perceive the result. Jules soon perceived the passion with which he
had inspired the young and beautiful Alexa, and his heart, wounded by
the uniform reserve of Isabeau, repaid her with a warmth of gratitude,
which though not love, was easily mistaken for it by both the innocent
rivals. Poor Jules saw that it was, and already felt his honour
engaged to ratify hopes which he had never intended to raise.
Repeatedly he determined to leave the chateau, and never to see either
of its lovely inmates more; but whenever he hinted at such an
intention, M. and Madame de G*** opposed it in such a manner that
it seemed impossible to persevere in it. They, good souls, were
perfectly satisfied with the aspect of affairs: Isabeau was perhaps a
little pale, but lovelier than ever; and the eyes of Jules were so
often fixed upon her, that there could be no doubt as to his feelings.
They were very right,--yet, alas! they were very wrong too: but the
situation of Alexa put her so completely out of all question of
marriage with a gentleman _d'une haute naissance_, that they never
even remembered that she too was constantly with Jules.
About three weeks had passed in this mischief-working manner, when
Isabeau, who clearly saw traces of suffering on the handsome face of
poor Jules, believing firmly that it arose from the probable
difficulty of obtaining his high-born father's consent to his marriage
with a foundling, determined to put every imaginable means in
requisition to assist him.
Alexa had upon her breast a mark, evidently produced by gunpowder. Her
nurse, and everybody else who had seen it, declared it to be perfectly
shapeless, and probably a failure from the awkwardness of some one who
had intended to impress a cipher there; but Isabeau had a hundred
times examined it, and as often declared it to be a coronet. Hitherto
this notion had only been a source of mirth to both of them, but now
it became a theme of incessant and most anxious meditation to Isabeau.
She remembered to have heard that when a child is deposited at the
Foundling Hospital of Paris, everything, whether clothes or token,
which is left with it, is preserved and registered, with the name and
the date of the reception, in order, if reclamation be made within a
certain time, that all assistance possible shall be given for the
identification. What space this "certain time" included Isabeau knew
not, but she fancied that it could not be less than twenty years; and
with this persuasion she determined to set about an inquiry that might
at least lead to the knowledge either that some particular tokens had
been left with Alexa, or that there were none.
With this sort of feverish dream working in her head, Isabeau rose
almost before daylight one morning, and escaping the observation of
every one, let herself out by the door of a salon which opened on the
terrace, and hastened to the abode of Mère Françoise. It was some time
before she could make the old woman understand her object; but when
she did, she declared herself ready to do all and everything
Mademoiselle desired for her "dear baby," as she persisted to call the
tall, the graceful, the beautiful Alexa.
As Isabeau had a good deal of trouble to make her plans and projects
clearly understood to Mère Françoise, it will be better not to relate
particularly what passed between them: suffice it to say, that by dint
of much repetition and a tolerably heavy purse, Françoise at last
agreed to set off for Paris on the following morning, "without telling
a living soul what for." Such were the conditions enforced; which were
the more easily adhered to, because cross Père Gautier had grumbled
himself into his grave some years before.
On reaching the hospital, Françoise made her demand, "de la part d'une
grande dame," for any token which they possessed relative to a baby
taken ... &c. &c. &c. The first answer she received was, that the time
of limitation for such inquiries had long expired; and she was on the
point of leaving the bureau, all hope of intelligence abandoned, when
an old sister of charity who chanced to be there for some message from
the superior, and who had listened to her inquiries and all the
particulars thus rehearsed, stopped her by saying, that it was odd
enough two great ladies should send to the hospital with inquiries for
the same child. "But, however," she added, "it can't much matter now
to either of them, for the baby died before it was a twelvemonth old."
"Died!" screamed Françoise: "why, I saw her but four days ago, and a
more beautiful creature the sun never shone upon."
An explanation ensued, not very clear in all its parts, for there had
evidently been some blunder; but it plainly appeared, that within a
year after the child was sent to nurse, inquiries had been made at the
hospital for a baby bearing the singular name of Alexa, and stating
that various articles were left with her expressly to ensure the
power of recognition. An address to a peasant in the country had been
given to the persons who had made these inquiries, and application was
immediately made to her: but she stated that the baby she had received
from the hospital at the time named had died three months after she
took it; but what name she had received with it she could not
remember, as she called it Marie, after the baby she had lost. It was
evident from this statement that a mistake had been made between the
two women, who had each taken a female foundling into the country on
the same day.
It was more easy, however, to hit the blunder than to repair it.
Communication was immediately held with some of the _chefs_ of the
establishment; who having put in action every imaginable contrivance
to discover any traces which might remain of the persons who had
before inquired for the babe named Alexa, at length got hold of a man
who had often acted as commissionnaire to the establishment, and who
said he remembered _about that time_ to have taken letters from the
hospital to a fine hôtel near the Elysée Bourbon.
This man was immediately conveyed to the Elysée Bourbon, and without
hesitation pointed out the mansion to which he had been sent. It was
inhabited by an English gentleman blessed with a family of twelve
children, and who assured the gentleman entrusted with the inquiry
that he had not only never deposited any of his children at the Enfans
Trouvés, but that he could not give them the slightest assistance in
discovering whether any of his predecessors in that mansion had done
so. Discouraged, but not chilled in the ardour of his pursuit, the
worthy gentleman proceeded to the proprietor of the hôtel: he had
recently purchased it; from him he repaired to the person from whom he
had bought it. He was only an agent; but at last, by means of
indefatigable exertion during three days, he discovered that the
individual who must have inhabited the hôtel when these messages were
stated to have been sent thither from the Enfans Trouvés was a Russian
nobleman of high rank, who, it was believed, was now residing at St.
Petersburg. His name and title, however, were both remembered; and
these, with a document stating all that was known of the transaction,
were delivered to Mère Françoise, who, hardly knowing if she had
succeeded or failed in her mission, returned to her young employer
within ten days of the time she left her.
Isabeau, generously as her noble heart beat at learning what she could
not but consider as a favourable report of her embassy, did feel
nevertheless something like a pang when she remembered to what this
success would lead. But she mastered it, and, with all the energy of
her character, instantly set to work to pursue her enterprise to the
end. It was certainly a relief to her when Jules, after passing a
month of utter misery in the society of the woman he adored, took his
leave. The old people were still perfectly satisfied: it was not the
young man's business, they said, to break through the reserve which
his parents had enjoined, and a few days would doubtless bring letters
from them which would finally settle the business.
Alexa saw him depart with an aching heart; but she believed that he
was returning home only to ask his father's consent to their union.
Isabeau fed her hopes, for she too believed that the young man's heart
was given to Alexa. During this time Isabeau concealed her hope of
discovering the parents of the foundling from all. Day after day wore
away, and brought no tidings from Jules. The hope of Alexa gave way
before this cruel silence. The circumstances of her birth, which
rankled at her heart more deeply than even her friend imagined, now
came before her in a more dreadful shape than ever. Sin, shame, and
misery seemed to her the only _dot_ she had to bring in marriage, and
her mind brooded over this terrible idea till it overpowered every
other; her love seemed to sink before it, and, after a sleepless
night of wretched meditation, she determined never to bring disgrace
upon a husband--she heroically determined never to marry.
As she was opening her heart on this sad subject to Isabeau, and
repeating to her with great solemnity the resolution she had taken, a
courier covered with dust galloped up to the door of the chateau.
Isabeau instantly suspected the truth, but could only say as she
kissed the fair forehead of the foundling, "Look up, my Alexa!... You
shall be happy at least."
Before any explanation of these words could even be asked for, a
splendid travelling equipage stopped at the door, and, according to
the rule in all such cases, a beautiful lady descended from it, handed
out by a gentleman of princely rank: in brief, for I cannot tell you
one half his titles and honours, or one quarter of the circumstances
which had led to the leaving their only child at the Hôpital des
Enfans Trouvés, Alexa was proved to be the sole and most lawful idol
and heiress of this noble pair. The wonder and joy, and all that, you
must guess: but poor Isabeau!... O! that all this happiness could but
have fallen upon them before she had seen Jules de C----!
On the following morning, while Alexa, seated between her parents, was
telling them all she owed to Isabeau, the door of the apartment
opened and the young Jules entered. This was the moment at which the
happy girl felt the value of all she had gained with the most full and
perfect consciousness of felicity. Her bitter humiliation was changed
to triumph; but Jules saw it not--he heard not the pompous titles of
her father as she proudly rehearsed them, but, in a voice choking with
emotion, he stammered out--"Où donc est Isabeau?"
Alexa was too happy, too gloriously happy, to heed his want of
politeness, but gaily exclaiming, "Pardon, maman!" she left the room
to seek for her friend.
Jules was indeed come on no trifling errand. His father, having waited
in vain for some expression of his feelings respecting the charming
bride he intended for him, at last informed him of his engagement, for
the purpose of discovering whether the young man were actually made of
ice or no. On this point he was speedily satisfied; for the
intelligence robbed the timid lover of all control over his feelings,
and the father had the great pleasure of perceiving that his son was
as distractedly in love as he could possibly desire. As to his doubts
and his fears, the experienced vicomte laughed them to scorn. "Only
let her see you as you look now, Jules," said the proud father, "and
she will not disobey her parents, I will answer for it. Go to her, my
son, and set your heart at ease at once."
With a courage almost as desperate as that which leads a man firm and
erect to the scaffold, Jules determined to follow this advice, and
arrived at Château Tourelles without having once thought of poor Alexa
and her tell-tale eyes by the way;--nay, even when he saw her before
him, his only sensation was that of impatient agony that the moment
which was to decide upon his destiny was still delayed.
As Alexa opened the door to seek her friend, she appeared, and they
returned together. At the unexpected sight of Jules, Isabeau lost her
self-possession, and sank nearly fainting on a chair. In an instant he
was at her feet. "Isabeau!" he exclaimed, in a voice at once solemn
and impassioned--"Isabeau! I adore you--speak my fate in one
word!--Isabeau! can you love me?"
The noble strangers had already left the room. They perceived that
there was some knotty point to be explained upon which their presence
could throw no light. They would have led their daughter with them,
but she lingered. "One moment ... and I will follow you," she said.
Then turning to her almost fainting friend, she exclaimed, "You love
him, Isabeau!--and it is I who have divided you!"... She seized a
hand of each, and joining them together, bent her head upon them and
kissed them both. "God for ever bless you, perfect friend!... I am
still too happy!... Believe me, Jules,--believe me, Isabeau,--I am
happy--oh! too happy!" The arms that were thrown round them both,
relaxed as she uttered these words, and she fell to the ground.
Alexa never spoke again. She breathed faintly for a few hours, and
then expired,--the victim of intense feelings, too long and too
severely tried.
* * * * *
This story, almost verbally as I have repeated it to you, was told me
by a lady who assured me that she knew all the leading facts to be
true; though she confessed that she was obliged to pass rather
slightly over some of the details, from not remembering them
perfectly. If the catastrophe be indeed true, I think it may be
doubted whether the poor Alexa died from sorrow or from joy.
LETTER LIX.
Procès Monstre.--Dislike of the Prisoners to the ceremony
of Trial.--Société des Droits de l'Homme.--Names given to
the Sections.--Kitchen and Nursery Literature.--Anecdote of
Lagrange.--Republican Law.
It is a long time since I have permitted a word to escape me about the
trial of trials; but do not therefore imagine that we are as free from
it and its daily echo as I have kindly suffered you to be.
It really appears to me, after all, that this monster trial is only
monstrous because the prisoners do not like to be tried. There may
perhaps have been some few legal incongruities in the manner of
proceeding, arising very naturally from the difficulty of ascertaining
exactly what the law is, in a country so often subjected to revolution
as this has been. I own I have not yet made out completely to my own
satisfaction, whether these gentry were accused in the first instance
of high treason, or whether the whole proceedings rest upon an
indictment for a breach of the peace. It is however clear enough,
Heaven knows, both from evidence and from their own avowals, that if
they were not arraigned for high treason, many of them were
unquestionably guilty of it; and as they have all repeatedly
proclaimed that it was their wish to stand or fall together, I confess
that I see nothing very monstrous in treating them all as traitors.
It is only within these few last hours that I have been made to
understand what object these simultaneous risings in April 1834 had in
view. The document which has been now put into my hands appeared, I
believe, in all the papers; but it was to me, at least, one of the
thousand things that the eye glances over without taking the trouble
of communicating to the mind what it finds. I will not take it for
granted, however, that you are as ignorant or unobservant as myself,
and therefore I shall not recite to you the evidence I have been just
reading to prove that the union calling itself "La Société des Droits
de l'Homme" was in fact the mainspring of the whole enterprise; but in
case the expressive titles given by the central committee of this
association to its different sections should have escaped you, I will
transcribe them here,--or rather a part of them, for they are numerous
enough to exhaust your patience, and mine too, were I to give them
all. Among them, I find as pet and endearing names for their separate
bands of employés the following: Section Marat, Section Robespierre,
Section Quatre-vingt-treize, Section des Jacobins; Section de Guerre
aux Châteaux--Abolition de la Propriété--Mort aux Tyrans--Des
Piques--Canon d'Alarme--Tocsin--Barricade St. Méri,--and one which
when it was given was only prophetic--Section de l'Insurrection de
Lyon. These speak pretty plainly what sort of REFORM these men were
preparing for France; and the trying those belonging to them who were
taken with arms in their hands in open rebellion against the existing
government, as traitors, cannot very justly, I think, be stigmatised
as an act of tyranny, or in any other sense as a monstrous act.
The most monstrous part of the business is their conceiving (as the
most conspicuous among them declare they do) that their refusing to
plead, or, as they are pleased to call it, "refusing to take any part
in the proceedings," was, or ought to be, reason sufficient for
immediately stopping all such proceedings against them. These persons
have been caught, with arms in their hands, in the very fact of
enticing their fellow-citizens into overt acts of rebellion; but
because they do not choose to answer when they are called upon, the
court ordained to try them are stigmatised as monsters and assassins
for not dismissing them untried!
If this is to succeed, we shall find the fashion obtain vogue amongst
us, more rapidly than any of Madame Leroy's. Where is the murderer
arraigned for his life who would not choose to make essay of so easy a
method of escaping from the necessity of answering for his crime?
The trick is well imagined, and the degree of grave attention with
which its availability is canvassed--out of doors at least--furnishes
an excellent specimen of the confusion of intellect likely to ensue
from confusion of laws amidst a population greatly given to the study
of politics.
Never was there a finer opportunity for revolution and anarchy to take
a lesson than the present. It is, I think, impossible for a mere
looker-on, unbiassed by party or personal feelings of any kind, to
deny that the government of Louis-Philippe is acting at this trying
juncture with consummate courage, wisdom, and justice: but it is
equally impossible not to perceive what revolution and revolt have
done towards turning lawful power into tyranny. This is and ever must
be inevitable wherever there is a hope existing that the government
which follows the convulsion shall be permanent.
Fresh convulsions may arise--renewed tumult, destruction of property
and risk of life may ensue; but at last it must happen that some
strong hand shall seize the helm, and keep the reeling vessel to her
stays, without heeding whether the grasp he has got of her be taken
in conformity to received tactics or not.
Hardly a day passes that I do not hear of some proof of increased
vigour on the part of the present government of France; and though I,
for one, am certainly very far from approving the public acts which
have given the present dynasty its power, I cannot but admire the
strength and ability with which it is sustained.
The example, however, can avail but little to the legitimate monarchs
who still occupy the thrones their forefathers occupied before them.
No legitimate sovereign, possessing no power beyond what
long-established law and precedent have given him, could dare show
equal boldness. A king chosen in a rebellion is alone capable of
governing rebels: and happy is it for the hot-headed jeunes gens of
France that they have chanced to hit upon a prince who is neither a
parvenu nor a mere soldier! The first would have had no lingering
kindness at all for the still-remembered glories of the land; and the
last, instead of trying them by the Chamber of Peers, would have had
them up by fifties to a drum-head court martial, and probably have
ordered the most troublesome among them to be picked off by their
comrades, as an exercise at sharp-shooting, and as a useful example of
military promptitude and decision.
The present government has indeed many things in its favour. The
absence of every species of weakness and pusillanimity in the advisers
of the crown is one; and the outrageous conduct of its enemies is
another.
It is easy to perceive in the journals, and indeed in all the
periodical publications which have been hitherto considered as
belonging to the opposition, a gradual giving way before the
overwhelming force of expediency. Conciliatory words come dropping in
to the steady centre from côté droit and from côté gauche; and the
louder the factious rebels roar around them, the firmer does the
phalanx in which rests all the real strength of the country knit
itself together.
The people of France are fully awakened to the feeling which Sheridan
so strongly expresses when he says, that "the altar of liberty has
been begrimed at once with blood and mire," and they are disposed to
look towards other altars for their protection.
All the world are sick of politics in England; and all the world are
sick of politics in France. It is the same in Spain, the same in
Italy, the same in Germany, the same in Russia. The quiet and
peaceably-disposed are wearied, worried, tormented, and almost
stunned, by the ceaseless jarring produced by the confusion into which
bad men have contrived to throw all the elements of social life.
Chaos seems come again--a moral chaos, far worse for the poor animal
called man than any that a comet's tail could lash the earth into. I
assure you I often feel the most unfeigned longing to be out of reach
of every sight and sound which must perforce mix up questions of
government with all my womanly meditations on lesser things; but the
necessity _de parler politique_ seems like an evil spirit that follows
whithersoever you go.
I often think, that among all the revolutions and rumours of
revolutions which have troubled the earth, there is not one so
remarkable as that produced on conversation within the last thirty
years. I speak not, however, only of that important branch of it--"the
polite conversation of sensible women," but of all the talk from
garret to cellar throughout the world. Go where you will, it is the
same; every living soul seems persuaded that it is his or her
particular business to assist in arranging the political condition of
Europe.
A friend of mine entered her nursery not long ago, and spied among her
baby-linen a number of the Westminster Quarterly Review.
"What is this, Betty?" said she.
"It is only a book, ma'am, that John lent me to read," answered the
maid.
"Upon my word, Betty," replied her mistress, "I think you would be
much better employed in nursing the child than in reading books which
you cannot understand."
"It does not hinder me from nursing the child at all," rejoined the
enlightened young woman, "for I read as the baby lies in my lap; and
as for understanding it, I don't fear about that, for John says it is
no more than what it is the duty of everybody to understand."
So political we are, and political we must be--for John says so.
Wherefore I will tell you a little anecdote apropos of the Procès
Monstre. An English friend of mine was in the Court of Peers the other
day, when the prisoner Lagrange became so noisy and troublesome that
it was found necessary to remove him. He had begun to utter in a loud
voice, which was evidently intended to overpower the proceedings of
the court, a pompous and inflammatory harangue, accompanied with much
vehement action. His fellow-prisoners listened, and gazed at him with
the most unequivocal marks of wondering admiration, while the court
vainly endeavoured to procure order and silence.
"Remove the prisoner Lagrange!" was at last spoken by the
president--and the guards proceeded to obey. The orator struggled
violently, continuing, however, all the time to pour forth his
rhapsody.
"Yes!" he cried,--"yes, my countrymen! we are here as a sacrifice.
Behold our bosoms, tyrants! ... plunge your assassin daggers in our
breasts! we are your victims ... ay, doom us all to death, we are
ready--five hundred French bosoms are ready to...."