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key for every room in the house which the over to give an account of the Exhibition, housekeeper had the charge of; so my lady are still among us, and still continue to comsent for her to open the doors. Now, though ment most amusingly on our manners and from putting this and that together—the customs. count's agitation, my sudden disappearance, | In the “ fourth letter” to the Patrie of her own removal, and the innkeeper's story M. Jules de Prémary, we find the following: -she felt sure there was some mischief in “In coming to London, I was in hopes of the wind, she had no suspicion of what had being able to say the contrary of all that
| has been said about the English people : really occurred; as indeed how should she,
| with what joy I thought I should 'declare till her eyes fell upon the door of the closet. Then she comprehended it all. You may | English people are the merriest and most imagine the rest, madame! Words couldn't polite of the universe, that the spleen is a paint it! When they came into the room, she fantastic malady, and
fantastic malady, and that the fogs of the
Thames do not exist. But que voulez-vous ? was battering madly at the walls with the l.
The gayety of the English makes one shudpoker. But a few hours terminated her der : their spleen creeps over one; their sufferings. She was already dead when houses are confined within iron rails like the Philippe was telling me of her return." tombs of Père la Chaise ; a veil of black “ It's a fearful tragedy to have lived | crape arises every morning from the Thames,
spreads over the town, and at times allows through!” said I. “And Philippe : what
itself to be pierced by a red bullet, which I became of him ?"
am assured is the sun; all of which proves “ He died like the rest, madame, about that the English have not been misrepresix months after these sad events had occur- sented. red. When I recovered my health, I went
“After all, however, London is still Lon
don—that is, the largest, the most bizarre, into service, and for the last forty years I
the most curious, and the most uninhabitahave been housekeeper to M. le curé here." ble town in the world. And so uninbabita
“And he is the only person that ever ble is it that nobody lives in it, not even the enters that melancholy house ?"
English. People pass through it, transact “Yes, madame. I went there once-just
business, or eat and drink in it, but as soon once—to look at that fatal chamber, and the
as they can they escape to breathe the pure
air at Greenwich or Richmond. Only the bed where my poor mistress died. When the
dead inhabit London, and I wager that at place was let, those apartments were locked night they leave Westminster and St. Paul's up; but”—and she shook her head mourn to stretch their legs in the adjacent parks. fully—“the tenants were glad to leave it.”
“At this moment the rain is rattling " And for what purpose does M. le curé
against my windows as if it approved
of what I have written; but this wet go there so often?” I asked.
rain is nothing; we have it at Paris, “To pray for the souls of the unfor- only in smaller quantities; for at London, tunates !” said the old woman devoutly as every body knows, the year is divided crossing herself.
into eight months of winter and four months
of bad weather. What, however, we do Deeply affected with her story, I took
OOK not possess is dry rain. In London, all day leave of this sole surviving witness of these long, you are covered with a fine black powlong-buried sorrows; and I, too, accom- der, which sticks to the clothes, the gloves, panied by the curé, once more visited the and the hands, and forms a mark on the awful chamber. “Ah, madame !" said he,
| face. When it becomes mixed with the wet “poor human nature! with its passions, and
rain, this powder forms ink; and at London
we may say it rains ink. I fill my inkstand its follies, and its mad revenges! Is it not
with drops from the spout at my window; sad to think that so much love should prove it is economical. the foundation of so much woe?”
“ Having remarked that in Paris the English in spring wear white hats, I brought one to London; but nobody wears any, and at
present it is as black as Erebus, though I From the “ Literary Gazette."
have only worn it a week. Talking of hats
-one word on English politeness, or rather LETTRES DE LONDRES. COURRIERS
on what replaces it, for there is no politeDE LONDRES, ETC.
ness in England—there is either cordiality
or insolence. Cordiality is charming on the THE “ own correspondents” of the princi- part of ladies of good society-they offer pal Paris newspapers, who have been sert you their hands with infinite grace, and a
very seducing air. In general the English | know-not-what mysterious instinct the wars approach ladies without bowing, with the which during centuries cost so many soldiers hat thrust on the back of the head, almost to both countries. In presence of the English down to the neck and they unceremoniously pride of the great, and the vulgar mockery offer their hand. This constitutes cordiality, of the small, there are moments at which one and replaces our French politeness. On the is on the point of crying, “No! it is not tbe part of the ladies this way of meeting is sea which separates France from England, very pretty ; but it is grossly rude on the but Hatred ! 'and, misled, for a moment
, one part of the men—they have the air of ac- | dreams of taking an insensate vengeance
. costing a lady as they would approach a Such an idea is bad, and, thank God, every horse. In relations with the vulgar you day draws closer two countries made to uplower yourself by being polite. If you take derstand each other, and to guide the rest off your hat on entering a shop you are of the world in the paths of civilization served last and with bad grace. Sometimes No one more than I am is a partisan of the even you are taken for a beggar, and are great ideas of union and peace, to which the turned out of doors, or have a penny offered universal Exhibition must cause great proyou. That actually happened to me in a gress to be made. But the old elements of glove shop in Regent-street.
hatred exist, and are felt, when for the first “Does a comfortable way of living exist time one's foot touches British ground, and in England ? It is always so stated, and we are obliged to call reason to our aid to the thing has passed into a proverb amongst silence them. The English women, however
, us; one would almost suppose every En. fortunately plead powerfully the cause of glishman a sort of Sardanapalus. That civilization. They are the fair angels of may be true of the wealthy classes ; but peace, and Frenchmen are so fully conquerthe middle, amongst whom I live, appear to ed by them, that we think no more of under: me to be completely without that comfort taking the conquest of England. of which so much is said. In my opinion “There is no more striking scene than there is nothing comfortable in the ordinary the transept of the Exhibition on a fine life of London. I stuff myself with bam, afternoon. What an elegant and variegsbrutify myself with beer, and drown myself ted crowd! English women are mad after in floods of tea, and yet I do not attain that gay and striking colors; their silk gowns material felicity so much vaunted, and which of green, blue, rose-colored, lilac, and some enthusiasts represent to be a foretaste striped, contrast strangely with the pale se of Paradise. I do not mean to say, however, riousness of their romantič faces. A Frenchthat I am positively arrived at the infernal woman would call their dress in bad taste, regions—that would be an exaggeration ; but I like it. All these charming and strange but assuredly, English_life is decidedly a creatures pass to and fro, like a swarm of nice little purgatory. True, the houses of brilliant insects. They then seat themselves the middle class are well kept in the inte amidst flowers and verdure to eat ham; rior :—the fireplace is always full of coal, and it is not one of the least curiosities of the kettle is always boiling, and if hot London to see Clarissa Harlowes with such water caused happiness I should be the good appetites. For one shilling and sis happiest of men. But what bedrooms ! pence you are admitted to the refreshment simple nails to hang up your clothes—beds room, and you have the right to indulge stuffed with fir-apples-blankets of I know in all the gastronomic eccentricities of not what—and then the beds are most hor- Garagantua. Several tables laden with ribly ill made by the chambermaids. More viands, worthy of the descriptions of Rsover, in London there are no commissionaires, belais and Cervantes, and such as are only and if you have a letter to send anywhere to be seen in England, are every day you must carry it yourself if you have no crowded by famished visitors. There ani. servant. No commissionaires in such an mals of all countries take their food with immense town as London—is that credible! ferocity, the mere sight of which is too And then there are few baths, and you are much for people of delicate nature. Except not allowed to heat or cool them as you in England, meat is no where exposed to please-nay, if you stop in a bath more than the eye with so much shamefulness of half an hour, the attendants turn off the quantity, and with that redness of color water, and leave you like a fish on dry which makes you shudder with horror
. land. And yet people talk of the comfort Roast beef, roast mutton, roast lamb, roase of the English way of living !
veal and ham, and even roast pork, only “ Abstraction made of their usages, it is appear to disappear; and the English call impossible not to render justice to the quals that taking refreshment." ities which have made the English one of the first nations in the world. But in mixing
In the subsequent letters of M. de Prémawith the crowd in public places, in being ry there is little worth the trouble of trant elbowed
only by Englishmen, the newly lation, though, no doubt, all that he says is arrived Frenchman feels explained by 1. I interesting enough to his own countrymen
and all, it must be admitted, is written dukes, have overwhelmed strangers with inwith a good deal of off-band smartness.
vitations. The foreigner, ordinarily so ill
or thought of in London, has all at once become The feuilletoniste of the Siècle, M. Texier,
the lion of the season. The beard is received seems to have come over with the determi
n with the most charming smile, and the musnation of finding every thing “rotten in the tache itself no longer draws from the young state of Denmark.” He not only dwells miss the exclamation “shocking !" with a sort of gloomy satisfaction on the Of all the fervilletonistes who have come misery of a certain portion of the population, amongst us, the first in talent as in rank is but actually takes his readers to the wretch-Jules Janin of the Debat
Jules Janin of the Débats. His articles are ed quarters occupied by the lowest class of full of that brilliant sparkle, that exquisite Irish, and cries, “ This, then, is proud and
embroidery, that airy and elegant phrasehaughty England !—fair to the eye, but rot
spinning for which he is noted ; and in each ten within—a giant with feet of clay-of
passage may be found proofs that he posimmense wealth, but with the most horrid
sesses a good deal of classical knowledge, misery gnawing at her vitals !” Jules Janin,
| and no little reading. He has, however, we observe, has had the good sense and the
unfortunately the plain common-sense which good taste, in one of his recent feuilletons, prevents him from falling into absurdities, to rebuke his young and indiscreet confrère : or from torturing truth, or indulging in car-“Before we denounce the defects of icature. We say “unfortunately," because English society let us first look at home! the consequence is, that he writes of the And besides, when there is so much to English almost as an Englishman would, admire, it is unjust to see only the stains and therefore says little that calls for transon the picture !" Such is the substance, | lation. On the whole he seems to have if not the exact words, of the eminent been well received, and he certainly takes critic. Here, however, is an extract on a manifest pleasure in displaying the most more agreeable subject from M. Texier : cordial feeling towards our country. In
“ It is the opinion of a great many persons short, he came amongst us as a friend should that the Universal Exhibition of London -with a heart overflowing with friendliwill in no respect modify the character,
ness; and every Englishman who reads his manners, or habits of our neighbors. The islander, in fact, resists with all his power,
feuilletons, especially the later ones, will the influence of the usages which prevail on feel as much liking for the man as admirathe other side of the channel; and if com- tion for the writer. mercially be is in favor of the practice of Here is an anecdote told in his own lively free exchange, in a moral point of view he
way :is entirely opposed to continental exportations. This explains the peculiar and “I have spoken of the respect of each original physiognomy of the English people and all for the law, of which every man in in this nineteenth century, in which most the three kingdoms is naturally the protector other nations have a certain air of relation and the guardian. One of the French exship. However, if I take into account the hibitors, a distinguished manufacturer, was phenomena which have occurred during the standing the other day with a crowd to see last few days in the privileged world, called the Queen pass. He had one foot off the here. The nobility and gentry,' I must as. | pavement. 'Up came the policeman, who Bume that the irruption of Frenchmen will ordered our friend to stand entirely on the leave some traces, and that the old British pavement. But-oh! incredible thing in usages will receive more than one encroach- the eyes of all who knew the respect of this ment. Can it be believed that at this man for order he refused, and declared moment, the bouses of London which are that he would remain with one foot in the protected by railings, and which resemble street and the other on the pavement. Good! miniature prisons, are being opened to visi. The policeman makes his round, and returns tors? The home is invaded; the sanctuary and makes a new sign, . Either walk in the is profaned ; bearded visages show them- street, or stand on the pavement!' He does selves for the first time in drawing-rooms, more-seeing the Frenchman determined which hitherto have only witnessed the fair not to obey, he draws his staff from his shoulders of ladies, and the mathematical pocket, and threatens to strike him a blow faces of stiff gentlemen. Is this a sudden which would kill an ox! The danger was conversion ? is it premeditated amiability I or I great : but, as I have said, the man was is it only curiosity ? I cannot tell. But the obstinately bent on resistance : be would fact is, that baronets, earls, marquises, and I sooner have consented to be killed on the spot than have withdrawn his foot. But or four mourning coaches, full of people, the policeman took pity on him : he placed some of which, from the partial glimpse his staff in his pocket, and called on two or which I caught of them, appeared to be three young men to give him aid and protection against this obstinate fellow. There
| foreigners ; behind these came a very long upon these young men, faithful to the respect train of splendid carriages, all of which, of the law, which is one of the glories of without one exception, were empty. their nation, approached the offender, and, | «*Whose body is in that hearse i' said I with a severe voice, said, 'Sir, you are not
to a dapper-looking individual, seemingly a in France, where every body does what he pleases---you are in a country in which peo
shopkeeper ; who stood beside me on the ple honor themselves by obeying the law pavement, looking at the procession. you will do as we do, sir,- you will obey !' | " "The mortal relics of Lord Byron,' said And, bon gré mal gré, he had to get on the the dapper-looking individual, mouthing his pavement! What do you say to the assist.
words and smirking—the illustrious poet, ance rendered to a subaltern agent of the public peace! In France, people would
which have been just brought from Greece, hardly take the trouble to stop a'thief !” i and are being conveyed to the family vault
in ..... shire.
« • An illustrious poet, was het' said I
“ Beyond all criticism,' said the dapper FUNERAL OF BYRON.
man ; 'all we of the rising generation are “One day I found myself about noon at under incalculable obligation to Byron ; I the bottom of Oxford-street, where it forms myself in particular, have reason to say so; a right angle with the road which leads or in all my correspondence my style is formed did lead to Tottenham Court. Happening on the Byronic model.' to cast my eyes around, it suddenly occurred: “I looked at the individual for a moment, to me that something uncommon was ex. who smiled and smirked to himself applause, pected; people were standing in groups on and then I turned my eyes upon the hearse the pavement—the upstair windows of the proceeding slowly up the almost endless houses were thronged with faces, especially street. This man, this Byron, bad for many those of women, and many of the shops years past been the demi.god of England, were partly, and not a few entirely closed and his verses the daily food of those sbo What could be the reason of all this? All read, from the peer to the dra per's assistat once I bethought me that this street of ant; all were admirers, or rather worship Oxford was no other than the far-famed pers, of Byron, and all doated on his verses; Tyburn way. Oh, oh, thought I, an execu- and then I thought of those who, with tion; some handsome young robber is about genius as high as his, or higher, had lived to be executed at the further end ; just so, and died neglected. I thought of Milton see how earnestly the women are peering; abandoned to poverty and blindness; of perhaps another Harry Symms—Gentleman witty and ingenious Butler consigned to the Harry as they called him—is about to be tender mercies of bailiffs; and starving carted along this street to Tyburn tree ; | Otway: they had lived neglected and debut then I remembered that Tyburn tree spised, and, when they died, a few poor had long since been cut down, and that mourners only bad followed them to the criminals, whether young or old, good-look- grave; but this Byron had been made a half ing or ugly, were executed before the big god of when living, and now that he was stone jail, which I had looked at with a kind | dead he was followed by worshipping of shudder during my short rambles in the crowds, and the very sun seemed to come city. What could be the matter ? Just out on purpose to grace his funeral. And, then I heard various voices cry “There it indeed, the sun, which for many days past comes !” and all heads were turned up Ox. had hidden his face in clouds, shone out that ford-street, down which a hearse was slowly morn with wonderful brilliancy, flaming coming: nearer and nearer it drew; pres- upon the black hearse and its tall ostrich ently it was just opposite the place where I plumes, the mourning coaches, and the long was standing, when, turning to the left, it train of aristocratic carriages which follor. proceeded slowly along Tottenham Road; ed behind. “Great poet, sir,' said the dapimmediately behind the hearse were three per-looking man, 'great poet, but unhappy.'
| foreign tongue. In such a time of need, a THE PHILOSOPHER'S BLUNDER.
fair girl, a younger sister of the lady-travel. (From the German of Ludwig Tieck.)
ler, acted as interpreter, and translated the
thoughts of the speaker, who thus found THERE lived, some years ago, in one of the himself obliged to deliver them in German. large cities of Germany, a young professor This latter style of philosophical conversaof philosophy, and as, like philosophers gen- tion was, after some time, considered preferally, he was infallible, having discovered erable to the other, and the hours thus dethe only absolute truth and the only wisdom voted to philosophy became more numerous, that would prove eternally impregnable, of and assumed a more familiar and confidencourse, be had plenty of disciples who were tial character. These two young and graceready to swear by him. The hall in which ful women hung on the words of the eloquent he lectured was almost too small for the teacher who told them things so new and crowd who thirsted after knowledge, and strange. They thought they understood buch of his disciples as he honored with a him, and he, when he saw their look of wonmore familiar intercourse were envied by all derment, had not the slightest doubt of it. the rest. Men of business, who had almost Nothing could be more natural than that, forgotten their student years, considered it a when the hours of severe study were over, great favor when this wise—and as yet they should refresh themselves with lighter tolerably young-Plato permitted them to conversation; and, at such times, the young sit among his pupils that they might also professor displayed all his German politeness. quench their thirst at the fountain. Though He often met his lady-pupils in society, this teacher was so much in fashion, and, but greatly preferred seeing them at their consequently, created a host of worthless own home. He was human, and one can admirers, those more earnest men who knew scarcely blame him if, after some weeks, he how to value his acuteness could not deny fancied that both these amiable young ladies him their esteem. Nothing also could be liked his society better than any other. He more natural than that a travelling French was unmarried, tolerably good-looking, belady-witty, curious, and inclined to research sides being a celebrated author; so, after -should seek to become acquainted with the turning the whole affair over in his own famous professor, and get him to give her mind, he thought he saw some probability an explanation of his system, as far as her of his womanly friendliness ripening into smattering of German and his bad unassisted love. French would permit. She-voluble and He hesitated some time as to which fair impulsive, neither languid nor given to one he should give the preference; which dreaminess—was a follower in the steps of he should approach with the idea of inthe celebrated De Staël, who was the first spiring her with love, and experiencing it to direct the attention of her self-satisfied bimself. At length, he fixed on the younger countrymen to Germany, as a land, like sister, who--besides being the more beauti. some far Indies or fabulous region, wherein ful, and half a German already-had an various things were to be discovered of estate at Alsace, about which be had heard which the perfectly civilized French bad not a good deal; the said estate being a thing 80 much as dreamt. So this young widow, not absolutely disagreeable to a prudent Lady Deschamps, listened believingly, im- man, or to one thinking himself so. He had bibing the didactic professor's metaphysics also become more familiar with her, from with both eyes and ears, and it frequently her having to translate his instructions, and distressed her that, though her spirit was as this young sister, moreover, was always completely rapt, her mouth would keep more respectful towards him, he was not laughing at the bad French of the Evangelist. sorry to find her sometimes at home by herIt was still worse when, sometimes, (as one self. has seen it happen to artificial cascades in Such was the state of affairs. The philosparks,) when the store of water runs short, opher grew more honored every day by his the inspired teacher had to cease speaking, admirers, who had visited that great city pot being able to find words, either winged or partly on his account. They wrote notes lame, whereby to express his meaning in that and letters to him containing expressions of