CHAPTER I.

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AN ENGLISHMAN IN PARIS

(Notes and Recollections)

Two Volumes in One

[Illustration]

New York

D. Appleton and Company

1892

Authorized Edition.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE The Quartier-Latin in the late thirties -- The difference

between then and now -- A caricature on the walls of Paris -- I

am anxious to be introduced to the quarter whence it emanated --

I am taken to "La Childebert," and make the acquaintance of the

original of the caricature -- The story of Bouginier and his nose

-- Dantan as a caricaturist -- He abandons that branch of art

after he has made Madame Malibran burst into tears at the sight

of her statuette -- How Bouginier came to be immortalized on the

facade of the Passage du Caire -- One of the first co-operative

societies in France -- An artists' hive -- The origin of "La

Childebert" -- Its tenants in my time -- The proprietress --

Madame Chanfort, the providence of poor painters -- Her portraits

sold after her death -- High jinks at "La Childebert" -- The

Childebertians and their peacefully inclined neighbours --

Gratuitous baths and compulsory douches at "La Childebert" -- The

proprietress is called upon to repair the roof -- The

Childebertians bivouac on the Place St. Germain-des-Pres -- They

start a "Society for the Conversion of the Mahometans" -- The

public subscribe liberally -- What becomes of the subscriptions?

-- My visits to "La Childebert" breed a taste for the other

amusements of the Quartier-Latin -- Bobino and its entertainments

-- The audience -- The manager -- His stereotyped speech -- The

reply in chorus -- Woe to the bourgeois-intruder -- Stove-pipe

hats a rarity in the Quartier-Latin -- The dress of the

collegians -- Their mode of living -- Suppers when money was

flush, rolls and milk when it was not -- A fortune-teller in the

Rue de Tournon -- Her prediction as to the future of Josephine de

Beauharnais -- The allowance to students in those days -- The

Odeon deserted -- Students' habits -- The Chaumiere -- Rural

excursions -- Pere Bonvin's 1

CHAPTER II.

My introduction to the celebrities of the day -- The Cafe de

Paris -- The old Prince Demidoff -- The old man's mania -- His

sons -- The furniture and attendance at the Cafe de Paris -- Its

high prices -- A mot of Alfred de Musset -- The cuisine -- A

rebuke of the proprietor to Balzac -- A version by one of his

predecessors of the cause of Vatel's suicide -- Some of the

_habitues_ -- Their intercourse with the attendants -- Their

courteous behaviour towards one another -- Le veau a la casserole

-- What Alfred de Musset, Balzac, and Alexandre Dumas thought of

it -- A silhouette of Alfred de Musset -- His brother Paul on his

election as a member of the Academie -- A silhouette of Balzac,

between sunset and sunrise -- A curious action against the

publishers of an almanack -- A full-length portrait of Balzac --

His pecuniary embarrassments -- His visions of wealth and

speculations -- His constant neglect of his duties as a National

Guard -- His troubles in consequence thereof -- L'Hotel des

Haricots -- Some of his fellow-prisoners -- Adam, the composer of

"Le Postillon de Lonjumeau" -- Eugene Sue; his portrait -- His

dandyism -- The origin of the Paris Jockey Club -- Eugene Sue

becomes a member -- The success of "Les Mysteres de Paris" -- The

origin of "Le Juif-Errant" -- Sue makes himself objectionable to

the members of the Jockey Club -- His name struck off the list --

His decline and disappearance 24

CHAPTER III.

Alexandre Dumas pere -- Why he made himself particularly

agreeable to Englishmen -- His way of silencing people -- The

pursuit he loved best next to literature -- He has the privilege

of going down to the kitchens of the Cafe de Paris -- No one

questions his literary genius, some question his culinary

capacities -- Dr. Veron and his cordon-bleu -- Dr. Veron's

reasons for dining out instead of at home -- Dr. Veron's friend,

the philanthropist, who does not go to the theatre because he

objects to be hurried with his emotions -- Dr. Veron, instigated

by his cook, accuses Dumas of having collaborateurs in preparing

his dishes as he was known to have collaborateurs in his literary

work -- Dumas' wrath -- He invites us to a dinner which shall be

wholly cooked by him in the presence of a delegate to be chosen

by the guests -- The lot falls upon me -- Dr. Veron and Sophie

make the _amende honorable_ -- A dinner-party at Veron's -- A

curious lawsuit in connection with Weber's "Freyschutz" -- Nestor

Roqueplan, who became the successor of the defendant in the case,

suggests a way out of it -- Leon Pillet virtually adopts it and

wins the day -- A similar plan adopted years before by a fireman

on duty at the opera, on being tried by court-martial for having

fallen asleep during the performance of "Guido et Genevra" --

Firemen not bad judges of plays and operas -- They were often

consulted both by Meyerbeer and Dumas -- Dumas at work -- How he

idled his time away -- Dumas causes the traffic receipts of the

Chemin de Fer de l'Ouest to swell during his three years'

residence at Saint-Germain -- M. de Montalivet advises

Louis-Philippe to invite Dumas to Versailles, to see what his

presence will do for the royal city -- Louis-Philippe does not

act upon the advice -- The relations between Dumas and the

d'Orleans family -- After the Revolution of '48, Dumas becomes a

candidate for parliament -- The story of his canvass and his

address to the electors at Joigny -- Dumas' utter indifference to

money matters -- He casts his burdens upon others -- Dumas and

his creditors -- Writs and distraints -- How they are dealt with

-- Dumas' indiscriminate generosity -- A dozen houses full of new

furniture in half as many years -- Dumas' frugality at table --

Literary remuneration -- Dumas and his son -- "Leave me a hundred

francs" 43

CHAPTER IV.

Dr. Louis Veron -- The real man as distinguished from that of his

own "Memoirs" -- He takes the management of the Paris Opera --

How it was governed before his advent -- Meyerbeer's "Robert le

Diable" _underlined_ -- Meyerbeer and his doubts upon the merits

of his work -- Meyerbeer's generosity -- Meyerbeer and the

beggars of the Rue Le Peletier -- Dr. Veron, the inventor of the

modern newspaper puff -- Some specimens of advertisements in

their infancy -- Dr. Veron takes a leaf from the book of Moliere

-- Dr. Veron's love of money -- His superstitions -- His

objections to travelling in railways -- He quotes the Queen of

England as an example -- When Queen Victoria overcomes her

objection, Veron holds out -- "Queen Victoria has got a

successor: the Veron dynasty begins and ends with me" -- Thirteen

at table -- I make the acquaintance of Taglioni -- The woman and

the ballerian -- Her adventure at Perth -- An improvised

performance of "Nathalie, la Laitiere Suisse" -- Another

adventure in Russia -- A modern Claude Du-Val -- My last meeting

with Taglioni -- A dinner-party at De Morny's -- A comedy scene

between husband and wife -- Flotow, the composer of "Martha" --

His family -- His father's objection to the composer's profession

-- The latter's interview with M. de Saint-Georges, the author of

the libretto of Balfe's "Bohemian Girl" -- M. de Saint-Georges

prevails upon the father to let his son study in Paris for five

years, and to provide for him during that time -- The supplies

are stopped on the last day of the fifth year -- Flotow, at the

advice of M. de Saint-Georges, stays on and lives by giving

piano-lessons -- His earthly possessions at his first success --

"Rob Roy" at the Hotel Castellane -- Lord Granville's opinion of

the music -- The Hotel Castellane and some Paris salons during

Louis-Philippe's reign -- The Princesse de Lieven's, M. Thiers',

etc. -- What Madame de Girardin's was like -- Victor Hugo's --

Perpetual adoration; very artistic, but nothing to eat or to

drink -- The salon of the ambassador of the Two Sicilies -- Lord

and Lady Granville at the English Embassy -- The salon of Count

Apponyi -- A story connected with it -- Furniture and

entertainments -- Cakes, ices, and tea; no champagne as during

the Second Empire -- The Hotel Castellane and its amateur

theatricals -- Rival companies -- No under-studies -- Lord

Brougham at the Hotel Castellane -- His bad French and his

would-be Don Juanism -- A French rendering of Shakespeare's

"There is but one step between the sublime and the ridiculous,"

as applied to Lord Brougham -- He nearly accepts a part in a

farce where his bad French is likely to produce a comic effect --

His successor as a murderer of the language -- M. de

Saint-Georges -- Like Moliere, he reads his plays to his

housekeeper -- When the latter is not satisfied, the dinner is

spoilt, however great the success of the play in public

estimation -- Great men and their housekeepers -- Turner, Jean

Jacques Rousseau, Eugene Delacroix 62

CHAPTER V.

The Boulevards in the forties -- The Chinese Baths -- A favourite

tobacconist of Alfred de Musset -- The price of cigars -- The

diligence still the usual mode of travelling -- Provincials in

Paris -- Parliamentary see-saw between M. Thiers and M. Guizot --

Amenities of editors -- An advocate of universal suffrage --

Distribution of gratuitous sausages to the working man on the

king's birthday -- The rendezvous of actors in search of an

engagement -- Frederick Lemaitre on the eve of appearing in a new

part -- The Legitimists begin to leave their seclusion and to

mingle with the bourgeoisie -- Alexandre Dumas and Scribe -- The

latter's fertility as a playwright -- The National Guards go

shooting, in uniform and in companies, on the Plaine Saint-Denis

-- Vidocq's private inquiry office in the Rue Vivienne -- No

river-side resorts -- The plaster elephant on the Place de la

Bastille -- The sentimental romances of Loisa Puget -- The songs

of the working classes -- Cheap bread and wine -- How they

enjoyed themselves on Sundays and holidays -- Theophile Gautier's

pony-carriage -- The hatred of the bourgeoisie -- Nestor

Roqueplan's expression of it -- Gavarni's -- M. Thiers' sister

keeps a restaurant at the corner of the Rue Drouot -- When he is

in power, the members of the Opposition go and dine there, and

publish facetious accounts of the entertainment -- All

appearances to the contrary, people like Guizot better than

Thiers -- But few entries for the race for wealth in those days

-- The Rothschilds still live in the Rue Lafitte -- Favourite

lounges -- The Boulevards, the Rue Le Peletier, and the Passage

de l'Opera -- The Opera -- The Rue Le Peletier and its

attractions -- The Restaurant of Paolo Broggi -- The Estaminet du

Divan -- Literary waiters and Boniface -- Major Fraser -- The

mystery surrounding his origin -- Another mysterious personage --

The Passage de l'Opera is invaded by the stockjobbers, and loses

its prestige as a promenade -- Bernard Latte's, the publisher of

Donizetti's operas, becomes deserted -- Tortoni's -- Louis-Blanc

-- His scruples as an editor -- A few words about duelling -- Two

tragic meetings -- Lola Montes -- Her adventurous career -- A

celebrated trial -- My first meeting with Gustave Flaubert, the

author of "Madame Bovary" and "Salambo" -- Emile de Girardin --

His opinion of duelling -- My decision with regard to it -- The

original of "La Dame aux Camelias" -- Her parentage -- Alexandre

Dumas gives the diagnosis of her character in connection with his

son's play -- L'Homme au Camellia -- M. Lautour-Mezerai, the

inventor of children's periodical literature in France -- Auguste

Lireux -- He takes the management of the Odeon -- Balzac again --

His schemes, his greed -- Lireux more fortunate with other

authors -- Anglophobia on the French stage -- Gallophobia on the

English stage 86

CHAPTER VI.

Rachel and some of her fellow-actors -- Rachel's true character

-- Her greediness and spitefulness -- Her vanity and her wit --

Her powers of fascination -- The cost of being fascinated by her

-- Her manner of levying toll -- Some of her victims, Comte

Duchatel and Dr. Veron -- The story of her guitar -- A little

transaction between her and M. Fould -- Her supposed charity and

generosity -- Ten tickets for a charity concert -- How she made

them into twenty -- How she could have made them into a hundred

-- Baron Taylor puzzled -- Her manner of giving presents --

Beauvallet's precaution with regard to one of her gifts --

Alexandre Dumas the younger, wiser or perhaps not so wise in his

generation -- Rachel as a raconteuse -- The story of her _debut_

at the Gymnase -- What Rachel would have been as an actor instead

of an actress -- Her comic genius -- Rachel's mother -- What

became of Rachel's money -- Mama Felix as a pawnbroker --

Rachel's trinkets -- Two curious bracelets -- Her first

appearance before Nicholas I. -- A dramatic recital in the open

air -- Rachel's opinion of the handsomest man in Europe -- Rachel

and Samson -- Her obligations to him -- How she repays them --

How she goes to Berryer to be coached in the fable of "The Two

Pigeons" -- An anecdote of Berryer -- Rachel's fear of a "warm

reception" on the first night of "Adrienne Lecouvreur" -- How she

averts the danger -- Samson as a man and as an actor --

Petticoat-revolts at the Comedie-Francaise -- Samson and Regnier

as buffers -- Their different ways of pouring oil upon the

troubled waters -- Mdlle. Sylvanie Plessy -- A parallel between

her and Sarah Bernhardt -- Samson and Regnier's pride in their

profession -- The different character of that pride -- "Apollo

with a bad tailor, and who dresses without a looking-glass" --

Samson gives a lesson in declamation to a procureur-imperial --

The secret of Regnier's greatness as an actor -- A lesson at the

Conservatoire -- Regnier on "make-up" -- Regnier's opinion of

genius on the stage -- A mot of Augustine Brohan -- Giovanni, the

wigmaker of the Comedie-Francaise -- His pride in his profession

-- M. Ancessy, the musical director, and his three wigs 128

CHAPTER VII.

Two composers, Auber and Felicien David -- Auber, the legend of

his youthful appearance -- How it arose -- His daily rides, his

love of women's society -- His mot on Mozart's "Don Juan" -- The

only drawback to Auber's enjoyment of women's society -- His

reluctance to take his hat off -- How he managed to keep it on

most of the time -- His opinion upon Meyerbeer's and Halevy's

genius -- His opinion upon Gerard de Nerval, who hanged himself

with his hat on -- His love of solitude -- His fondness of Paris

-- His grievance against his mother for not having given him

birth there -- He refuses to leave Paris at the commencement of

the siege -- His small appetite -- He proposes to write a new

opera when the Prussians are gone -- Auber suffers no privations,

but has difficulty in finding fodder for his horse -- The

Parisians claim it for food -- Another legend about Auber's

independence of sleep -- How and where he generally slept -- Why

Auber snored in Veron's company, and why he did not in that of

other people -- His capacity for work -- Auber a brilliant talker

-- Auber's gratitude to the artists who interpreted his work, but

different from Meyerbeer's -- The reason why, according to Auber

-- Jealousy or humility -- Auber and the younger Coquelin -- "The

verdict on all things in this world may be summed up in the one

phrase, 'It's an injustice'" -- Felicien David -- The man -- The

beginnings of his career -- His terrible poverty -- He joins the

Saint-Simoniens, and goes with some of them to the East -- Their

reception at Constantinople -- M. Scribe and the libretto of

"L'Africaine" -- David in Egypt at the court of Mehemet-Ali --

David's description of him -- Mehemet's way of testing the

educational progress of his sons -- Woe to the fat kine --

Mehemet-Ali suggests a new mode of teaching music to the inmates

of the harem -- Felicien David's further wanderings in Egypt --

Their effect upon his musical genius -- His return to France --

He tells the story of the first performance of "Le Desert" -- An

ambulant box-office -- His success -- Fame, but no money -- He

sells the score of "Le Desert" -- He loses his savings -- "La

Perle du Bresil" and the Coup-d'Etat -- "No luck" -- Napoleon

III. remains his debtor for eleven years -- A mot of Auber, and

one of Alexandre Dumas pere -- The story of "Aida" -- Why

Felicien David did not compose the music -- The real author of

the libretto 152

CHAPTER VIII.

Three painters, and a school for pifferari -- Gabriel Decamps,

Eugene Delacroix, and Horace Vernet -- The prices of pictures in

the forties -- Delacroix' find no purchasers at all -- Decamps'

drawings fetch a thousand francs each -- Decamps not a happy man

-- The cause of his unhappiness -- The man and the painter -- He

finds no pleasure in being popular -- Eugene Delacroix -- His

contempt for the bourgeoisie -- A parallel between Delacroix and

Shakespeare -- Was Delacroix tall or short? -- His love of

flowers -- His delicate health -- His personal appearance -- His

indifference to the love-passion -- George Sand and Delacroix --

A miscarried love-scene -- Delacroix' housekeeper, Jenny

Leguillou -- Delacroix does not want to pose as a model for one

of George Sand's heroes -- Delacroix as a writer -- His approval

of Carlyle's dictum, "Show me how a man sings," etc. -- His

humour tempered by his reverence -- His failure as a caricaturist

-- His practical jokes on would-be art-critics -- Delacroix at

home -- His dress while at work -- Horace Vernet's, Paul

Delaroche's, Ingres' -- Early at work -- He does not waste time

over lunch -- How he spent his evenings -- His dislike of being

reproduced in marble or on canvas after his death -- Horace

Vernet -- The contrast between the two men and the two artists

-- Vernet's appearance -- His own account of how he became a

painter -- Moral and mental resemblance to Alexandre Dumas pere

-- His political opinions -- Vernet and Nicholas I. -- A bold

answer -- His opinion on the mental state of the Romanoffs -- The

comic side of Vernet's character -- He thinks himself a Vauban --

His interviews with M. Thiers -- His admiration for everything

military -- His worship of Alfred de Vigny -- His ineffectual

attempts to paint a scene in connection with the storming of

Constantine -- Laurent-Jan proposes to write an epic on it -- He

gives a synopsis of the cantos -- Laurent-Jan lives "on the fat

of the land" for six months -- A son of Napoleon's companion in

exile, General Bertrand -- The chaplain of "la Belle-Poule" --

The first French priest who wore the English dress -- Horace

Vernet and the veterans of "la grande armee" -- His studio during

their occupancy of it as models -- His budget -- His hatred of

pifferari -- A professor -- The Quartier-Latin revisited 164

CHAPTER IX.

Louis-Philippe and his family -- An unpublished theatrical skit

on his mania for shaking hands with every one -- His art of

governing, according to the same skit -- Louis-Philippe not the

ardent admirer of the bourgeoisie he professed to be -- The

Faubourg Saint-Germain deserts the Tuileries -- The English in

too great a majority -- Lord ----'s opinion of the dinners at the

Tuileries -- The attitude of the bourgeoisie towards

Louis-Philippe, according to the King himself -- Louis-Philippe's

wit -- His final words on the death of Talleyrand -- His love of

money -- He could be generous at times -- A story of the

Palais-Royal -- Louis-Philippe and the Marseillaise -- Two

curious stories connected with the Marseillaise -- Who was the

composer of it? -- Louis-Philippe's opinion of the throne, the

crown, and the sceptre of France as additions to one's comfort --

His children, and especially his sons, take things more easily --

Even the Bonapartists admired some of the latter -- A mot of an

imperialist -- How the boys were brought up -- Their nocturnal

rambles later on -- The King himself does not seem to mind those

escapades, but is frightened at M. Guizot hearing of them --

Louis-Philippe did not understand Guizot -- The recollection of

his former misery frequently haunts the King -- He worries Queen

Victoria with his fear of becoming poor -- Louis-Philippe an

excellent husband and father -- He wants to write the libretto of

an opera on an English subject -- His religion -- The court

receptions ridiculous -- Even the proletariat sneer at them --

The _entree_ of the Duchesse d'Orleans into Paris -- The scene in

the Tuileries gardens -- A mot of Princesse Clementine on her

father's too paternal solicitude -- A practical joke of the

Prince de Joinville -- His caricatures and drawings -- The

children inherited their talent for drawing and modelling from

their mother -- The Duc de Nemours as a miniature and

water-colour painter -- Suspected of being a Legitimist -- All

Louis-Philippe's children great patrons of art -- How the

bourgeoisie looked upon their intercourse with artists -- The Duc

de Nemours' marvellous memory -- The studio of Eugene Lami -- His

neighbours, Paul Delaroche and Honore de Balzac -- The Duc de

Nemours' bravery called in question -- The Duc d'Aumale's

exploits in Algeria considered mere skirmishes -- A curious story

of spiritism -- The Duc d'Aumale a greater favourite with the

world than any of the other sons of Louis-Philippe -- His wit --

The Duc d'Orleans also a great favourite -- His visits to

Decamps' studio -- An indifferent classical scholar -- A curious

kind of black-mail -- His indifference to money -- There is no

money in a Republic -- His death -- A witty reply to the

Legitimists 185

CHAPTER X.

The Revolution of '48 -- The beginning of it -- The National

Guards in all their glory -- The Cafe Gregoire on the Place du

Caire -- The price of a good breakfast in '48 -- The palmy days

of the Cuisine Bourgeoise -- The excitement on the Boulevards on

Sunday, February 20th, '48 -- The theatres -- A ball at

Poirson's, the erstwhile director of the Gymnase -- A lull in the

storm -- Tuesday, February 22nd -- Another visit to the Cafe

Gregoire -- On my way thither -- The Comedie-Francaise closes its

doors -- What it means, according to my old tutor -- We are

waited upon by a sergeant and corporal -- We are no longer

"messieurs," but "citoyens" -- An eye to the main chance -- The

patriots do a bit of business in tricolour cockades -- The

company marches away -- Casualties -- "Le patriotisme" means the

difference between the louis d'or and the ecu of three francs --

The company bivouacs on the Boulevard Saint-Martin -- A tyrant's

victim "_malgre lui_" -- Wednesday, February 23rd -- The Cafe

Gregoire once more -- The National Guards _en neglige_ -- A novel

mode of settling accounts -- The National Guards fortify the

inner man -- A bivouac on the Boulevard du Temple -- A camp scene

from an opera -- I leave -- My companion's account -- The

National Guards protect the regulars -- The author of these notes

goes to the theatre -- The Gymnase and the Varietes on the eve of

the Revolution -- Bouffe and Dejazet -- Thursday, February 24th,

'48 -- The Boulevards at 9.30 a.m. -- No milk -- The

Revolutionaries do without it -- The Place du Carrousel -- The

sovereign people fire from the roofs on the troops -- The troops

do not dislodge them -- The King reviews the troops -- The

apparent inactivity of Louis-Philippe's sons -- A theory about

the difference in bloodshed. -- One of the three ugliest men in

France comes to see the King -- Seditious cries -- The King

abdicates -- Chaos -- The sacking of the Tuileries -- Receptions

and feasting in the Galerie de Diane -- "Du cafe pour nous, des

cigarettes pour les dames" -- The dresses of the princesses --

The bourgeois feast the gamins who guard the barricades -- The

Republic proclaimed -- The riff-raff insist upon illuminations --

An actor promoted to the Governorship of the Hotel de Ville --

Some members of the "provisional Government" at work -- Mery on

Lamartine -- Why the latter proclaimed the Republic 208

CHAPTER XI.

The Second Republic -- Lamartine's reason for proclaiming it --

Suspects Louis-Napoleon of similar motives for wishing to

overthrow it -- Tells him to go back to England -- De Persigny's

account of Louis-Napoleon's landing in France after February

24th, '48 -- Providential interference on behalf of

Louis-Napoleon -- Justification of Louis-Napoleon's belief in his

"star" -- My first meeting with him -- The origin of a celebrated

nickname -- Badinguet a creation of Gavarni -- Louis-Napoleon and

his surroundings at the Hotel du Rhin -- His appearance and dress

-- Lord Normanby's opinion of his appearance -- Louis-Napoleon's

French -- A mot of Bismarck -- Cavaignac, Thiers, and Victor

Hugo's wrong estimate of his character -- Cavaignac and his

brother Godefroi -- The difference between Thiers and General

Cavaignac -- An elector's mot -- Some of the candidates for the

presidency of the Second Republic -- Electioneering expenses --

Impecuniosity of Louis-Napoleon -- A story in connection with it

-- The woman with the wooden legs -- The salons during the Second

Republic -- The theatres and their skits on the situation -- "La

Propriete c'est le Vol" -- France governed by the _National_ -- A

curious list of ministers and officials of the Second Republic --

Armand Marrast -- His plans for reviving business -- His

receptions at the Palais-Bourbon as President of the Chamber of

Deputies -- Some of the guests -- The Corps Diplomatique -- The

new deputies, their wives and daughters 232

CHAPTER XII.

Guizot, Lamartine, and Beranger -- Public opinion at sea with

regard to the real Guizot -- People fail to see the real man

behind the politician -- Guizot regrets this false conception --

"I have not the courage to be unpopular" -- A tilt at Thiers --

My first meeting with him -- A picture and the story connected

with it -- M. Guizot "at home" -- His apartment -- The company --

M. Guizot on "the Spanish marriages" -- His indictment against

Lord Palmerston -- An incident in connection with Napoleon's tomb

at the Invalides -- Nicolas I. and Napoleon -- My subsequent

intimacy with M. Guizot -- Guizot as a father -- His

correspondence with his daughters -- A story of Henry Muerger and

Marguerite Thuillier -- M. Guizot makes up his mind not to live

in Paris any longer -- M. Guizot on "natural scenery" -- Never

saw the sea until he was over fifty -- Why M. Guizot did not like

the country; why M. Thiers did not like it -- Thiers the only man

at whom Guizot tilted -- M. Guizot died poor -- M. de Lamartine's

poverty did not inspire the same respect -- Lamartine's

impecuniosity -- My only visit to Lamartine's house -- Du Jellaby

dore -- With a difference -- All the stories and anecdotes about

M. de Lamartine relate to his improvidence and impecuniosity --

Ten times worse in that respect than Balzac -- M. Guizot's

literary productions and M. de Lamartine's -- The national

subscription raised for the latter -- How he anticipates some of

the money -- Beranger -- My first acquaintance with him --

Beranger's verdict on the Second Republic -- Beranger's constant

flittings -- Dislikes popularity -- The true story of Beranger

and Mdlle. Judith Frere 249

CHAPTER XIII.

Some men of the Empire -- Fialin de Persigny -- The public

prosecutor's opinion of him expressed at the trial for high

treason in 1836 -- Superior in many respects to Louis-Napoleon --

The revival of the Empire his only and constant dream -- In order

to realize it, he appeals first to Jerome, ex-King of Westphalia

-- De Persigny's estimate of him -- Jerome's greed and

Louis-Napoleon's generosity -- De Persigny's financial

embarrassments -- His charity -- What the Empire really meant to

him -- De Persigny virtually the moving spirit in the Coup d'Etat

-- Louis-Napoleon might have been satisfied with the presidency

of the republic for life -- Persigny seeks for aid in England --

Palmerston's share in the Coup d'Etat -- The submarine cable --

Preparations for the Coup d'Etat -- A warning of it sent to

England -- Count Walewski issues invitations for a dinner-party

on the 2nd of December -- Opinion in London that Louis-Napoleon

will get the worst in the struggle with the Chamber -- The last

funds from London -- General de Saint-Arnaud and Baron Lacrosse

-- The Elysee-Bourbon on the evening of the 1st of December -- I

pass the Elysee at midnight -- Nothing unusual -- London on the

2nd of December -- The dinner at Count Walewski's put off at the

last moment -- Illuminations at the French Embassy a few hours

later -- Palmerston at the Embassy -- Some traits of De

Persigny's character -- His personal affection for Louis-Napoleon

-- Madame de Persigny -- Her parsimony -- Her cooking of the

household accounts -- Chevet and Madame de Persigny -- What the

Empire might have been with a Von Moltke by the side of the

Emperor instead of Vaillant, Niel, and Leboeuf -- Colonel

(afterwards General) Fleury the only modest man among the

Emperor's entourage -- De Persigny's pretensions as a Heaven-born

statesman -- Mgr. de Merode -- De Morny -- His first meeting with

his half-brother -- De Morny as a grand seigneur -- The origin of

the Mexican campaign -- Walewski -- His fads -- Rouher -- My

first sight of him in the Quartier-Latin -- The Emperor's opinion

of him at the beginning of his career -- Rouher in his native

home, Auvergne -- His marriage -- Madame Rouher -- His

father-in-law 261

CHAPTER XIV.

Society during the Second Empire -- The Court at Compiegne -- The

English element -- Their opinion of Louis-Napoleon -- The

difference between the court of Louis-Philippe and that of

Napoleon III. -- The luggage of M. Villemain -- The hunts in

Louis-Philippe's time -- Louis-Napoleon's advent -- Would have

made a better poet than an Emperor -- Looks for a La Valliere or

Montespan, and finds Mdlle. Eugenie de Montijo -- The latter

determined not to be a La Valliere or even a Pompadour -- Has her

great destiny foretold in her youth -- Makes up her mind that it

shall be realized by a right-handed and not a left-handed

marriage -- Queen Victoria stands her sponsor among the

sovereigns of Europe -- Mdlle. de Montijo's mother -- The

Comtesse de Montijo and Halevy's "Madame Cardinal" -- The first

invitations to Compiegne -- Mdlle. de Montijo's backers for the

Imperial stakes -- No other entries -- Louis-Napoleon utters the

word "marriage" -- What led up to it -- The Emperor officially

announces his betrothal -- The effect it produced -- The Faubourg

St.-Germain -- Dupin the elder gives his views -- The engaged

couple feel very uncomfortable -- Negotiations to organize the

Empress's future household -- Rebuffs -- Louis Napoleon's retorts

-- Mdlle. de Montijo's attempt at wit and sprightliness -- Her

iron will -- Her beauty -- Her marriage -- She takes

Marie-Antoinette for her model -- She fondly imagines that she

was born to rule -- She presumes to teach Princess Clotilde the

etiquette of courts -- The story of two detectives -- The hunts

at Compiegne -- Some of the mise en scene and _dramatis personae_

-- The shooting-parties -- Mrs. Grundy not banished, but

specially invited and drugged -- The programme of the gatherings

-- Compiegne in the season -- A story of an Englishman accommodated

for the night in one of the Imperial luggage-vans 288

CHAPTER XV.

Society during the Empire -- The series of guests at Compiegne --

The amusements -- the absence of musical taste in the Bonapartes

-- The programme on the first, second, third, and fourth days --

An anecdote of Lafontaine, the actor -- Theatrical performances

and balls -- The expenses of the same -- The theatre at Compiegne

-- The guests, male and female -- "Neck or nothing" for the

latter, uniform for the former -- The rest have to take "back

seats" -- The selection of guests among the notabilities of

Compiegne -- A mayor's troubles -- The Empress's and the

Emperor's conflicting opinions with regard to female charms --

Bassano in "hot water" -- Tactics of the demi-mondaines --

Improvement from the heraldic point of view in the Empress's

entourage -- The cocodettes -- Their dress -- Worth -- When every

pretext for a change of toilette is exhausted, the court ladies

turn themselves into ballerinas -- "Le Diable a Quatre" at

Compiegne -- The ladies appear at the ball afterwards in their

gauze skirts -- The Emperor's dictum with regard to

ballet-dancers and men's infatuation for them -- The Emperor did

not like stupid women -- The Emperor's "eye" for a handsome

woman -- The Empress does not admire the instinct -- William I.

of Prussia acts as comforter -- The hunt -- Actors, "supers," and

spectators -- "La Comtesse d'Escarbagnas" -- The Imperial

procession -- The Empress's and Emperor's unpunctuality --

Louis-Napoleon not a "well-dressed man" -- The Empress wished to

get back before dark -- The reason of this wish -- Though

unpunctual, punctual on hunt-days -- The police measures at those

gatherings -- M. Hyrvoix and M. Boitelle -- The Empress did not

like the truth, the Emperor did -- Her anxiety to go to St.

Lazare 304

CHAPTER XVI.

The story of a celebrated sculptor and his model -- David

d'Angers at the funeral of Cortot, the sculptor -- How I became

acquainted with him -- The sculptor leaves the funeral procession

to speak to a woman -- He tells me the story -- David d'Angers'

sympathy with Greece in her struggle for independence -- When

Botzaris falls at Missolonghi, he makes up his mind to carve his

monument -- Wishes to do something original -- He finds his idea

in the cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise -- In search of a model --

Comes unexpectedly upon her in the Rue du Montparnasse, while in

company of Victor Hugo -- The model and her mother -- The bronze

Christ on the studio wall -- David gives it to his model -- The

latter dismissed -- A plot against the sculptor's life -- His

model saves him -- He tries to find her and fails -- Only meets

with her when walking behind the hearse of Cortot -- She appears

utterly destitute -- Loses sight of her again -- Meets her on the

outer boulevards with a nondescript of the worst character -- He

endeavours to rescue her, but fails -- Canler, of the Paris

police, reveals the tactics pursued with regard to "unfortunates"

-- David's exile and death -- The Botzaris Monument is brought

back to Paris to be restored -- The model at the door of the

exhibition -- Her death 323

CHAPTER XVII.

Queen Victoria in Paris -- The beginning of the era of

middle-class excursions -- English visitors before that -- The

British tourist of 1855 -- The real revenge of Waterloo -- The

Englishman's French and the Frenchman's English -- The opening of

the Exhibition -- The lord mayor and aldermen in Paris -- The

King of Portugal -- All these considered so much "small fry" --

Napoleon III. goes to Boulogne to welcome the Queen -- The royal

yacht is delayed -- The French hotel proprietor the greatest

artist in fleecing -- The Italian, the Swiss, the German, mere

bunglers in comparison -- Napoleon III. before the arrival of the

Queen -- Pondering the past -- Arrival of the Queen -- The Queen

lands, followed by Prince Albert and the royal children -- The

Emperor rides by the side of her carriage -- Comments on the

population -- An old salt on the situation -- An old soldier's

retort -- The general feeling -- Arrival in Paris -- The

Parisians' reception of the Queen -- A description of the route

-- The apartments of the Queen at St. Cloud -- How the Queen

spent Sunday -- Visits the art section of the Exhibition on

Monday -- Ingres and Horace Vernet presented to her --

Frenchmen's ignorance of English art in those days -- English and

French art critics -- The Queen takes a carriage drive through

Paris -- Not a single cry of "Vive l'Angleterre!" a great many of

"Vive la Reine" -- England making a cats-paw of France --

Reception at the Elysee-Bourbon -- "Les Demoiselles de Saint-Cyr"

at St. Cloud -- Alexandre Dumas would have liked to see the

Queen -- Visit to Versailles -- State-performances at the Opera

-- Ball at the Hotel de Ville -- The Queen's dancing -- Canrobert

on "the Queen's dancing and her soldiers' fighting" -- Another

visit to the Exhibition -- Beranger misses seeing the Queen -- "I

am not going to see the Queen, but the woman" -- A review in the

Champ-de-Mars -- A visit to Napoleon's tomb -- Jerome's absence

on the plea of illness -- Marshal Vaillant's reply to the Emperor

when the latter invites him to take Jerome's place -- His

comments on the receptions given by the Emperor to foreign

sovereigns -- Fetes at Versailles -- Homeward 336

CHAPTER XVIII.

Marshal Vaillant -- The beginning of our acquaintance -- His

stories of the swashbucklers of the First Empire, and the beaux

of the Restauration -- Rabelaisian, but clever -- Marshal

Vaillant neither a swashbuckler nor a beau; hated both -- Never

cherished the slightest illusions about the efficiency of the

French army -- Acknowledged himself unable to effect the desired

and necessary reforms -- To do that, a minister of war must

become a fixture -- Why he stayed -- Careful of the public

moneys, and of the Emperor's also -- Napoleon III.'s lavishness

-- An instance of it -- Vaillant never dazzled by the grandeur of

court entertainments -- Not dazzled by anything -- His hatred of

wind-bags -- Prince de Canino -- Matutinal interviews -- Prince

de Canino sends his seconds -- Vaillant declines the meeting, and

gives his reason -- Vaillant abrupt at the best of times -- A

freezing reception -- A comic interview -- Attempts to shirk

military duty -- Tricks -- Mistakes -- A story in point -- More

tricks -- Sham ailments: how the marshal dealt with them -- When

the marshal was not in an amiable mood -- Another interview --

Vaillant's tactics -- "D----d annoying to be wrong" -- The

marshal fond of science -- A very interesting scientific

phenomenon himself -- Science under the later Bourbons --

Suspicion of the soldiers of the Empire -- The priesthood and the

police -- The most godless republic preferable to a continuance

of their regime -- The marshal's dog, Brusca -- Her dislike to

civilians -- Brusca's chastity -- Vaillant's objection to

insufficiently prepaid letters -- His habit of missing the train,

notwithstanding his precautions -- His objection to fuss and

public honours 351

CHAPTER XIX.

The Franco-German War -- Friday, July 15, 1870, 6 p.m. -- My

friends "confident of France being able to chastise the insolence

of the King of Prussia" -- I do not share their confidence; but

do not expect a crushing defeat -- Napoleon III.'s presence

aggravated the disasters; his absence would not have averted them

-- He himself had no illusions about the efficiency of the army,

did not suspect the rottenness of it -- His previous endeavours

at reorganization -- The real drift of his proposed inquiries --

His plan meant also compulsory service for every one -- Why the

legislature opposed it -- The makeshift proposed by it --

Napoleon weary, body and soul -- His physical condition -- A

great consultation and the upshot of it -- Dr. Ricord and what he

told me -- I am determined to see and hear, though not to speak

-- I sally forth -- The streets on the evening of Friday, the

15th of July -- The illuminations -- Patriotism or Chauvinism --

The announcement of a bookseller -- What Moltke thought of it --

The opinion of a dramatist on the war -- The people; no

horse-play -- No work done on Saturday and Sunday -- Cabmen -- "A

man does not pay for his own funeral, monsieur" -- The northern

station on Sunday -- The departing Germans -- The Emperor's

particular instructions with regard to them -- Alfred de

Musset's "Rhin Allemand" -- Prevost-Paradol and the news of his

suicide -- The probable cause of it -- A chat with a superior

officer -- The Emperor's Sunday receptions at the Tuileries --

Promotions in the army, upon what basis -- Good and bad officers

-- The officers' mess does not exist -- Another general officer

gives his opinion -- Marshal Niel and Leboeuf -- The plan of

campaign suddenly altered -- The reason -- The Emperor leaves St.

Cloud -- His confidence shaken before then -- Some telegrams from

the commanders of divisions -- Thiers is appealed to, to stem the

tide of retrenchment; afterwards to take the portfolio of war --

The Emperor's opinion persistently disregarded at the Tuileries

-- Trochu -- The dancing colonels at the Tuileries 367

CHAPTER XX.

The war -- Reaction before the Emperor's departure -- The moral

effects of the publication of the draft treaty -- "Bismarck has

done the Emperor" -- The Parisians did not like the Empress --

The latter always anxious to assume the regency -- A retrospect

-- Crimean war -- The Empress and Queen Victoria -- Solferino --

The regency of '65 -- Bismarck's millinery bills -- Lord Lyons --

Bismarck and the Duc de Gramont -- Lord Lyons does not foresee

war -- The republicans and the war -- The Empress -- Two

ministerial councils and their consequences -- Mr.

Prescott-Hewett sent for -- Joseph Ferrari, the Italian

philosopher -- The Empress -- The ferment in Paris -- "Too much

prologue to 'The Taming of the German Shrew'" -- The first

engagement -- The "Marseillaise" -- An infant performer -- The

"Marseillaise" at the Comedie-Francaise -- The "Marseillaise" by

command of the Emperor -- A patriotic ballet -- The courtesy of

the French at Fontenoy -- The Cafe de la Paix -- General Beaufort

d'Hautpoul and Moltke -- Newspaper correspondents -- Edmond About

tells a story about one of his colleagues -- News supplied by the

Government -- What it amounted to -- The information it gave to

the enemy -- Bazaine, "the glorious" one -- Palikao -- The fall

of the Empire does not date from Sedan, but from Woerth and

Speicheren -- Those who dealt it the heaviest blow -- The

Empress, the Empress, and no one but the Empress 385

CHAPTER XXI.

The 4th of September -- A comic, not a tragic revolution -- A

burlesque Harold and a burlesque Boadicea -- The news of Sedan

only known publicly on the 3rd of September -- Grief and

consternation, but no rage -- The latter feeling imported by the

bands of Delescluze, Blanqui, and Felix Pyat -- Blanqui, Pyat, &

Co. _versus_ Favre, Gambetta, & Co. -- The former want their

share of the spoil, and only get it some years afterwards --

Ramail goes to the Palais-Bourbon -- His report -- Paris spends

the night outdoors -- Thiers a second-rate Talleyrand -- His

journey to the different courts of Europe -- His interview with

Lord Granville -- The 4th of September -- The Imperial eagles

disappear -- The joyousness of the crowd -- The Place de la

Concorde -- The gardens of the Tuileries -- The crowds in the Rue

de Rivoli scarcely pay attention to the Tuileries -- The soldiers

fraternizing with the people, and proclaiming the republic from

the barracks' windows -- A serious procession -- Sampierro Gavini

gives his opinion -- The "heroic struggles" of an Empress, and

the crownless coronation of "le Roi Petaud" -- Ramail at the

Tuileries -- How M. Sardou saved the palace from being burned and

sacked -- The republic proclaimed -- Illuminations as after a

victory 404

CHAPTER XXII.

The siege -- The Parisians convinced that the Germans will not

invest Paris -- Paris becomes a vast drill-ground, nevertheless

-- The Parisians leave off singing, but listen to itinerant

performers, though the latter no longer sing the "Marseillaise"

-- The theatres closed -- The Comedie-Francaise and the Opera --

Influx of the Gardes Mobiles -- The Parisian no longer chaffs the

provincial, but does the honours of the city to him -- The

stolid, gaunt Breton and the astute and cynical Normand -- The

gardens of the Tuileries an artillery park -- The mitrailleuse

still commands confidence -- The papers try to be comic -- Food

may fail, drink will not -- My visit to the wine depot at Bercy

-- An official's information -- Cattle in the public squares and

on the outer Boulevards -- Fear with regard to them -- Every man

carries a rifle -- The woods in the suburbs are set on fire --

The statue of Strasburg on the Place de la Concorde -- M.

Prudhomme to his sons -- The men who do not spout -- The French

shopkeeper and bourgeois -- A story of his greed -- He reveals

the whereabouts of the cable laid on the bed of the Seine --

Obscure heroes -- Would-be Ravaillacs and Balthazar Gerards --

Inventors of schemes for the instant annihilation of all the

Germans -- A musical mitrailleuse -- An exhibition and lecture at

the Alcazar -- The last train -- Trains converted into dwellings

for the suburban poor -- Interior of a railway station -- The spy

mania -- Where the Parisians ought to have looked for spies -- I

am arrested as a spy -- A chat with the officer in charge -- A

terrible-looking knife 414

CHAPTER XXIII.

The siege -- The food-supply of Paris -- How and what the

Parisians eat and drink -- Bread, meat, and wine -- Alcoholism --

The waste among the London poor -- The French take a lesson from

the alien -- The Irish at La Villette -- A whisper of the horses

being doomed -- M. Gagne -- The various attempts to introduce

horseflesh -- The journals deliver their opinions -- The supply

of horseflesh as it stood in '70 -- The Academie des Sciences --

Gelatine -- Kitchen gardens on the balcony -- M. Lockroy's

experiment -- M. Pierre Joigneux and the Englishman -- If

cabbages, why not mushrooms? -- There is still a kitchen garden

left -- Cream cheese from the moon, to be fetched by Gambetta --

His departure in a balloon -- Nadar and Napoleon III. --

Carrier-pigeons -- An aerial telegraph -- Offers to cross the

Prussian lines -- The theatres -- A performance at the Cirque

National -- "Le Roi s'amuse," at the Theatre de Montmartre -- A

dejeuner at Durand's -- Weber and Beethoven -- Long winter nights

without fuel or gas -- The price of provisions -- The Parisian's

good-humour -- His wit -- The greed of the shopkeeper -- Culinary

literature -- More's "Utopia" -- An ex-lieutenant of the Foreign

Legion -- He gives us a breakfast -- He delivers a lecture on

food -- Joseph, his servant -- Milk -- The slender resources of

the poor -- I interview an employe of the State Pawnshop --

Statistics -- Hidden provisions -- Bread -- Prices of provisions

-- New Year's Day, and New Year's dinners -- The bombardment --

No more bread -- The end of the siege 429

CHAPTER XXIV.

Some men of the Commune -- Cluseret -- His opinion of Rossel --

His opinion of Bergeret -- What Cluseret was fighting for --

Thiers and Abraham Lincoln -- Raoul Rigault on horseback --

Theophile Ferre -- Ferre and Gil-Peres, the actor -- The comic

men of the Commune -- Gambon -- Jourde, one of the most valuable

of the lot -- His financial abilities -- His endeavours to save

-- Jourde at Godillot's -- Colonel Maxime Lisbonne -- The

Editor's recollections of him -- General Dombrowski and General

la Cecilia -- A soiree at the Tuileries -- A gala-performance at

the Opera Comique -- The death-knell of the Commune 462

AN ENGLISHMAN IN PARIS.

CHAPTER I.

The Quartier-Latin in the late thirties -- The difference between

then and now -- A caricature on the walls of Paris -- I am

anxious to be introduced to the quarter whence it emanated -- I

am taken to "La Childebert," and make the acquaintance of the

original of the caricature -- The story of Bouginier and his nose

-- Dantan as a caricaturist -- He abandons that branch of art

after he has made Madame Malibran burst into tears at the sight

of her statuette -- How Bouginier came to be immortalized on the

facade of the Passage du Caire -- One of the first co-operative

societies in France -- An artists' hive -- The origin of "La

Childebert" -- Its tenants in my time -- The proprietress --

Madame Chanfort, the providence of poor painters -- Her portraits

sold after her death -- High jinks at "La Childebert" -- The

Childebertians and their peacefully inclined neighbours --

Gratuitous baths and compulsory douches at "La Childebert" -- The

proprietress is called upon to repair the roof -- The

Childebertians bivouac on the Place St. Germain-des-Pres -- They

start a "Society for the Conversion of the Mahometans" -- The

public subscribe liberally -- What becomes of the subscriptions?

-- My visits to "La Childebert" breed a taste for the other

amusements of the Quartier-Latin -- Bobino and its entertainments

-- The audience -- The manager -- His stereotyped speech -- The

reply in chorus -- Woe to the bourgeois-intruder -- Stove-pipe

hats a rarity in the Quartier-Latin -- The dress of the

collegians -- Their mode of living -- Suppers when money was

flush, rolls and milk when it was not -- A fortune-teller in the

Rue de Tournon -- Her prediction as to the future of Josephine de

Beauharnais -- The allowance to students in those days -- The

Odeon deserted -- Students' habits -- The Chaumiere -- Rural

excursions -- Pere Bonvin's.

Long before Baron Haussmann began his architectural transformation, many

parts of Paris had undergone changes, perceptible only to those who had

been brought up among the inhabitants, though distinct from them in

nationality, education, habits, and tastes. Paris became to a certain

extent, and not altogether voluntarily, cosmopolitan before the palatial

mansions, the broad avenues, the handsome public squares which

subsequently excited the admiration of the civilized world had been

dreamt of, and while its outer aspect was as yet scarcely modified. This

was mainly due to the establishment of railways, which caused in the end

large influxes of foreigners and provincials, who as it were drove the

real Parisian from his haunts. Those visitors rarely penetrated in large

numbers to the very heart of the Quartier-Latin. When they crossed the

bridges that span the Seine, it was to see the Sorbonne, the Pantheon,

the Observatory, the Odeon, and the Luxembourg; they rarely stayed after

nightfall. The Prado, the Theatre Bobino, the students' taverns, escaped

their observation when there was really something to see; and now, when

the Closerie des Lilas has become the Bal Bullier, when the small

theatre has been demolished, and when the taverns are in no way

distinguished from other Parisian taverns--when, in short, commonplace

pervades the whole--people flock thither very often. But during the

whole of the forties, and even later, the _rive gauche_, with its

Quartier-Latin and adjacent Faubourg St. Germain, were almost entirely

sacred from the desecrating stare of the deliberate sightseer; and,

consequently, the former especially, preserved its individuality, not

only materially, but mentally and morally--immorally would perhaps have

been the word that would have risen to the lips of the observer who

lacked the time and inclination to study the life led there deeper than

it appeared merely on the surface. For though there was a good deal of

roystering and practical joking, and short-lasted _liaison_, there was

little of deliberate vice, of strategic libertinism--if I may be allowed

to coin the expression. True, every Jack had his Jill, but, as a rule,

it was Jill who had set the ball rolling.

The Quartier-Latin not only sheltered sucking lawyers and doctors,

budding professors and savans and litterateurs, but artists whose names

have since then become world-renowned. It was with some of these that I

was most thrown in contact in that quarter, partly from inclination,

because from my earliest youth I have been fonder of pictures than of

books, partly because at that time I had already seen so many authors of

fame, most of whom were the intimate acquaintances of a connection of

mine, that I cared little to seek the society of those who had not

arrived at that stage. I was very young, and, though not devoid of faith

in possibilities, too mentally indolent when judgment in that respect

involved the sitting down to manuscripts. It was so much easier and

charming to be able to discover a budding genius by a mere glance at a

good sketch, even when the latter was drawn in charcoal on a not

particularly clean "whitewashed" wall.

I was scarcely more than a stripling when one morning such a sketch

appeared on the walls of Paris, and considerably mystified, while it at

the same time amused the inhabitants of the capital. It was not the work

of what we in England would call a "seascape and mackerel artist," for

no such individual stood by to ask toll of the admirers; it was not an

advertisement, for in those days that mode of mural publicity was

scarcely born, let alone in its infancy, in Paris. What, then, was this

colossal, monumental nose, the like of which I have only seen on the

faces of four human beings, one of whom was Hyacinth, the famous actor

of the Palais-Royal, the other three being M. d'Argout, the Governor of

the Bank of France; M. de Jussieu, the Director of the Jardin des

Plantes; and Lasailly, Balzac's secretary? What was this colossal nose,

with a ridiculously small head and body attached to it? The nasal organ

was certainly phenomenal, even allowing for the permissible exaggeration

of the caricaturist, but it could surely not be the only title of its

owner to this sudden leap into fame! Was it a performing nose, or one

endowed with extraordinary powers of smell? I puzzled over the question

for several days, until one morning I happened to run against my old

tutor, looking at the picture and laughing till the tears ran down his

wrinkled cheeks. It was a positive pleasure to see him. "C'est bien lui,

c'est bien lui," he exclaimed; "c'est absolument son portrait crache!"

"Do you know the original?" I asked. "Mais, sans doute, je le connais,

c'est un ami de mon fils, du reste, toute le monde connait Bouginier."

"But I do not know him," I protested, feeling very much ashamed of my

ignorance. "Ah, you! that's quite a different thing; you do not live in

the Quartier-Latin, but everybody there knows him." From that moment I

knew no rest until I had made the acquaintance of Bouginier, which was

not very difficult; and through him I became a frequent visitor to "La

Childebert," which deserves a detailed description, because, though it

was a familiar haunt to many Parisians of my time with a taste for

Bohemian society, I doubt whether many Englishmen, save (the late) Mr.

Blanchard Jerrold and one of the Mayhews, ever set foot there, and even

they could not have seen it in its prime.

But before I deal with "La Childebert," I must say a few words about

Bouginier, who, contrary to my expectations, owed his fame solely to his

_proboscis_. He utterly disappeared from the artistic horizon in a few

years, but his features still live in the memory of those who knew him

through a statuette in _terra cotta_ modelled by Dantan the younger.

During the reign of Louis-Philippe, Dantan took to that branch of art as

a relaxation from his more serious work; he finally abandoned it after

he had made Madame Malibran burst into tears, instead of making her

laugh, as he intended, at her own caricature. Those curious in such

matters may see Bouginier's presentment in a medallion on the

frontispiece of the Passage du Caire, amidst the Egyptian divinities and

sphinxes. As a matter of course, the spectator asks himself why this

modern countenance should find itself in such incongruous company, and

he comes almost naturally to the conclusion that Bouginier was the

owner, or perhaps the architect, of this arcade, almost exclusively

tenanted--until very recently--by lithographers, printers, etc. The

conclusion, however, would be an erroneous one. Bouginier, as far as is

known, never had any property in Paris or elsewhere; least of all was he

vain enough to perpetuate his own features in that manner, even if he

had had an opportunity, but he had not; seeing that he was not an

architect, but simply a painter, of no great talents certainly, but,

withal, modest and sensible, and as such opposed to, or at any rate not

sharing, the crazes of mediaevalism, romanticism, and other _isms_ in

which the young painters of that day indulged, and which they thought

fit to emphasize in public and among one another by eccentricities of

costume and language, supposed to be in harmony with the periods they

had adopted for illustration. This absence of enthusiasm one way or the

other aroused the ire of his fellow-lodgers at the "Childebert," and one

of them, whose pencil was more deft at that kind of work than those of

the others, executed their vengeance, and drew Bouginier's picture on

the "fag end" of a dead wall in the vicinity of the Church of St.

Germain-des-Pres. The success was instantaneous and positively

overwhelming, though truth compels one to state that this was the only

flash of genius that illumined that young fellow's career. His name was

Fourreau, and one looks in vain for his name in the biographical

dictionaries or encyclopedias of artists. Fate has even been more cruel

to him than to his model.

For the moment, however, the success, as I have already said, was

overwhelming. In less than a fortnight there was not a single wall in

Paris and its outskirts without a Bouginier on its surface. Though Paris

was considerably less in area than it is now, it wanted a Herculean

effort to accomplish this. No man, had he been endowed with as many arms

as Briareus, would have sufficed for it. Nor would it have done to trust

to more or less skilful copyists--they might have failed to catch the

likeness, which was really an admirable one; so the following device was

hit upon. Fourreau himself cut a number of stencil plates in brown

paper, and, provided with them, an army of Childebertians started every

night in various directions, Fourreau and a few undoubtedly clever

youths heading the detachments, and filling in the blanks by hand.

Meanwhile summer had come, and with it the longing among the young

Tintos to breathe the purer air of the country, to sniff the salt

breezes of the ocean. As a matter of course, they were not all ready to

start at the same time, but being determined to follow the same route,

to assemble at a common goal, the contingent that was to leave a

fortnight later than the first arranged to join the others wherever they

might be.

"But how?" was the question of those who were left behind. "Very simply

indeed," was the answer; "we'll go by the Barriere d'Italie. You'll have

but to look at the walls along the road, and you'll find your waybill."

So said, so done. A fortnight after, the second division left

head-quarters and made straight for the Barriere d'Italie. But when

outside the gates they stood undecided. For one moment only. The next

they caught sight of a magnificent Bouginier on a wall next to the

excise office--of a Bouginier whose outstretched index pointed to the

Fontainebleau road. After that, all went well. As far as Marseilles

their Bouginier no more failed them than the clouds of smoke and fire

failed the Israelites in the wilderness. At the seaport town they lost

the track for a little while, rather through their want of faith in the

ingenuity of their predecessors than through the latter's lack of such

ingenuity. They had the Mediterranean in front of them, and even if they

found a Bouginier depicted somewhere on the shore, his outstretched

index could only point to the restless waves; he could do nothing more

definite. Considerably depressed, they were going down the Cannebiere,

when they caught sight of the features of their guiding star on a panel

between the windows of a shipping office. His outstretched index did

not point this time; it was placed over a word, and that word spelt

"Malta." They took ship as quickly as possible for the ancient

habitation of the Knights-Templars. On the walls of the Customs in the

island was Bouginier, with a scroll issuing from his nostrils, on which

was inscribed the word "Alexandria." A similar indication met their gaze

at the Pyramids, and at last the second contingent managed to come up

with the first amidst the ruins of Thebes at the very moment when the

word "Suez" was being traced as issuing from Bouginier's mouth.

Among the company was a young fellow of the name of Berthier, who became

subsequently an architect of some note. The Passage du Caire, as I have

already observed, was in those days the head-quarters of the

lithographic-printing business in general, but there was one branch

which flourished more than the rest, namely, that of _lettres de faire

part_,[1] menus of restaurants and visiting-cards. The two first-named

documents were, in common with most printed matter intended for

circulation, subject to a stamp duty, but in the early days of the

Second Empire Louis-Napoleon had it taken off. To mark their sense of

the benefit conferred, the lithographic firms[2] determined to have the

arcade, which stood in sad need of repair, restored, and Berthier was

selected for the task. The passage was originally built to commemorate

Bonaparte's victories in Egypt, and when Berthier received the

commission, he could think of no more fitting facade than the

reproduction of a house at Karnac. He fondly remembered his youthful

excursion to the land of Pharaohs, and at the same time the image of

Bouginier uprose before him. That is why the presentment of the latter

may be seen up to this day on the frieze of a building in the frowsiest

part of Paris.

[Footnote 1: The "lettre de faire part" is an intimation of a

birth, marriage, or death sent to the friends, and even mere

acquaintances, of a family.--EDITOR.]

[Footnote 2: The lithographers were almost the first in France

to form a co-operative society, but not in the sense of the

Rochdale pioneers, which dates from about the same period. The

Lacrampe Association was for supplying lithographic work. It

began in the Passage du Caire with ten members, and in a short

time numbered two hundred workmen.--EDITOR.]

If I have dwelt somewhat longer on Bouginier than the importance of the

subject warranted, it was mainly to convey an idea of the spirit of

mischief, of the love of practical joking, that animated most of the

inmates of "La Childebert." As a rule their devilries were innocent

enough. The pictorial persecution of Bouginier is about the gravest

thing that could be laid to their charge, and the victim, like the

sensible fellow he was, rather enjoyed it than otherwise. Woe, however,

to the starched bourgeois who had been decoyed into their lair, or even

to the remonstrating comrade with a serious turn of mind, who wished to

pursue his studies in peace! His life was made a burden to him, for the

very building lent itself to all sorts of nocturnal surprises and of

guerilla sorties. Elsewhere, when a man's door was shut, he might

reasonably count upon a certain amount of privacy; the utmost his

neighbours could do was to make a noise overhead or by his side. At the

"Childebert" such privacy was out of the question. There was not a door

that held on its hinges, not a window that could be opened or shut at

will, not a ceiling that did not threaten constantly to crush you

beneath its weight, not a floor that was not in danger of giving way

beneath you and landing you in the room below, not a staircase that did

not shake under your very steps, however light they might be; in short,

the place was a wonderful illustration of "how the rotten may hold

together," even if it be not gently handled.

The origin of the structure, as it stood then, was wrapt in mystery. It

was five or six stories high, and must have attained that altitude

before the first Revolution, because the owner, a Madame Legendre, who

bought it for assignats amounting in real value to about one pound

sterling, when the clergy's property was sold by the nation, was known

never to have spent a penny upon it either at the time of the purchase

or subsequently, until she was forced by a tenant more ingenious or more

desperate than the rest. That it could not have been part of the abbey

and adjacent monastery built by Childebert I., who was buried there in

558, was very certain. It is equally improbable that the Cardinal de

Bissy, who opened a street upon the site of the erstwhile abbey in the

year of Louis XIV.'s death, would have erected so high a pile for the

mere accommodation of the pensioners of the former monastery, at a time

when high piles were the exception. Besides, the Nos. 1 and 3, known to

have been occupied by those pensioners, all of whose rooms communicated

with one another, were not more than two stories high. In short, the

original intention of the builder of the house No. 9, yclept "La

Childebert," has never been explained. The only tenant in the Rue

Childebert who might have thrown a light on the subject had died before

the caravansary attained its fame. He was more than a hundred years old,

and had married five times. His fifth wife was only eighteen when she

became Madame Chanfort, and survived him for many, many years. She was a

very worthy soul, a downright providence to the generally impecunious

painters, whom she used to feed at prices which even then were

ridiculously low. Three eggs, albeit fried in grease instead of butter,

for the sum of three-half-pence, and a dinner, including wine, for

sixpence, could not have left much profit; but Madame Chanfort always

declared that she had enough to live upon, and that she supplied the

art-students with food at cost price because she would not be without

their company. At her death, in '57, two years before the "Childebert"

and the street of the same name disappeared, there was a sale of her

chattels, and over a hundred portraits and sketches of her, "in her

habit as she lived," came under the hammer. To show that the various

occupants of "La Childebert" could do more than make a noise and play

practical jokes, I may state that not a single one of these productions

fetched less than fifty francs--mere crayon studies; while there were

several that sold for two hundred and three hundred francs, and two

studies in oil brought respectively eight hundred francs and twelve

hundred francs. Nearly every one of the young men who had signed these

portraits had made a name for himself. The latter two were signed

respectively Paul Delaroche and Tony Johannot.

Nevertheless, to those whose love of peace and quietude was stronger

than their artistic instincts and watchful admiration of budding genius,

the neighbourhood of "La Childebert" was a sore and grievous trial. At

times the street itself, not a very long or wide one, was like

Pandemonium let loose; it was when there was an "At Home" at "La

Childebert," and such functions were frequent, especially at the

beginning of the months. These gatherings, as a rule, partook of the

nature of fancy dress _conversaziones_; for dancing, owing to the

shakiness of the building, had become out of the question, even with

such dare-devils as the tenants. What the latter prided themselves upon

most was their strict adherence to the local colour of the periods they

preferred to resuscitate. Unfortunately for the tranquillity of the

neighbourhood, they pretended to carry out this revival in its smallest

details, not only in their artistic productions, but in their daily

lives. The actor who blacked himself all over to play Othello was as

nothing to them in his attempted realism, because we may suppose that he

got rid of his paint before returning to the everyday world. Not so the

inmates of "La Childebert." They were minstrels, or corsairs, or proud

and valiant knights from the moment they got up till the moment they

went to bed, and many of them even scorned to stretch their weary limbs

on so effeminate a contrivance as a modern mattress, but endeavoured to

keep up the illusion by lying on a rush-bestrewn floor.

I am not sufficiently learned to trace these various and succeeding

disguises to their literary and theatrical causes, for it was generally

a new book or a new play that set the ball rolling in a certain

direction; nor can I vouch for the chronological accuracy and

completeness of my record in that respect, but I remember some phases of

that ever-shifting masquerade. When I was a very little boy, I was

struck more than once with the sight of young men parading the streets

in doublets, trunk hose, their flowing locks adorned with velvet caps

and birds' wings, their loins girded with short swords. And yet it was

not carnival time. No one seemed to take particular notice of them; the

Parisians by that time had probably got used to their vagaries. Those

competent in such matters have since told me that the "get-up" was

inspired by "La Gaule Poetique" of M. de Marchangy, the novels of M.

d'Arlincourt, and the kindred stilted literature that characterized the

beginning of the Restoration. Both these gentlemen, from their very

hatred of the Greeks and Romans of the first Empire, created heroes of

fiction still more ridiculous than the latter, just as Metternich,

through his weariness of the word "fraternity," said that if he had a

brother he would call him "cousin." A few years later, the first

translation of Byron's works produced its effect; and then came

Defauconpret, with his very creditable French versions of Walter Scott.

The influence of Paul Delaroche and his co-champions of the cause of

romanticism, the revolution of July, the dramas of Alexandre Dumas and

Victor Hugo, all added their quota to the prevailing confusion in the

matter of style and period, and early in the forties there were at the

"Childebert" several camps, fraternizing in everything save in their

dress and speech, which were the visible and audible manifestation of

their individual predilection for certain periods of history. For

instance, it was no uncommon thing to hear the son of a concierge, whose

real or fancied vocation had made him embrace the artistic profession,

swear by "the faith of his ancestors," while the impoverished scion of a

noble house replied by calling him "a bloated reminiscence of a feudal

and superstitious age."

At the _conversaziones_ which I mentioned just now, the guests of the

inmates of "La Childebert" not only managed to out-Herod Herod in

diction and attire, but, to heighten illusion still further, adopted as

far as possible the mode of conveyance supposed to have been employed by

their prototypes. The classicists, and those still addicted to the

illustration of Greek and Roman mythology, though nominally in the

minority at the "Childebert" itself, were, as a rule, most successful in

those attempts. The ass that had borne Silenus, the steeds that had

drawn the chariot of the triumphant Roman warrior, the she-goat that was

supposed to have suckled Jupiter, were as familiar to the inhabitants of

the Rue Childebert as the cats and mongrels of their own households. The

obstructions caused by the former no longer aroused their ire; but when,

one evening, Romulus and Remus made their appearance, accompanied by the

legendary she-wolf, they went mad with terror. The panic was at its

height when, with an utter disregard of mythological tradition, Hercules

walked up the street, leading the Nemaean lion. Then the aid of the

police was invoked; but neither the police nor the national guards, who

came after them, dared to tackle the animals, though they might have

done so safely, because the supposed wolf was a great dane, and the lion

a mastiff, but so marvellously padded and painted as to deceive any but

the most practised eye. The culprits, however, did not reveal the secret

until they were at the commissary of police's office, enjoying the

magnificent treat of setting the whole of the neighbourhood in an uproar

on their journey thither, and of frightening that official on their

arrival.

In fact, long before I knew them, the inmates of the "Childebert" had

become a positive scourge to the neighbourhood, while the structure

itself threatened ruin to everything around it. Madame Legendre

absolutely refused to do any repairs. She did not deny that she had

bought the place cheap, but she pointed out at the same time that the

rents she charged were more than modest, and that eight times out of

ten she did not get them. In the beginning of her ownership she had

employed a male concierge, to prevent, as it were, the wholesale

flitting which was sure to follow a more strenuous application for

arrears upon which she ventured now and then in those days. That was

towards the end of the Empire, when the disciples of David had been

reduced to a minority in the place by those of Lethiere, who sounded the

first note of revolt against the unconditional classicism of the

illustrious member of the Convention. If all the disciples of the Creole

painter had not his genius, most of them had his courage and readiness

to draw the sword on the smallest provocation,[3] and the various

Cerberi employed by Madame Legendre to enforce her claims had to fly one

after another. The rumour of the danger of the situation had spread, and

at last Madame Legendre could find no man to fill it, except on monetary

conditions with which she would not--perhaps could not--comply. From

that day forth she employed a woman, who was safe, because she had been

told to let "lawless impecuniosity" take its course, and it was recorded

that pecuniarily the proprietress was the better off for this change of

tactics.

[Footnote 3: Guillaume Lethiere, whose real name was Guillon,

was a native of Guadeloupe. He fought and seriously wounded

several officers because the latter had objected to "a mere

dauber wearing moustaches." He was obliged to leave Paris, but,

thanks to the protection of Lucien Bonaparte, was appointed

Director of the French Academie at Rome.--EDITOR.]

I am willing to repeat that record, which, if true, did credit to the

head of the landlady and the hearts of her tenants, but am compelled to

supplement it by a different version. When I saw the "Childebert" in '37

or '38, no man in his senses would have paid rent for any one room in it

on the two top stories; he might as well have lived in the streets. It

was an absolute case of the bottomless sedan chair in which two of his

fellow-porters put Pat; "but for the honour of the thing, he might have

walked." Consequently the tenants there were rarely harassed for their

rent; if they paid it at all, it was so much unexpected gain. It

happened, however, that now and then by mistake a youngster was put

there who had scruples about discharging his liabilities in that

respect; and one of these was Emile Lapierre, who subsequently became a

landscape-painter of note. One night, after he had taken up his quarters

there, the floodgates of heaven opened over Paris. Lapierre woke up

amidst a deluge. I need not say that there were no bells at the

"Childebert;" nevertheless there was no fear of dying unattended,

provided one could shout, for there was always a party turning night

into day, or hailing the smiling morn before turning in. Lapierre's

shouts found a ready echo, and in a few moments the old concierge was on

the spot.

"Go and fetch a boat--go and fetch a boat!" yelled Lapierre. "I am

drowning!" yelled Lapierre.

"There are none in the quarter," replied the old woman innocently,

thinking he was in earnest.

"Then go and fetch Madame Legendre, to show her the pond she is letting

me instead of the room for which I pay her."

"Madame would not come, not even for you, monsieur, who are the only one

punctual with your rent; besides, if she did come, she would have no

repairs done."

"Oh, she'll have no repairs done! We'll soon find out. I think I'll make

her," screamed Lapierre; and he kept his word.

It was the only instance of Madame Legendre having had to capitulate,

and I have alluded to it before; it remains for me to tell how it was

done.

Lapierre, contrary to the precept, allowed the sun to go down upon his

wrath, in the hope perhaps of inducing Madame Legendre to change her

oft-announced decision of doing no repairs; but he rose betimes next

morning, and when there was no sign of workmen, he proceeded to carry

out his plan. The floors of the "Childebert" were made of brick, and he

simply removed three or four squares from his, after which he went

downstairs and recruited half a dozen water-carriers, and bade them

empty their full pails into the opening he had made. I shall probably

have some remarks to make elsewhere about the water-supply of Paris; at

present it is sufficient to say that in those days there was not a

single house in the capital which was not dependent upon those

Auvergnats who carried the commodity round in barrels on carts drawn by

hand or horse. These gentlemen, though astonished at the strange task

required of them, consented. In less than ten minutes there was a string

of water-carts stationed in the Rue Childebert, and in a few minutes

more the lower stories were simply flooded. Aime Millet, the sculptor,

whose room was situated immediately beneath that of Lapierre, was the

first victim. It was he who gave the alarm, but, as a matter of course,

in the twinkling of an eye there were one or two heads at every window,

and though very early, there was a stampede of very primitively clad

models (?) into the street, shouting and yelling out at the top of their

voices. Outside no one seemed to know exactly what had occurred; the

prevailing impression was that the place was on fire. Then Madame

Legendre was sent for in hot haste. By that time the truth had become

known in the house. The alarm had subsided, but not the noise. When the

report of Madame Legendre's coming got wind, a deputation went to the

entrance of the street to welcome her. It was provided with all sorts of

instruments except musical ones, and the old dame was conducted in state

to Millet's room. The cause of the mischief was soon ascertained, for

the water-carriers were still at work. The police had refused to

interfere; in reality, they would not have been sorry to see the

building come down with a crash, for it was as great a source of

annoyance to them as to the peaceful burghers they were supposed to

protect. A move was made to the room above, where Lapierre--without a

stitch of clothing--stood directing the operations.

"What are you doing, Monsieur Lapierre?" screeched Madame Legendre.

"I am taking a bath, madame; it is very warm. You gave me one against my

will the night before last; and lest I should be accused of selfishness,

I am letting my neighbours partake of the pleasure."

That is how Madame Legendre was compelled to repair the roof of "La

Childebert."

Such was the company amidst which I was introduced by the son of my old

tutor. Many years have passed since then, during which I have been

thrown into the society of the great and powerful ones of this world,

rather through the force of circumstances than owing to my own merits,

but I have looked in vain for the honest friendships, the disinterested

actions, the genuine enthusiasm for their art, underlying their devilry,

of which these young men were capable. The bourgeois vices, in the guise

of civic and domestic virtues, entered the souls of Frenchmen early in

the reign of Louis-Philippe, and have been gnawing since, with

ever-increasing force, like a cancer, at everything that was noble and

worthy of admiration in a nation. But those vices never found their way

to the hearts of the inmates of "La Childebert" while they were there,

and rarely in after-life. Many attained world-wide reputations; few

gathered riches, even when they were as frugal as the best among

them--Eugene Delacroix.

To have known these young men was absolutely a liberal education. To the

Podsnap and Philistine of no matter what nationality, it seems a sad

thing to have no thought for to-morrow. And these youngsters had not

even a thought for the day. Their thoughts were for the future, when the

world mayhap would ring with their names; but their physical or mental

hearing never strained for the ring of money. They were improvident

creatures, to be sure; but how much more lovable than the young painters

of the present period, whose ideal is a big balance at their bankers;

who would rather have their names inscribed on the registers of the

public debt than in the golden book of art; whose dreamt-of Eden is a

bijou villa in the Parc Monceaux or in the Avenue Villiers; whose

providence is the _richard_, the parvenu, the wealthy upstart, whose

features they perpetuate, regardless of the perpetuation of their own

budding fame!

When I began to jot down these notes, I made up my mind to eschew

comparisons and moralizing; I find I have unconsciously done both, but

will endeavour not to offend again. Still, I cannot help observing how

the mere "moneyed nobody" rushes nowadays to the eminent painter to have

his lineaments reproduced, when a guinea photograph would serve his

purpose just as well for "family use;" for I take it that no one,

besides his relations and friends, cares or will care to gaze upon his

features. And yet our annual picture exhibitions are crowded with the

portraits of these nonentities. They advertise themselves through the

painters that transfer them to canvas, and the latter are content to

pocket heavy fees, like the advertising agents they are. I am certain

that neither Holbein, Rubens, Van Dyck, Hals, nor Rembrandt would have

lent themselves to such transactions. When they, or a Reynolds, a

Lawrence, a Gainsborough, conferred the honour of their brush upon some

one, it was because he or she was already distinguished from his or her

fellow-creatures by beauty, social position, talents, genius, or birth;

not because he or she wanted to be, or, in default of such distinction,

wanted to attract the public notice at all costs. That, I fancy, was the

way in which painters of other days looked upon the thing. I know it was

the way in which the young fellows at the "Childebert" did; and woe to

their comrade who ventured to apply in art the principle of

international maritime law, that "le pavillon couvre la marchandise"

(the flag covers the cargo)! He was scouted and jeered at, and,

moreover, rarely allowed to reap the pecuniary benefit of his artistic

abasement. Hence the "patron for a portrait" seldom found his way to "La

Childebert." When he did, the whole of the place conspired to make his

life and that of his would-be _protege_ a misery.

To enumerate all the devices resorted to to make the sittings abortive,

to "distort the features that had donned the bland smile of placid

contentment" with the paralyzing fear of some impending catastrophe,

would be impossible; the mention of a few must suffice. That most

frequently employed, and comparatively easy of execution, was the

setting alight of damp straw; the dense smoke penetrated every nook and

cranny of the crazy building, and the sitter, mad with fright, rushed

away. The chances were a hundred to one against his ever returning.

Another was the intrusion of a male model offering his services as a

Saint-Jerome, or a female one offering hers as Godiva; for, curious to

relate, the devotion of the wife of Leofric of Murcia was a favourite

subject with the Childebertians. As a matter of course, the applicants

were in the costume, or rather lack of costume, appropriate to the

character. The strait-laced bourgeois or bourgeoise was shocked, and did

not repeat the visit. The cry that there was a mad dog in the house was

a common one on those occasions; and at last the would-be

portrait-painters had to give in, and a big placard appeared on the

frontispiece: "Le commerce des portraits a ete cede aux directeur et

membres de l'Ecole des Beaux-Arts."

The most curious thing in connection with the "Childebert" was that,

though the place was inexpressibly ill kept, it escaped the most

terrible visitations of the cholera. I prefer not to enter into details

of the absolute disregard of all sanitary conditions, but in warm

weather the building became positively uninhabitable. Long before the

unsavoury spectacle of "learned fleas" became a feature of the suburban

fairs, Emile Signol, who is best known as a painter of religious

subjects, had trained a company of performers of a different kind of

nocturnal pests. He averred in his opening lecture that their ingenuity

was too great to remain unknown, and cited anecdotes fully proving his

words. Certain is it that they were the only enemies before which the

combined forces of the Childebertians proved powerless. But even under

such trying circumstances the latter never lost their buoyant spirits,

and their retreats _en masse_ were effected in a manner the reports of

which set the whole of Paris in a roar. One Sunday morning, the faithful

worshippers, going to matins at the Church of St. Germain-des-Pres,

found the square occupied by a troop of Bedouins, wrapt in their

burnouses, and sleeping the sleep of the just. Some had squatted in

corners, calmly smoking their _chibouks_. This was in the days of the

Algerian campaign, and the rumour spread like wildfire that a party of

Arab prisoners of war were bivouacked round the church, where a special

service would be given in the afternoon as the first step to their

conversion to Christianity. It being Sunday, the whole of Paris rushed

to the spot. The Bedouins had, however, disappeared, but a collection

was made in their behalf by several demure-looking young men. The

Parisians gave liberally. That night, and two or three nights after, the

nocturnal pests' occupation was gone, for the "Childebert" was lighted

_a giorno_ from basement to roof, and the Childebertians held high

festival. The inhabitants of the streets adjacent to the Rue Childebert

spent as many sleepless nights, though their houses were perfectly

wholesome and clean.

I had the honour to be a frequent guest at those gatherings, but I feel

that a detailed description of them is beyond my powers. I have already

said that the craziness of the structure would have rendered extremely

dangerous any combined display of choregraphic art, as practised by the

Childebertians and their friends, male and female, at the neighbouring

Grande-Chaumiere; it did, however, not prevent a lady or gentleman of

the company from performing a _pas seul_ now and then. This, it must be

remembered, was the pre-Rigolbochian period, before Chicard with his

_chahut_ had been ousted from his exalted position by the more elegant

and graceful evolutions of the originator of the modern cancan, the

famous Brididi; when the Faubourg du Temple, the Bal du Grand

Saint-Martin, and "the descent of the Courtille" were patronized by the

Paris _jeunesse doree_, and in their halcyon days, when the _habitues_

of the establishment of Le Pere Lahire considered it their greatest

glory to imitate as closely as possible the bacchanalian gyrations of

the choregraphic autocrat on the other side of the Seine. No mere

description could do justice to these gyrations; only a draughtsman of

the highest skill could convey an adequate idea of them. But, as a

rule, the soirees at the "Childebert" were not conspicuous for such

displays; their programme was a more ambitious one from an intellectual

point of view, albeit that the programme was rarely, if ever, carried

out. This failure of the prearranged proceedings mainly arose from the

disinclination or inability of the fairer portion of the company to play

the passive part of listeners and spectators during the recital of an

unpublished poem of perhaps a thousand lines or so, though the reciter

was no less a personage than the author. In vain did the less frivolous

and male part of the audience claim "silence for the minstrel;" the

interrupters could conceive no minstrel without a guitar or some kindred

instrument, least of all a minstrel who merely spoke his words, and the

feast of reason and flow of soul came generally to an abrupt end by the

rising of a damsel more outspoken still than her companions, who

proposed an adjournment to one of the adjacent taverns, or to the not

far distant "Grande-Chaumiere," "si on continue a nous assommer avec des

vers." The threat invariably produced its effect. The "minstrel" was

politely requested to "shut up," and Beranger, Desaugiers, or even M.

Scribe, took the place of the Victor Hugo in embryo until the small

hours of the morning; the departure of the guests being witnessed by the

night-capped inhabitants of the Rue Childebert from their windows,

amidst the comforting reflections that for another three weeks or so

there would be peace in the festive halls of that "accursed building."

My frequent visits to "La Childebert" had developed a taste for the

Bohemian attractions of the Quartier-Latin. I was not twenty, and though

I caught frequent glimpses at home of some of the eminent men with whom

a few years later I lived on terms of friendship, I could not aspire to

their society then. It is doubtful whether I would have done so if I

could. I preferred the Theatre Bobino to the Opera and the

Comedie-Francaise; the Grande-Chaumiere--or the Chaumiere, as it was

simply called--to the most brilliantly lighted and decorated ball-room;

a stroll with a couple of young students in the gardens of the

Luxembourg to a carriage-drive in the Bois de Boulogne; a dinner for

three francs at Magny's, in the Rue Contrescarpe-Dauphine, or even one

for twenty-two sous at Viot's or Blery's, to the most sumptuous repast

at the Cafe Riche or the Cafe de Paris. I preferred the buttered rolls

and the bowl of milk at the Boulangerie Cretaine, in the Rue Dauphine,

to the best suppers at the Cafe Anglais, whither I had been taken once

or twice during the Carnival--in short, I was very young and very

foolish; since then I have often wished that, at the risk of remaining

very foolish for evermore, I could have prolonged my youth for another

score of years.

For once in a way I have no need to be ashamed of my want of memory. I

could not give an account of a single piece I saw during those two or

three years at Bobino, but I am certain that not one of the companions

of my youth could. It is not because the lapse of time has dimmed the

recollection of the plots, but because there were no plots, or at any

rate none that we could understand, and I doubt very much whether the

actors and actresses were more enlightened in that respect than the

audience. The pieces were vaudevilles, most of them, and it was

sufficient for us to join in the choruses of the songs, with which they

were plentifully interlarded. As for the dialogue, it might have been

sparkling with wit and epigram; it was nearly always drowned by

interpolations from one side of the house or the other. When the tumult

became too great, the curtain was simply lowered, to be almost

immediately raised, "discovering" the manager--in his dressing-gown. He

seemed prouder of that piece of attire than the more modern one would be

of the most faultless evening dress. He never appealed to us by invoking

the laws of politeness; he never threatened to have the house cleared.

He simply pointed out to us that the police would inevitably close the

place at the request of the inhabitants of the Rue de Madame if the

noise rose above a certain pitch, and disturbed their peaceful evening

hours, spent in the bosom of their families; which remark was always

followed by the audience intoning as one man Gretry's "Ou peut-on etre

mieux qu'au sein de sa famille?" the orchestra--such an

orchestra!--playing the accompaniment, and the manager himself beating

time. Then he went on. "Yes, messieurs et mesdames, we are here en

famille also, as much en famille as at the Grande-Chaumiere; and has not

M. Lahire obtained from the Government the permission de faire sa police

tout seul! After all, he is providing exercise for your muscles; I am

providing food for your brain."

The speech was a stereotyped one--we all knew it by heart; it invariably

produced its effect in keeping us comparatively quiet for the rest of

the evening, unless a bourgeois happened to come in. Then the uproar

became uncontrollable; no managerial speech could quell it until the

intruder had left the theatre.

By a bourgeois was meant a man who wore broadcloth and a top hat, but

especially the latter. In fact, that headgear was rarely seen within the

inner precincts of the Quartier-Latin, even during the daytime, except

on the head of a professor, or on Thursdays when the collegians--the

term "lyceen" was not invented--were taken for their weekly outing. The

semi-military dress of the present time had not been thought of then.

The collegian wore a top hat, like our Eton boys, a white necktie, a

kind of black quaker coat with a stand-up collar, a very dark blue

waistcoat and trousers, low shoes, and blue woollen stockings. In the

summer, some of them, especially those of the College Rollin, had a

waistcoat and trousers of a lighter texture, and drab instead of blue.

They were virtually prisoners within the walls of the college all the

week, for in their Thursday promenades they were little more than

prisoners taking exercise under the supervision of their gaolers. They

were allowed to leave on alternate Sundays, provided they had parents,

relations, or friends in Paris, who could come themselves or send their

servants to fetch them in the morning and take them back at night. The

rule applied to all, whether they were nine or double that number of

years; it prevails even now. I only set foot in a French college of

those days twice to see a young friend of mine, and I thanked my stars

that four or five years of that existence had been spared to me. The

food and the table appointments, the bedrooms--they were more like cells

with their barred windows--would have been declined by the meanest

English servant, certainly by the meanest French one. I have never met

with a Frenchman who looks back with fond remembrance on his

school-days.

The evening was generally wound up with a supper at Dagneaux's,

Pinson's, or at the rotisseuse--that is, if the evening happened to fall

within the first ten days of the month; afterwards the entertainment

nearly always consisted of a meat-pie, bought at one of the

charcutiers', and washed down with the bottles of wine purchased at the

Hotel de l'Empereur Joseph II., at the south-eastern angle of the Rue de

Tournon, where it stands still. The legend ran that the brother of Marie

Antoinette had stayed there while on a visit to Paris, but it is

scarcely likely that he would have done so while his sister was within

a step of the throne of France; nevertheless the Count von

Falkenstein--which was the name he adopted when travelling

incognito--was somewhat of a philosopher. Did not he once pay a visit to

Jean-Jacques Rousseau without having apprised him of his call?

Jean-Jacques was copying music as the door opened to let in the visitor,

and felt flattered enough, we may be sure; not so Buffon, whom Joseph

surprised under similar circumstances, and who could never forgive

himself for having been caught in his dressing-gown--he who never sat

down to work except in lace ruffles and frill.

If I have been unwittingly betrayed into a semi-historical disquisition,

it is because almost every step in that quarter gave rise to one, even

amongst those light-hearted companions of mine, to the great

astonishment of the fairer portion of the company. They only took an

interest in the biography of one of the inhabitants of the street,

whether past or present, and that was in the biography of Mdlle.

Lenormand, a well-known fortune-teller, who lived at No. 5. They had

heard that the old woman, who had been the mistress of Hebert of "Pere

Duchesne" fame, had, during the First Revolution, predicted to Josephine

de Beauharnais that she should be empress, as some gipsy at Grenada

predicted a similar elevation to Eugenie de Montijo many years

afterwards. Mdlle. Lenormand had been imprisoned after Hebert's death,

but the moment Napoleon became first consul she was liberated, and

frequently sent for to the Luxembourg, which is but a stone's throw from

the Rue de Tournon. As a matter of course her fame spread, and she made

a great deal of money during the first empire. Ignorant as they were of

history, the sprightly grisettes of our days had heard of that; their

great ambition was to get the five francs that would open the door of

Mdlle. Lenormand's to them. Mdlle. Lenormand died about the year '43.

Jules Janin, who lived in the same street, in the house formerly

inhabited by Theroigne de Mericourt, went to the fortune-teller's

funeral. The five francs so often claimed by the _etudiante_, so rarely

forthcoming from the pockets of her admirer, was an important sum in

those days among the youth of the Quartier-Latin. There were few whose

allowance exceeded two hundred francs per month. A great many had to do

with less. Those who were in receipt of five hundred francs--perhaps not

two score among the whole number--were scarcely considered as belonging

to the fraternity. They were called "ultrapontins," to distinguish them

from those who from one year's end to another never crossed the river,

except perhaps to go to one of the theatres, because there was not much

to be seen at the Odeon during the thirties. With Harel's migration to

the Porte St. Martin, the glory of the second Theatre-Francais had

departed, and it was not until '41 that Lireux managed to revive some of

its ancient fame. By that time I had ceased to go to the Quartier-Latin,

but Lireux was a familiar figure at the Cafe Riche and at the divan of

the Rue Le Peletier; he dined now and then at the Cafe de Paris. So we

made it a point to attend every one of his first nights, notwithstanding

the warnings in verse and in prose of every wit of Paris, Theophile

Gautier included, who had written:

"On a fait la dessus mille plaisanteries,

Je le sais; il poussait de l'herbe aux galeries;

Trente-six varietes de champignons malsains

Dans les loges tigraient la mousse des coussins."

It was impossible to say anything very spiteful of a theatre which had

remained almost empty during a gratuitous performance on the king's

birthday; consequently while I frequented the Quartier-Latin the

students gave it a wide berth. When they were not disporting themselves

at Bobino, they were at the Chaumiere, and not in the evening only.

Notwithstanding the enthusiastic and glowing descriptions of it that

have appeared in later days, the place was simple enough. There was a

primitive shooting-gallery, a skittle-alley, and so forth, and it was

open all day. The students, after having attended the lectures and taken

a stroll in the gardens of the Luxembourg, repaired to the Chaumiere,

where, in fine weather, they were sure to find their "lady-loves"

sitting at work demurely under the trees. The refreshments were cheap,

and one spent one's time until the dinner hour, chatting, singing, or

strolling about. The students were very clannish, and invariably

remained in their own sets at the Chaumiere. There were tables

exclusively occupied by Bourguignons, Angevins, etc. In fact, life was

altogether much simpler and more individual than it became later on.

One of our great treats was an excursion to the establishment of Le Pere

Bonvin, where the student of to-day would not condescend to sit down,

albeit that the food he gets in more showy places is not half as good

and three times as dear. Le Pere Bonvin was popularly supposed to be in

the country, though it was not more than a mile from the Barriere

Montparnasse. The "country" was represented by one or two large but

straggling plots of erstwhile grazing-lands, but at that time dotted

with chalk-pits, tumble-down wooden shanties, etc. Such trees as the

tract of "country" could boast were on the demesne of Pere Bonvin, but

they evidently felt out of their element, and looked the reverse of

flourishing. The house of Pere Bonvin was scarcely distinguished in

colour and ricketiness from the neighbouring constructions, but it was

built of stone, and had two stories. The fare was homely and genuine,

the latter quality being no small recommendation to an establishment

where the prolific "bunny" was the usual _plat de resistance_. For

sophistication, where the rabbit was concerned, was part of the suburban

traiteur's creed from time immemorial, and the fact of the former's head

being visible in the dish was no guarantee as to that and the body by

its side having formed one whole in the flesh. The ubiquitous collector

of rags and bottles and rabbits' skins was always anxiously inquiring

for the heads also, and the natural conclusion was that, thanks to the

latter, stewed grimalkin passed muster as gibelotte. At Pere Bonvin's no

such suspicion could be entertained for one moment; the visitor was

admitted to inspect his dinner while alive. Pere Bonvin was essentially

an honest man, and a character in his way. During the daytime he

exercised the functions of garde-champetre; at night he became the

restaurateur.

In those days both his sons, Francois and Leon, were still at home, but

the former had apparently already made up his mind not to follow in his

sire's footsteps. He was a compositor by trade, but the walls of the

various rooms showed plainly enough that he did not aim at the fame of

an Aldine or an Elzevir, but at that of a Jan Steen or a Gerard Dow. He

has fully maintained the promise given then. His pictures rank high in

the modern French school; there are few of his contemporaries who have

so thoroughly caught the spirit of the Dutch masters. Leon was a mere

lad, but a good many among the _habitues_ of Pere Bonvin predicted a

more glorious career for him than for his brother. The word "heaven-born

musician" has been often misapplied; in Leon's instance it was fully

justified. The predictions, however, were not realized. Whether from

lack of confidence in his own powers, or deterred by the never-ceasing

remonstrances of his father, Leon, unlike Francois, did not strike out

for himself, but continued to assist in the business, only turning to

his harmonium in his spare time, or towards the end of the evening, when

all distinction between guests and hosts ceased to exist, and the whole

made a very happy family. He married early. I lost sight of him

altogether, until about '64 I heard of his tragic end. He had committed

suicide.

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