* * * * *
_Paris, Jan_., 1847.--I missed hearing M. Guizot, (I am sorry for it,)
in his speech on the Montpensier marriage. I saw the little Duchess,
the innocent or ignorant topic of all this disturbance, when presented
at court. She went round the circle on the arm of the queen. Though
only fourteen, she looks twenty, but has something fresh, engaging,
and girlish about her.
I attended not only at the presentation, but at the ball given at
the Tuileries directly after. These are fine shows, as the suite of
apartments is very handsome, brilliantly lighted,--the French ladies
surpassing all others in the art of dress; indeed, it gave me much
pleasure to see them. Certainly there are many ugly ones; but they are
so well dressed, and have such an air of graceful vivacity, that
the general effect was of a flower-garden. As often happens, several
American women were among the most distinguished for positive beauty;
one from Philadelphia, who is by many persons considered the prettiest
ornament of the dress circle at the Italian opera, was especially
marked by the attention of the king. However, these ladies, even if
here a long time, do not attain the air and manner of French
women. The magnetic fluid that envelops them is less brilliant and
exhilarating in its attractions.
Among the crowd wandered Leverrier, in the costume of Academician,
looking as if he had lost, not found, his planet. French _savants_ are
more generally men of the world, and even men of fashion, than those
of other climates; but, in his case, he seemed not to find it easy to
exchange the music of the spheres for the music of fiddles.
Speaking of Leverrier leads to another of my disappointments. I
went to the Sorbonne to hear him lecture, not dreaming that the old
pedantic and theological character of those halls was strictly kept up
in these days of light. An old guardian of the inner temple seeing me
approach, had his speech all ready, and, manning the entrance, said,
with a disdainful air, before we had time to utter a word, "Monsieur
may enter if he pleases, but madame must remain here" (_i.e._, in
the court-yard). After some exclamations of surprise, I found an
alternative in the Hotel de Clugny, where I passed an hour very
delightfully, while waiting for my companion.
I was more fortunate in hearing Arago, and he justified all my
expectations. Clear, rapid, full, and equal, his discourse is worthy
its celebrity, and I felt repaid for the four hours one is obliged to
spend in going, in waiting, and in hearing, for the lecture begins at
half past one, and you must be there before twelve to get a seat, so
constant and animated is his popularity.
I was present on one good occasion, at the Academy,--the day that M.
Rémusat was received there, in the place of Royer Collard. I looked
down, from one of the tribunes, upon the flower of the celebrities of
France; that is to say, of the celebrities which are authentic, _comme
il faut_. Among them were many marked faces, many fine heads; but,
in reading the works of poets, we always fancy them about the age of
Apollo himself, and I found with pain some of my favorites quite old,
and very unlike the company on Parnassus, as represented by Raphael.
Some, however, were venerable, even noble to behold.
The poorer classes have suffered from hunger this winter. All signs of
this are kept out of sight in Paris. A pamphlet called "The Voice of
Famine," stating facts, though in a tone of vulgar and exaggerated
declamation, was suppressed as soon as published. While Louis Philippe
lives, the gases may not burst up to flame, but the need of radical
measures of reform is strongly felt in France; and the time will come,
before long, when such will be imperatively demanded.