TIVOLI

A lovely spot, that Tivoli Garden! When I stepped within its gates, it

seemed to me that I entered one of those enchanted sojourns so

splendidly described in the _Thousand and One Nights_. The music, the

illuminations, the sports of all sorts, the fireworks--everything

combined to dazzle the eyes and excite the imagination. What a pity it

seemed when a vulgar face and a fishwoman's costume marred the beauty of

the picture and reminded me that I was in a public garden, where any

decently dressed person could enter on payment of three francs twelve

sous!

Before I had taken twenty steps in the garden, I had seen many things.

What beautiful avenues! How those garlands of fire burst on the sight!

Yonder, people gathered in crowds, gazed at one another, scrutinized

costumes, and sought acquaintances: it was the Boulevard de Gand of

Tivoli. Farther on, the lights became less frequent; an occasional lamp

guided your steps without betraying you. The couples were more widely

scattered; they no longer went about to exhibit themselves; some,

indeed, seemed to try to evade observation, to desire darkness and

mystery. Happy thickets! how often have you sheltered love and pleasure!

how many kisses have been given and received under cover of your dense

foliage! Ah! if you could speak!--But I seemed to hear voices close at

hand; I had thoughtlessly turned my steps in the direction of those

solitary thickets, where I, being alone, had nothing to hope for. As I

circled a clump of shrubs, I saw something white on the grass; a

gentleman and a lady were there, discussing some very weighty and secret

matter no doubt, for I thought that they were whispering to each other.

But my presence disturbed them; the lady, with a little shriek, pushed

her companion away; whereupon I walked quickly in another direction.

What pleasure can there be in interfering with that of other people?

I determined to go back to the crowd, to leave those thickets, where it

almost angered me to be alone. Once more I was in the bright light. I

heard the rumbling of cars; I was near the mountains which all the women

ascend--the _grande dame_ and the working girl, the milliner and the

modest laundress, the kept woman and the little schoolgirl. What delight

they all seem to take in the descent! And yet, the resistance of the air

disarranges their hair, loosens their hats, and blows their curls all

about; but they submit to that sacrifice for the pleasure of going like

the wind for twenty seconds. Keen enjoyment is depicted on all the faces

in the cars; only an occasional Englishman retains his gravity during

the trip.

I was alone, so I did not make the ascent; it seemed to me that to enjoy

that pastime you must be seated beside a woman whom you like; then you

may put your arm about a slender waist and press a shapely figure; as

you fly down the incline, you may venture much; for you are sure of not

being repulsed, your companion being so bewildered by the rapidity of

the descent that she has not time to be angry.

All pleasures turn to the advantage of love. What pleasure is not

increased twofold by the presence of the loved one? In the dance, on the

cars, under the thickets, there must be two to be happy; without a

woman, how can one abandon one's self to the most delicious sensations,

the most loving outpourings of the heart? Only through her do we know

that we have a heart. But enough of these ideas, to which the garden

gave rise! I walked across several squares, attracted by music; it was a

singer. Ah! I did not stop there; if I had, Tivoli would have ceased to

be a place of enchantment.

Suddenly my eyes fell upon a number of armchairs swinging in the air and

travelling round and round, with ladies seated in them; it was a Russian

swing. Why did all the men walk in that direction and stand, with their

noses in the air and a smile on their faces, watching the chairs turn?

Ah! I saw that the wind lifted the ladies' skirts more or less, so that

one could catch a glimpse of a leg and sometimes of a knee. The game

seemed to amuse the performers as much as the spectators. The ladies

apparently did not realize what it was that absorbed the attention of

the gentlemen, and did not hear the wanton jests in which most of the

latter indulged; for they continued to fly through the air, laughing

like madcaps. But the machine stopped; it was time to alight. I

remained, in order to see the ladies at closer quarters. Mon Dieu!

messieurs, you surely did not need to give yourselves a crick in the

neck to catch a glimpse of an ankle! So far as I could judge, you might

have obtained a sight of a great deal more, without much trouble. I

quitted the Russian swing for Bobèche's performance, and found an

enormous crowd in front of the stage. I looked about in vain for a

chair; I could not find one that was unoccupied. So I was compelled to

remain standing. I sidled in among the elect, and I saw something, at

all events, even if I did not see Bobèche; I saw the evident enjoyment

of all the young men who, like myself, were standing. And yet they could

not see anything; but they were with ladies who stood on chairs, and

they supported them, to guard against accident; their arms were passed

around the ladies' skirts, and the ladies leaned on their shoulders. I

could understand how pleasant that must be. But I saw one lady who

seemed on the point of falling. Why did nobody support her? Because she

was a matron. But a becurled and befrizzled young woman, who would have

been pretty had not her costume been so absurd for a public garden,

hurried to the elderly lady's side.

"Wait, mamma," she said; "I'll put my chair behind yours, and then you

can lean on me; I'll hold you up."

The mother consented to this arrangement, and the young woman remounted

her chair, which she placed behind her mamma's; but I noticed that she

had somebody to support her; a tall, light-haired youngster kept his

eyes on her all the time; he stationed himself close beside her, looked

at her, and made signs to her. The young woman looked at nothing but

Bobèche; and as she explained the performance to her mother, she took a

little note from her glove and dropped it into the young man's hand,

without the slightest confusion or affectation, and without interrupting

her conversation. Really, our young ladies display a fascinating grace

in all that they do; the world is progressing toward perfection.

The tall youth crumpled the note in his hand; he longed to read it at

once, but he dared not. I was amused by his impatience; I was curious

to see what he would do. But an elderly couple arrived, dragging their

chairs after them; the woman planted herself directly in front of me,

almost resting against my face, while her husband deprived me of what

little view I had by standing beside her.

I could endure it no longer; to induce me to remain with my head on a

level with the waists of all that multitude, I felt that something

deeply interesting was necessary. I was not at all desirous to maintain

my juxtaposition to the enormous circumference which obscured my vision.

So I extricated myself, not without difficulty, from the chairs and legs

and dresses that surrounded me. When I was outside the circle, I stopped

to breathe a bit; it is good to inhale the fresh air when one has seen

Bobèche, even out of doors.

I followed a noble avenue of lindens which led to the large tract of

grass set aside for swings and seesaws and blind-man's-buff and the

Egyptian bird, and a thousand other things, of which the prettiest are

those one does not see. I heard ladies' voices imploring their escorts

not to go so fast; while the latter, to display their strength and

skill, made all the play they could with their loins and knees, at the

risk of making their companions in the swings swoon from fright: that

was a new way to make one's self agreeable, I thought.

I heard the voice of lamentation near by. It was a small boy of twelve

or thirteen years, who wanted to seesaw with a tall lout of eighteen at

least. No sooner had the latter gone to the ground on his end of the

plank which served as a tilt, than the little fellow at the other end

received a violent shock that threw him over the little iron bar behind

which stood those awaiting their turn. The poor child fell; luckily, it

was on the soft turf, and he was not hurt; but he limped away, while the

tall zany plumed himself on the shaking-up he had given him. A very

pretty game is this seesawing; but I should advise those who indulge in

it to have the ground mattressed; for I know by experience that falls

are frequent and dangerous.

But what was that report? It brought me involuntarily to a standstill.

Was I near a display of fireworks? No; the Egyptian bird had just been

set off. How proud the man seemed who had done the trick! To be sure, it

was only the eleventh time that he had fired. A stout party seized the

wire. I recognized him: it was Raymond. I should have been astonished

not to fall in with him, for the fellow was everywhere.

"I'll bet," he said in a bantering tone to the man who had just fired,

taking pains to raise his voice in order to attract attention, "I'll

bet, my dear fellow [he knows everybody], that I release the spring in

three shots."

"I'll bet you don't; it isn't so easy as you seem to think."

"Easy! easy! if it was easy, there'd be no merit in it. I have an

absolutely accurate eye. Come, I'll bet you an ice."

"That you do it in three trials?"

"Yes; in fact, I'm certain that I shan't have to try three times."

"I'll take your bet."

"All right; now you'll see."

I halted, feeling perfectly certain, for my part, that my neighbor would

make a fool of himself in some way. The man who managed the machine was

reloading the iron box to which the spring was attached.

"Get out of the way!" cried Raymond, impatient to display his skill, and

raising the bird as high in the air as his arms allowed.

The box was closed and the man stepped aside; Raymond threw the bird

with such accuracy that the piece of iron, after following a zigzag

course, struck six inches from the target. My neighbor was not

discouraged, but threw the bird again--with no better success.

"It's all out of equilibrium," he cried; "the wire's crooked, it isn't

my fault."

"This is your last shot."

"Oh! this one will do the business."

Raymond took aim for at least three minutes; at last the bird flew

through the air. It finished its flight; but there was no report.

"I've won! I've won!" cried Raymond's adversary; "you owe me an ice."

"Oh! I don't know whether you've won or not; that depends. I am sure

that the bird's beak moved the spring, and the reason it didn't go off

must be that the powder's damp."

"You're trying to crawl out of it! you've lost, and you owe me an ice!"

"Well! I demand my revenge!"

"Oh! that's fair enough; I agree. That will make two ices instead of

one."

"We'll see about that. I say, my man, just go and overhaul the spring;

I'm sure there's something out of order that prevented the thing from

going off."

To please his customer, the man opened the box and examined it.

Meanwhile, my neighbor had taken the bird; and, annoyed at having lost

his first bet, he scrutinized the iron beak, measured it with his eye,

and tried to make sure that the bird was perfectly balanced, lifting it

carefully by the two wings.

"I see what the matter is, I see what it is," he said confidently; "if I

had examined it like this before, I shouldn't have missed a shot. You

must hold the bird very lightly, with the tips of your fingers, and

throw it without any jerk."

As he spoke, Monsieur Raymond threw the bird, which struck the head of

the unfortunate man who was looking to see if the spring was in perfect

order. The poor man was seriously wounded; he fell to the ground with

horrible yells, and everybody ran toward him. Monsieur Raymond took

advantage of the confusion to escape. He forced a passage through the

crowd, pushing everybody aside with his arms and elbows; he leaped over

chairs, ran like a madman through the groups seated on the grass,

tripped over the legs of a _petite-maîtresse_ who was chatting

unconcernedly with a young officer, fell heavily upon her, and with his

stomach crushed a bust that luckily was made of tulle. The lady

shrieked, in order to make people think that it was her flesh that was

flattened out; and the officer sprang to his feet, in a rage at the

disappearance of charms which he had believed to be genuine. He seized a

chair and pursued Raymond, who was already far away; for fear lent him

wings.

I amused myself by following my neighbor, who had lost his hat in the

scuffle. I saw him running on and getting into fresh difficulty every

minute; he ran into a swing, collided with the wooden horses, overturned

two girls who were dancing in a little open space, knocked over all the

tubs of shrubs that came in his way, and finally, to elude his pursuers,

rushed out into the main avenue, hoping to lose himself in the crowd.

But as he passed under a garland of colored lanterns, which was not far

enough from the ground and hung down a little at the sides, Monsieur

Raymond, trying to outstrip everybody, became entangled in the

illuminations; the rope broke, and all the little colored lanterns fell

on the promenaders, who, in an instant, were smeared with oil. The

ladies uttered heartrending shrieks when they saw their toques, their

feathers, and their gowns dripping with lamp oil; nor were the young men

less enraged, for their coats and waistcoats and frills were all ruined,

and diffused an execrable odor. Once more Raymond found himself the

object of general animadversion, and the poor devil, panting for breath,

was obliged to continue his flight. He leaped over a hedge, in order to

get away from the avenue more quickly; he did not know where to go; and

he finally entered the enclosure set apart for the fireworks, despite

the shouts of an old pensioner who told him that he could not go there.

He rushed through the bombs, mortars, rockets, pinwheels, and Roman

candles, while the pensioner shouted for the gendarmes to come to arrest

a man who was smashing everything he saw and seemed determined to

prevent the pyrotechnic display that was in preparation. The police

arrived; Raymond had barely time to hurl himself through a transparency,

which he burst with his head; at last he disappeared. Tranquillity was

restored; the damage that my neighbor had done was repaired as far as

possible; and I returned toward the centre of activity, laughing at

Raymond's mishaps, which had afforded me abundant satisfaction for his

petty mischief-making that morning.

"Faith!" I said to myself, as I walked toward the dancing enclosure; "if

I had come to Tivoli for no other purpose than to witness Raymond's

prowess, my evening would have been a great success. But I am in a lucky

vein; perhaps fate has other meetings in store for me."

I paused near a juggler's booth; the crowd was as large as in front of

Bobèche's; but there was somewhat less confusion. Most of the spectators

were seated, and I succeeded, although I was in the last row, in seeing

a part of what was going on; the man did tricks with cards, stole rings,

and changed a glass of wine into a bouquet. All this delighted the

audience, who made no attempt to detect his confederates, and pretended

not to see the preparations which are essential for tricks performed

_without preparation_.

"He's a magician!" said a little man, opening his eyes to their fullest

extent and looking stupidly about him. "Faith! I can't understand it,

can you, wife?"

"Oh! I want to see for myself," replied the little man's better half;

and she motioned to the juggler that she wanted to draw a card. He

approached, chattering in Italian, German, and English, the result being

an utterly incomprehensible jargon which completely enchanted the

audience.

The lady drew an eight of spades, which she then replaced in the pack

and shuffled the cards; but our magician was certain of guessing the

card, because the pack he offered her contained eights of spades and

nothing else; and while he bewildered his hearers by his constant

jabbering, he slipped his hand behind the little man, who, when another

trick was being performed, was suddenly requested to rise, and was

stupefied to find under him the card that his wife had drawn.

I walked away from the sleight-of-hand booth; but, happening to put my

hand in my pocket, I failed to find my handkerchief. That trick was

better than any of the juggler's; it had been done very adroitly;

luckily, I was not wearing my watch seal.

Behold me at last before the enclosure consecrated to the dance. But it

was no longer good form to dance in the public gardens; only at village

fêtes did our young Parisian exquisites condescend to execute a balance

and a ladies' chain in the open air. Here, none but hucksters, petty

bourgeoises, and grisettes dare to abandon themselves to the joys of the

dance; they know nothing of conventions, of good form; they want to

enjoy themselves, and they are so happy when dancing! their pleasure is

depicted on their faces! they hop and skip with such hearty good will!

By the faces of the fair damsels who were watching the dancers I could

see that good form is sometimes very ill-humored; but they avenged

themselves by criticising those who defied convention. They sneered and

laughed at the others, and made unkind remarks; good form and propriety

never forbid that. They ridiculed everything that they could not do;

they spoke slightingly of what in their hearts they loved: it was the

fable of the fox and the grapes again.

But the spectators were most numerous around one particular quadrille;

the dancers were surrounded by a triple row. I was certain that there

must be some unusually pretty face there, or some particularly absurd

costume. I approached and succeeded in forcing my way to the front. I

looked at one of the dancers: she had an insignificant face and a

commonplace dress; she could not be the object of such universal

curiosity.

"She is mighty pretty."

"Oh! you wait till you see how gracefully she dances!"

These remarks were made by two young men who stood near me. Thereupon I

glanced over the different performers in the quadrille, and my eyes soon

rested on a young woman wearing a little cap with a bunch of roses on

it.

I admired the young woman's piquant face; her eyes were animated by the

excitement of dancing; her enjoyment made her bosom rise and fall more

rapidly, and the flattering murmur that arose on all sides brought a

vivid flush to her cheeks. What woman is insensible to praise? Did you

ever meet one who was, reader? If so, I advise you to register her name

on your tablets.

But, as I scrutinized the pretty dancer, a sudden reminiscence flashed

through my mind: those features, that figure, the bunch of roses, and

the plan of coming to Tivoli. Unquestionably it was Mademoiselle

Caroline; it was my little flowermaker of the preceding evening.

Thoughtless fool that I was! I had forgotten her, and had been strolling

about the garden without trying to find her! But since chance had

brought me into her presence, I determined to make the most of it, and,

good form or not, to try to obtain a dance with her, so that I might

speak with her.

But suppose that anybody who knew me should see me dancing at Tivoli! I

felt brave enough to defy the criticism and mockery of the young men and

the pleasantry of the ladies; and as I contemplated Caroline's seductive

features, I said to myself, with Rousseau: "I must be happy! 'tis man's

first need!"--Now, to be happy, it was necessary first of all that I

should dance with Caroline.

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