Chapter 12

"Yes, the piece was refused."

"Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the work was badlywritten.'"

"And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?"

"No; but she said that, at thepresentmoment, she had so many new parts, she could not possibly undertakeours."

"The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?"

"Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go in to dinner."

We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,—I was already acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis.

I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, tookup his gun and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by.

"Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!"

"Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then asked her.

"Oh, monsieur, you will see...."

And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo.

"You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished.

M. Arnault's family consisted of Lucien and Telleville, his two sons by a first marriage; of Louis and Gabrielle, his two children by a second marriage. M. Arnault's second wife was a young lady from Bonneuil. Let me say a few words about this excellent family. We will begin, like the Gospels, with the meek and mild members.

Gabrielle was a pretty child of fourteen or fifteen, with a dazzlingly white complexion; she was of no more account in the household as yet than a bud in a bouquet. Louis was about my own age, namely, twenty or twenty-one. He was a good-looking lad, fair, fresh-coloured, rosy-cheeked, a trifle spruce, ever laughing, on the most friendly terms with his sister, full of respect for his mother and admiration for his father. Telleville was a handsome captain; very brave, very loyal, very daring, a Bonapartist like the rest of the family, thrown into the midst of the artistic world, without ever having written a verse of poetry, but possessing a delightful wit, and being full of spirit and originality. Lucien, the author ofRégulus, and, later, ofPierre de Portugaland ofTibère,had too cold and calculating a mind to be really poetical; yet there was a certain boldness of style in his lines and a certain melancholy about his ideas, that appealed both to the imagination and to the heart. There is one of the truest and most charming lines I know, inPierrede Portugal, a line such as Racine wrote in his best days, universally known because it belongs to that school:—

"Les chagrins du départ sont pour celui qui reste."

The year before my arrival in Paris,Régulushad achieved enormous popularity. I will quote a few lines of it, to give some idea of the author, who appears to have given up literary work.

Regulus is about to leave Rome, to which he was devotedly attached, and he says to Licinius:—

"Je meurs pour la sauver, c'est mourir digne d'elle!Mais, toi, Licinius, parjure à l'amitié,Disciple de ma gloire, as-tu donc oubliéCes jours où j'opposais, dans les champs du carnage,Ma vieille expérience à ton jeune courage?Aimant un vrai soldat dans un vrai citoyen,Ne le souvient-il plus que, par un doux lien,Ma tendresse voulait vous unir l'un à l'autre?Le hasard a trahi mon espoir et le vôtre;Mais, des bords du tombeau, je puis enfin bénirLes nœuds qui pour jamais doivent vous réunir.Si tu l'aimes, viens, jure au dieu de la victoireDe servir, aujourd'hui, la patrie et la gloire;D'éclairer les Romains par toi seul égarés;De rétablir la paix dans ces remparts sacrés;Jure! dis-je. A l'instant, je te donne ma fille,Je te lègue mon nom, mon honneur, ma famille;Et les dieux ne m'auront opprimé qu'à demi,Si, dans un vrai Romain, je retrouve un ami!"

Lucien was about thirty or thirty-two at this period. Until the downfall of Napoleon his career had been administrative: he had been made auditor to the State Council and a prefect at twenty-five. In spite of much physical suffering which saddened his life, he was indeed one of the best-hearted and most benevolent persons I ever knew. For five years I saw Lucien two or three times a week; I do not think that, during the long period of intimacy, I ever heard him jibe at hisconfrères, or complain or whine; he was one of those gentle, melancholy and tranquil spirits one sees in dreams. I do not know whatbecame of him; after 1829 I lost sight of him completely. Twenty-two years of absence and of separation will certainly have driven me from his remembrance; those twenty-two years have engraved him the more deeply on mine.

M. Arnault was quite different. I never knew a more subtle, mordant, satirical nature than this brilliant person owned. In military parlance he would have been described as a damned good shot. Neither Bertrand nor Lozes ever returned a straight thrust more rapidly and more surely than did M. Arnault, on every occasion, by a word or an epigram or a flash of wit. He was but an indifferent dramatic author, but he excelled in fables and satire. Once, in a fit of despondency, he let fall what was probably the only tear he shed, like that of Aramis upon the death of Porthos: he dipped his pen in the salt drops, and wrote the following lines—a gem that André Chénier, or Millevoye, Lamartine or Victor Hugo might have wished to write:—

LA FEUILLE"De ta tige détachée,Pauvre feuille desséchée,Où vas-tu?—Je n'en sais rien.L'orage a brisé le chêneQui seul était mon soutien;De son inconstante haleineLe zéphir ou l'aquilon,Depuis ce jour me promèneDe la forêt à la plaine,De la montagne au vallon.Je vais où le vent me mèneSans me plaindre ou m'effrayer;Je vais où va toute chose,Où vont la feuille de roseEt la feuille de laurier!"

I do not know what the famous poets of my day would have given to have written those fifteen lines; I know I would have given any of my plays the fates might have chosen. M. Arnault's great ambition was, unluckily, to write for the stage. He hadbegun byMarius à Minturnes, at the time when he was with Monsieur. The tragedy was produced in 1790, and in spite of the prediction of the Comte de Provence, who had asserted that a tragedy without a woman must be a failure, it was a great success. Saint-Phal played young Marius, Vanhove Marius, and Saint-Prix le Cimbre. That was the happy period when men of the talent of Saint-Prix accepted parts in which they came on only in one scene, and in that single scene uttered a few lines,e.g.:—

"Quelle voix, quel regard, et quel aspect terrible!Quel bras oppose au mien un obstacle invincible?...L'effroi s'est emparè de mes sens éperdus ...Je ne pourrais jamais égorger Marius!"

The play was dedicated to Monsieur. I have heard M. Arnault relate, in his extremely fascinating way, that success made him very vain, very peremptory and very scornful. One day, in 1792, he was in the balcony of the Théâtre-Français, talking loudly, in his customary fashion, making a great noise with his cane and hindering people from hearing; this went on from the raising of the curtain till the end of the first act, when a gentleman, who was behind M. Arnault and only separated from him by one row, bent forward, and touching his shoulder with the tips of his gloved hand, said, "Monsieur Arnault, pray allow us to listen, even though they are playingMarius à Minturnes."

This polite and, I might even add, witty gentleman was Danton. A month later, this same polite and witty gentleman had instituted the September massacres. M. Arnault was so alarmed by these massacres that he fled on foot. On reaching the barricade, he found it guarded by a sans-culotte in name and in reality; this sans-culotte was engaged in preventing a poor woman from passing, under the pretext that her passport for Bercy had not beenvisedat the section des Enfants-Trouvés. Now, while he noted the persistence of this honourable sentinel, an idea occurred to M. Arnault—that this terrible Cerberus could not read. Joking is a bad disease, of whichone is rarely cured. M. Arnault, who suffered much from this malady, boldly walked up to the sans-culotte and presented his passport upside down to the man, saying—

"Visédat the Enfants-Trouvés: there is the stamp."

M. Arnault guessed rightly.

"Pass," said the sans-culotte.

And M. Arnault passed.

In the interval that had elapsed betweenMariusand the 3rd of September, the date at which we have arrived, M. Arnault had produced his tragedy ofLucrèce.The play falling flat, the author laid its want of success at Mademoiselle Raucourt's door.... It is known that this famous actress's aversion to men was not entirely imputed to virtuous causes. However that may be, later, we shall have to speak of Mademoiselle Raucourt in connection with her pupil, Mademoiselle Georges.

M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very amusing manner, in his memoirs entitledSouvenirs d'un sexagénaire, the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an Ossianic tragedy, calledOscar, which was very successful, and which he dedicated to Bonaparte; thenles Vénitiens,the catastrophe of which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of Ducis'sOthello, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, according to the choice of the spectators.Les Vénitienswas a tremendous success.

While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, theRoi d'Yvetot.Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed nearly all his fables, a charming collection butlittle known, as very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams.

LE COLIMAÇON"Sans amis comme sans famille,Ici-bas, vivre en étranger;Se retirer dans sa coquille,Au signal du moindre danger;S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes,De soi seul emplir sa maison;En sortir, selon la saison,Pour faire à son prochain les cornesSignaler ses pas destructeursPar les traces les plus impures;Outrager les plus belles fleursPar ses baisers ou ses morsures;Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison,Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste;C'est l'histoire de l'égoisteOu celle du colimaçon."LE DROIT DE CHACUN"Un jour, le roi des animauxDéfendit, par une ordonnance,A ses sujets, à ses vassaux,De courir sans une licenceSur quelque bête que ce soit;Promettant, il est vrai, de conserver le droitA quiconque en usait pour motif honnête.Tigres, loups et renards, de présenter requêteA Sa Majesté: loups, pour courir le mouton,Renards, pour courir le chapon,Tigres, pour courir toute bête.Parmi les députés, qui criaient à tue-tête,Un chien s'égosillait à force d'aboyer.'Plaise à Sa Majesté, disait-il, m'octroyerDroit de donner la chasse, en toute circonstance,A tous les animaux vivant de ma substance.—Gentilshommes, à vous permis de giboyer,Dit, s'adressant au tigre, au loup, au renard mêmeDes forêts le maître suprêmeAux chasseurs tels que vous permis de déployer,Même chez leurs voisins, leurs efforts, leurs astuces;Mais néant au placet du chien!'Que réclamait, pourtant, ce roturier-ta?—Rien,Que le droit de tuer ses puces."LES DEUX BAMBOUS"L'an passé—c'était l'an quarante,—L'an passé, le Grand Turc disait au grand vizir:'Quand, pour régner sous moi, je daignai te choisir,Roustan, je te croyais d'humeur bien différente.Roustan met son plus grand plaisir.A me contrarier; quelque ordre que je donne,Au lieu d'obéir, il raisonne;Toujours dessi,toujours desmais;Il défend ce que je permets:Ce que je défends, il l'ordonne.A rien ne tient qu'ici je ne te fasse voirA quel point je suis las de ces façons de faire!Va-t'en! Qu'on fasse entrer mon grand eunuque noirC'est celui-là qui connaît son affaire,C'est lui qui, toujours complaisant,Sans jamais m'étourdir de droit ni de justice,N'ayant de loi que mon caprice,Sait me servir en m'amusant.Jamais ce ton grondeur, jamais cet air sinistre!Ainsi que tout désir, m'épargnant tout travail,Il conduirait l'empire aussi bien qu'un sérail.J'en veux faire un premier ministre.—En fait de politique et de gouvernement,Sultan, dit le vizir, chacun a son système:Te plaire est le meilleur; le mien, conséquemment,Est mauvais.... Toutefois, ne pourrais-je humblement,Te soumettre un petit problème?—Parle.—Ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui.Que péniblement je me traîne,Vieux et cassé, sultan, dans ma marche incertaine,Ma faiblesse a besoin d'appui.Or, j'ai deux roseaux de la Chine:Plus ferme qu'un bâton, l'un ne sait pas plier,L'autre, élégant, léger, droit comme un peuplier,Est plus souple qu'une badine.Lequel choisir?—Lequel?... Roustan, je ne crois pasQu'un flexible bambou puisse assurer nos pas.—Tu le crois! lorsque tu m'arrachesTon sceptre affermi par mes mains,Pour le livrer à des faquinsSans caractere et sans moustaches.'Rois, vos ministres sont, pour vous,Ce qu'est, pour nous, le jonc dont l'appui nous assiste,Je le dis des vizirs ainsi que des bambous,On ne peut s'appuyer que sur ce qui résiste."

If you read, one after the other, M. Arnault's one hundred and fifty fables, you will find throughout, the same ease, the same touch, the same carping spirit. When you have read them, you will certainly not say of the author, "He is a delightful person," but you will assuredly say, "He is an honest man."

In 1815 M. Arnault was exiled. Why? For so slight a reason that no one bothered even to think of it; his name was on the list, and that was all! But who signed that list? Louis XVIII., formerly Monsieur—that is to say, the very same Comte de Provence under whose protection the poet had begun his career, and to whom he had dedicated hisMarius.

Now, although there was no reason for M. Arnault's exile, party spirit invented one and said that he was proscribed as a regicide. There were, however, two sufficient reasons why this could not be: first, because M. Arnault did not belong to the Convention; secondly, because in 1792 and 1793 he was abroad. Nevertheless, the rumour was tacitly accepted, and soon nobody doubted that M. Arnault was exiled on that ground.

M. Arnault sentGermanicusfrom Brussels: it was played on the 22nd of March 1817, and forbidden the following day. During the representation the tragedy shifted from the stage to the pit, where a terrible fight took place, in which several people were hurt and one even killed. The battle was wagedbetween the Life Guards and the partisans of the late Government. The weapon that was generally made use of in this skirmish was that kind of bamboo upon which Roustan, the Grand Turk's first vizir, whose grievances we have just heard, was wont to lean. One can understand that the thicker and less pliable they were, the better they served for defence and for attack. From the date of that fray these canes were dubbed "Germanicus"Angry feelings waxed strong at this period. The day but one after the representation, Martainville published a scurrilous article attacking M. Arnault's private honour. This article, which was the result of a blow given the critic by Telleville, led to a duel in which, as we said above, the journalist had his thigh bruised by a bullet.

Germanicuswas revived later. We were present at the revival; but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature—a bitterness which cropped out on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than before he had inherited that sum.

M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait had been exhibited in the last Salon.

Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's wit, but also his very nature:—

VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR"Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix;Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes,En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois,J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes."POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN"Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde,Je suis votre humble serviteur;Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœurNe s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde."SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON[1]"Il est altéré de vin;Il est altéré de gloire;Il ne prend jamais en vainSa pinte ou son écritoire.Des flots qu'il en fait couler,Abreuvant plus d'un délire.Il écrit pour se soûler,Il se soûle pour écrire."POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN"Je n'attaque jamais en traître,Je caresse sans intérêt,Je mords parfois, mais à regret:Bon chien se forme sur son maître."POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME"Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain,En triompher est peu possible:L'épée en main il est terrible,Terrible il est la plume en main;Et pour se battre et pour écrire,Nul ne saurait lui ressembler;Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire,Il écrit à faire trembler."

No matter what were his troubles, M. Arnault had always worshipped dogs. Out of fifty of his fables, more than twenty have these interesting quadrupeds for their heroes. When I was honoured by an introduction into the private life of his family, the gate was guarded by a horrible beast, half pug, half poodle, called Ramponneau. M. Arnault never stirred without this dog:he had him in his study while he worked, in his garden when he took his walks there. Only the king's highway was denied him by M. Arnault, for fear of poisoned meat. M. Arnault himself superintended his dog's education, and on one point he was inexorable. Ramponneau would persist in committing ill manners in his study. Directly the sight and the odour revealed the crime committed, Ramponneau was seized by his flanks and the skin of his neck, conducted to the spot where the indiscretion had been committed and soundly thrashed. After this, Ramponneau's nose was rubbed in the subject-matter of his crime, according to an old custom, the origin of which is lost in the deeps of time—an operation to which he submitted with visible repugnance. These daily faults and the ensuing chastenings went on for nearly two months, and M. Arnault began to fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this point, although he learnt a crowd of pleasing tricks, such as feigning death, standing to attention, smoking a pipe, leaping to honour the Emperor. I ask pardon for the word "uneducatible." I could not find the word I wanted, so I made one up. M. Arnault, I repeat, began to fear that Ramponneau was uneducatible on this one point, when, one day, Ramponneau, who had just committed his usual crime, seeing his master was far too much absorbed in his tragedy ofGuillaume de Nassauto perceive what had just happened, went and pulled at the hem of his dressing-gown. M. Arnault turned round: Ramponneau jumped up two or three times to attract his attention; then, when he was quite sure he had arrested it, he went straight to the spot which we have termed the subject-matter of his crime, and rubbed his nose in, purely of his own accord, without any compulsion, certainly with evident repugnance, but with touching resignation. The poor beast was deceived. He had thought that the whippings and punishment which followed the crime had had no other end than to teach him to rub his nose in the object in question of his own accord. Ramponneau's education was completely at fault, and he kept this defect all his life, the muzzle he was provided with making very little difference to his habit.

I have already referred to M. Arnault's remarkable gift ofswift and witty repartee. I will give two instances of it now, and others in their due place and season later, as we come across them.

One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. Arnault, who was not a patient man.

"You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?"

"What did you say,—blackguard?" exclaimed the young man.

"Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault.

"Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my address!"

"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to."

Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round.

"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not salute me."[2]

"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the Gospel:Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."[3]

I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the reader shall judge when the time comes.

[1]The Abbé Geoffrey.

[1]The Abbé Geoffrey.

[2]Et qui ne me salue pas.

[2]Et qui ne me salue pas.

[3]Hors de l'Église, pas de salut!

[3]Hors de l'Église, pas de salut!

Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses of the various plays, sung as prologues and epilogues—Transformation of the vaudeville—The Gymnase and M. Scribe—TheFolle de Waterloo

Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent—Choruses of the various plays, sung as prologues and epilogues—Transformation of the vaudeville—The Gymnase and M. Scribe—TheFolle de Waterloo

Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration as a refusal.

I shall often return to, and speak much of Soulié: he was one of the most powerful literary influences of the day, and his personality was one of the most marked I have known. He died young. He died, not only in the full tide of his talent, but even before he had produced the perfect and finished work he would certainly have created, some day or other, had not death hastened its footsteps. Soulié's brain was a little confused and obscure; his thoughts were only lighted up on one side, after the fashion of this planet; the reverse side to the one illuminated by the sun was pitifully dark. Soulié did not know how to begin either a novel or a drama. The opening explanation of his work was done hap-hazard: sometimes in the first act, sometimes in the last, if it were a play; if it were a novel, sometimes in the first, sometimes in the last volume. His introduction, timidly begun, nearly always was laboriously unravelled. It seemed as though, like those night birds which need the darkness to develop all their faculties, Soulié was not at ease save in twilight.

I was for ever quarrelling with him on this point. As he was gifted with unrivalled imagination and power, when he was on the warpath, I used to beseech him continually to let inthe utmost possible daylight at the beginning of his action. "Be clear to the verge of transparency," I continually said to him. "God's greatness consists in His making of light; without light, we should not have known how to appreciate the sublime grandeur of creation."

Soulié was twenty-six when I first knew him. He was a lusty young man, of medium height, but capitally proportioned; he had a prominent forehead; dark hair, eyebrows and beard; a well-shaped nose and full eyes; thick lips and white teeth. He laughed readily, although it was never a fresh young laugh. It sounded ironical and strident, which gave it the quality of age. Being naturally of a bantering disposition, irony was a weapon he could wield admirably.

He had tried his hand at most things, and he retained some slight knowledge of everything he had done. After having received an excellent education in the provinces, I believe he studied law at Rheims, to which we owe the admirable description of student's life in his book entitledConfession générale.He passed his legal examinations and was called to the Bar; but he did not take kindly to the profession. Rather than follow that very liberal avocation, he preferred a mercantile calling. This aversion led to his developing the notion of a big steam sawmill in 1824 or 1825.

In the meantime, Soulié (who then signed himself Soulié de Lavelanet) lived upon a small allowance his father made him a hundred louis, as far as I am able to remember. He lived in the rue de Provence, on the first floor, in a bewitching room that seemed a palace to us. There was, above all else, a most unwonted luxury in this room, a piano on which Soulié could play two or three tunes. He was both very radical and very aristocratic, two qualities which often went together at that period: see, for example, Carrel, whom we have already seen in the Béfort affair, and who will reappear on the scene presently, after the amnesty to be accorded by Charles X. on his accession to the throne.

Soulié was brave, without being quarrelsome; but he had the sensitiveness both of the student and of the Southerner. He was passably skilful as a swordsman and a first-rate shot.

Soulié at first thought me a worthless lad, of no importance; and it was quite natural he should. He was astonished and almost overwhelmed by my early successes. By that time I knew Soulié as he was; jealous almost to envy, but, by reason of the strong kindliness of his good and upright heart, able to keep all the evil tendencies of his character under control. A constant struggle was waged within him between good and bad principles, and yet not once perhaps did the evil principle get the better of him. He very often tried to hate me, but never managed to succeed: very often, when he set out to run me down in conversation, he would end by praising me. And, as a matter of fact, I was the man who hampered his career more than any other: in the theatre, in the newspapers, in the matter of books, I was everywhere in his path, doing him involuntary but actual damage everywhere; and, in spite of this, I was so certain of Soulié, and so sure of his supreme justice and goodness of heart, that, if I had needed any act of service, I should have gone to Soulié to ask it of him, rather than of any other—and he would have rendered me this service, more readily than any other person would.

At first Soulié turned his attention towards poetry. It was in the domain of poetry, I believe, that he looked to make his conquests. His first stage-play was an imitation of Shakespeare'sRomeo and Juliet.I never experienced greater emotion than that which I felt at the first representation of this play.

We were often months or a year without seeing each other; but when fate turned us face to face, no matter how far off we might be, we each walked straight to the other's heart and open arms. Perhaps, before catching sight of me, Soulié had not particularly cared to meet me; perhaps, had someone told him, "Dumas is over there," he would have made a detour; but, directly he caught sight of me, the electric current dominated his will and he was mine, body and soul, as though never a single jealous thought had crossed his mind. It was different with regard to Hugo or Lamartine: he did not like them, and he rarely spoke impartially of their talent. I feel convinced that it was Hugo'sOdes et BalladesandLamartine'sMéditationswhich led Frédéric Soulié to write in prose. Rest in peace, friend of my youth, companion of my first serious efforts, I will depict thee as thou wert; I will design a statue of thee, not a bust; I will isolate thee; I will place thee on the pedestal of thy works, so that all those who never knew thee may take the measure of thy impressive figure; for thou art one of those who can be studied from all aspects, and who, living or dead, have no need to be afraid of being placed in a full light.

At the time of which I am writing, Soulié was linked in literary friendship with Jules Lefèvre and Latouche,—Latouche, with whom he quarrelled so fiercely later overChristine.In private life, his chief friend was a tall, stout fellow called David, who was at that time, and may still be, a stockbroker. I do not know whether Soulié was his only friend; but I believe that on the Exchange he made not a few enemies.

When we went to see Soulié, he was entertaining a dozen of his friends to tea, cake and sandwiches. Such luxuries quite dazzled me. Soulié was conscious of his own powers, and this rendered him extremely scornful towards second-rate literature. In his efforts to poach upon other writers' preserves, until the time came when he could do better than they, he treated certain contemporary celebrities, whose positions I envied greatly, with lofty off-handedness. He proposed, he said, to publish an Almanac for the coming year, 1824, entitled theParfait Vaudevilliste, which should consist of ready-made verses from old soldiers and young colonels. Among these verses from old soldiers were some of the first order, and the following may be taken as a model: it is one which Gontier sang inMichel et Christine, and for which he was enthusiastically applauded nightly:—

"Sans murmurer,Votre douleur amère,Frapp'rait mes yeux, plutôt tout endurer!Moi, j'y suis fait, c'est mon sort ordinaire;Un vieux soldat sait souffrir et se taire,Sans murmurer!"

There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current events, and these found a fitting place in theParfait Vaudevilliste.Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the names of their begetters.

These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from theBarbier châtelain, by Théaulon: to every man his due.

"Bonne nuit!Bonne nuit!Ça soulage,En voyage.Bonne nuit!Bonne nuit!Retirons-nous sans bruit."

This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, of Brazier and Courcy, in theParisien à Londres,was also not devoid of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a lively curiosity among the audience.

So the audience sang:—

"Nous allons voir jugerCet étranger,Qui fut bien léger!...A l'audience,On défend l'innocence,Et l'on sait la venger."

The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:—

"Nousavons vujugerCet étranger,Qui fut bien léger!...A l'audience,On défend l'innocence,Et l'on sait la venger."

But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers.

They sang this:—

"Quel repasPlein d'appas,Où, gai convive,L'Amour arrive!...Quel repasPlein d'appas!On n'en fait pasDe pareils ici-bas!"

In spite of the holy laws of propriety, more respected, one knows, among dramatic authors than in any other class of society, Adolphe one day allowed himself the liberty of using this couplet and had the audacity to put it in one of his plays, without troubling to change it one single iota. There is quite a long story about this: Adolphe, threatened with a lawsuit by Dumanoir, was only able to settle matters byoffering a chorus for dancers in exchange for the drinking chorus.

This is de Leuven's chorus: it will be seen that if Dumanoir did not gain much through this, he did not lose much by it:—

"A la danse,A la danse,Allons, amis, que l'on séance!Entendez-vous du balLes gais accords, le doux signal?..."

Dumanoir faithfully adhered to the agreement, but only used the chorus once; then he returned it to Adolphe, who, on regaining possession, continued to use his chorus, to the great satisfaction of the audience.

All these choruses, however, pale before that ofJean de Calais. This was by Émile Vanderburch, one of the authors of theGamin de Paris, and it concluded the play. It runs thus:—

"Chantons les hauts faitsDe Jean de Calais!On dira, dans l'histoire,Qu'il a méritéSa gloireEt sa félicité!..."

Indeed, a great revolution was taking place at this time in comic opera; and this revolution was brought about by a man who has since proscribed others as revolutionists. We refer to Scribe, who, in the literary revolution of 1820 to 1828, played pretty nearly the rôle the Girondists played in the political revolution of 1792 and 1793.

Before Scribe, comic operas (with the exception of the delightful sketches of Désaugiers) were hardly more than bare skeletons, left for the actors to clothe as they liked. Nowadays the great thing is to create rôles for M. Arnal, M. Bouffé, or Mademoiselle Rose Chéri, but at that time no one thought of creating a rôle for M. Potier, M. Brunet or M. Perrin. M. Perrin, M. Brunet or M. Potier found their rôles outlined for them at the first rehearsal, and made them what they were at the first representation.

Scribe was the first author to make plays instead of outline sketches. Plots developed in his clever hands, and so, in three or four years, the Théâtre du Gymnase attained its full growth. It was not modelled on any other company, but created what might well be called M. Scribe's company: it was composed almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, old soldiers and faithful servants. Never had such widows been seen, never such colonels; never had old soldiers spoken thus; never had such devoted servants been met with. But the company of the Gymnase, as M. Scribe created it, became the fashion, and the direct patronage of Madame la Duchesse de Berry contributed not a little towards the fortune made by the manager, and to the author's reputation. The form of verse itself was changed. The old airs of our fathers, who had been satisfied with the gay repetition oflon, lon, la, larira dondaine,and thegai, gai, larira dondé,were abandoned for the more artificially mannered comic opera, pointed epigrams and long-drawn-out, elegantly turned verses. When the situation became touching, eight or ten lines would express the feelings of the character, borrowing charm from the music, and sighing declarations of love, for which prose had ceased to suffice. In short, a charming little bastard sprang into being, of which, to use a village expression, M. Scribe was both father and godfather, and which was neither the old vaudeville, nor comic opera, nor comedy.

The models of the new style were theSomnambule, Michel et Christine, theHéritière, theMariage de raison, PhilippeandMarraine.Later, some vaudevilles went a degree farther; for example, theChevalier de Saint-Georges, un Duel sous Richelieu,theVie de bohème.These bordered on comedy, and could at a pinch be played without lines. Other changes will be pointed out, so far as they affected the arts. Let us briefly state here that we had entered into the age of transition. In 1818, Scribe began by the vaudeville; from 1818 to 1820 Hugo and Lamartine appeared in the literary world, the former with hisOdes et Ballades, the latter with hisMéditations,the first attempts of the new poetry; from 1820 to 1824 Nodier published novels of a kind which introduced a fresh type—namely, the picturesque; from 1824 to 1828 it was the turn of painting to attempt fresh styles; finally, from 1828 to 1835, the revolution spread to the dramatic world, and followed almost immediately on the footsteps of the historical and imaginative novel. Thus the nineteenth century, freed from parental restraint, assumed its true colour and originality. Of course it will be understood that, as I was so closely associated with all the great artists and all the great sculptors of the time, each of them will come into these Memoirs in turn; they will constitute a gigantic gallery wherein every illustrious name shall have its living monument.

Let us return to Soulié. We had reached the date when his first piece of poetry had the honour of print: it was called theFolk de Waterloo, and had been written at the request of Vatout, for the work he produced on the Gallery of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that Soulié read it to us. Here it is: we give it in order to indicate the point of departure of all our great poets. When we take note of the end to which they have attained, we can measure the distance traversed. Probably some contemporary grumblers will tell us it matters very little where they started or where they ended: to such we would reply that we are not merely writing for the year 1851 or the year 1852, but for the sacred future which seizes chisel, brush, and pen as they drop from the hands of the illustrious dead.

LA FOLLE DE WATERLOO"Un jour, livrant mon âme à la mélancolie,J'avais porté mes pas errantsDans ces prisons où la folieEst offerte en spectacle aux yeux indifférents.C'était à l'heure qui dégageQuelques infortunés des fers et des verrous;Et mon cœur s'étonnait d'écouter leur langage,Où se mêlaient les pleurs, le rire et le courroux.Tandis que leur gardien les menace ou les raille,Une femme paraît pâle et le front penché;Sa main tient l'ornement qui, les jours de bataille.Brille au cou des guerriers sur l'épaule attaché,Et de ses blonds cheveux s'échappe un brin de pailleA sa couche arracheEn voyant sa jeunesse et le morne délire,Qui doit, par la prison, la conduire au tombeau,Je me sends pleurer.... Elle se prit à rire,Et cria lentement:'Waterloo! Waterloo!''Quel malheur t'a donc fait ce malheur de la France?'Lui dis-je.... Et son regard craintifOu, sans voir la raison, je revis l'espérance,S'unit pour m'appeler à son geste furtif.'Français, parle plus has, dit-elle. Oh! tu m'alarmes!Peut-être ces Anglais vont étouffer ta voix;Car c'est à Waterloo que, la première fois,Adolphe m'écouta sans répondre à mes larmes.'Lorsque, dans ton pays, la guerre s'allumait,Il me quitta pour elle, en disant qu'il m'aimait;C'est là le seul adieu dont mon cœur se souvienne ...La gloire l'appelait, il a suivi sa loi;Et, comme son amour n'était pas tout pour moi,Il servit sa patrie, et j'oubliai la mienne!'Et, quand je voulus le chercher,Pour le voir, dans le sang il me fallut marcher;J'entendais de longs cris de douleur et d'alarmes;La lune se leva sur ce morne tableau;J'aperçus sur le sol des guerriers et des armes,Et des Anglais criaient: "Waterloo! Waterloo!"'Et moi, fille de l'Angleterre,Indifférente aux miens qui dormaient sur la terre,J'appelais un Français, et pleurais sans remords ...Tout à coup, une voix mourante et solitaireS'éleva de ce champ des morts:"Adolphe?" me dit-on. "Des héros de la gardeIl était le plus brave et marchait avec nous;Nous combattions ici.... Va, baisse-toi, regarde,Tu l'y retrouveras, car nous y sommes tous!"'Je tremblais de le voir et je le vis lui-même....Dis-moi quel est ce mal qu'on ne peut exprimer?Ses yeux, sous mes baisers, n'ont pu se ranimer....Oh! comme j'ai souffert à cette heure suprême;Car il semblait ne plus m'aimer!Et puis ... je ne sais plus!... Connaît-il ma demeure?Jadis, quand il venait, il venait tous les jours!Et sa mère, en pleurant, accusait nos amours....Hélas! il ne vient plus, et pourtant elle pleure!La folle vers la porte adresse alors ses pas,Attache à ses verrous un regard immobile,M'appelle à ses côtés, et, d'une voix débile:'Pauvre Adolphe, dit-elle, en soupirant tout bas;Comme il souffre!... il m'attend, puisqu'il ne revient pas!'Elle dit, dans les airs la cloche balancéeApprit à la douleur que l'heure était passéeD'espérer que ses maux, un jour, pourraient finir.La folle se cachait; mais, dans le sombre asileOù, jeune, elle portait un si long avenir,A la voix des gardiens d'où la pitié s'exile,Seule, il lui fallut revenir.'Adieu! je ne crains pas qu'un Français me refuse,Dit-elle, en me tendant la main;Si tu le vois, là-bas, qui vient sur le chemin;D'un aussi long retard si son amour s'accuse,Dis-lui que je le plains, dis-lui que je l'excuse,Dis-lui que je l'attends demain!'"

The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to gain rank—Her history—The statement of the Duc d'Orléans—Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of birth

The Duc d'Orléans—My first interview with him—Maria-Stella-Chiappini—Her attempts to gain rank—Her history—The statement of the Duc d'Orléans—Judgment of the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza—Rectification of Maria-Stella's certificate of birth

I had been installed nearly a month at the office, to the great satisfaction of Oudard and of M. de Broval (who, thanks to my beautiful handwriting, thought that M. Deviolaine had been too hard on me), when the former sent word by Raulot that he wanted me in his office. I hastened to respond to the invitation. Oudard looked very solemn. "My dear Dumas," he said, "M. le Duc d'Orléans has just asked me for someone to copy quickly and neatly a piece of work he has prepared for his counsel. Although there is nothing secret about it, you must understand that it will not do to have the papers left about in the office while being copied. I thought of you, because you write rapidly and correctly: it will be the means of bringing you before the duke. I am going to take you into his room."

I must confess I felt greatly excited on learning that I was about to find myself face to face with a man whose influence might be of much importance in the shaping of my destiny.

Oudard noticed the effect this news produced on me, and tried to reassure me by telling me of the perfect kindness of the duke. This did not at all prevent me from feeling very nervous as I approached His Royal Highness's room. I had a moment's respite, for His Royal Highness was at breakfast; but I soon heard a step that I guessed was his, and fear seized me once more. The door opened, and the Duc d'Orléans appeared. Ihad seen him already, once or twice, at Villers-Cotterets, when he came to the sale of the woods. I believe I said that he stayed then with M. Collard, from whom he was the recipient of the most lavish hospitality imaginable, although, so far as he himself was concerned, the Duc d'Orléans always tried to restrain hospitality offered him within the limits of a simple family visit.

M. le Duc d'Orléans had, as a matter of fact, the good feeling to recognise almost publicly his illegitimate relations: he had his two natural uncles—the two abbés Saint-Phar and Saint-Albin—living with him at the Palais-Royal, and he did not make any distinction between them and the other members of his family.

The prince would be fifty years old the following October: he was still a very good-looking man, though his figure was marred by his stoutness, which had increased during the past ten years; his face was frank, his eyes bright and intelligent, without depth or steadfastness; he was fluently affable, but nevertheless his words never lost their aristocratic savour unless his sole interest were to conciliate a vain citizen; he had a pleasant voice, which in his good-humoured moments was usually kind in tone; and, when he was in the mood, he could be heard, even a long way off, singing the mass in a voice almost as out of tune as that of Louis XV. I have since heard him sing theMarseillaiseas falsely as he sang the mass. To make a long story short, I was presented to him: not much ceremony was observed in my case.

"Monseigneur, this is M. Dumas, of whom I have spoken to you, the protégé of General Foy."

"Oh, good!" replied the duke. "I was delighted to do something to please General Foy, who recommended you very warmly to me, monsieur. You are the son of a brave man, whom Bonaparte is said to have left almost to die of starvation."

I bowed in token of affirmation.

"You write a very good hand, you make and seal envelopes excellently; work, and M. Oudard will look after you."

"In the meantime," Oudard interposed, "Monseigneur wishes to entrust you with an important piece of work: His Highness desires it to be done promptly and correctly."

"I will not leave it until it is finished," I replied, "and I will do my utmost to be as accurate as His Highness requires."

The duke made a sign to Oudard, as much as to say, "Not bad for a country lad."

Then, going before me, he said—

"Come into this room and sit down at that table."

And with these words he pointed out a desk to me.

"Here you will be undisturbed."

He then opened a bundle in which about fifty pages were arranged in order, covered on both sides with his big handwriting and numbered at the front of each page.

"See," he said, "copy from here to there: if you finish before I come back, you must wait for me; I have several corrections to make in certain passages, and I will make them as I dictate them to you."

I sat down and set to work at my task. The work with which I was entrusted was concerned with an event which had recently made a great stir, and which could not fail to take up the attention of Paris. This was the claim made by Maria-Stella-Petronilla Chiappini, Baroness of Sternberg, to the rank and fortune of the Duc d'Orléans, which she contended belonged to her.

Here is the fable upon which her pretension was founded. We give it from Maria-Stella's point of view, without, be it well understood, believing for a single instant in the justice of her claim.

Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans, who was married in 1768, had, to the beginning of January 1772, only presented her husband, Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orléans, with a still-born daughter. The absence of male issue troubled the Duc d'Orléans greatly, as his fortune, derived chiefly from portions granted him as a younger son, would, in default of male issue, revert to the Crown. It was with this in his mind and in the hope that travel might perhaps lead to the Duchesse d'Orléans being again pregnant, that Louis-Philippe and his wife set out for Italy, in the early part of the year 1772, under the name of the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville.

I repeat for the last time, that throughout this narrative it is not I who am speaking, but the claimant, Maria-Stella-Petronilla.

Well, the august travellers had scarcely reached the top of the Apennines before symptoms of a fresh pregnancy declared themselves, which caused the Duchesse d'Orléans to stay at Modigliana.

In the village of Modigliana there was a prison, and a gaoler to watch over the prison. The gaoler was called Chiappini. M. le Duc d'Orléans, faithful to his traditions of familiarity with the people, became on still more easy terms with the gaoler as the intimacy took place under cover of his incognito. There was, besides, a reason for the intimacy. Chiappini's wife was expecting her confinement just at the same time as Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans. A treaty was accordingly entered into between the illustrious travellers and the humble gaoler, to the effect that should Madame la Comtesse de Joinville by chance give birth to a girl, and the wife of Chiappini to a boy, the two mothers should exchange their two children.

Fate ordained matters as the parents had foreseen: the gaoler's wife gave birth to a boy, the prince's wife gave birth to a girl; and the agreed exchange was made, the prince handing over a considerable sum to the gaoler as well.

The child destined to play the part of prince was then transported to Paris, and although he was born as far back as 17 April 1773, the fact was kept secret till 6 October, on which date it was declared, and the child was baptized by the almoner of the Palais-Royal, in the presence of the parish priest and of two valets. In the meantime, the duchess's daughter, left in Italy, was brought up there under the name of Maria-Stella-Petronilla. The rest of the story can be guessed. Nevertheless, we will give it in detail. Maria-Stella did not know the story of her birth until after the death of the gaoler Chiappini. She had a melancholy childhood. The gaoler's wife, who regretted her son and who was for ever reproaching her husband for the agreement made, rendered the child's life very miserable. The young girl was, it seems, extremely beautiful, and at the age of seventeen she made such a deepimpression upon Lord Newborough, one of the wealthiest noblemen of England, who was passing through Modigliana, that he married her almost in spite of herself, and took her away to London. She was left a widow very young, with several children,—one of whom is now a peer of England,—but she soon married the Baron de Sternberg, who took her away to St. Petersburg, where she presented him with a son.

One day, the Baroness de Sternberg, who was almost separated from her husband, received a letter with an Italian postmark; she opened it and read the following lines, written by the hand of the man whom she believed to be her father:—

"MILADY,—I have at last reached the close of my life, without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:—"The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked to make an exchange, and taking into consideration the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and at the same time the other person adopted my son. I perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since you are placed in a higher station in life than your father—though he was in almost the same rank—and it is this reflection which allows me to die with some degree of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter will not even be sent you until after my death.LAURENT CHIAPPINI"

"MILADY,—I have at last reached the close of my life, without having revealed to anyone a secret which closely concerns you and me. This secret is as follows:—

"The day on which you were born, of a lady whose name I cannot divulge, and who has already departed this life, I also had a child born to me, a boy. I was asked to make an exchange, and taking into consideration the impoverished state of my fortune at that time, I consented to the urgent and advantageous proposals made to me. It was then I adopted you as my daughter, and at the same time the other person adopted my son. I perceive that Heaven has made up for my wrongdoing, since you are placed in a higher station in life than your father—though he was in almost the same rank—and it is this reflection which allows me to die with some degree of tranquillity. Keep this before your mind, so that you may not hold me wholly responsible. Although I ask your forgiveness for my error, I earnestly beseech you to keep the fact secret, in order that the world may not be able to talk about a matter now past remedy. This letter will not even be sent you until after my death.LAURENT CHIAPPINI"

Upon receipt of this letter, Maria-Stella at once prepared to travel to Italy. She did not agree with the gaoler Chiappini in thinking the matter irremediable: she wished to know who was her true father. She gathered information wherever she could find it, and at length she learned that in 1772—in otherwords, a year before her birth—two French travellers arrived at Modigliana, and remained there until the month of April 1773. These two travellers called themselves the Comte and Comtesse de Joinville. Upon this slight clue, the Baroness de Sternberg set off to France, and began by visiting the little town of Joinville, whose name her father bore. Here she learnt that Joinville had once been an inheritance belonging to the Orléans family, and that Duc Louis-Philippe-Joseph, who had been travelling in Italy in 1772, had died upon the scaffold in 1793.

Only his son, the Duc d'Orléans, was left (the two younger brothers having died, the Duc de Montpensier in England and the Duc de Beaujolais at Malta), the inheritor of the whole of his father's wealth. He lived in Paris, and he was the only prince of the blood of the house of Orléans.

Maria-Stella left immediately for Paris, made useless efforts to gain access to the duke himself, gave herself into the hands of intriguing persons who exploited her cause, to business men who cheated her, and ended by writing to the papers, stating that the Baroness de Sternberg, who was the bearer of a communication of the greatest importance to the heirs of the Comte de Joinville, had arrived in Paris, and desired to acquaint them with this communication at the earliest possible opportunity.

The Duc d'Orléans did not wish to receive this communication direct; neither did he desire to have recourse to the agency of a business man: he commissioned his uncle, the old Abbé of Saint-Phar, to call on the baroness.[1]Then everything was laid bare, and the duke discovered the whole plot that was being weaved about him. Learning that, whether from honest belief or from cupidity, Maria-Stella seriously meant to pursue her cause, and that she was going to return to Italy to furnish herself with documents wherewith to establish her identity, he hastened to take the precaution of preparing a memoir, intended for his counsel, to refute the fabrication by the aid of whichMaria-Stella intended to take away his rank and his fortune, or at all events to make him pay for the right to keep them. In the meantime, she was appealing to the Duchesse d'Angoulême as the likeliest person to harbour the liveliest feelings of resentment against the Orléans family.

It was this memoir that I was called upon to copy. I must own that I did not transcribe it without reading it, although my total ignorance of history left many points obscure to me in the prince's refutation. Not only was this paper based upon fact, but it was written with that customary power of reasoning which the Duc d'Orléans was noted for exercising, even in minor matters of diplomacy. He employed counsel for form's sake only, for he himself drew up not merely notes on the case he wished to prove, but lengthy statements, which roused the admiration of the celebrated barrister Me. Dupin, to whom they were always sent.

I came to the end of the portion the duke had told me to write, after a couple of hours' work; so I put down my work and waited. When the duke returned, he came to the table at which I was writing, picked up my copy, made a gesture indicative of his approval of my handwriting, but almost immediately afterwards said—

"Oh! oh! you have a punctuation of your own, I see;" and taking a pen, he sat down at a corner of the table and began to punctuate my copy according to the rules of grammar.

The duke flattered me highly by saying I had a punctuation of my own. I knew no more about punctuation than about anything else: I punctuated according to my fancy, or rather, I did not punctuate at all. To this day, I only punctuate on my proofs: I believe you could take up any of my manuscripts hap-hazard and run through a whole volume without finding a single exclamation mark, or an acute accent or a grave accent. After the duke had read the statement and corrected my punctuation, he got up and, walking up and down, dictated to me the part he wanted to correct. I wrote almost as quickly as he dictated, which seemed to please him extremely. I reached this sentence: "And if there were nothing else but thestrikingresemblance which exists between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV., would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?"

Although, as I have previously stated, I was not very well read in history, yet in this matter I knew quite enough (as they say in duelling of a man who has had three months' training in a fencing school) to make a fool of myself—that is to say, I knew that M. le Duc d'Orléans was descended from Monsieur, that Monsieur was the son of Louis XIII. and brother of Louis XIV., and that, consequently, Louis XIV., being Monsieur's brother, could not be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans, who was honouring me by dictating to me a memorandum against Maria-Stella's claim. So, when he came to these words, "And if there were nothing else but thestriking resemblance which exists between the Duc d'Orléans and his illustrious grandfather Louis XIV."I looked up. It was most impertinent of me! A prince is never mistaken, and in this instance the prince did not allow himself to be taken in.

So, the Duc d'Orléans stopped in front of me and said to me, "Dumas, you should know this: when a person is descended from Louis XIV. even if only through bastards, it is a sufficiently great honour to boast about!... Proceed."

And he resumed: "Would not that likeness alone be sufficient to demonstrate the falseness of this adventuress's pretensions?..."

I wrote this time without raising an eye, and I never looked up again throughout the remainder of the sitting.

At four o'clock the Duc d'Orléans set me free, asking me if I could come to work in the evening.

I replied that I was at His Highness's disposition. I picked up my hat, I bowed, I went out, I took the stairs four at a time and I ran to find Lassagne. He chanced to be still at his desk.

"How can Louis XIV. be the grandfather of the Duc d'Orléans?" I asked as soon as I got in, without any preliminary explanation.

"Good gracious!" he said, "it is plain enough: because the regent married Mademoiselle de Blois, who was Louis XIV.'s natural daughter by Madame de Montespan—a marriage that procured him a sound smack in the face when it was announced by him to the Princess Palatine, Monsieur's second wife, who thus expressed her feelings at themésalliance.... You will find all this in the memoirs of the Princess Palatine and in Saint-Simon."

I felt extinguished by the ready and accurate answer given me.

"Oh!" I said, with downcast head, "I shall never be as learned as that!"

I finished the copy of the statement by eleven o'clock that same evening. It was sent next day to M. Dupin, who should have it still, written in my handwriting.

We will now finish the story of Maria-Stella.

When she had threatened the Duc d'Orléans, she returned to Italy, to hunt up evidence that would establish the authenticity of her birth, and the substitution of the daughter of the Comtesse de Joinville for the son of the gaoler Chiappini.

She did, in fact, obtain the following decree from the Ecclesiastical Court of Faenza, on 29 May 1824: we will give it for what it is worth, or rather for what it was worth. This decree is followed by the official rectification of the birth certificate:—

JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA"Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other person not present having or claiming an interest in the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also themost excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before the law;—whereas the petitioner, appearing before this episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its bearing on the case;"In virtue of the acta, etc.;—having heard the respective defendants, etc.;—Considering that Laurent Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; that it has been clearly proved by experts that this letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee would essay in vain to impair the validity of the evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention is made therein as to who were the real father and mother of the petitioner, seeing that—though such mention is in effect wanting—recourse has nevertheless been had, on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is written proof, as in the present case, testimonial proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a case of identity, following on the principle of written proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much the more should it hold good in this case, where the demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, in the question of identity;—considering that it clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of the priory of Modigliana, in the name ofMaria-Stella, her parents being falsely declared to be the couple Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons in support of their cognisance, etc.;—considering that it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood of this evidence, since not only is there nothing impossible in their statements, but they are, on the contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large number of other presumptions and conjectures; that one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to past events, having the value of truth and of full cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which were legally and judicially examined in their places of origin and before their respective tribunals; that the vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he was arrested, and then, after having been detained some time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial examination, that, while sorting some old papers of the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' which stated that the changeling had died, and that any scruple on itsaccount was now removed;—considering that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; that the petitioner received an education suitable to her distinguished rank, and not such as would have been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, and from several others contained in the pleadings, that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy;"Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as follows:—that the objections raised by the trustee, the aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April 1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also order that the rectification in question be forthwith executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and rectified to all who may demand it, etc.;"Preambles pronounced by me:—domestic canon"(Signed)VALERIO BORCHI, Pro-Vicar General"The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting in public audience, and it has been read and published by me, theundersigned prothonotary, in the year of our Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in the first year of his pontificate, there being present, amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses.(Signed)ANGE MORIGNY"Episcopal Prothonotary General"Correction of the Certificate of Birth:—"This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, indiction XII, at Faenza;—the delay of ten days, the time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,—in the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded to put the same judgment into execution—namely, the rectification of the certification of birth produced in the pleadings of the trial, as follows:—"In the name of God,Amen, I the undersigned canon chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth book of the birth register, the following notice: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, was baptized, on17April1773,by me, Canon François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and StellaCiabatti.—Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April 1824; (signed) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,—then dwelling in the district of Modigliana,—was baptized on April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.'"(Signed)ANGE MORIGNY"Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"[2]

JUDGMENT OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL COURT OF FAENZA

"Having invoked the very sacred name of God, we, sitting in our tribunal, and looking only to God and His justice, pronouncing judgment in the suit pleaded or to be pleaded before us, before the inferior or any other more competent court: between Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness of Sternberg, domiciled at Ravenna, petitioner, of the one part; and M. le Comte Charles Bandini, as trustee judicially delegated by M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville or any other person not present having or claiming an interest in the case, defendants arraigned before the law, as also themost excellent Dr. Thomas Chiappini, domiciled at Florence, defendant also cited, but not arraigned before the law;—whereas the petitioner, appearing before this episcopal curé, as a competent tribunal, by reason of the ecclesiastical acta hereinafter set forth subject to its jurisdiction, has demanded that an order be made to have her certificate of baptism, etc., corrected by the insertion therein of suitable annotations; and whereas the trustee of the defendants cited has demanded that the claim of the petitioner be set aside, with costs; and whereas the other defendant cited, Dr. Chiappini, has not appeared before us, although twice summoned so to do by an archiepiscopal usher of Florence acting on our behalf, according to the custom of this curé, and whereas the effect of this contumacy has been duly considered in its bearing on the case;

"In virtue of the acta, etc.;—having heard the respective defendants, etc.;—Considering that Laurent Chiappini, being near the term of his mortal life, did, by a letter which was handed to the petitioner after the decease of the said Chiappini, reveal to the said petitioner the secret of her birth, showing clearly to her that she was not his daughter, but the daughter of a person whose name he stated he was bound to withhold; that it has been clearly proved by experts that this letter is in the handwriting of Laurent Chiappini; that the word of a dying man is proof positive, since it is not in his interest any longer to lie, and since he is, presumably, thinking only of his eternal salvation; that such a confession must be regarded, in the light of a solemn oath, and as a deposition made for the benefit of his soul and for righteousness' sake; that the trustee would essay in vain to impair the validity of the evidence of the said letter on the plea that no mention is made therein as to who were the real father and mother of the petitioner, seeing that—though such mention is in effect wanting—recourse has nevertheless been had, on behalf of the same petitioner, to testimonial proof, to presumption and to conjecture; that, when there is written proof, as in the present case, testimonial proof or any other argument may be adduced, even when it is a question of personal identity; that if, in a case of identity, following on the principle of written proof, proof by witness is also admissible, so much the more should it hold good in this case, where the demand is confined to a document to be used hereafter, in the question of identity;—considering that it clearly results from the sworn and legal depositions of the witnesses, Marie and Dominique-Marie, the sisters Bandini, that there was an agreement between M. le Comte and Signior Chiappini to exchange their respective children in case the countess gave birth to a daughter and Chiappini's wife to a son; that such an exchange in effect took place, and, the event foreseen having come to pass, that the daughter was baptized in the church of the priory of Modigliana, in the name ofMaria-Stella, her parents being falsely declared to be the couple Chiappini; that they are in entire agreement as to the date of the exchange, which coincides with that of the birth of the petitioner, and that they allege reasons in support of their cognisance, etc.;—considering that it is in vain for the trustee to attack the likelihood of this evidence, since not only is there nothing impossible in their statements, but they are, on the contrary, supported and corroborated by a very large number of other presumptions and conjectures; that one very strong conjecture is based on public rumour and on gossip that was rife at the time in connection with the exchange, such public rumour, when allied to past events, having the value of truth and of full cognisance; that this public rumour is proved, not only by the depositions of the aforesaid sisters Bandini, but also by the attestation of Monsieur Dominique de la Valle and by those of the other witnesses of Bringhella and of witnesses from Ravenna, all of which were legally and judicially examined in their places of origin and before their respective tribunals; that the vicissitudes experienced by M. le comte are convincing testimony to the reality of the exchange; that there is documentary evidence to prove that, in consequence of the rumour current at Modigliana on the subject of the said exchange, the Comte de Joinville was compelled to take flight and to seek refuge in the convent of St. Bernard of Brisighella, and that while out walking he was arrested, and then, after having been detained some time in the public hall at Brisighella, he was taken by the Swiss Guards of Ravenna before His Eminence, M. le Cardinal Legate, who set him at liberty, etc.; that M. le Comte Biancoli Borghi attests, in his judicial examination, that, while sorting some old papers of the Borghi family, he came upon a letter written from Turin to M. le Comte Pompée Borghi, the date of which he does not recollect, signed 'Louis, Comte de Joinville,' which stated that the changeling had died, and that any scruple on itsaccount was now removed;—considering that the said Comte Biancoli Borghi alleges cognisance in his depositions; that the fact of the exchange is further proved by the subsequently improved fortunes of Chiappini, etc.; that the latter spoke of the exchange to a certain Don Bandini de Variozo, etc.; that the petitioner received an education suitable to her distinguished rank, and not such as would have been given to the daughter of a gaoler, etc.; that it results clearly from all the counts so far pleaded, and from several others contained in the pleadings, that Maria-Stella was falsely declared, in the act of birth, to be the daughter of Chiappini and his wife, and that she owes her birth to M. le Comte and Madame la Comtesse de Joinville; that it is, in consequence, a matter of simple justice to permit the correction of the certificate of birth as now demanded by the said Maria-Stella; lastly, that Dr. Thomas Chiappini, instead of opposing her demand, has committed contumacy;

"Having repeated the very Holy Name of God, we declare, hold, and definitely pronounce judgment as follows:—that the objections raised by the trustee, the aforesaid defendant, be and they are hereby set aside; and therefore we also declare, hold, and definitely adjudicate that the certificate of birth of 17 April 1773, inscribed in the baptismal register of the priory church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, in which it is declared that Maria-Stella is the daughter of Laurent Chiappini and of Vincenzia Diligenti, be rectified and amended, and that in lieu thereof she be declared to be the daughter of M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville, of French nationality, to which effect we also order that the rectification in question be forthwith executed by the clerk of our court, with faculty also, by authority of the Prior of the church of St. Stephen, Pope and Martyr, at Modigliana, in the diocese of Faenza, to furnish a copy of the certificate so amended and rectified to all who may demand it, etc.;

"Preambles pronounced by me:—domestic canon

"(Signed)VALERIO BORCHI, Pro-Vicar General

"The present judgment has been pronounced, given, and by these writings, promulgated by the very illustrious and very reverend Monsignor the Pro-Vicar General, sitting in public audience, and it has been read and published by me, theundersigned prothonotary, in the year of our Lord Jesus Christ 1824,'indiction XII; on this day, 29 May, in the reign of our lord, Leo XII., Pope P.O.M., in the first year of his pontificate, there being present, amongst several others; Monsieur Jean Ricci, notary, Dr. Thomas Beneditti, both attorneys of Faenza, witnesses.

(Signed)ANGE MORIGNY

"Episcopal Prothonotary General

"Correction of the Certificate of Birth:—

"This day, 24 June 1824, under the protection of the holiness of our pope Leo XII., lord sovereign pontiff, happily reigning, in the 1st year of his pontificate, indiction XII, at Faenza;—the delay of ten days, the time used for lodging an appeal, having expired since the day of the notification of the decision pronounced by the Ecclesiastical Tribunal of Faenza, on 29 May last,—in the case of Her Excellency Maria Newborough, Baroness de Sternberg, against M. le Comte Charles Bandini of that town, as trustee legally appointed to M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville and to all others absent who did not put in an appearance, who may have, or might lay claim to have an interest in the case, as well as to Dr. Thomas Chiappini, living at Florence, in the States of Tuscany, without anyone having entered an appeal; I, the undersigned, in virtue of the powers given me by the above announced judgment, have proceeded to put the same judgment into execution—namely, the rectification of the certification of birth produced in the pleadings of the trial, as follows:—

"In the name of God,Amen, I the undersigned canon chaplain, curé of the priory and collegiate church of Saint-Étienne, Pope and Martyr, in the territory of Modigliana, in the Tuscan States, and in the diocese of Faenza, do certify having found, in the fourth book of the birth register, the following notice: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the married couple Lorenzo, son of Ferdinand Chiappini, public sheriff officer to this district, and Vincenzia Diligenti, daughter of the deceased N. of this parish, was baptized, on17April1773,by me, Canon François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather and godmother being François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and StellaCiabatti.—Witnessed at Modigliana, 16 April 1824; (signed) Gaëtan Violani, canon, etc.' I have, I say, proceeded to put the above-mentioned decision into execution, by means of the below-mentioned correction, which shall definitely take effect in the form and terms following: 'Maria-Stella-Petronilla, born yesterday of the married pair, M. le Comte Louis and Madame la Comtesse N. de Joinville, natives of France,—then dwelling in the district of Modigliana,—was baptized on April 17, 1773, by me, Canon François Signari, one of the chaplains; the godfather and godmother being: François Bandelloni, tipstaff, and Stella Ciabatti.'

"(Signed)ANGE MORIGNY

"Episcopal Prothonotary of the Tribunal of Faenza"[2]

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