There were exactly fifteen words in each letter: it was the fault of the words themselves, and not of M. de Chateaubriand, that the answer[1]contained four letters more.
This dismissal was a very bitter pill for the author ofle Génie du Christianisme, and it was in connection with this event that he gave utterance to the words which we believe we have already quoted:—
"I hadn't even stolen a watch from the king's mantelpiece!" he had said on leaving the Foreign Office.
The order had been drawn up by M. de Renneville,—to whom we shall refer in due course,—the secretary described by Méry and de Barthélemy as beingsewed to M. de Villèle's coat-tails.
"M. de Renneville," says Chateaubriand in hisMémoires, "is still so good as to appear embarrassed in my presence! And, good God, who is this M. de Renneville, that I should ever think of him? I meet him often enough, ... does he happen to know that I am aware that the order striking my name off the list of ministers was in his handwriting?"
There were actually men, under the Empire, who were cowardly enough to cut off their first fingers to prevent their being made soldiers. It is a pity some men are not brave enough to cut off the whole hand before they write certain things.
But at the time when M. de Chateaubriand was being ejected from the ministry, Providence was signing an order, in terms I almost as brusque, for Louis XVIII. to quit this life. The king was ill at the time of the Feast of St. Louis, so ill that he was I advised not to entertain on account of the fatigue it would I entail on him; but, with his usual sententiousness, the king answered, "A King of France may die, but he ought never to be ill."
As though Louis XVIII. wished to leave the path easy for his successor, with regard to the rejection of the appeal of the public ministry in the affair of theAristarque, he revived the law of 31 March 1820 and 26 July 1821—that is to say, he re-established the Censorship. It is an odd coincidence that, when this happens, kings are generally either about to fall or to die. The re-establishment of the Censorship produced a terrible commotion; to do justice to the literary men of that time, none of them dare accept or publicly exercise the function of Censor; a secret commission had to be organised and placed under the presidency of theconseiller d'État directeur generalof the police. M. de Chateaubriand then threw himself openly into the Opposition against the measure, and published hisLettres sur la Censure.In a few days, both the Liberal Oppositionist and the Royalist papers offered nothing but blank columns to their subscribers.
Two days after Louis XVIII. had said that a King of France might die but he ought never to be ill—that is to say, on 27 and 28 August, during his last two walks at Choisy, he perceived that he must seriously face the question of death. But he continued to give audiences, to preside in the Council and to direct the work of the ministers with a courage one cannot help but admire, when one remembers that he was suffering from mortification of the legs, the cellular tissue, muscles and even bones of which were decayed; the right foot entirely and the lower part of the leg as high as the calf had become mortified, the bones of it were quite soft, and four toes had rotted away. It was not until after a consultation of doctors held the night of 12 September, that it was decided that the condition of the King of France could no longer be concealed from his subjects. Up to that time Louis XVIII. had been faithful to the principles enunciated by him, and had refused to admit that he was ill. "You do not know what it means to tell a people its king is ill. It means they must close the Stock Exchange and places of amusement; my sufferings will be protracted, and I do not want public interests to suffer for such a length of time."
On the morning of 13 September two bulletins appeared at the same time in theMoniteur, signed by the doctors and by the First Gentleman of the Chamber.
They announced the illness of the king, and made it very evident that his disease was incurable. At the end of the second bulletin came the command which Louis XVIII. had greatly dreaded, ordering the Bourse and theatres to be closed. These were the first bulletins France had read for half a century—that is to say, since the death of Louis XV.—and they were to be the last they were to read.
First Bulletin of the King's health"THE TUILERIES, 12September, 6a.m."The King's chronic and long-seated infirmities have become sensibly worse for some time past, his health has been very considerably impaired and his condition necessitates more frequent consultations."His Majesty's constitution and the care he has taken of himself had caused hope to be felt for some time that he might be restored to his usual state of health; but the fact cannot now be disguised that his strength has declined considerably and that the hopes entertained are less likely to be realised.(Signed)PORTAL, ALIBERT, MONTAIGU, DISTEL,DUPUYTREU, THÉVENOTFirst Gentleman of the King's ChamberCOMTE DE DAMAS"
First Bulletin of the King's health
"THE TUILERIES, 12September, 6a.m.
"The King's chronic and long-seated infirmities have become sensibly worse for some time past, his health has been very considerably impaired and his condition necessitates more frequent consultations.
"His Majesty's constitution and the care he has taken of himself had caused hope to be felt for some time that he might be restored to his usual state of health; but the fact cannot now be disguised that his strength has declined considerably and that the hopes entertained are less likely to be realised.
(Signed)PORTAL, ALIBERT, MONTAIGU, DISTEL,DUPUYTREU, THÉVENOTFirst Gentleman of the King's Chamber
COMTE DE DAMAS"
Second Bulletin"9p.m."The fever has increased during the day. The lower limbs have become extremely cold: weakness and lethargy have also increased, and the pulse has been very weak and irregular.(Signed)PORTAL, ALIBERT, MONTAIGU, DISTEL,DUPUYTREU, THÉVENOTFirst Gentleman of the King's ChamberCOMTE DE DAMAS"
Second Bulletin
"9p.m.
"The fever has increased during the day. The lower limbs have become extremely cold: weakness and lethargy have also increased, and the pulse has been very weak and irregular.
(Signed)PORTAL, ALIBERT, MONTAIGU, DISTEL,DUPUYTREU, THÉVENOTFirst Gentleman of the King's Chamber
COMTE DE DAMAS"
"In consideration of the King's state of health, all theatres and places of public amusement, as well as the Bourse, will beclosed until further orders, and public prayers will be offered in every parish."
On the 16th, at four o'clock in the morning, Louis XVIII. breathed his last breath. He had blessed the two royal children of France the previous, evening. Then, turning to his brother, the Comte d'Artois, who was about to change his title for that of Charles X., and pointing to the Duc de Bordeaux, he said, "Brother, look well after the crown for that child."
The dying king's fears for his nephew's future were almost prophetic. He had rallied all his remaining strength to utter these last words. His breathing soon became husky and his pulse intermittent, and a crisis was reached during which the king sank into an alarmingly quiet state. At two in the morning, the pulse hardly beat and his voice had completely failed him, although he signified, with his eyes, that he understood, and could still hear, the exhortations of his confessor. Finally, at four o'clock in the morning, when the last sign of life ceased and the body became still for ever, M. Alibert drew one of the king's hands outside the bed-covering and said, "The king is dead." At the words, the Comte d'Artois, who had not left his brother's side for two days, knelt down by the side of the bed and kissed his hand. Madame la Duchesse d'Angoulême and Mademoiselle followed his example; then both flung themselves in the arms of the Comte d'Artois and remained there for some time, weeping bitterly.
As the new king left the death-chamber to return to his apartments, a herald-at-arms exclaimed three times—
"The king is dead, gentlemen! Long live the king!"
And from that moment Charles X. was King of France. On 23 September we watched out of our windows the funeral procession of the last king that was to be taken to Saint-Denis.
Chateaubriand wrote a poem,le Roi est mort! vive le roi!about the death of the king, and it was one of the poorest productions that ever came from his pen.
The same occasion inspired Victor Hugo to publish hislesFunérailles de Louis XVIII.,and it was one of his finest odes. I need not ask the forbearance of my readers if I quote a few stanzas:—
Un autre avait dit: 'De ma raceCe grand tombeau sera le port;Je veux, aux rois que je remplace,Succéder jusque dans la mort.Ma dépouille ici doit descendre!C'est pour faire place à ma cendreQu'on dépeupla ces noirs caveaux;Il faut un nouveau maître au monde;A ce sépulcre que je fondeIl faut des ossements nouveaux!'Je promets ma poussière à ces voûtes funestes.A cet insigne honneur ce temple a seul des droits;Car je veux que le ver qui rongera mes restesAit déjà dévoré des rois.Et, lorsque mes neveux, dans leur fortune altière,Domineront l'Europe entière,Du Kremlin à l'Escurial,Ils viendront tour à tour dormir dans ces lieux sombres,Afin que je sommeille, escorté de leurs ombres,Dans mon linceul impérial!'Celui qui disait ces parolesCroyait, soldat audacieux,Voir, en magnifiques symboles,Sa destinée écrite aux cieux.Dans ses étreintes foudroyantes,Son aigle, aux serres flamboyantes,Eût étouffé l'aigle romain;La victoire était sa compagne,Et le globe de CharlemagneÉtait trop léger pour sa main!Eh bien, des potentats ce formidable maîtreDans l'espoir de sa mort par le ciel fut trompé.De ses ambitions, c'est la seule peut-êtreDont le but lui soit échappé.En vain tout secondait sa marche meurtrière;En vain sa gloire incendiaireEn tous lieux portait son flambeau;Tout chargé de faisceaux, de sceptres, de couronnes,Ce vaste ravisseur d'empires et de trônesNe put usurper un tombeau!Tombé sous la main qui châtie,L'Europe le fit prisonnier.Premier roi de sa dynastie,Il en fut aussi le dernier.Une île où grondent les tempêtesReçut ce géant des conquêtes,Tyran que nul n'osait juger,Vieux guerrier qui, dans sa misère,Dut l'obole de BélisaireA la pitié de l'étranger.Loin du sacré tombeau qu'il s'arrangeait naguère,C'est là que, dépouillé du royal appareil,Il dort enveloppé de son manteau de guerre,Sans compagnon de son sommeil.Et, tandis qu'il n'a plus, de l'empire du monde,Qu'un noir rocher battu de l'onde,Qu'un vieux saule battu du vent,Un roi longtemps banni, qui fit nos jours prospères,Descend au lit de mort où reposaient ses pères,Sous la garde du Dieu vivant!"
But the poet is too generous towards Napoleon in describing him as "ce vieux saule battu du vent" (old weather-beaten willow tree), for at that very moment the authorities in St. Helena having abolished the toll that had at first been exacted from, and submitted to by, visitors to Napoleon's tomb, M. Torbet, the owner of the ground in which the emperor was interred, when he found that he could not gain any more from the body, requested that it should be exhumed and removed elsewhere. There was a long controversy about it, and M. Torbet threatened that he himself would disinter the body of the man who had, notwithstanding what the poet had written, usurped everything, even his own grave, and that he would throw the remains out on the highway, until at last the Government decided that the India Company should purchasethe land from Torbet for five hundred pounds sterling. It was decided that in future, in consequence of thisdouceurgiven to M. Torbet, people should visit the tomb of Napoleon free of charge. We have already mentioned M. Torbet's name three times: let us say it a fourth, in order that it may not be forgotten.
If anything could make up for such a disgrace to humanity, for such deeds as M. Torbet revelled in, it would be the reception accorded forty years afterwards to la Fayette in America, when that nation sent one of its finest ships, theCadmus, to fetch him to America as the nation's guest. It was indeed a fine sight to see a whole nation rising up to do honour to one of the founders of its liberty.
Directly the two Chambers heard, on 12 January, that la Fayette was contemplating the paying of a visit to the United States, they drew up a resolution, upon the motion of Mr. Mitchell, to the following effect:—
"Seeing that the illustrious champion of our liberty and the hero of our Revolution, the friend and comrade of Washington, Marquis de la Fayette, who was a volunteer general officer during the War of our Independence, has expressed a strong desire to pay a visit to our country, to whose liberty his courage, his blood and his wealth contributed in a very large degree,"It is resolved, that the President be asked to convey to the Marquis de la Fayette an expression of the feelings of respect, gratitude and affectionate attachment that the Government and the American people harbour towards him, and to assure him that the fulfilment of his desire and intention to visit their country will be received by both people and Government with deep pleasure and patriotic pride."It is besides, resolved, that the President shall inform himself as to the time that it would be most agreeable to the Marquis de la Fayette to pay his visit, so that one of the nation's vessels may be offered him as a means of transport."
"Seeing that the illustrious champion of our liberty and the hero of our Revolution, the friend and comrade of Washington, Marquis de la Fayette, who was a volunteer general officer during the War of our Independence, has expressed a strong desire to pay a visit to our country, to whose liberty his courage, his blood and his wealth contributed in a very large degree,
"It is resolved, that the President be asked to convey to the Marquis de la Fayette an expression of the feelings of respect, gratitude and affectionate attachment that the Government and the American people harbour towards him, and to assure him that the fulfilment of his desire and intention to visit their country will be received by both people and Government with deep pleasure and patriotic pride.
"It is besides, resolved, that the President shall inform himself as to the time that it would be most agreeable to the Marquis de la Fayette to pay his visit, so that one of the nation's vessels may be offered him as a means of transport."
So, in accordance with this offer, la Fayette embarked at Havre, on board theCadmus, 13 July, and reached New York on 15 August, after a voyage of thirty-two days. Nonational fête ever did honour to a finer or a more saintly character. When he left North America it had scarcely a population of three millions; now seventeen millions welcomed him. Everything was changed: forests had become plains, plains had become towns, and millions of steam-boats, the first of which had been launched in 1808 by Fulton, after having been refused by France, now plied up and down rivers as big as lakes, and on lakes as big as oceans. Nor were the towns of the artificial kind that Potemkin built along the Catherine Road which crosses the Crimea; modern civilisation was striding across the Atlantic as though it were a stream, to plant its foot for the first time in the New World.
After four months of fêtes given to and honours showered upon the friend of Washington, a special committee brought in a Bill on 20 December as under:—
"That the sum of 200,000 dollars be offered to Major-General la Fayette in recognition of his valuable services, and to indemnify him for his expenses in the American Revolution; also that a portion of land be set aside from the as yet unappropriated lands, for the establishment of a township for Major-General la Fayette, and that this Act be handed him by the President of the United States."
"That the sum of 200,000 dollars be offered to Major-General la Fayette in recognition of his valuable services, and to indemnify him for his expenses in the American Revolution; also that a portion of land be set aside from the as yet unappropriated lands, for the establishment of a township for Major-General la Fayette, and that this Act be handed him by the President of the United States."
This Bill was carried with enthusiasm by the Chamber of Representatives on 22 December and by the Senate on the 23rd.
We must just mention before we take leave of the year 1824, that, on 2 December, M. Droz and M. de Lamartine were competitors for the Academy, and that M. Droz was elected and M. de Lamartine rejected.
[1]In the French original.—TRANS.
[1]In the French original.—TRANS.
Tallancourt and Betz—The caféHollandais—My Quiroga cloak—First challenge—A lesson in shooting—The eve of my duel—Analysis of my sensations—My opponent fails to keep his appointment—The seconds hunt him out—The duel—Tallancourt and the mad dog
Tallancourt and Betz—The caféHollandais—My Quiroga cloak—First challenge—A lesson in shooting—The eve of my duel—Analysis of my sensations—My opponent fails to keep his appointment—The seconds hunt him out—The duel—Tallancourt and the mad dog
On 3 January 1825, one of our friends, by name Tallancourt, having, by Vatout's solicitations, been promoted from his office, to the Duc d'Orléans' library, he treated me and another of our friends called Betz to a dinner at the Palais-Royal. Both were old soldiers. Tallancourt had fought at Waterloo. After the defeat, he felt in his pockets and found that they were empty, he struck his stomach and felt that it was hollow, therefore, catching sight of a small dismounted cannon, and being endowed with herculean strength, he lifted it upon his shoulder and sold it, two leagues away, to an ironfounder, for ten francs. Thanks to these ten francs, he managed to effect quite a comfortable retreat, and he returned to his native country of Semur, where Vatout got him a berth first in the Duc d'Orléans' offices and finally in the library. After dinner, these gentlemen, who were inveterate smokers, as becomes old soldiers of thirty-two and thirty-five years of age, proposed to adjourn to the caféHollandaisto smoke a cigar. I did not wish to desert them, in spite of my aversion to tobacco cafés, and for the first, and I hope I may say for the last time in my life, I crossed the threshold of that famous establishment which is decorated outside with the sign of a ship. I possessed a large cloak, romantically called in those days a Quiroga; I had coveted such a cloak as passionately as I had the famous top-boots, and I had ended by obtaining it with just as much difficulty. Apparently, mymode of dress annoyed one of the habitués who at that moment was playing billiards; he exchanged some words with his antagonist, accompanied by a glance in my direction, and a burst of laughter followed. This was quite sufficient to infuriate me, so I picked up a cue, and mixing up all the balls, I said—
"Who would like to play at billiards with me?"
"But," remonstrated Tallancourt, "the table belongs to those gentlemen."
"Well," said I, looking straight at the player I specially wished to have dealings with, "we will turn these men out, and I will tackle this gentleman"; and I advanced towards him.
The provocation was too gross and too pointed not to raise ire.
Betz and Tallancourt at once sprang to my assistance, for they knew me too well not to be aware that I should not insult anyone in this fashion without good occasion. The chief thing we cared about was that it should not be noised abroad that we had taken part in a miserable café quarrel, so my adversary and I exchanged cards and arranged a meeting for the next day but one, at nine o'clock in the morning, by the café which adjoins the threshold of the big lonely house which stood for a long while in the middle of the place du Carrousel, called thehôtel de Nantes.Of course, Tallancourt and Betz were my seconds, although they were a little uneasy about their commission: first, because I was very young, and it was my first duel; then, because I had just come from the provinces and they did not know whether I knew how to handle the firearms I was about to use. They had arranged with the seconds of my adversary, M. Charles B——, our meeting for the following day at four o'clock in the afternoon, in the garden of the Palais-Royal, opposite the Rotonde, in order to give them more time to coach me.
On leaving the café they asked me to tell them the cause of my quarrel, which I hastened to do; then, as they were commissioned to deal with the question of arms, they asked me which weapon I preferred. I replied that the question of weapons was a matter of indifference to me, and that as I hadconfided my interests into their hands, it was their affair and not mine. My assurance somewhat eased their minds; but Tallancourt nevertheless insisted I should have some practice, next morning at nine, in Gosset's shooting gallery. I had not put foot in a shooting gallery since I had come to Paris; but my familiarity with M. de Leuven'sKukenreitercannot have been forgotten, nor my broken slates, and the frogs I shot in two and the pieces of cardboard held in the hand as targets at Ponce's. Tallancourt asked for a dozen bullets.
"Does the gentleman want to shootà la poupéeorà la mouche?" the lad asked me.
As I did not quite understand Parisian shooting habits and terms, I turned to Tallancourt, who asked for apoupée.The boy placed a metal doll on the spike—without doubt the biggest the establishment could produce; for the boy (whose name was Philippe—one recalls the minutest details connected with events of this sort) noticing my utter ignorance of shooting-gallery methods, took me for a schoolboy. Tallancourt, too, it was quite evident, shared the lad's opinion concerning me. I must confess this unanimity piqued me.
"Tell me," I asked Tallancourt, "what that metal toy costs?"
"Four sous," he said.
"And how many bullets have you applied for?"
"A dozen."
"Well, then, as I am not rich enough to allow myself the luxury of smashing a dozen dolls, I will make this one a present of eleven of the bullets, and I will smash it with the twelfth."
"What do you mean?" asked Tallancourt.
"You shall see how we played this game at Villers-Cotterets, my dear Tallancourt."
I went up to the target, I drew a circle round the doll, and I began operations. Everything went off as I had anticipated. I did what I had done a score of times with de Leuven and de la Ponce, but as Tallancourt was witnessing my proceedingsfor the first time, he was perfectly astounded at what took place.
"Well, it will be all right with pistols, I see, and I shall feel easy enough if you get in the first shot," said he; "but suppose they choose swords?"
"Well, if they choose swords, we must fight with swords, my friend, that is all."
"Can you defend yourself with a sword?"
"I hope so."
"I ask this," added Tallancourt, "as I do not like pistols."
"I agree with you, they are fiendish weapons."
"I shall not accept unless I am compelled."
"You will be quite right."
"You agree with me, then?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, so much the better! Give the boy twenty-four sous and let us go to breakfast."
Fortunately, it was but the fourth day of the month, so I could afford the twenty-four sous. We breakfasted, and went to the office. Betz was already there, and he took Tallancourt aside, no doubt to inquire about my qualifications; but I had every ground for believing that Tallancourt reassured him. At five o'clock, Betz and Tallancourt came to tell me my adversary had chosen swords. The rendezvous was to be the same, at nine next day, by thehôtel de Nantes.I returned home with a smiling face, although my heart beat fast enough. In matters of courage I had made the following observations with respect to myself. I was of a sanguine temperament, and readily threw myself in the way of danger; if the danger were imminent, and I could attack it instantly, my courage never failed me, for I was kept up by excitement. If, on the contrary, I had to wait some hours, my nerves gave way, and I relented having exposed myself to danger. But, by degrees, after reflection, moral courage overcame physical cowardice, and vigorously commanded it to conduct itself properly. When arrived on the spot, I shivered to the bottom of my back; but I never showed the slightest external signs of myfeelings. I fought a duel in 1834, and Bixio was my second: he was a medical student at the time, and, feeling my pulse just after I had taken up my pistol, it only indicated sixty-nine pulsations to the minute, two beats faster than normal. The longer I wait, the calmer I become. For that matter, I believe every man, especially if endowed with sensitive organisations, naturally fears danger, and if left to his own instincts, would do his best to escape it; he is kept back simply and solely by moral strength and manly pride, and exposes himself to death and suffering with a smiling face. As a proof of this theory, I may mention that a man of this temperament, who is brave in his waking hours, is a coward in his dreams; for in sleep the soul is absent, and the animal part of him alone remains; and, in the absence of his strength, his will-power and his pride, the physical part of him is afraid.
Well, I returned home without saying a word of what had passed; but I stayed in with my mother the whole night.
It was mid-winter, so I had not to go and make up the portfolio. I rose at eight next morning, and making some sort of excuse to my mother, I kissed her, and went out with my father's sword under my cloak. Tallancourt had undertaken to provide a second sword. I reached thehôtel de Nantesat ten minutes to nine, and we found there my adversary's two seconds. I had not had any breakfast, for Thibaut, who accompanied us, had advised me not to eat, in case I might have to be bled. We waited: half-past nine, ten, eleven struck. Betz and Tallancourt were dreadfully impatient, for my adversary's delay was making them late at their office. I must admit that, so far as I was concerned, I was enchanted; I had been in hopes that the affair would conclude with excuses, and I should have liked nothing better. At eleven o'clock my adversary's godparents gave up waiting, in disgust, and suggested to my seconds that they should all go and call upon their godson, who lived, I believe, in the rue Coquillière. As for me, they sent me back to the office, and, in case we were grumbled at for our absence, I was to explain frankly to Oudard what had passed and tell him the cause of ourabsence. But there was no need to confess anything, as I found Oudard had been sent for by the Duchesse d'Orléans. Betz and Tallancourt returned half an hour later: they had found my adversary in bed! When they pointed out to him that he ought to have been elsewhere than in his bed, M. Charles B—— replied that, having been skating on the canal the whole of the previous day, at seven that morning he felt so utterly fatigued he had not sufficient strength to get up. His own two seconds considered this such a feeble excuse that they told him he need not count on their services again, if the quarrel were followed up. Upon which they withdrew. But Betz and Tallancourt, who were much angrier than I was myself in my heart of hearts, had remained, and they had insisted on M. Charles B—— informing them at what hour they might expect to see him take the field the next day. He promised to meet us, with two fresh seconds, at the Rochechouart barrier, the following day, at nine o'clock. The fight could take place in one of the Montmartre quarries. Thus the matter was only postponed. I thanked my two seconds very cordially, telling them they had done quite right and that I would wait. The day passed by quietly enough, and by becoming absorbed in my work and in conversation I even managed to forget I was to fight on the morrow. Nevertheless, a slight spasm would attack my heart from time to time, to be stifled in a yawn.
I returned home early, as on the previous day, and stayed in with my mother.
Next day was Twelfth Night, and someone had presented us with a bean-cake. My mother was the queen. I kissed her and wished I might be able to kiss her for thirty years longer at the same hour, day and occasion. I knew only too well what I was doing when I wished such a wish. I slept soundly for the first four or five hours of the night, badly enough for the remaining two or three. I left my mother at half-past eight, as on the previous morning, only I had no sword to carry this time, Tallancourt had taken charge of both. At ten minutes to nine we reached the barrier atRochechouart; and, as nine struck, a cab brought our man and his two fresh seconds. They got out, bowed, silently crossed the outer boulevard and reached the ramparts of the mount. One of the seconds of my adversary, who has since become a friend of mine (in common with the majority of those who, not knowing me, began by being my enemies), came up to me and, evidently taking me for one of the witnesses, entered into conversation with me. We walked for nearly half an hour before a suitable spot could be found. It was very cold and had snowed all night; it was still snowing; so nearly all the quarries were occupied.
As it is not a usual sight for six people to be walking across fields at ten in the morning in such weather, the people in the quarries became inquisitive about our tramp and followed us. We had already quite a considerable following, and it was probable that the farther we thus went the more it would increase; so it was imperative we should stop at the first place that appeared, I will not say suitable, but possible, for our purpose. I confess the walk would have seemed very long had I not talked the whole way with my adversary's witness. At last they settled upon a sort of plateau, ten paces wide by twenty long, which was as much room as we needed. Here we stopped. Tallancourt drew forth the swords from under his cloak and handed them to the witnesses to be examined. The one he had brought was two inches longer than the other; Tallancourt had not made a choice, he had taken the first that came to his hand; so he proposed to draw lots as to which should have the longest sword. I ended the debate by declaring that I would take the shortest, which was my father's. I much preferred to lose the two extra inches of steel, rather than to have my father's sword turned against my breast. It was only at this juncture that my opponent's second discovered that the man he had been talking with the whole way was the other duellist. There was little time to spare by the time the ground was chosen and the swords distributed; it was horribly cold, and our audience was increasing every moment.
I flung off my coat and stood on guard. Then my opponent asked me to take off my waistcoat and my shirt as well as my coat. The demand seemed to me an exorbitant one; but, as he insisted, I stuck my sword in the snow and I threw down my waistcoat and my shirt on top of my coat. Then, as I did not want even to keep on my braces, and as, like poor Géricault, I had lost the buckle from my trousers, I tied the two straps into a knot to gird up my loins. These elaborate preparations took a minute or two, during which my sword remained fixed in the snow. Then I picked it up, and stood on guard in a pretty bad temper. My opponent had delivered his commands with a great air of self-confidence, and as he had also selected swords as our weapons, I expected to find I had to deal with an experienced swordsman. So I set to work cautiously. But to my great astonishment, I found he put himself very carelessly on his guard and exposed himself to my sword. Of course, his carelessness might be just a ruse to put me off my guard, when he could take advantage of my imprudence. I took a step backwards and lowered my sword.
"Ready, monsieur," I said; "defend yourself!"
"But what if I do not choose to put myself into a position of defence?" replied my adversary.
"Well, that is your affair, ... but your taste is peculiar, I must say."
I fell back on guard, I attacked himen quarte, and without making a pass with my sword in order to feel my way with my man, I thrust out freelyen tierce.He gave a leap backwards, stumbled over a vine-root and fell head over heels.
"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Tallancourt, "have you really killed him at the first blow?"
"No," I replied, "I think not; I had not even passed, I hardly touched him."
In the meantime, my opponent's seconds had run up to M. B——, who was getting up. The point of my sword had pierced his shoulder, and as its position in the snow had frozen the steel, the sensation it had given my opponent wasso startling that, lightly though he was wounded, the shock had overturned him. Luckily I had not passed first, or I should certainly have run him right through. It turned out. that the poor lad had never handled a sword before!
When he made this confession, and in consideration of the wound he had received, it was decided the fight should stop there. I put up my sword in its shield; I donned my shirt, waistcoat and coat; I wrapped myself in my Quiroga, and I descended the ramparts of Montmartre with a much lighter heart than I had ascended them.
Such was the cause, such were the sensations, such was the issue of my first duel. What has become of the two men who were my seconds? I have lost sight of Betz: he obtained a post asreceveur particulierin the provinces. A vague rumour has since reached me of his death. As for Tallancourt, poor fellow! I saw him die most miserably, unfortunate and unhappy. The Duc d'Orléans took a fancy to him; for he was of the type of tools the prince loved—active but not too clever. Moreover, Tallancourt possessed a further qualification: although he was sufficiently intelligent, he knew when to appear stupid. When the Duc d'Orléans became king, he sent for Tallancourt, for he could not do without him. If his fortune were not exactly made—fortunes are not often made through being associated with kings—his position was, at any rate, secure. As Tallancourt had not left the Duc d'Orléans during 27, 28 and 29 July, he knew a fair number of state secrets concerning the Revolution of 1830. When the king was at Neuilly, he would purposely send Tallancourt to Paris, and the Hercules of a fellow, ill at ease in his arm-chair, seated at his desk, in his office, would walk the distance on foot, in order to breathe the open air and distend his big lungs a bit.
One day, an enormous savage dog leapt out of the ditch by the side of the high road and sprang at him. Tallancourt instinctively put up his hands to save his face, and, by unheard of good luck, in so doing he seized the beast round its neck. It was useless for the dog to struggle against the powerfulgrip of two such fists as Tallancourt's, which throttled the dog tighter and tighter, and in about five minutes' time the brute was strangled and the giant had never even received a scratch. But during these five minutes of struggle and mortal danger Tallancourt's brain underwent a terrible strain, and five or six months later, softening of the brain set in. For a year poor Tallancourt grew visibly feebler, both morally and physically; his strength and intellect, his power of motion, and even his voice declined, and he died by inches, after eighteen months of suffering.
The Duc d'Orléans is given the title ofRoyal Highness—The coronation of Charles X.—Account of the ceremony by Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans—Death of Ferdinand of Naples—De Laville de Miremont—Le Cid d'Andalousie—M. Pierre Lebrun—A reading at the camp at Compiègne—M. Taylor appointed a royal commissioner to the Théâtre-Français—The curé Bergeron—M. Viennet—Two of his letters—Pichat and hisLéonidas
The Duc d'Orléans is given the title ofRoyal Highness—The coronation of Charles X.—Account of the ceremony by Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans—Death of Ferdinand of Naples—De Laville de Miremont—Le Cid d'Andalousie—M. Pierre Lebrun—A reading at the camp at Compiègne—M. Taylor appointed a royal commissioner to the Théâtre-Français—The curé Bergeron—M. Viennet—Two of his letters—Pichat and hisLéonidas
My mother never knew anything of the story of my duel; she would have died of grief had she had the faintest suspicion of it. As we did not return to the office until nearly one o'clock, we had to tell Oudard everything; and he appeared quite content, after hearing Betz and Tallancourt's account, with the way his employé had conducted himself. Besides, the Palais-Royal had been in a constant state of fête since the accession of His Majesty Charles X. to the throne. The duc d'Orléans had just been granted the title of Royal Highness from the new king—a favour he had begged in vain from Louis XVIII. As we have already mentioned, Louis XVIII. persistently refused everybody who asked him to grant M. le Duc d'Orléans this privilege.
"He will always be sufficiently close to the throne," he would reply.
And in other ways, Charles X. made himself most popular.
As a pendant to his phrase, "Nothing is changed in France, there is simply one more Frenchman in it," he added another dictum, simpler still, and quite as much appreciated—
"My friends, let there be wider criticism!"
And in the midst of the general merrymaking the preparations for his coronation went on in sumptuous style.
The last few coronations had brought ill-fortune in their train. It will be remembered that, at Reims, Louis XVI. had quickly removed the crown from his head.
"What is the matter, sire?" asked the archbishop.
"That crown hurts me," replied Louis XVI. And, twenty years later, he died upon the scaffold.
Napoleon wished to be crowned by a higher official than an archbishop; he wished to have a pope, and had sent for Pius VII. to come from the Vatican at Rome to Notre-Dame at Paris.
"Il fallut presqu'un Dieu pour consacrer cet homme!Le prêtre, monarque de Rome,Vint sacrer son front menaçant,Car sans doute, en secret effrayé de lui-même,Il voulut recevoir son sanglant diadèmeDes mains d'où le pardon descend!"
Fifteen years later, Napoleon died at St. Helena! And now it was the turn of Charles X.
Every sovereign in Christendom had been informed of the solemn celebration, and sent their ambassadors extraordinary. Austria was represented by Prince Esterhazy; Spain by the Duke of Villa-Hermosa; Great Britain by the Duke of Northumberland; Prussia by General de Zastrow; and Russia by Prince Volkonski.
The king and the dauphin left the Tuileries at half-past eleven on the morning of 24 May, and set out for Compiègne. All went well as far as Fismes; but an accident augured ill to the king, whose reign was only to last six years, and to end in his exile. As they descended at Fismes, the batteries of the Royal Guard, which were mounted in a dingle to the left of the road, fired a salute to greet the king. The detonation and its echo were terrible, and at the noise of the firing the horses attached to the carriage containing the Ducs d'Aumont and de Damas, and the Counts de Cossé and Curial, ran away; the carriage was overturned and smashed to bits on the causeway. Two out of the four occupants of the carriage wereseriously injured—MM. the Duc de Damas and Count Curial; the latter's case was worst, he had his collar-bone broken. Had it not been for the coachman's strength and presence of mind, the king himself would not have escaped a similar accident. His horses bolted; but the coachman had the sense not to try to stop them, and used all his efforts to keep them in the centre of the roadway; and after ten minutes' unrestrained career they calmed down.
At the village of Tinqueux the king found the Duc d'Orléans and the Duc de Bourbon awaiting him. The rain, which had never stopped pouring all morning, ceased, and the sun, which had not hitherto shown itself, now shone forth brilliantly. The king, M. le Dauphin, M. le Duc d'Orléans and M. le Duc de Bourbon entered the coronation coach, and in the language of theReport of the Coronation, "the whole of the way to Reims was onearc de triomphe."
After the coronation service, Charles X. signed the amnesty granted to men who had deserted from the navy and to political offenders. It was this amnesty that brought Carrel back to France. Thirteen years later, Charles X. died at Goritz.
Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans had been present at the coronation, and wrote an account of it in her private diary in Italian. On her return to Paris, she desired to have it translated into French, and commissioned Oudard to do it. Oudard was much embarrassed, and handed the album over to me, giving me a couple of days' holiday to translate it for him. This album was the book in which the Duchesse d'Orléans wrote her most secret thoughts and related her private deeds. I was not forbidden to read it, so of course I read it. However, there was not a single word throughout the book that could have put an angel to the blush, though it contained the actions and reflections of the Duchesse d'Orléans for the last ten years, though she never intended it to leave her own hands, not even to pass into those of the Duc d'Orléans, since it was for the Duc d'Orléans that the translation was being made. One thing above all struck me as I read, and that was the profound gratitude of Madame laDuchesse d'Orléans for the favours that the new king, Charles X., had lavished on the prince her husband, and for the kindness displayed every day towards her and her family by Madame la Duchesse de Berry.
Alas and alas! how many times the remembrance of that album came into my mind when I saw King Charles X. at Gratz, and Madame la Duchesse de Berry at Blaye, and it made me shudder as I thought of how deeply the religious-hearted Marie-Amélie must have suffered, when, because of what princes term "political necessities," the honour of the one, and the crown of the other, were broken in her husband's hands.
Another page also riveted my attention and kept me for a long time enthralled, wherein Madame la Duchesse d'Orléans related how lovingly and tactfully her husband broke to her the news of the death of her father, Ferdinand I. Now, Ferdinand I. was the very king who had kept my father a prisoner in the dungeons of Naples for eighteen months; the very same man who had allowed people to try and poison him three times, and once to attempt his assassination; he, the shepherd who had devoured his own flock during those terrible years of 1798-99, had just been called to render an account of his stewardship to the Lord. It was a strange coincidence that I, the son of one of the king's victims, should hold this album in my hands and read the sorrowful outpourings of the daughter's grief at the death of her father! What a strange juxtaposition of destiny and fortunes! However, he was dead, even as just men have to die; he who had watched those whom he called his friends hung before his very eyes, burnt beneath his very windows, disembowelled and torn to pieces in his very presence; the people whom a treacherous capitulation had yielded into his hands; those who, under another reign, might have been the honour of their king and the glory of the country!
On 3 January 1825 he was quietly sleeping, at two in the morning. His attendants heard him cough several times; then, at eight o'clock, as he had not summoned them to him according to his usual custom, the officers of his chamber,followed by the Court doctors, entered his room, and found him dead from a stroke of apoplexy. Ferdinand I. had just reigned sixty-five years, when he died at the age of seventy-four.
Oudard got his translation, which he re-copied in his own writing, and handed to the Duchesse d'Orléans as his own. True, he faithfully retailed to me the compliments he had received for it, adding that for which I was far more grateful—two tickets for the first representation ofRomanat the Théâtre-Français; it was a capital five-act comedy in verse, by de Laville de Miremont, already known because ofFolliculaire, a piece more commendable for its action than for any other quality. I knew de Laville very well: an accusation by Lemercier worried him greatly. Lemercier had accused de Laville, who had occupied the post of Censor, of having suppressed hisCharles VI.and of having afterwards used his plot and ideas. But, in the first place, de Laville plainly proved both byFolliculaireand byRomanthat he did not need to borrow ideas from other people's plays; besides, he was utterly incapable of doing such an action. There was a charming creation inRoman: a father who was friendly to and almost a companion in the escapades of a son born to him when he was only twenty. Nothing could have been more natural than this situation, which de Laville was the first to employ in a play.
Owing to the kindness of Talma, I had several times seen theCid d'Andalousie.Casimir Delavigne's example was infectious: Talma having taken part in comedy, Mademoiselle Mars asked why she might not play in tragedy; hence the new reunion of the two actors in theCid d'Andalousie. But M. Pierre Lebrun, author of anUlyssewhich had not been played, or what is far worse, which had only run one or two nights, was not Casimir Delavigne. There was nothing at the time to support him as there had been in 1820 when, inMaria Stuart, he had had the sturdy framework of Schiller to fall back upon. Reduced to drawing from Spanish romanceros, which only suggested simple scenes, he was lacking in everything—power,originality and style, and in spite of the unusual support of both Talma and Mademoiselle Mars, who had doubled the power of a strong creator and who could not conceal the weakness of a feeble writer, theCid d'Andalousiefell flat at the first representation, managed to survive the second, upheld by hired applause, dragged on miserably for five or six nights, and then finally was taken out of the bill. This failure was the beginning of the fortune of M. Pierre Lebrun—Academician, peer of France and Manager of the Royal Printing-house.
O thou venerable deity, Mediocrity! Surely thou hast the secret of the precious essence given to Phaon by Venus to assure successfulness in this world of ours! Thou who for long rejected Hugo, Lamartine and Charles Nodier! Thou who left Soulié and Balzac to die without doing for them a third of what thou didst for M. Pierre Lebrun! Thou who ignored Alfred de Musset,—wisely, for all light of originality, all nervous strength, makes thy owl's eyes to blink! Thou whose leaden-based statue ought to be a hundred feet high, so that its shadow should fall on the Pont des Arts and the respectable monument to which it leads! O Mediocrity! sole divinity for whom France has not a 21 January, a 29 July or a 24 February! Thou whom I despise above everything else in the world, and would fain hate if I could ever hate anything! Look ever askance on me and be benign to my enemies, that is the sole favour I ask thee. And, on this condition, may thou remain in undisturbed possession of the future, as thou hast been of the past!
Now let us note well that the failure of theCid d'Andalousietook place in 1825. One might therefore reasonably have hoped that by 1838, thirteen years later, the unluckyCidwould have been forgotten by everybody, even by its author. Nothing of the kind. At Compiègne, in his country house, the Duc d'Orléans entertained his comrades with sport in the forest by day, and at night he opened his drawing-rooms to those who preferred card-playing, dancing and conversation. One evening a fatal idea came into the unfortunate prince'shead. Turning towards several poets who stood round, he said to them—
"Gentlemen, let us see which of you has some poetry to read to us."
Everybody kept silence, as will be readily understood, and moved a step or two backwards; except M. Pierre Lebrun, who stepped forward.
"I will, monseigneur," he said; and he sat down and drew a manuscript out of his pocket—think of it! a whole manuscript!—and, in the midst of the general silence, he read the title—
"Gentlemen, theCid d'Andalousie."
They all stared at him; but there was no way out of it, they were trapped, and M. le Duc d'Orléans most of all. Upon my word, it was a great success. When the reading was over and compliments had been paid, the Duc d'Orléans said to me—
"Dumas, can you tell me what was the reason of the noise I heard by the side of the window, which interrupted M. Lebrun, towards the beginning of the third act?"
"Monseigneur," I replied, "it was A—, who squatted behind the curtains, where he could sleep more comfortably; but it would seem he had a nightmare: he gave a cuff to a small stand, and has smashed a table full of Sèvres china, for which he is excessively sorry."
"He need not be unhappy about it," said the Duc d'Orléans; "tell him he did quite right, and I will bear the cost of the china."
The poor duke was as wise a prince as Solomon, and as good as St. Louis!
In other respects, too, the Théâtre-Français was not very fortunate at this time. After playing theCid d'Andalousieof M. Lebrun, it put on M. de Comberousse'sJudithandBélisaire, by M. de Jouy. An important change had taken place at the theatre in the rue de Richelieu. Baron Taylor had been appointed royal commissioner in place of M. Choron, upon the recommendation of MM. Lemercier, Viennet and Alexandre Duval.
When Charles X. returned to Paris after the coronation, and the Bishop of Orléans issued orders for prayers to be offered up in thanksgiving for the safe accomplishment of the ceremony just concluded, M. Bergeron, curé of the commune of Saint-Sulpice, canton of Blois, after delivering from his reading-desk the bishop's mandate, added these simple words:—
"My dearly beloved brethren, as Charles X. is not a Christian, as he desires to keep the Charter, which is an Act contrary to religion, we ought not to pray for him, any more than for Louis XVIII., who was the founder of that Charter; they are both damned. Those who agree with me, please rise."
And three hundred listeners out of four hundred rose, and by that act declared that they were entirely of the same opinion as their priest.
Alas! If the Academy could have known what kind of man Baron Taylor was, whom the order of Charles X. had introduced into the sanctuary of the Comédie-Française! If it could only have guessed that he was to open its doors to MM. Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo and de Vigny,[1]it would have followed the curé Bergeron's example and excommunicated King Charles x. But it knew nothing at all about it.
The first bad turn the new commissioner of the king did to his patrons was to have M. Viennet'sSigismond de Bourgogneplayed, and M. Lemercier'sCamille.I need hardly mention that both these plays fell flat. This did not discourage M. Lemercier: he decided to change his style of play, and began a melodrama called theMasque de poix.This elated M. Viennet, who, instead of changing his method, like his honoured confrère, made up his mind, on the contrary, to force his method into acceptance, and began by reading hisAchillein the salons, a play which had been written twenty years before, and which had been accepted ten years ago.
"Do you not think my Achille is very heroic?" he said to M. Arnault, after one of these readings.
"Yes," replied M. Arnault, "as fierce as a turkey-cock!"
But very few men could be more brilliant at repartee than M. Viennet. It was like watching a tilting bout in the lists to hear him, save that he never retorted when his adversary missed fire. He certainly offered a favourable target for such attacks, and people were not slow to avail themselves of their opportunities. Once, at Nodier's house, he went up to Michaud.
"Tell me, Michaud," he began, in a manner that was peculiarly his own,—"tell me what you think, I have just finished a poem of thirty thousand lines."
"It will need fifteen thousand men to read them," replied Michaud.
On another occasion, at a dinner party, M. Viennet made an attack upon Lamartine.
"He is a puppy," he said, "who thinks himself the greatest politician of his age, and who is not even the first poet!"
"At all events," Madame Sophie Gay retorted from the other end of the table, "he is not the last—that place is already occupied."
Besides everything M. Viennet wrote in verse—fables, comedies, tragedies, epistles and epic poems—he wrote a couple of letters in prose which are perfect models. We will quote them in toto and verbatim; extracts would not give a proper idea of their style. One was in reference to the nomination of Hugo as an officer of the Légion d'honneur; the other was in connection with his own nomination to the peerage. For M. Viennet was both a deputy and a peer of France, besides also being a Commander of the Légion d'honneur and a member of the Academy.
Here is M. Viennet's first letter:—
"MONSIEUR,—Je n'ai pas dit que je ne voulais plus porter la croix d'officier de la Légion d'honneur, depuis qu'on l'avait donnée au chef de l'école romantique."En ôtant mon ruban de la boutonnière où l'empereur l'avait placé, j'ai suivi seulement l'exemple de la plupart desgénéraux de la vieille armée, qui trouvaient plus facile de se faire remarquer en paraissant dans les rues sans décoration. Il ne s'agissait ici ni de romantiques ni de classiques."Il est tout naturel qu'un ministre romantique décore ses amis; il serait cependant plus juste de donner la croix de chevalier à ceux qui auraient eu le courage de lire jusqu'au bout les vers ou la prose de ces messieurs, et la croix d'officier à ceux qui les auraient compris. Je désire, en outre, qu'on n'en donne que douze par an aux écrivains qui font des libelles contre les grands pouvoirs de l'État, les ministres et les députés: il faut de la mesure dans les encouragements.—Agréez, etc.,VIENNET"
"MONSIEUR,—Je n'ai pas dit que je ne voulais plus porter la croix d'officier de la Légion d'honneur, depuis qu'on l'avait donnée au chef de l'école romantique.
"En ôtant mon ruban de la boutonnière où l'empereur l'avait placé, j'ai suivi seulement l'exemple de la plupart desgénéraux de la vieille armée, qui trouvaient plus facile de se faire remarquer en paraissant dans les rues sans décoration. Il ne s'agissait ici ni de romantiques ni de classiques.
"Il est tout naturel qu'un ministre romantique décore ses amis; il serait cependant plus juste de donner la croix de chevalier à ceux qui auraient eu le courage de lire jusqu'au bout les vers ou la prose de ces messieurs, et la croix d'officier à ceux qui les auraient compris. Je désire, en outre, qu'on n'en donne que douze par an aux écrivains qui font des libelles contre les grands pouvoirs de l'État, les ministres et les députés: il faut de la mesure dans les encouragements.—Agréez, etc.,VIENNET"
And this is M. Viennet's letter about his nomination to the peerage of France:—
"MONSIEUR,—Sur la foi d'un journal judiciaire que je ne connais pas, vous publiez, que, des vendredi dernier, je me suis empressé d'écrire à M. Vedel, pour mettre opposition à la représentation desSerments, et vous accompagnez cette annonce d'une fort jolie épigramme contre cette comédie. L'épigramme me touche fort peu, elle sort peut-être de la même plume qui avait loué l'ouvrage quand l'auteur avait cessé d'être un homme politique. Je ne prétends pas l'empêcher de continuer, mais le fait n'est pas vrai et je me récrie. Il n'y a eu de ma part ni possibilité ni volonté de faire ce qu'on m'impute. Je suis parti vendredi de la campagne, et je suis arrivé chez moi, à Paris, vers les sept heures, sans me douter de ce quele Moniteuravait publié, le matin, d'honorable pour moi. C'est mon portier qui m'a salué du titre de pair, attendu qu'il avait expédié, le matin même, pour mon village, une lettre officielle qui portait ce titre, et comme cette lettre ne m'est pas encore revenue, j'ignore à quel ministre je suis redevable de ce premier avis. Quant à ma volonté, elle n'existe point, elle n'existera jamais! c'est m'insulter que de me croire capable d'abjurer les travaux et les honneurs littéraires, pour un honneur politique. La Charte n'a pas établi d'incompatibilité entre le poète dramatique et le pair de France; si elle l'eût fait, j'aurais refusé la pairie. Les lettres et les succès de théâtre honorent ceux qui cultivent les unes et qui obtiennent les autres sans intrigue et sans bassesse. Au lieu d'y renoncer, je sollicite, au contraire, avec plus d'instance la représentation desSerments, la mise en scène d'une de mes tragédies et la lecture d'unecomédie en cinq actes. Si vous avez quelque crédit auprès de M. le directeur du Théâtre-Français, veuillez l'employer en ma faveur. Les épigrammes dont on m'a poursuivi comme député sont bien usées; vous devez désirer qu'on en renouvelle la matière, et une nouvelle comédie, une nouvelle tragédie de moi, seraient de merveilleux aliments pour la verve satirique de mes adversaires. Rendons-nous mutuellement ce service; je vous en serai très-reconnaissant pour mon compte, et je vous prie d'agréer d'avance les remercîments de votre très-humble serviteur,VIENNET"
"MONSIEUR,—Sur la foi d'un journal judiciaire que je ne connais pas, vous publiez, que, des vendredi dernier, je me suis empressé d'écrire à M. Vedel, pour mettre opposition à la représentation desSerments, et vous accompagnez cette annonce d'une fort jolie épigramme contre cette comédie. L'épigramme me touche fort peu, elle sort peut-être de la même plume qui avait loué l'ouvrage quand l'auteur avait cessé d'être un homme politique. Je ne prétends pas l'empêcher de continuer, mais le fait n'est pas vrai et je me récrie. Il n'y a eu de ma part ni possibilité ni volonté de faire ce qu'on m'impute. Je suis parti vendredi de la campagne, et je suis arrivé chez moi, à Paris, vers les sept heures, sans me douter de ce quele Moniteuravait publié, le matin, d'honorable pour moi. C'est mon portier qui m'a salué du titre de pair, attendu qu'il avait expédié, le matin même, pour mon village, une lettre officielle qui portait ce titre, et comme cette lettre ne m'est pas encore revenue, j'ignore à quel ministre je suis redevable de ce premier avis. Quant à ma volonté, elle n'existe point, elle n'existera jamais! c'est m'insulter que de me croire capable d'abjurer les travaux et les honneurs littéraires, pour un honneur politique. La Charte n'a pas établi d'incompatibilité entre le poète dramatique et le pair de France; si elle l'eût fait, j'aurais refusé la pairie. Les lettres et les succès de théâtre honorent ceux qui cultivent les unes et qui obtiennent les autres sans intrigue et sans bassesse. Au lieu d'y renoncer, je sollicite, au contraire, avec plus d'instance la représentation desSerments, la mise en scène d'une de mes tragédies et la lecture d'unecomédie en cinq actes. Si vous avez quelque crédit auprès de M. le directeur du Théâtre-Français, veuillez l'employer en ma faveur. Les épigrammes dont on m'a poursuivi comme député sont bien usées; vous devez désirer qu'on en renouvelle la matière, et une nouvelle comédie, une nouvelle tragédie de moi, seraient de merveilleux aliments pour la verve satirique de mes adversaires. Rendons-nous mutuellement ce service; je vous en serai très-reconnaissant pour mon compte, et je vous prie d'agréer d'avance les remercîments de votre très-humble serviteur,VIENNET"
We will now return to Baron Taylor and the changes he brought about at the Théâtre-Français. At the Panorama-Dramatique he had producedIsmaël et Maryamalone;Bertramin collaboration with Nodier; andAli-Pachawith Pichat's assistance.
Pichat was a young man of twenty-eight at that time: a play of his,Léonidas, had been received two or three years before at the Théâtre-Français. Taylor extractedLéonidasfrom the pandemonium he found himself in, and had it put in rehearsal. Talma was cast for the rôle of Léonidas:—not that his supreme intellect was mistaken about the part, which, dramatically speaking, was nothing at all; but in the matter of "business" it contained something fresh to do, and poor Talma, to the day of his death, was ever seeking new worlds, and, less fortunate than Vasco de Gama, he never succeeded in finding them. Besides, it was a very appropriate moment for the playing ofLéonidas; all Europe was looking towards the successors of the three hundred Spartans. And the new piece, so it was announced in advance, was to be staged with unusual sumptuousness and unheard-of effects. I well remember the first performance of the tragedy ofLéonidas, wherein one felt the dawn of new ideas, wherein every historic saying which immortalised the famous defence of the Thermopælians was felicitously adapted, and admirably rendered by Talma. One hemistich of the young Agis was Substituted for the written line. Agis wounded, fell, exclaiming—
"Ils sont tous morts ... Je meurs!..."
The play met with a most enthusiastic reception, on account of the circumstances under which it was played. It was a splendid success for Talma: he looked like an antique statue descended from its column. After the performance, when the curtain had fallen, I saw a noisy group of rejoicing people rush along the corridor and the foyer, anxious to convey their friendly congratulation. A fine-looking young man, with a face as radiant as a conquering Apollo, formed the centre and was the hero of the group. He was the author ofLéonidas.Alas! he died only two years later—died before he had hardly lifted the intoxicating cup of success to his lips. But Taylor had at least the happiness of holding out to him the nectar which sweetened his last moments. Without Taylor, Pichat would have died in obscurity, and even though he were but an ephemeral meteor, many people, myself among the number, recollect the brilliant light he gave during his short career!