Paris and the Parisians in 1835 Volume I Part 19

Sunday is a delightful day in Paris--more so than in any place I ever visited, excepting Francfort. The enjoyment is so universal, and yet so domestic; were I to form my idea of the national character from the scenes pa.s.sing before my eyes on that day, instead of from books and newspapers, I should say that the most remarkable features in it, were conjugal and parental affection.

It is rare to see either a man or a woman, of an age to be wedded and parents, without their being accompanied by their partner and their offspring. The cup of light wine is drunk between them; the scene that is sought for amus.e.m.e.nt by the one is also enjoyed by the other; and whether it be little or whether it be much that can be expended on this day of jubilee, the man and wife share it equally.

I have entered many churches during the hours of the morning ma.s.ses, in many different parts of the town, and, as I have before stated, I have uniformly found them extremely crowded; and though I have never remarked any instances of that sort of penitential devotion so constantly seen in the churches of Belgium when the painfully extended arms remind one of the Hindoo solemnities, the appearance of earnest and devout attention to what is going on is universal.

It is not till after the grand ma.s.s is over that the population pours itself out over every part of the town, not so much to seek as to meet amus.e.m.e.nt. And they are sure to find it; for not ten steps can be taken in any direction without encountering something that shall furnish food for enjoyment of some kind or other.

There is no sight in the world that I love better than a numerous populace during their hours of idleness and glee. When they a.s.semble themselves together for purposes of legislation, I confess I do not greatly love or admire them; but when they are enjoying themselves, particularly when women and children share in the enjoyment, they furnish a delightful spectacle--and nowhere can it be seen to greater advantage than in Paris. The nature of the people--the nature of the climate--the very form and arrangement of the city, are all especially favourable to the display of it. It is in the open air, under the blue vault of heaven, before the eyes of thousands, that they love to bask and disport themselves. The bright, clear atmosphere seems made on purpose for them; and whoever laid out the boulevards, the quays, the gardens of Paris, surely remembered, as they did so, how necessary s.p.a.ce was for the a.s.sembling together of her social citizens.

The young men of the Polytechnic School make a prominent feature in a Paris Sunday; for it is only on the _jours de fete_ that they are permitted to range at liberty through the town: but all occasions of this kind cause the streets and public walks to swarm with young Napoleons.

It is quite extraordinary to see how the result of a strong principle or sentiment may show itself externally on a large body of individuals, making those alike, whom nature has made as dissimilar as possible. There is not one of these Polytechnic lads, the eldest of whom could hardly have seen the light of day before Napoleon had left the soil of France for ever,--there is hardly one of them who does not more or less remind one of the well-known figure and air of the Emperor. Be they tall, be they short, be they fat, be they thin, it is the same,--there is some approach (evidently the result of having studied their worshipped model closely in paintings, engravings, bronzes, marbles, and Sevres china,) to that look and bearing which, till the most popular tyrant that ever lived had made it as well known as sunshine to the eyes of France, was as little resembling to the ordinary appearance and carriage of her citizens as possible.

The tailor can certainly do much towards making the exterior of one individual look like the exterior of another; but he cannot do all that we see in the mien of a Polytechnic scholar that serves to recall the extraordinary man whose name, after years of exile and of death, is decidedly the most stirring that can be p.r.o.nounced in France. Busy, important, and most full of human interest has been the period since his downfall; yet his memory is as fresh among them as if he had marched into the Tuileries triumphant from one of his hundred victories but yesterday.

O, if the sovereign people could but understand as well as read!...

And O that some Christian spirit could be found who would interpret to them, in such accents as they would listen to, the life and adventures of Napoleon the Great! What a deal of wisdom they might gain by it!

Where could be found a lesson so striking as this to a people who are weary of being governed, and desire, one and all, to govern themselves? With precisely the same weariness, with precisely the same desire, did this active, intelligent, and powerful people throw off, some forty years ago, the yoke of their laws and the authority of their king. Then were they free as the sand of the desert--not one individual atom of the mighty ma.s.s but might have risen in the hurricane of that tempest as high as the unbridled wind of his ambition could carry him; and what followed? Why, they grew sick to death of the giddy whirl, where each man knocked aside his neighbour, and there was none to say "Forbear!" Then did they cling, like sinking souls in the act of drowning, to the first bold man who dared to replace the yoke upon their necks; they clung to him through years of war that mowed down their ranks as a scythe mows down the ripe corn, and yet they murmured not. For years they suffered their young sons to be torn from their sides while they still hung to them with all the first fondness of youth, and yet they murmured not;--for years they lived uncheered by the wealth that commerce brings, uncheered by any richer return of labour than the scanty morsel that sustained their life of toil, and yet they murmured not: for they had once more a prince upon the throne--they had once more laws, firmly administered, which kept them from the dreaded horrors of anarchy; and they clung to their tyrant prince, and his strict and stern enactments, with a devotion of grat.i.tude and affection which speaks plainly enough their lasting thankfulness to the courage which was put forth in their hour of need to relieve them from the dreadful burden of self-government.

This grat.i.tude and affection endures still--nothing will ever efface it; for his military tyranny is pa.s.sed away, and the benefits which his colossal power enabled him to bestow upon them remain, and must remain as long as France endures. The only means by which another sovereign may rival Napoleon in popularity, is by rivalling him in power. Were some of the feverish blood which still keeps France in agitation to be drawn from her cities to reinforce her military array, and were a hundred thousand of the sons of France marched off to restore to Italy her natural position in Europe, power, glory, and popularity would sustain the throne, and tranquillity be restored to the people. Without some such discipline, poor young France may very probably die of a plethora. If she has not this, she must have a government as absolute as that of Russia to keep her from mischief: and that she will have one or the other before long, I have not the least doubt in the world; for there are many very clever personages at and near the seat of power who will not be slow to see or to do what is needful.

Meanwhile this fine body of young men are, as I understand, receiving an education calculated to make them most efficient officers, whenever they are called upon to serve. Unfortunately for the reputation of the Polytechnic School, their names were brought more forward than was creditable to those who had the charge of them, during the riots of 1830. But the government which the men of France accepted from the hands of the boys really appears to be wiser and better than they had any right to expect from authority so strangely const.i.tuted. The new government very properly uses the strength given it, for the purpose of preventing the repet.i.tion of the excesses to which it owes its origin; and these fine lads are now said to be in a state of very respectable discipline, and to furnish no contemptible bulwark to the throne.

It is otherwise, however, as I hear, with most of the bodies of young men collected together in Paris for the purpose of education. The silly cant of republicanism has got among them; and till this is mended, continued little riotous outbreakings of a naughty-boy spirit must be expected.

One of the happiest circ.u.mstances in the situation of poor struggling England at present is, that her boys are not republican. On the contrary, the rising spirit among us is decidedly conservative. All our great schools are tory to the heart's core. The young English have been roused, awakened, startled at the peril which threatens the land of their fathers! The _penny king_ who has invaded us has produced on them the effect usual on all invasions; and rather than see him and his popish court succeed in conquering England, they would rush from their forms and their cloisters to repel him, shouting, "Alone we'll do it, BOYS!"--and they would do it, too, even if they had no fathers to help them.

But I have forgotten my Sunday holiday, while talking about the gayest and happiest of those it brings forth to decorate the town. Many a proud and happy mother may on these occasions be seen leaning on the arm of a son that she is very conscious looks like an emperor; and many a pretty creature, whom her familiarity, as well as her features, proclaims to be a sister, shows in her laughing eyes that the day which gives her smart young brother freedom is indeed a _jour de fete_ for her.

You will be weary of the Tuileries Gardens; but I cannot keep out of them, particularly when talking of a Paris Sunday, of whose prettiest groups they are the rendezvous: the whole day's history may be read in them. As soon as the gates are open, figures both male and female, in dishabille more convenient than elegant, may be seen walking across them in every direction towards the _sortie_ which leads towards the quay, and thence onwards to _Les Bains Vigier_. Next come the after-breakfast groups: and these are beautiful. Elegant young mothers in half-toilet accompany their _bonnes_, and the pretty creatures committed to their care, to watch for an hour the happy gambols which the presence of the "chere maman" renders seven times more gay than ordinary.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Drawn & Etched by A. Hervieu.

TUILERIES GARDENS, ON SUNDAY.

London, Published by Richard Bentley, 1835.]

I have watched such, repeatedly, with extreme amus.e.m.e.nt; often attempting to read, but never able to pursue the occupation for three-quarters of a minute together, till they at last abandon it altogether, and sit with the useless volume upon their knee, complacently answering all the baby questions that may be proposed to them, while watching with the smiling satisfaction of well-pleased maternity every att.i.tude, every movement, and every grimace of the darling miniatures in which they see themselves, and perhaps one dearer still.

From about ten till one o'clock the gardens swarm with children and their attendants: and pretty enough they are, and amusing too, with their fanciful dresses and their baby wilfulness. Then comes the hour of early dinners: the nurses and the children retreat; and were it possible that any hour of the day could find a public walk in Paris unoccupied, it would be this.

The next change shows the gradual influx of best bonnets,--pink, white, green, blue. Feathers float onwards, and fresh flowers are seen around: gay barouches rush down the Rues Castiglione and Rivoli; cabs swing round every corner, all to deposit their gay freight within the gardens. By degrees, double, treble rows of chairs are occupied on either side of every walk, while the whole s.p.a.ce between is one vast moving ma.s.s of pleasant idleness.

This lasts till five; and then, as the elegant crowd withdraws, another, less graceful perhaps, but more animated, takes its place.

Caps succeed to bonnets; and unchecked laughter, loud with youth and glee, replaces the whispered gallantry, the silent smile, and all the well-bred ways of giving and receiving thoughts with as little disturbance to the circ.u.mambient air as possible.

From this hour to nightfall the mult.i.tude goes on increasing; and did one not know that every theatre, every guinguette, every boulevard, every cafe in Paris were at the same time crammed almost to suffocation, one might be tempted to believe that the whole population had a.s.sembled there to recreate themselves before the windows of the king.

Among the higher ranks the Sunday evening at Paris is precisely the same as that of any other day. There are the same number of _soirees_ going on, and no more; the same number of dinner-parties, just as much card-playing, just as much dancing, just as much music, and just as much going to the opera; but the other theatres are generally left to the _endimanches_.

You must not, however, imagine that no religious exercises are attended to among the rich and n.o.ble because I have said nothing especially about them on this point. On the contrary, I have great reason to believe that it is not alone the attractive eloquence of the popular preachers which draws such mult.i.tudes of wealthy and high-born females into the fashionable churches of Paris; but that they go to pray as well as to listen. Nevertheless, as to the general state of religion amongst the educated cla.s.ses in Paris, it is quite as difficult to obtain information as it is to learn with anything like tolerable accuracy the average state of their politics. It is not that there is the least reserve or apparent hanging back when either subject is discussed; on the contrary, all seem kindly eager to answer every question, and impart to you all the information it is possible to wish for: but the variety of statements is inconceivable; and as I have repeatedly listened to very strong and positive a.s.sertions respecting the opinions of the majority, from those in whose sincerity I have perfect confidence, but which have been flatly contradicted by others equally deserving of credit, I am led to suppose that in effect the public mind is still wavering on both subjects. There is, in fact, but one point upon which I truly and entirely believe that an overwhelming majority exists,--and this is in the aversion felt for any farther trial of a republican form of government.

The party who advocate the cause of democracy do indeed make the most noise--it is ever their wont to do so. Neither the Chamber of Deputies nor the Chamber of Peers can a.s.semble nightly at a given spot to scream "Vive le Roi!" nor are the quiet citizens, who most earnestly wish to support the existing government, at all more likely to leave their busy shops for this purpose than the members of the two Chambers are to quit their _hotels_;--so that any attempt to judge the political feelings of the people by the outcries heard in the streets must of necessity lead to error. Yet it is of such judgments, both at home and abroad, that we hear the most.

As to the real private feelings on the subject of religion which exist among the educated portion of the people, it is still more difficult to form an opinion, for on this subject the strongest indications are often declared to prove nothing. If churches filled to overflowing be proof of national piety, then are the people pious: and farther than this, no looker-on such as myself should, I think, attempt to go.

LETTER x.x.x.

Madame Recamier.--Her Morning Parties.--Gerard's Picture of Corinne.--Miniature of Madame de Stael.--M. de Chateaubriand.--Conversation on the degree in which the French Language is understood by Foreigners.--The necessity of speaking French.

Of all the ladies with whom I have become acquainted in Paris, the one who appears to me to be the most perfect specimen of an elegant Frenchwoman is Madame Recamier,--the same Madame Recamier that, I will not say how many years ago, I remember to have seen in London, the admired of all eyes: and, wonderful to say, she is so still. Formerly I knew her only from seeing her in public, where she was pointed out to me as the most beautiful woman in Europe; but now that I have the pleasure of her acquaintance, I can well understand, though you who know her only by the reputation of her early beauty may not, how and why it is that fascinations generally so evanescent are with her so lasting. She is, in truth, the very model of all grace. In person, manner, movement, dress, voice, and language, she seems universally allowed to be quite perfect; and I really cannot imagine a better mode of giving a last finish to a young lady's study of the graces, than by affording her an opportunity of observing every movement and gesture of Madame Recamier.

She is certainly a monopolist of talents and attractions which would suffice, if divided in ordinary proportions, to furnish forth a host of charming women. I never met with a Frenchman who did not allow, that though his countrywomen were charming from _agremens_ which seem peculiarly their own, they have fewer faultless beauties among them than may be found in England; but yet, as they say, "Quand une Francaise se mele d'etre jolie, elle est furieus.e.m.e.nt jolie." This _mot_ is as true in point of fact as piquant in expression;--a beautiful Frenchwoman is, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in the world.

The perfect loveliness of Madame Recamier has made her "a thing to wonder at:" and now that she has pa.s.sed the age when beauty is at its height, she is perhaps to be wondered at still more; for I really doubt if she ever excited more admiration than she does at present.

She is followed, sought, looked at, listened to, and, moreover, beloved and esteemed, by a very large circle of the first society in Paris, among whom are numbered some of the most ill.u.s.trious literary names in France.

That her circle, as well as herself, is delightful, is so generally acknowledged, that by adding my voice to the universal judgment, I perhaps show as much vanity, as grat.i.tude for the privilege of being admitted within it: but no one, I believe, so favoured could, when speaking of the society of Paris, omit so striking a feature of it as the _salon_ of Madame Recamier. She contrives to make even the still-life around her partake of the charm for which she is herself so remarkable, and there is a fine and finished elegance in everything about her that is irresistibly attractive: I have often entered drawing-rooms almost capable of containing her whole suite of apartments, and found them infinitely less striking in their magnificence than her beautiful little _salon_ in the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

The rich draperies of white silk, the delicate blue tint that mixes with them throughout the apartment,--the mirrors, the flowers,--all together give an air to the room that makes it accord marvellously well with its fair inhabitant. One might fancy that Madame Recamier herself was for ever _vouee au blanc_, for no drapery falls around her that is not of snowy whiteness--and indeed the mixture of almost any colour would seem like profanation to the exquisite delicacy of her appearance.

Madame Recamier admits morning visits from a limited number of persons, whose names are given to the servant attending in the ante-room, every day from four till six. It was here I had the pleasure of being introduced to M. de Chateaubriand, and had afterwards the gratification of repeatedly meeting him; a gratification that I shall a.s.suredly never forget, and for which I would have willingly sacrificed one-half of the fine things which reward the trouble of a journey to Paris.

The circle thus received is never a large one, and the conversation is always general. The first day that I and my daughters were there, we found, I think, but two ladies, and about half a dozen gentlemen, of whom M. de Chateaubriand was one. A magnificent picture by Gerard, boldly and sublimely conceived, and executed in his very best manner, occupies one side of the elegant little _salon_. The subject is Corinne, in a moment of poetical excitement, a lyre in her hand, and a laurel crown upon her head. Were it not for the modern costume of those around her, the figure must be mistaken for that of Sappho: and never was that impa.s.sioned being, the martyred saint of youthful lovers, portrayed with more sublimity, more high poetic feeling, or more exquisite feminine grace.

The contemplation of this _chef-d'oeuvre_ naturally led the conversation to Madame de Stael. Her intimacy with Madame Recamier is as well known as the biting reply of the former to an unfortunate man, who having contrived to place himself between them, exclaimed,--"Me voila entre l'esprit et la beaute!"

To which bright sally he received for answer--"Sans posseder ni l'un ni l'autre."

My knowledge of this intimacy induced me to take advantage of the occasion, and I ventured to ask Madame Recamier if Madame de Stael had in truth intended to draw her own character in that of Corinne.

"a.s.suredly ..." was the reply. "The soul of Madame de Stael is fully developed in her portrait of that of Corinne." Then turning to the picture, she added, "Those eyes are the eyes of Madame de Stael."

She put a miniature into my hand, representing her friend in all the bloom of youth, at an age indeed when she could not have been known to Madame Recamier. The eyes had certainly the same dark beauty, the same inspired expression, as those given to Corinne by Gerard. But the artist had too much taste or too little courage to venture upon any farther resemblance; the thick lips and short fat chin of the real sibyl being changed into all that is loveliest in female beauty on the canva.s.s.

The apparent age of the face represented in the miniature points out its date with tolerable certainty; and it gives no very favourable idea of the taste of the period; for the shock head of crisped Brutus curls is placed on arms and bust as free from drapery, though better clothed in plumpness, than those of the Medicean Venus.

As we looked first at one picture, then at the other, and conversed on both, I was struck with the fine forehead and eyes, delightful voice, and peculiarly graceful turn of expression, of a gentleman who sat opposite to me, and who joined in this conversation.

I remarked to Madame Recamier that few romances had ever had the honour of being ill.u.s.trated by such a picture as this of Gerard, and that, from many circ.u.mstances, her pleasure in possessing it must be very great.

"It is indeed," she replied: "nor is it my only treasure of the kind--I am so fortunate as to possess Girodet's original drawing from Atala, the engraving from which you must often have seen. Let me show you the original."

We followed her to the dining-room, where this very interesting drawing is placed. "You do not know M. de Chateaubriand?" said she.