An Englishman In Paris Part 6

"I need not tell you that M. de Saint-Georges kept his word as far as he was able; he kept it even more rigorously than my father had bargained for, because when, exactly on the last day of the stipulated five years, I received a letter demanding my immediate return, and informing me that my father's banker had instructions to stop all further supplies, M. de Saint-Georges bade me stay.

"'I promised to make a musician of you, and I have kept my word. But between a musician and an acknowledged musician there is a difference. I say stay!' he exclaimed.

"'How am I to stay without money?'

"'You'll earn some.'

"'How?'

"'By giving piano-lessons, like many a poor artist has done before you.'

"I followed his advice, and am none the worse for the few years of hardships. The contrast between my own poverty and my wealthy surroundings was sufficiently curious during that time, and never more so than on the night when my name really became known to the general public. I am alluding to the first performance of 'Le Duc de Guise,'

which, as you may remember, was given in aid of the distressed Poles, and sung throughout by amateurs. The receipts amounted to thirty thousand francs, and the ladies of the chorus had something between ten and twelve millions of francs of diamonds in their hair and round their throats. All my earthly possessions in money consisted of six francs thirty-five centimes."

I was not at the Theatre de la Renaissance that night, but two or three years previously I had heard the first opera Flotow ever wrote, at the Hotel Castellane. I never heard "Rob Roy" since; and, curiously enough, many years afterwards I inquired of Lord Granville, who sat next to me on that evening in 1838, whether he had. He shook his head negatively.

"It is a great pity," he said, "for the music is very beautiful." And I believe that Lord Granville is a very good judge.

The Hotel Castellane, or "La Maison du Mouleur," as it was called by the general public on account of the great number of scantily attired mythological deities with which its facade was decorated, was one of the few houses where, during the reign of Louis-Philippe, the discussion of political and dynastic differences was absolutely left in abeyance. The scent of party strife--I had almost said miasma--hung over all the other salons, notably those of the Princesse de Lieven, Madame Thiers, and Madame de Girardin, and even those of Madame Le Hon and Victor Hugo were not free from it. Men like myself, and especially young men, who instinctively guessed the hollowness of all this--who, moreover, had not the genius to become political leaders and not sufficient enthusiasm to become followers--avoided them; consequently their description will find little or no place in these notes. The little I saw of Princesse de Lieven at the Tuileries and elsewhere produced no wish to see more.

Thiers was more interesting from a social and artistic point of view, but it was only on very rare occasions that he consented to doff his political armour, albeit that he did not wear the latter with unchanging dignity. Madame Thiers was an uninteresting woman, and only the "feeder"

to her husband, to use a theatrical phrase. Madame Le Hon was exceedingly beautiful, exceedingly selfish, and, if anything, too amiable. The absence of all serious mental qualities was cleverly disguised by the mask of a grande dame; but I doubt whether it was anything else but a mask. Madame Delphine de Girardin, on the other hand, was endowed with uncommon literary, poetical, and intellectual gifts; but I have always considered it doubtful whether even the Nine Muses, rolled into one, would be bearable for any length of time. As for Victor Hugo, no man not blessed with an extraordinary b.u.mp of veneration would have gone more than once to his soirees. The permanent entertainment there consisted of a modern version of the "perpetual adoration," and of nothing else, because, to judge by my few experiences, his guests were never offered anything to eat or to drink.

As a set-off, the furniture and appointments of his apartments were more artistic than those of most of his contemporaries; but Becky Sharp has left it on record that "mouton aux navets," dished up in priceless china and crested silver, is after all but "mouton aux navets," and at Hugo's even that homely fare was wanting.

Among the few really good salons were those of the amba.s.sadors of the Two Sicilies, of England, and of Austria. The former two were in the Faubourg Saint-Honore, the latter in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. The soirees of the Duc de Serra-Cabriola were very animated; there was a great deal of dancing. I cannot say the same of those of Lord and Lady Granville, albeit that both the host and hostess did the honours with charming and truly patrician grace and hospitality. But the English guests would not throw off their habitual reserve, and the French in the end imitated the manner of the latter, in deference, probably, to Lord and Lady Granville, who were not at all pleased at this sincerest form of French flattery of their countrymen.

There was no such restraint at Count Apponyi's, in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the only house where the old French n.o.blesse mustered in force. The latter virtually felt themselves on their own ground, for the host was known to have not much sympathy with parvenus, even t.i.tled ones, though the t.i.tles had been gained on the battle-field. Had he not during the preceding reign ruthlessly stripped Soult and Marmont, and half a dozen other dukes of the first empire, by giving instructions to his servants to announce them by their family names? Consequently, flirtation a la Marivaux, courtly _galanterie_ a la Louis XV., sprightly and witty conversation, "minuetting" a la Watteau, was the order of the day as well as of the night there, for the dejeuner dansant was a frequent feature of the entertainment. No one was afraid of being mistaken for a financier an.o.bli; the only one admitted on a footing of intimacy bore the simple name of Hope.

Nevertheless, it must not be thought that the entertainments, even at the three emba.s.sies, partook of anything like the splendour so noticeable during the second empire. The refreshments elsewhere partook of a simple character; ices and cake, and lukewarm but by no means strong tea, formed the staple of them. Of course there were exceptions, such as, for instance, at the above-named houses, and at Mrs. Tudor's, Mrs. Locke's, and at Countess Lamoyloff's; but the era of flowing rivers of champagne, snacks that were like banquets, and banquets that were not unlike orgies, had not as yet dawned. And, worse than all, in a great many salons the era of mahogany and Utrecht velvet was in full swing, while the era of white-and-gold walls, which were frequently neither white nor gold, was dying a very lingering death.

The Hotel Castellane was a welcome exception to this, and politics were rigorously tabooed, the reading of long-winded poems was interdicted.

Politicians were simply reminded that the adjacent elysee-Bourbon, or even the Hotel Pontalba, might still contain sufficiently lively ghosts to discuss such all-important matters with them;[12] poets who fancied they had something to say worth hearing, were invited to have it said for them from behind the footlights by rival companies of amateurs, each of which in many respects need not have feared comparison with the professional one of the Comedie-Francaise. Amateur theatricals were, therefore, the princ.i.p.al feature of the entertainments at the Hotel Castellane; but there were "off nights" to the full as brilliant as the others. There was neither acting nor dancing on such occasions, the latter amus.e.m.e.nt being rarely indulged in, except at the grand b.a.l.l.s which often followed one another in rapid succession.

[Footnote 12: The elysee-Bourbon, which was the official residence of Louis-Napoleon during his presidency of the second republic, was almost untenanted during the reign of Louis-Philippe.

The Hotel Pontalba was partly built on the site of the former mansion of M. de Morfontaine, a staunch royalist, who, curiously enough, had married the daughter of Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau, the member of the Convention who had voted the death of Louis XVI., and who himself fell by the hand of an a.s.sa.s.sin. Mdlle. le Peletier Saint-Fargeau was called "La Fille de la Nation."--EDITOR.]

I have said rival companies, but only the two permanent ones came under that denomination; the others were what we should term "scratch companies," got together for one or two performances of a special work, generally a musical one, as in the case of Flotow's "Rob Roy" and "Alice." They vied in talent with the regular troupes presided over respectively by Madame Sophie Gay, the mother of Madame emile de Girardin, and the d.u.c.h.esse d'Abrantes. Each confined itself to the interpretation of the works of its manageress, who on such evening did the honours, or of those whom the manageress favoured with her protection. The heavens might fall rather than that an actor or actress of Madame Gay's company should act with Madame d'Abrantes, and _vice versa_. Seeing that neither manageress had introduced the system of "under-studies," disappointments were frequent, for unless a member of the Comedie-Francaise could be found to take up the part at a moment's notice, the performance had necessarily to be postponed, the amateurs refusing to act with any but the best. Such pretensions may at the first blush seem exaggerated; they were justified in this instance, the amateurs being acknowledged to be the equals of the professionals by every unbia.s.sed critic. In fact, several ladies among the amateurs "took eventually to the stage," notably Mdlles. Davenay and Mdlle. de Lagrange. The latter became a very bright star in the operatic firmament, though she was hidden in the musical world at large by her permanent stay in Russia. St. Petersburg has ever been a formidable compet.i.tor of Paris for securing the best histrionic and lyrical talent.

Madame Arnould-Plessy, Bressant, Dupuis, and later on M. Worms, deserted their native scenes for the more remunerative, though perhaps really less artistic, triumphs of the theatre Saint-Michel; and when they returned, the delicate bloom that had made their art so delightful was virtually gone. "C'etait de l'art Francais a la sauce Tartare," said some one who was no mean judge.

The Comte Jules de Castellane, though fully equal, and in many respects superior, in birth to those who professed to sneer at the younger branch of the Bourbons, declined to be guided by these opponents of the new dynasty in their social crusade against the adherents to the latter; consequently the company was perhaps not always so select as it might have been, and many amusing incidents and _piquantes_ adventures were the result. He put a stop to these, however, when he discovered that his hospitality was being abused, and that invitations given to strangers, at the request of some of his familiars, had been paid for in kind, if not in coin.

As a rule, though, the company was far less addicted to scandal-mongering and causing scandal than similarly composed "sets"

during the subsequent reign. They were not averse to playing practical jokes, especially upon those who made themselves somewhat too conspicuous by their eccentricities. Lord Brougham, who was an a.s.siduous guest at the Hotel Castellane during his frequent visits to Paris, was often selected as their victim. He, as it were, provoked the tricks played upon him by his would-be Don-Juanesque behaviour, and by the many opportunities he lost of holding his tongue--in French. He absolutely murdered the language of Moliere. His worthy successor in that respect was Lady Normanby, who, as some one said, "not only murdered the tongue, but tortured it besides." The latter, however, never lost her dignity amidst the most mirth-compelling blunders on her part, while the English statesman was often very near enacting the buffoon, and was once almost induced to accept a role in a vaudeville, in which his execrable French would no doubt have been highly diverting to the audience, but would scarcely have been in keeping with the position he occupied on the other side of the Channel. "Quant a Lord Brougham," said a very witty Frenchman, quoting Shakespeare in French, "il n'y a pour lui qu'un pas entre le sublime et le ridicule. C'est le pas de Calais, et il le traverse trop souvent."

In 1842, when the Comte Jules de Castellane married Mdlle. de Villontroys, whose mother had married General Rapp and been divorced from him, a certain change came over the spirit of the house; the entertainments were as brilliant as ever, but the two rival manageresses had to abdicate their sway, and the social status of the guests was subjected to a severer test. The new dispensation did not ostracize the purely artistic element, but, as the comtesse tersely put it, "dorenavant, je ne recevrai que ceux qui ont de l'art ou des armoiries."

She strictly kept her word, even during the first years of the Second Empire, when pedigrees were a ticklish thing to inquire into.

I have unwittingly drifted away from M. de Saint-Georges, who, to say the least, was a curious figure in artistic and literary Paris during the reigns of Louis-Philippe and his successor. He was quite as fertile as Scribe, and many of his plots are as ingeniously conceived and worked out as the latter's, but he suffered both in reputation and purse from the restless activity and pushing character of the librettist of "Robert le Diable." Like those of Rivarol,[13] M. Saint-Georges' claims to be of n.o.ble descent were somewhat contested, albeit that, unlike the eighteenth-century pamphleteer, he never obtruded them; but there could be no doubt about his being a gentleman. He was utterly different in every respect from his rival. Scribe was not only eaten up with vanity, but grasping to a degree; he had dramatic instinct, but not the least vestige of literary refinement. M. de Saint-Georges, on the contrary, was exceedingly modest, very indifferent to money matters, charitable and obliging in a quiet way, and though perhaps not inferior in stagecraft, very elegant in his diction. When he liked, he could write verses and dialogue which often reminded one of Moliere. It was not the only trait he had in common with the great playwright. Moliere is said to have consulted his housekeeper, Laforet, with regard to his productions; M. de Saint-Georges was known to do the same--with this difference, however, that he did not always attend to Marguerite's suggestions, in which case Marguerite grew wroth, especially if the piece turned out to be a success, in spite of her predictions of failure. On such occasions the popular approval scarcely compensated M.

de Saint-Georges for his discomforts at home; for though Marguerite was an admirable manager at all times--when she liked, though there was no bachelor more carefully looked after than the author of "La Fille du Regiment," he had now and then to bear the brunt of Marguerite's temper when the public's verdict did not agree with hers.

[Footnote 13: One of the great wits of the Revolution.--EDITOR.]

If under such circ.u.mstances M. de Saint-Georges ventured to give a dinner, the viands were sure to be cold, the Bordeaux iced, and the champagne lukewarm. M. de Saint-Georges, who, notwithstanding his courtly manners, was candour itself, never failed to state the reasons of his discomfiture as a host to his guests. "Que voulez vous, mes amis, la piece n'a pas plu a Marguerite et le diner s'en ressent. Si je lui faisais une observation, elle me repondrait comme elle m'a repondu deja maintes fois. Le diner etait mauvais, vous dites? C'est possible, il etait a.s.sez bien pour ceux qui ont eu le bon gout d'applaudir votre piece hier-au-soir." Because Mdlle. Marguerite had a seat in the upper boxes reserved for her at all the first representations of her master's pieces. She did not always avail herself of the privilege at the Opera, but she never missed a first night at the Opera-Comique. I have quoted textually the words of M. de Saint-Georges on the morrow of the _premiere_ of "Giselle," a ballet in two acts, written in collaboration with Theophile Gautier. "'Giselle' had been a great success; Marguerite had predicted a failure; hence we had a remarkably bad dinner."

I had had many opportunities of seeing Marguerite, and often wondered at the secret of the tyranny she exercised. She was not handsome--scarcely comely; she was not even as smart in her appearance as dozens of servants I have seen, and her mental attainments, as far as I could judge, were not above those of her own cla.s.s. One can understand a Turner, a Jean Jacques Rousseau, submitting to the influence of such a low-born companion, because, after all, they, though men of genius, sprang from the people, and may have felt awkward, ill at ease, in the society of well-bred men and women, especially of women. Beranger sometimes gave me that idea. But, as I have already said, no one could mistake M. de Saint-Georges for anything but a well-bred man.

Notwithstanding his little affectations, his inordinate love of scents, his somewhat effeminate surroundings, good breeding was patent at every sentence, at every movement. He was not a genius, certainly not, but the above remarks hold good of a man who _was_ a genius, and who sprang, moreover, from the higher bourgeoisie of the eighteenth century--I am alluding to Eugene Delacroix.

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 Losa Puget -- The songs of the working cla.s.ses -- 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 Pa.s.sage 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 Pa.s.sage 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.

Even in those days "the Boulevards" meant to most of us nothing more than the s.p.a.ce between the present opera and the Rue Drouot. But the Credit Lyonnais and other palatial buildings which have been erected since were not as much as dreamt of; if I remember rightly, the site of that bank was occupied by two or three "Chinese Baths." I suppose the process of steaming and cleansing the human body was something a.n.a.logous to that practised in our Turkish baths, but I am unable to say from experience, having never been inside, and, curious to relate, most of my familiars were in a similar state of ignorance. We rarely crossed to that side of the boulevard except to go and dine at the Cafe Anglais. At the corner of the Rue Lafitte, opposite the Maison d'Or, was our favourite tobacconist's, and the cigars we used to get there were vastly superior to those we get at present in Paris at five times the cost. The a.s.sistant who served us was a splendid creature. Alfred de Musset became so enamoured of her that at one time his familiars apprehended an "imprudence on his part." Of course, they were afraid he would marry her.

In those days most of our journeys in the interior of France had still to be made by the mails of Lafitte-Caillard, and the people these conveyances brought up from the provinces were almost as great objects of curiosity to us as we must have been to them. It was the third l.u.s.tre of Louis-Philippe's reign. "G.o.d," according to the coinage, "protected France," and when the Almighty seemed somewhat tired of the task, Thiers and Guizot alternately stepped in to do the safeguarding. Parliament resounded with the eloquence of orators who are almost forgotten by now, except by students of history; M. de Genoude was clamouring for universal suffrage; M. de Cormenin, under the _nom de plume_ of "Timon,"

was the fashionable pamphleteer; the papers indulged in vituperation against one another, compared to which the amenities of the rival Eatanswill editors were compliments. Grocers and drapers objected to the partic.i.p.ation of M. de Lamartine in the affairs of State. The _Figaro_ of those days went by the t.i.tle of _Corsaire-Satan_, and, though extensively read, had the greatest difficulty in making both ends meet.

In order to improve the lot of the working man, there was a gratuitous distribution of sausages once a year on the king's fete-day. The ordinary rendezvous of provincial and metropolitan actors out of an engagement was not at the Cafe de Suede on the Boulevard Montmartre, but under the trees at the Palais-Royal. Frederick Lemaitre went to confession and to ma.s.s every time he "created" a new role. The Legitimists consented to leave their aristocratic seclusion, and to breathe the same air with the bourgeoisie and proletarians of the Boulevard du Crime, to see him play. The Government altered the t.i.tle of Sue and Goubeaux's drama "Les Pontons Anglais" into "Les Pontons,"

short, and made the authors change the scene from England to Spain.

Alexandre Dumas chaffed Scribe, and flung his money right and left; while the other saved it, bought country estates, and produced as many as twenty plays a year (eight more than he had contracted for). The National Guards went in uniform and in companies to shoot hares and rabbits on the Plaine Saint-Denis, and swaggered about on the Boulevards, ogling the women. Vidocq kept a private inquiry office in the Pa.s.sage Vivienne, and made more money by blackmailing or catching unfaithful husbands than by catching thieves. Bougival, Asnieres and Joinville-le-Pont had not become riparian resorts. The plaster elephant on the Place de la Bastille was crumbling to pieces. The sentimental romances of Madame Losa Puget proved the delight of every bourgeoise family, while the chorus to every popular song was "Larifla, larifla, fla, fla, fla."

Best of all, from the working man's point of view, was the low price of bread and wine; the latter could be had at four sous the litre in the wine-shops. He, the working man, still made excursions with his wife and children to the Artesian well at Grenelle; and if stranded perchance in the Champs-elysees, stood lost in admiration at the tiny carriage with ponies to match, driven by Theophile Gautier, who had left off wearing the crimson waistcoats wherewith in former days he hoped to annoy the bourgeois, though he ceased not to rail at him by word of mouth and with his pen. He was not singular in that respect. Among his set, the hatred of the bourgeois was ingrained; it found constant vent in small things.

Nestor Roqueplan wore jackboots at home instead of slippers, because the latter chaussure was preferred by the shopkeeper. Gavarni published the most biting pictorial satires against him. Here is one. A dissipated-looking loafer is leaning against a lamp-post, contemptuously staring at the spruce, trim bourgeois out for his Sunday walk with his wife. The loafer is smoking a short clay pipe, and some of the fumes of the tobacco come between the wind and the bourgeois' respectability.

"Voyou!" says the latter contemptuously. "Voyou tant que vous voulez, pas epicier," is the answer.

In those days, when M. Thiers happened to be in power, many members of the Opposition and their journalistic champions made it a point of organizing little gatherings to the table-d'hote kept by Mdlle. Thiers, the sister of the Prime Minister of France. Her establishment was at the entrance of the present Rue Drouot, and a signboard informed the pa.s.ser-by to that effect. There was invariably an account of these little gatherings in next day's papers--of course, with comments. Thiers was known to be the most wretched shot that ever worried a gamekeeper, and yet he was very fond of blazing away. "We asked Mdlle. Thiers,"

wrote the commentators, "whether those delicious pheasants she gave us were of her ill.u.s.trious brother's bagging. The lady shook her head.

'Non, monsieur; le President du Conseil n'a pas l'honneur de fournir mon etabliss.e.m.e.nt; a quoi bon, je peux les acheter a meilleur marche que lui et au meme endroit. S'il m'en envoyait, il me ferait payer un benefice, parcequ'il ne fait jamais rien pour rien. C'est un peu le defaut de notre famille.'" I have got a notion that, mercurial as was M. Thiers up to the last hour of his life, and even more so at that period, and sedate as was M. Guizot, the French liked the latter better than the former.

M. Guizot had said, "Enrichissez vous," and was known to be poor; M.

Thiers had scoffed at the advice, and was known to be h.o.a.rding while compelling his sister to earn her own living. It must be remembered that at the time the gangrene of greed had not entered the souls of all cla.s.ses of Frenchmen so deeply as it has now, that the race for wealth had as yet comparatively few votaries, and that not every stockjobber and speculator aspired to emulate the vast financial transactions of the Rothschilds. The latter lived, in those days, in the Rue Lafitte, where they had three separate mansions, all of which since then have been thrown into one, and are at present exclusively devoted to business purposes. The Rue Lafitte was, however, a comparatively quiet street.

The favourite lounges, in addition to the strip of Boulevards I have already mentioned, were the Rue Le Peletier and the galleries of the Pa.s.sage de l'Opera. Both owed the preference over the other thoroughfares to the immediate vicinity of the Opera, which had its frontage in the last-named street, but was by no means striking or monumental. Its architect, Debret, had to run the gauntlet of every kind of satire for many a year after its erection; the bitterest and most scathing of all was that, perhaps, of a journalist, who wrote one day that, a provincial having asked him the way to the grand opera, he had been obliged to answer, "Turn down the street, and it is the first large gateway on your right."

But if the building itself was unimposing, the company gathered around its entrance consisted generally of half a dozen men whose names were then already household words in the musical world--Auber, Halevy, Rossini and Meyerbeer, St. Georges, Adam. Now and then, though rarely together, all of these names will frequently reappear in these notes.

The chief attractions, though, of the Rue Le Peletier were the famous Italian restaurant of Paolo Broggi, patronized by a great many singers, the favourite haunt of Mario, in the beginning of his career, and l'Estaminet du Divan, which from being a very simple cafe indeed, developed into a kind of politico-literary club under the auspices of a number of budding men of letters, journalists, and the like, whose modest purses were not equal to the charges of the Cafe Riche and Tortoni, and who had gradually driven all more prosaic customers away. I believe I was one of the few habitues who had no literary aspirations, who did not cast longing looks to the inner portals of the offices of the _National_, the bigwigs of which--Armand Marrast, Baron Dornes, Gerard de Nerval, and others--sometimes made their appearance there, though their restaurant in ordinary was the Cafe Hardi. The Estaminet du Divan, however, pretended to a much more literary atmosphere than the magnificent establishment on the boulevard itself. It is a positive fact that the waiters in the former would ask, in the most respectful way imaginable, "Does monsieur want Sue's or Dumas' feuilleton with his cafe?" Not once but a dozen times I have heard the proprietor draw attention to a remarkable article. Major Fraser, though he never dined there, spent an hour or two daily in the Estaminet du Divan to read the papers. He was a great favourite with every one, though none of us knew anything about his antecedents. In spite of his English name, he was decidedly not English, though he spoke the language. He was one of the best-dressed men of the period, and by a well-dressed man I do not mean one like Sue. He generally wore a tight-fitting, short-skirted, blue frock coat, grey trousers, of a shape which since then we have defined as "pegtops," but the fashion of which was borrowed from the Cossacks.

They are still worn by some French officers in cavalry regiments, notably crack cavalry regiments.

Major Fraser might have fitly borrowed Piron's epitaph for himself: "Je ne suis rien, pas meme Academicien." He was a bachelor. He never alluded to his parentage. He lived by himself, in an entresol at the corner of the Rue Lafitte and the Boulevard des Italiens. He was always flush of money, though the sources of his income were a mystery to every one. He certainly did not live by gambling, as has been suggested since; for those who knew him best did not remember having seen him touch a card.

I have always had an idea, though I can give no reason for it, that Major Fraser was the illegitimate son of some exalted personage, and that the solution of the mystery surrounding him might be found in the records of the scandals and intrigues at the courts of Charles IV. and Ferdinand VII. of Spain. The foreign "soldiers of fortune" who rose to high posts, though not to the highest like Richards and O'Reilly, were not all of Irish origin. But the man himself was so pleasant in his intercourse, so uniformly gentle and ready to oblige, that no one cared to lift a veil which he was so evidently anxious not to have disturbed.

I only remember his getting out of temper once, namely, when Leon Gozlan, in a comedy of his, introduced a major who had three crosses.

The first had been given to him because he had not one, the second because he had already one, and the third because all good things consist of three. Then Major Fraser sent his seconds to the playwright; the former effected a reconciliation, the more that Gozlan pledged his word that an allusion to the major was farthest from his thoughts. It afterwards leaked out that our irrepressible Alexandre Dumas had been the involuntary cause of all the mischief. One day, while he was talking to Gozlan, one of his secretaries came in and told him that a particular bugbear of his, and a great nonent.i.ty to boot, had got the Cross of the Legion of Honour.

"Grand Dieu," exclaimed Gozlan, "pourquoi lui a-t-on donne cette croix?"

"Vous ne savez pas?" said Alexandre, looking very wise, as if he had some important state secret to reveal.