not so unequal. But six to one! ... is not this too hard?"
"No! ... not the least in the world, if we take it in the quizzing
vein," replied the other; "for it is well known that a Frenchman can
out-quiz six Englishmen at any time."
"Eh bien!" ... said the complaisant Parisian with a sigh, "I will do
my best. Begin, ladies, if you please."
"No! no! no!" exclaimed several female voices in a breath; "we will
have nothing to do with it; fight it out between yourselves: we will
be the judges, and award the honours of the field to him who hits the
hardest."
"This is worse and worse," cried our laughing enemy: "if this be the
arrangement of the combat, the judgment, à coup sûr, will be given
against me. How can you expect such blind confidence from me?"
We protested against this attack upon our justice, promised to be as
impartial as Jove, and desired the champions to enter the lists.
"So then," said the Englishman, "I am to enact the part of St. George
... and God defend the right!"
"And I, that of St. Denis," replied the Frenchman, his right hand upon
his breast and his left gracefully sawing the air. "Mon bras ... non
...
'Ma _langue_ à ma patrie,
Mon coeur à mon amie,
Mourir gaiement pour la gloire et l'amour,
C'est la devise d'un vaillant troubadour.'
Allons!... Now tell me, St. George, what say you in defence of the
English mode of suffering ladies--the ladies of Britain--the most
lovely ladies in the world, n'est-ce pas?--to rise from table, and
leave the room, and the gentlemen--alone--with downcast eyes and timid
step--without a single preux chevalier to offer them his protection or
to bear them company on their melancholy way--banished, turned
out--exiled from the banquet-board!--I protest to you that I have
suffered martyrdom when this has happened, and I, for my sins, been
present to witness it. Croyez-moi, I would have joyfully submitted to
make my exit à quatre pattes, so I might but have followed them. Ah!
you know not what it is for a Frenchman to remain still, when forced
to behold such a spectacle as this!... Alas! I felt as if I had
disgraced myself for life; but I was more than spell-bound--I was
promise-bound; the friend who accompanied me to the party where I
witnessed this horror had previously told me what I should have to
endure--I did endure it--but I have not yet forgiven myself for
participating in so outrageous a barbarism."
"The gentlemen only remain to drink the fair ladies' health," said our
St. George very coolly; "and I doubt not all ladies would tell you,
did they speak sincerely, that they were heartily glad to get rid of
you for half an hour or so. You have no idea, my good fellow, what an
agreeable interlude this makes for them: they drink coffee, sprinkle
their fans with esprit de rose, refresh their wit, repair their
smiles, and are ready to set off again upon a fresh campaign, certain
of fresh conquests. But what can St. Denis say in defence of a
Frenchman who makes love to three women at once--as I positively
declare I saw you do last night at the Opera?"
"You mistook the matter altogether, mon cher; I did not make love--I
only offered adoration: we are bound to adore the whole sex, and all
the petits soins offered in public are but the ceremonies of this our
national worship.... We never make love in public, my dear friend--_ce
n'est pas dans nos moeurs_. But will you explain to me un peu, why
Englishmen indulge themselves in the very extraordinary habit of
taking their wives to market with that vilaine corde au cou that it is
so dreadful to mention, and there sell them for the mesquine somme de
trois francs?... Ah! be very sure that were there a single Frenchman
present at your terrible Smithfield when this happened, he would buy
them all up, and give them their liberty at once."
The St. George laughed--but then replied very gravely, that the custom
was a very useful one, as it enabled an Englishman to get rid of a
wife as soon as he found that she was not worth keeping. "But will you
tell me," he continued, "how it is that you can be so inhuman as to
take your innocent young daughters and sisters, and dispose of them as
if they were Virginian slaves born on your estates, to the best
bidder, without asking the charming little creatures themselves one
single word concerning their sentiments on the subject?"
"We are too careful of our young daughters and sisters," replied the
champion of France, "not to provide them with a suitable alliance and
a proper protector before they shall have run the risk of making a
less prudent selection for themselves: but, what can put it into the
heads of English parents to send out whole ship-loads of young English
demoiselles--si belles qu'elles sont!--to the other side of the earth,
in order to provide them with husbands?"
Our knight paused for a moment before he answered, and I believe we
all shook for him; but at length he replied very sententiously--
"When nations spread their conquests to _the other side of the earth_,
and send forth their generals and their judges to take and to hold
possession for them, it is fitting that their distant honours should
be shared by their fair countrywomen. But will you explain to me why
it is that the venerable grandmothers of France think it necessary to
figure in a contre-danse--nay, even in a waltz, as long as they think
that they have strength left to prevent their falling on their noses?"
"'Vive la bagatelle!' is the first lesson we learn in our nurses'
arms--and Heaven forbid we should any of us live long enough to forget
it!" answered the Frenchman. "But if the question be not too
indiscreet, will you tell me, most glorious St. George, in what school
of philosophy it was that Englishmen learned to seek satisfaction for
their wounded honour in the receipt of a sum of money from the lovers
of their wives?"
"Most puissant St. Denis," replied the knight of England, "I strongly
recommend you not to touch upon any theme connected with the marriage
state as it exists in England; because I opine that it would take you
a longer time to comprehend it than you may have leisure to give. It
will not take you so long perhaps to inform me how it happens that so
gay a people as the French, whose first lesson, as you say, is 'Vive
la bagatelle!' should make so frequent a practice as they do of
inviting either a friend or a mistress to enjoy a tête-à-tête over a
pan of charcoal, with doors, windows, and vent-holes of all kinds
carefully sealed, to prevent the least possible chance that either
should survive?"
"It has arisen," replied the Frenchman, "from our great intimacy with
England--where the month of November is passed by one half of the
population in hanging themselves, and by the other half in cutting
them down. The charcoal system has been an attempt to improve upon
your insular mode of proceeding; and I believe it is, on the whole,
considered preferable. But may I ask you in what reign the law was
passed which permits every Englishman to beat his wife with a stick as
large as his thumb; and also whether the law has made any provision
for the case of a man's having the gout in that member to such a
degree as to swell it to twice its ordinary size?"
"It has been decided by a jury of physicians," said our able advocate,
"that in all such cases of gout, the decrease of strength is in exact
proportion to the increase of size in the pattern thumb, and therefore
no especial law has passed our senate concerning its possible
variation. As to the law itself, there is not a woman in England who
will not tell you that it is as laudable as it is venerable."
"The women of England must be angels!" cried the champion of France,
suddenly starting from his chair and clasping his hands together with
energy,--"angels! and nothing else, or" (looking round him) "they
could never smile as you do now, while tyranny so terrible was
discussed before them!"
What the St. Denis thus politely called a smile, was in effect a very
hearty laugh--which really and bonâ fide seemed to puzzle him, as to
the feeling which gave rise to it. "I will tell you of what you all
remind me at this moment," said he, reseating himself: "Did you ever
see or read 'Le Médecin malgré Lui'?"
We answered in the affirmative.
"Eh bien! ... do you remember a certain scene in which a certain good
man enters a house whence have issued the cries of a woman grievously
beaten by her husband?"
We all nodded assent.
"Eh bien! ... and do you remember how it is that Martine, the beaten
wife, receives the intercessor?--'Et je veux qu'il me batte, moi.'
Voyez-vous, mesdames, I am that pitying individual--that kind-hearted
M. Robert; and you--you are every one of you most perfect Martines."
"You are positively getting angry, Sir Champion," said one of the
ladies: "and if that happens, we shall incontestably declare you
vanquished."
"Nay, I am vanquished--I yield--I throw up the partie--I see clearly
that I know nothing about the matter. What I conceived to be national
barbarisms, you evidently cling to as national privileges. Allons! ...
je me rends!"
"We have not given any judgment, however," said I. "But perhaps you
are more tired than beaten?--you only want a little repose, and you
will then be ready to start anew."
"Non! absolument non!--but I will willingly change sides, and tell you
how greatly I admire England...."
The conversation then started off in another direction, and ceased not
till the number of parties who passed us in making their exit roused
us at length to the necessity of leaving our flowery retreat, and
making ours also.
LETTER LXVII.
Chamber of Deputies.--Punishment of Journalists.--Institute
for the Encouragement of Industry.--Men of Genius.
Of all the ladies in the world, the English, I believe, are the most
anxious to enter a representative chamber. The reason for this is
sufficiently obvious,--they are the only ones who are denied this
privilege in their own country; though I believe that they are in
general rather disposed to consider this exclusion as a compliment,
inasmuch as it evidently manifests something like a fear that their
conversation might be found sufficiently attractive to draw the Solons
and Lycurguses from their duty.
But however well they may be disposed to submit to the privation at
home, it is a certain fact that Englishwomen dearly love to find
themselves in a legislative assembly abroad. There certainly is
something more than commonly exciting in the interest inspired by
seeing the moral strength of a great people collected together, and in
the act of exerting their judgment and their power for the well-being
and safety of millions. I suspect, however, that the sublimity of the
spectacle would be considerably lessened by a too great familiarity
with it; and that if, instead of being occasionally hoisted outside a
lantern to catch an uncertain sight and a broken sound of what was
passing within the temple, we were in the constant habit of being
ushered into so commodious a tribune as we occupied yesterday at the
Chamber of Deputies, we might soon cease to experience the sort of
reverence with which we looked down from thence upon the collected
wisdom of France.
Nothing can be more agreeable than the arrangement of this chamber for
spectators. The galleries command the whole of it perfectly; and the
orator of the hour, if he can be heard by any one, cannot fail of
being heard by those who occupy them. Another peculiar advantage for
strangers is, that the position of every member is so distinctly
marked, that you have the satisfaction of knowing at a glance where to
find the brawling republican, the melancholy legitimatist, and the
active doctrinaire. The ministers, too, are as much distinguished by
their place in the Chamber as in the Red Book, (or whatever may be the
distinctive symbol of that important record here,) and by giving a
franc at the entrance, for a sort of map that they call a "_Table
figurative_" of the Chamber, you know the name and constituency of
every member present.
This greatly increases the interest felt by a stranger. It is very
agreeable to hear a man speak with fervour and eloquence, let him be
who he may; but it enhances the pleasure prodigiously to know at the
same time who and what he is. If he be a minister, every word has
either more or less weight according ... to circumstances; and if he
be in opposition, one is also more au fait as to the positive value of
his sentiments from being acquainted with the fact.
The business before the house when we were there was stirring and
interesting enough. It was on the subject of the fines and
imprisonment to be imposed on those journalists who had outraged law
and decency by their inflammatory publications respecting the trials
going on at the Luxembourg.--General Bugeaud made an excellent speech
upon the abuse of the freedom of the press; a subject which certainly
has given birth to more "cant," properly so called, than any other I
know of. To so strange an extent has this been carried, that it really
requires a considerable portion of moral courage to face the question
fairly and honestly, and boldly to say, that this unrestricted power,
which has for years been dwelt upon as the greatest blessing which can
be accorded to the people, is in truth a most fearful evil. If this
unrestricted power had been advocated only by demagogues and
malcontents, the difficulties respecting the question would be slight
indeed, compared to what they are at present; but so many good men
have pleaded for it, that it is only with the greatest caution, and
the strongest conviction from the result of experience, that the law
should interfere to restrain it.
Nothing, in fact, is so plausible as the sophistry with which a young
enthusiast for liberty seeks to show that the unrestrained exercise of
intellect must not only be the birthright of every man, but that its
exercise must also of necessity be beneficial to the whole human race.
How easy is it to talk of the loss which the ever-accumulating mass of
human knowledge must sustain from stopping by the strong hand of power
the diffusion of speculation and experience! How very easy is it to
paint in odious colours the tyranny that would check the divine
efforts of the immortal mind!--And yet it is as clear as the bright
light of heaven, that not all the sufferings which all the tyrants who
ever cursed the earth have brought on man can compare to those which
the malign influence of an unchecked press is calculated to inflict
upon him.
The influence of the press is unquestionably the most awful engine
that Providence has permitted the hand of man to wield. If used for
good, it has the power of raising us higher in the intellectual scale
than Plato ever dreamed; but if employed for evil, the Prince of
Darkness may throw down his arms before its unmeasured strength--he
has no weapon like it.
What are the temptations--the seductions of the world which the
zealous preacher deprecates, which the watchful parent dreads,
compared to the corruption that may glide like an envenomed snake into
the bosom of innocence from this insidious agency? Where is the
retreat that can be secured from it? Where is the shelter that can
baffle its assaults?--Blasphemy, treason, and debauchery are licensed
by the act of the legislature to do their worst upon the morals of
every people among whom an unrestricted press is established by law.
Surely, but perhaps slowly, will this truth become visible to all men:
and if society still hangs together at all, our grandchildren will
probably enjoy the blessing without the curse of knowledge. The head
of the serpent has been bruised, and therefore we may hope for
this,--but it is not yet.
The discussions in the Chamber on this important subject, not only
yesterday, but on several occasions since the question of these fines
has been started, have been very animated and very interesting. Never
was the right and the wrong in an argument more ably brought out than
by some of the speeches on this business: and, on the other hand,
never did effrontery go farther than in some of the defences which
have been set up for the accused gérans of the journals in question.
For instance, M. Raspail expresses a very grave astonishment that the
Chamber of Peers, instead of objecting to the liberties which have
been taken with them, do not rather return thanks for the useful
lesson they have received. He states too in this same _defence_, as he
is pleased to call it, that the conductors of the "Réformateur" have
adopted a resolution to publish without restriction or alteration
every article addressed to them by the accused parties or their
defenders. This _resolution_, then, is to be pleaded as an excuse for
whatever their columns may contain! The concluding argument of this
defence is put in the form of a declaration, purporting that whoever
dooms a fellow-creature to the horrors of imprisonment ought to
undergo the same punishment for the term of twenty years as an
expiation of the crime. This is logical.
There is a tone of vulgar, insolent defiance in all that is recorded
of the manner and language adopted by the partisans of these Lyons
prisoners, which gives what must, I think, be considered as very
satisfactory proof that the party is not one to be greatly feared.
After the vote had passed the Chamber of Peers for bringing to account
the persons who subscribed the protest against their proceedings, two
individuals who were not included in this vote of reprobation sent in
a written petition that they might be so. What was the official answer
to this piece of bravado, or whether it received any, I know not; but
I was told that some one present proposed that a reply should be
returned as follows:--
"The court regrets that the request cannot be granted, inasmuch as the
sentence has been already passed on those whom it concerned;--but that
if the gentlemen wished it, they might perhaps contrive to get
themselves included in the next indictment for treason."
* * * * *
In the evening we went to the Institute for the encouragement of
Industry. The meeting was held in the Salle St. Jean, at the Hôtel de
Ville. It was extremely full, and was altogether a display extremely
interesting to a stranger. The speeches made by several of the members
were in excellently good taste and extremely to the purpose: I heard
nothing at all approaching to that popular strain of eloquence which
has prevailed of late so much in England upon all similar
occasions,--nothing that looked like an attempt to bamboozle the
respectable citizens of the metropolis into the belief that they were
considered by wise men as belonging to the first class in society.
The speeches were admirably calculated to excite ingenuity, emulation,
and industry; and I really believe that there was not a single word of
nonsense spoken on the occasion. Several ingenious improvements and
inventions were displayed, and the meeting was considerably égayé by
two or three pieces exceedingly well played on a piano-forte of an
improved construction.
Many prizes were bestowed, and received with that sort of genuine
pleasure which it is so agreeable to witness;--but these were all for
useful improvements in some branch of practical mechanics, and not, as
I saw by the newspapers had recently been the case at a similar
meeting in London, for essays! One of the prize compositions was, as I
perceived, "The best Essay on Education," from the pen of a young
bell-hanger! Next year, perhaps, the best essay on medicine may be
produced by a young tinker, or a gold medal be awarded to Betty the
housemaid for a digest of the laws of the land. Our long-boasted
common sense seems to have emigrated, and taken up its abode here;
for, spite of their recent revolution, you hear of no such stuff on
this side the water;--mechanics are mechanics still, and though they
some of them make themselves exceeding busy in politics, and discuss
their different kings with much energy over a bottle of small wine, I
have not yet heard of any of the "_operative classes_" throwing aside
their files and their hammers to write essays.
This queer mixture of occupations reminds me of a conversation I
listened to the other day upon the best manner in which a nation could
recompense and encourage her literary men. One English gentleman, with
no great enthusiasm of manner or expression, quietly observed that he
thought a moderate pension, sufficient to prevent the mind from being
painfully driven from speculative to practical difficulties, would be
the most fitting recompense that the country could offer.
"Is it possible you can really think so, my dear sir?" replied
another, who is an amateur, and a connoisseur, and a bel esprit, and
an antiquary, and a fiddler, and a critic, and a poet. "I own my ideas
on the subject are very different. Good God! ... what a reward for a
man of genius!... Why, what would you do for an old nurse?"
"I would give her a pension too," said the quiet gentleman.
"I thought so!" retorted the man of taste. "And do you really feel no
repugnance in placing the immortal efforts of genius on a par with
rocking a few babies to sleep?--Fie on such philosophy!"
"And what is the recompense which you would propose, sir?" inquired
the advocate for the pension.
"I, sir?--I would give the first offices and the first honours of the
state to our men of genius: by so doing, a country ennobles itself in
the face of the whole earth."
"Yes, sir.... But the first offices of the state are attended with a
good deal of troublesome business, which might, I think, interfere
with the intellectual labour you wish to encourage. I should really be
very sorry to see Dr. Southey made secretary-at-war,--and yet he
deserves something of his country too."
"A man of genius, sir, deserves everything of his country.... It is
not a paltry pension can pay him. He should be put forward in
parliament ... he should be..."
"I think, sir, he should be put at his ease: depend upon it, this
would suit him better than being returned knight of the shire for any
county in England."
"Good Heaven, sir!"... resumed the enthusiast; but he looked up and
his opponent was gone.
LETTER LXVIII.
Walk to the Marché des Innocens.--Escape of a Canary
Bird.--A Street Orator.--Burying-place of the Victims of
July.
I must give you to-day an account of the adventures I have encountered
in a _course à pied_ to the Marché des Innocens. You must know that
there is at one of the corners of this said Marché a shop sacred to
the ladies, which débits all those unclassable articles that come
under the comprehensive term of haberdashery,--a term, by the way,
which was once interpreted to me by a celebrated etymologist of my
acquaintance to signify "_avoir d'acheter_." My magasin "à la Mère de
Famille" in the Marché des Innocens fully deserves this description,
for there are few female wants in which it fails to "avoir d'acheter."
It was to this compendium of utilities that I was notably proceeding
when I saw before me, exactly on a spot that I was obliged to pass, a
throng of people that at the first glance I really thought was a
prodigious mob; but at the second, I confess that they shrank and
dwindled considerably. Nevertheless, it looked ominous; and as I was
alone, I felt a much stronger inclination to turn back than to
proceed. I paused to decide which I should do; and observing, as I did
so, a very respectable-looking woman at the door of a shop very near
the tumult, I ventured to address an inquiry to her respecting the
cause of this unwonted assembling of the people in so peaceable a part
of the town; but, unfortunately, I used a phrase in the inquiry which
brought upon me more evident quizzing than one often gets from the
civil Parisians. My words, I think, were,--"Pourriez-vous me dire,
madame, ce que signifie tout ce monde?... Est-ce qu'il y a quelque
mouvement?"