Glances at French Life under the Second Empire, Part I [pp. 177-180]

GLANCES AT FRE.N-CH LIFE UN-DER THE SECOND EMPIRE. [AUGUST 9,
ter of young foreigners, whose fresh faces
prevented anybody from mistaking them for
natives. A rattle of drums, reminding one unpleasantly of" Guard turn out," a flourish of
trumpets, and then the echoing sound of the
national air of France. The host and hostess
hurry to the entrance; the diplomatists fall
into line; the other guests are excited, and
thte guests of the evening enter. Prince Napoleona walks first, the empress, in blue, and
absolutely glittering with diamonds, leaning
on his arm. She bows, nods, and speaks to
friends on every side. The emperor, looking
very well, follows, leading the Princess Clothilde. They enter the ballroom, the band at
once starts the waltz in "Faust," and thirty
happy couples revolve before their majesties.
The waltz over, the imperial party changes its
ground, and sees the same performance by a
different company on another stage and with
changed decorations. The entertained crowd
round the party more, I think, than is absolutely permitted by good breeding. The
emperor seems pleased, the empress looks
charming, Princess Mathilde grand, and Princess Anna Murat "spirituelle." In the mean
time the imperial hosts go about and greet
their guests with more than a royal welcome.
A clock strikes-a trumpet sounds-and supper is ready.
Wandering in search of news, I strolled
to-day into the Grand Hotel. It was raining,
and we had what I may call a "full house"
in the court-yard. It was a droll sight to
watch the nationalities as they marched in to
dine at the vast table d'hote. For my own part,
I should prefer a dinner of herbs and a fight
therewith to any such great international
feeding. I truly believe that-except the
newly emancipated slaves, whose clothes are
not yet made, and other "darkies" who
never wear genteel garments, though they
usually are clad in black-every nation was
represented. The fez walked into dinner
bras dessus bras dessous with a Bond-Street
bonnet. The Hospodar in his own Eastern
land took in a lady from the county Cork.
Sir Patrick O'Geohegan escorted the Comtesse de Venti-Milioni, who has left Florence
on account of "recent political events," and
for other and purely financial reasons. Jones,
of Staleybridge, he took Mrs. J., he did, and
why not? Then came three dragoons-officers and gentlemen by birth, parentage, education, and profession, let alone the regiment,
which, if they are proper officers, is a "little
heaven below" to them. My swells-shall I
call them Clasher, Blazer, and Done?-came
to see what sort of mess these civilians have,
are rather astonished at the cost of the dinner and the unmilitary attention of the waiters, and finally go away to a restaurant, to
get "something to eat, don't you see." Then
followed genteel people, chiefly, I believe,
from Cheltenham; they have usually, I observe, with them a belle Mees Anglaise, who is
called "my ward," and attracts even unpleasant attention from the male natives; who behaves herself very prettily, and accepts whatever is thrust upon her by the hasty waiter
with little nods and beacks and wreathed
smiles. Anon advanced a sturdy group of
our countrymen, traveling together for pleas
ure, and determined to be pleased with nothing-a catholic condemnation which saves a
great deal of trouble, and admits of a perpetual fire of complaint. There were Americans, too, in great spirits; "Northerners, sir
-yes, sir, and widows of every nation. I
never saw such a place for widows as the
Grand HOtel of Paris, except the H6tel du
Louvre; you cannot swim out of those weeds.
"See that lady, sir-yes, sir-she is the widow of General X., one of our most successful
generals, only he was always whipped." Bythe-way, let not a rash Englishman use the
words beaten, whopped, thrashed, licked, or
defeated; they will not stand that. No, sir,
say they have been "whipped," and they accept the castigation in the very best spirit.
Yes, sir, it is difficult to come to terms with
the Northerners, as I dare say will be found
politically. But we are letting our dinner
grow cold. They have filed in, though, by
this time, those weird lodgers at the Grand
H6tel. Still, I say it is a strange sight to
stray into that court-yard and behold daily
the" races of man" run before you. Why,
I saw a Chinese, hideous, imbecile, and repulsive, going into the restaurant to order
his dinner d la carte! His market, naturally,
if he had been going to dine at home, would
have been the "dog-show."
Shops in Paris are fascinating things, and
trades in Paris are very droll. One half the
world of shopkeepers does not know how
the other half exists. Dolls-the life of dolls
-dolls from the cradle to the grave, at present occupy a considerable proportion of the
shops and shopkeepers of fashionable Paris,
When I want to know the latest fashion for
man, woman, or baby, the proper costume
and custom for the peculiar season, I consult
the windows of Mesdames Poup6e and Marionette on the Boulevard, and am put at once
on a level with existing society. Now that
the bathing-season is on, our dolls are got up
in sea-side costume. I saw a family, a doll
family, leaving for Trouville this day. The
lady was reclining lazily on the sofa, pointing with the hand of command to her femme
de chambre, who was packing an enormous
"malle "-for the size of the owner-of a
light-gray color, arched at the top, which, on
an emergency, would make a good shelter
for the night. In that traveling mausoleum
were being deposited miniature reproductions
of every article which ladies are believed to
wear. There were crinolines, robes de chambre, ball-dresses, bournous cloaks, cashmeres,
stockings of a lively plaid, boots with heels
like the top of Cleopatra's needle, and nearly
as high. Then there was a dressing-case with
every thing possible in it, and even a sponge
in a sponge-bag. Fancy all this for a doll!
But so it is. Children in Paris are now so
pampered, that their very dolls must live "in
a certain style, you know," and keep their
own doll-servants, else it would "look so
odd." Of course, dolls are now brought to
great perfection. I met one to-day which,
when wound up and properly dressed, could
talk, walk, and sit down, all by itself. I
should mention that dolls range high as to
price; for instance, nothing, I should say,
under the mortgage of a small estate, could I
purchase that walking, talking, sitting-down
image.
It is always pleasant, especially in extreme temperatures, when we are all more or
less irritable, to relate a bitter or disagreeable anecdote. Here is one. Horace Vernet,
having finished one of his acres of war, asked
Gros to come and see the picture, and give
his "true opinion." Gros came and looked
at the "charge of cavalry." "Why, your
charge will not do much harm; your horses
have only two legs each." Exit Gros, delighted, as everybody is after saying an unpleasant thing; but lame Justice came with
a rush one day, caught Gros on the post,
and beat him. He painted an allegorical
picture, and asked Vernet to look at it.
Vernet came. "What is it meant to represent?" "Weather," explained Gros; "what
do you think of it?" "D-d bad weather,"
replied Vernet, putting up his umbrella and
walking out of the room.
.. Do the plays represented on the
Paris stage hold the mirror up to Nature? I
confess I am inclined to think that they do,
and that the mirror is put at a fair angle and
reflects society as it is. What a society!
You in England are by no manner of means
too good. Old recollections, refreshed by
the whispers of little birds, reproduce scenes
in which society-that disreputable composite-appears "as bad as it can be to be
alive;" but England pales her ineffectual
fires when matched against the Boulevards.
"You can't handicap Paris and London as to
vice. London has been'pulling' for years
to get well in; but Paris can still give two
stone of iniquity." So said an old international sportsman-" slangily" if you will, but
pithily. Would London stand a play in
which, after all the other commandments are
ruptured, murder and suicide are welcomed
by willing hands, and the curtain falls over
the mac,doine of misery which must mean
eternal ill? But I am soaring too high. I
am writing of morality. To get on surer
ground, let us descend to decency. Do you
think that a "first character" getting out
of bed and proceeding to finish up those decorations which I presume we most of us do
every day-ift only because it would "look
so" if we did not-is exactly a performance
for the stage of a great theatre in a great
metropolis? We know a proverb about the
difficulty of removing certain impediments to
easy marching from Highlanders in their native costume. The difficulty is entirely solved
in the piece to which I have alluded; and
the "Murderer of Theodore" may claim the
great distinction of having introduced "undress rehearsals" with full performances.
But the immorality of the other theatres is
even more bare! What is the theatre of
Paris supposed to be? I have said beforethe faithful reflex of society. The faithful reflex! I really and truly believe it is so. The
subject, however, is one for grave contemplation.... Is vice art? Is art vice? Who
is to answer? The French press is as dumb
as a mute at a funeral; and when the play is
good, society, I believe, cares for nothing. Is
vice rampant? I fear it is; then again no
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