six hours. At eleven the breakfast bell rings.
Her son Maurice presides at the table in her absence. She eats little,
taking coffee morning and evening. The most of her time she devotes to
literary labors. After breakfast she walks in the park; a little wood
bordering upon a meadow is her favorite promenade. After half an hour's
walk she returns to her room, leaving everyone to act as he pleases.
Dinner takes place at six, which is a scene of more careful etiquette
than the breakfast table. She walks again after dinner, and returns to
the piano, for she is fond of music. The evening is spent in pleasant
intercourse with her guests. Sunday is given up to a public theatrical
representation for the people. Such is a specimen of the life of this
woman.