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Voltaire, of whom he truly said that he | Both were equally debased. All were parti(Voltaire) only attempted to overthrow su- sans, none were patriots. The very priestperstition by undermining morality. His in- hood was as corrupt in the mass as the mulvectives were so bitter against philosophy titude of the people generally, and God was and education that he acquired the surname dethroned in France long before the Goddess of the Ape of Jean Jacques!" He was a of Reason had been raised on the desecrated denouncer of the immoral system of lotteries altars, by men not perhaps so much more until he was offered the lucrative place of wicked than their predecessors as more bold "controller-general" of that gambling de- in their wickedness. partment. All men," said he, by way of apology for his inconsistency, "all men are authorized to live at the expense of the enemy;" a maxim unsound in itself, and here altogether misapplied. Towards the end of the century he was appointed to the professorship of history in the central school of Paris, from the labors of which post he found relaxation in various literary works, among others in ridiculing Condillac and Locke, in laughing at Newton as a plagiarist, in denouncing science generally, and in maintaining that there was nothing new under the sun, and that all novel inventions were in truth but ancient discoveries. As a member of the Institute he put the assembly into a condition of profound somnolency by reading his ponderous paper on Cato of Utica, and he had a violent quarrel with the few who had remained awake, and who wished the angry author to put an end to his wearisome discourse. He liked the empire as little as he had loved royalty, and used to say in his pleasant way in the café wherein he reigned supreme, and where he was highly popular and ever welcome, that he should like to see how it would all end, and that he only desired to live from a motive of simple curiosity. He did live just long enough to witness the first Restoration of 1814, having then reached the age of

74 years.

Of all the works of this voluminous author we have now only to do with his famous "Tableau de Paris." In this, as in the Memoirs of the Baroness d'Oberkirch, we have a picture of what France was in the lifetime of many who are yet living- a picture so different from any that could represent present deeds, their actors, or the very stage on which they play out their little drama of intrigue and life, that, though to many it represents contemporary history, it reads like romance, the scene of which is in a far-off land, and the incidents too improbable to even require belief.

In the childhood of some yet living Paris paid to the king's purse one hundred million francs yearly in duties. The citizens grumbled, and when the murmur reached Versailles the powdered beaux were wont to say that the frogs were croaking." It was alleged in return against those very beaux that they consumed more flour in hair powder than would feed many scores of the famished families of the capital. Into that capital the king never entered but a rise occurred in the price of provisions, and the fifty thousand barbers of the city fanned into flame the indignation of their customers while they shaved their beards and combed their perukes. Let what would occur, however, the court was ever gay. Madame d'Oberkirch speaks of the expectations of triumph held out by the Count d'Artois when he proceeded to the siege of Gibraltar. His failure was visited with a shower of witty epigrams. "Comment va le siège de Gibraltar? Assez bien il se lève," is one recorded by Mercier. Madame d'Oberkirch tells us of another made by the deceased count himself. A courtier was flattering him on the way he managed his batteries at the fatal rock-" My kitchen battery, particularly!" was the comment of the gastronomic prince, who at home had four servants to present him with one cup of chocolate, and to save whose ears, in common with those of the king and royal family, the church bells at Versailles never rang a peal during the residence of those great ones of the earth within the walls of the palace. But Eliza Bonaparte showed even greater sensitiveness than this. When in Italy she pulled down a church adjoining her palace, on the plea that the smell of the incense made her sick, and that the noise of the organ made her head ache.

The bourgeois of Versailles were probably less democratic than those of the capital, for tradesmen of repute vied with each other in purchasing the dishes that came untasted Wide apart as were the conditions, oppo- from the royal table. Commoner people site as were the sympathies, and also the bought as eagerly, but for superstitious purantipathies, of the baroness and the bour-poses, the fat of the dead from the execu geois, their respective testimony conducts to tioner, who was paid eighteen thousand but one conclusion that, when they wrote, francs yearly for performing his terrible the entire social state of France was rotten to duties. The executioner, in consequence, the very core. The nobles were loyal only was himself something of an aristocrat. He because they found their interests concerned was a potentate and was well paid. He kept in so being; the commons were rebellious of less flaming fires on his hearth perhaps, and spirit, and careless of judgment to direct it. I wore less fine linen, than the grave-diggers —

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bespattering the philosophers, mathematicians, and linguists that plodded basely by them on foot. "La Robe dine, Finance soupe," is a saying that also illustrates a fashion of the day. Of fashion at court, Madame d'Oberkirch tells us that at presentations the king was obliged to kiss duchesses and the cousins of kings, but not less noble persons. Louis XVI. was timid in the presence of ladies. Marie-Antoinette was ever self-possessed, whatever might be the occasion. It was etiquette to kiss the edge of her robe. The following is highly characteristic of the stilted fashion of the times.

a class who found their fuel in coffins and who wore no shirts but such as they could steal out of aristocratic graves. It was a time when honesty consisted solely in being welldressed. Clerks at forty pounds a year, says Mercier, walk abroad in velvet coats and lace frills-hence the proverb, "Gold-laced coat and belly of bran." As long as appearance was maintained, little else was cared for; but even the twenty thousand in the capital who professionally existed as "diners-out," might have taken exception to the custom of placing carved fruits and wooden joints upon otherwise scantily furnished tables. The wooden pears of Australia were not then I had an adventure this evening that at first known-they would have been the fashiona- embarrassed me a little, but from which I had ble fruit at a Parisian dessert in the year 1780. the good fortune to come off with honor. I wore There was another fashion of the day that on my arm a very handsome bracelet that had was wittily inveighed against by the priests; been given me by the Countess du Nord (wife that of ladies wearing on what was called of the Grand Duke Paul of Russia, then traveltheir necks," a cross held by the dove, ling under the title of Count du Nord), and the typical of faith by the Holy Ghost. 'Why value of which was greatly enhanced to me by suspend such symbols on your bosoms?" having her portrait in its centre. The queen asked the ungallant churchmen," do you not noticed it, and asked me to show it her. I imknow that the cross is the sign of morti- mediately opened my fan, to present the bracefication, and the Holy Spirit that of virtuous thoughts?" The ladies smiled, and retained the insignia till all-powerful fashion motioned to a change. And then female coteries were absorbed in the merits of the respective shades of color implied by "dos de puce,' or "ventre" of the same. Our ladies have more nicely retained the name of the animal in the catalogue of colors, without venturing to translate it; but their less susceptible sisters across the channel could, under the old monarchy, and even under the empire, unblushingly talk of their satins, using names for their colors which would have called up a blush even on the brow of the imperturbable Dean Swift. If small delicacy prevailed, the luxury was astounding. A fermier general was served by twenty-four valets in livery, and never less than six "women" assisted at the toilet of my lady." Two dozen cooks daily excited the palate of that self-denying priest the Cardinal de Rohan, while his eminence's very footmen looked doubly grand by appearing like "Tiddy Bob, with a watch in each fob." Gentlemen then dined in their swords, eat rapidly, and hastened from table when it suited them, without any formal leave-taking. This was felt more acutely by the cooks than by the ladies-in compliment to whom the cavaliers finally dropped their Madame d'Oberkirch, speaking of the swords and assumed canes. The latter came Chevalier de Morney, notices his strong: in when the ladies wore such high-heeled method of expression as one "which, except shoes that without the support of a cane it in the society of her husband, would be too was almost impossible to walk. The gentle- broad for the ears of a modest woman" men, with "clouded heads" to their canes, singular exception! But our fair diarist does tottered, or sauntered, along in company, not appear to be herself over particular. She while fans were furled and snuff-boxes carried, is the warm apologist of the Duchess de according to the instructions of masters, who Bourbon, the unworthy mother of the heroic thundered through Paris in gilded chariots, Duc d'Enghien. She, however, tells the

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let on it to her majesty, according to etiquette. This is the only occasion on which a lady can open her fan before the queen. My fan, which was of ivory, and wrought like the most delicate lace, was not able to bear the weight of the bracelet, which sank through it to the ground. I was in a very awkward position. The queen's hand was held out, and I felt that every eye was on me; but I think that I got out of the dilemma very well I stooped, which was very painful with my stiff petticoat, and, picking up the bracelet, immediately presented it to her majesty, saying, "Will the queen have the goodness to forget me, and think only of the grand duchess?" The queen smiled and bowed; and everybody admired my presence of mind.

and

When we read of such delicate homage as this paid to the divinity that hedged the queen, we can more fully sympathize with her in her fall when she, who had been so daintily worshipped, was unceasingly watched in her dungeon by the coarsest of men, who was dragged to execution with no other sign that human love yet inclined to her than that afforded by the infant child of a poissarde, who, raised on her mother's shoulders to view the spectacle of a queen passing on her way to death, put her little fingers to her lips, and wafted a kiss to the meek pilgrim as. she passed.

-3

following, "with great hesitation," as a sign of the depravity of the times—it is certainly rather piquant.

The Duchess of

had one day received a visit from her lover, M. Archambault de Talleyrand Perigord, when, the husband unexpectedly returning, the gallant was obliged to make his escape by the window. Some persons seeing him descend, made him prisoner, thinking he was a robber; but, having explained who he was, he was allowed to go, without being brought before the injured husband. The story soon became generally known, and the king reproved the lovely duchess for her coquetry; "You intend to imitate your mother, I perceive, madame," said he, in a very severe tone. The tale at last reached the ears of the duke, who complained to the mother-in-law of the conduct of his wife; but she coolly said to him, "You make a great noise about a trifle; your father was much more polite !"

This lady was of the quality of Madame de Matignon, who gave twenty-four thousand livres to Bailard, on condition that he would send her every morning a new head-dress. The people were at this period suffering from famine and high prices. Selfishness and other vices survived the period, however; witness Madame Tronchin, who, in the Revolution, was daily losing her relatives by the guillotine, but who sympathizingly remarked to a friend, that if it were not for her darling little cup of café à la crême, she really did not know how she should survive such misfortunes! Such was the fine lady who wore a "Cadogan" and looked like a man, while the gallants took to English great-coats, with buttons on them larger than crown-pieces, and on every button the portrait of a mis

tress.

name of possessed maniacs, flocked thither in crowds. They flung themselves before the relic in wild contortions; they grimaced, howled, swore, blasphemed, and struggled fiercely with the half-dozen men who seemed unable to restrain them. The better all this was acted the more money was showered on the actors. Mercier declares that all the imprecations that had ever been uttered against Christ and the Virgin could not amount to the mass of inexpressible infamy which he heard uttered by one particular blasphemer.

It was for me (he says) and for all the assembly, a novel and strange thing to hear a human being in a voice of thunder publicly cast defiance at the God of the very temple, insult His worship, provoke His wrath, and belch forth the most atrocious invectives all of which were laid to the account, not of the energetic blasphemer, but of the Devil. The people present tremblingly made the sign of the cross, and prostrated themselves with their faces to the ground, muttering the while, "It is the Demon who speaks!" After eight men had with difficulty dragged him three times to the shrine which held the relic of the cross, his blasphemies became so outrageously filthy that he was cast forever to the dominion of Satan, and unworthy of being cured by the miraculous cross. Imagine that a detachment of soldiers publicly mounted guard that night over this inconceivable farce and that in an age like the present!

out at the door of the church as one surrendered

Such acts were not so much in advance of the age. Four years later the inquisitors of Seville publicly burned at the stake a girl charged with holding criminal intercourse with Satan. She was a very beautiful young creature, and, that her beauty might not excite too much sympathy for her fate, her nose was cut off previous to her being led to execution! Mercier relates this on the authority of an eye-witness. It occurred barely more than seventy years ago, and Dr. Cahill, of gloomy memory, may rejoice therefore to think that the executive hand of his Church can hardly yet be out of practice.

A curious and revolting custom prevailed at this same period. During Passion Week all theatres were closed; but more infamous places remained open; the royal family cut vegetables curiously arranged to represent fish and other food, and court chaplains enjoyed on Holy Thursday the privilege of unlimited liberty of speech in presence of the king. It "An age like the present!" wrote Mercier, was on a Holy Thursday that a court chaplain in the days only of our fathers. In that age ventured to say from the pulpit, in the royal it was deemed impossible to carry the shrines hearing of Louis XIV., that we are all of St. Marcel and Geneviève at the same time mortal," and when the monarch, who could through one street. Whenever the respective not bear the sight of the towers of the cathe-bearers ventured on such a feat they invaridral of St. Denis, sternly looked up at the preacher, the latter, trembling for his chance of a bishopric, amended his phrase and its doctrine by adding, "Yes, sire; almost all of us!" The custom to which I have alluded at the beginning of this paragraph is narrated by Mercier, and is substantially to this effect. On the night between Holy Thursday and Good Friday a relic of the true cross was exposed for public adoration in the "Sainte Chapelle." Epileptic beggars, under the

ably beheld a miracle, exemplifying the attraction of cohesion. The two shrines were drawn to each other, in spite of all opposing human effort, and remained inseparable for the whole space of three days!

At this period Pretestant marriages were accounted as concubinage by the law, while Jewish marriages were held legal. A Jew who purchased the estate of Pepuigny bought with it the undisputed right to nominate the curés and canons of the church. It is worth

recording also, as midnight masses have just been reestablished in Paris, that they were suppressed in that capital three quarters of a century ago, in consequence of the irreligious scenes which occurred in the churches. Mercier pertinently remarks on the singularity of the fact that Roman Catholics who believed in the ever real presence of Christ in their temples, behaved before that presence like unclean heathens, while Protestants, who denied the presence, behaved with decorum. The great attraction for many years at many of these masses was the organ-playing of the great Daquin. His imitation of the song of the nightingale used to elicit a whirlwind of applause from the so-called worshippers.

This mixture of delight and devotion was after all but natural in the people. The cleverest abbes of the day composed not only musical masses but operas.

respective works placed before the world at such wide intervals. That much-wished-for consummation was, however, supposed to be then "looming in the future!"

This day (says the lady) I heard a piece of the king had registered in the parliament an news which gave me great pleasure. It was that ordonnance by which all curés were enjoined to record the declarations of all persons who presented their children, without questioning them in any way. This was to prevent certain curés from trying to cast a doubt on the legitimacy of Protestant children. It did not recognize the validity of Protestant marriages, but it gave us hope for a better future.

to

peruse

to a close. Those who will take the trouble But it is time to draw these rapid notices them will find their reward therein. The the works which have suggested three volumes of Madame d'Oberkirch might Yet the Church and the Stage were ever indeed have been judiciously condensed into in antagonism in France. Mercier tells a one. There is a superabundance in them of pleasant story, which recounts how the famous actress Clairon wrote a plea in claim "what squires call potter and what men call of funereal rites being allowed to the bodies of prose," but there is much besides that is of interest. The writer is by far a more correct deceased stage-players. With some difficulty prophet of the future than Mercier. She saw she found an avocat bold enough to present that the society in which she gloried was falland read this plea to the "parliament." The latter august body struck the lawyer off the ing into ruins. Mercier depicted its vices, rolls. Mille. Clairon, out of gratitude, in- but so little could he foresee the consequences structed him in elocution, and he adopted Paris was so secured by its police from such of them, that he patriotically exulted that the stage as his future profession. On his enormities as the Gordon riots, which had first appearance, however, he proved himself so indifferent an actor that he was summarily disgraced London, as to render revolution imcondemned, amid an avalanche of hisses. He possible. The opinions of the writers apart, their respective records are well worth reading. That of Mercier has been well-nigh forgotten, but its graphic power, its wit, and variety ill-deserved such oblivion. That of has also its certain value. Both are real the baroness, prolix and ill-translated as it is, mirrors of the times, and all that passed before their polished surface is represented thereon with a fidelity that sometimes terrifies

so took the failure to heart that he died

and, being an actor in the eye of the church, was pronounced excommunicate and was buried like Ophelia, with "maimed rites.”

Mercier tells us that there were not less than five thousand special masses daily celebrated in Paris at the charge of sevenpence halfpenny each! The Irish priests in the capital, he says, were not too scrupulous to celebrate two in one day, thus obtaining a second sevenpence-halfpenny by what their French confrères considered rank impiety. Among the poorer brotherhood was chosen the "Porte-Dieu." Such was the rather start

ling popular name for the penniless priest hired to sit up o'nights, and carry the "holy sacrament" to the sick or dying. In rainy weather "la bon Dieu" was conveyed by the reverend porter in a hackney coach, on which occasions the coachman always drove with his hat reverently under his arm. When the "PorteDieu entered an apartment the inmates hurriedly covered the looking-glasses, in order that the "6 holy sacrament" might not be multiplied therein. There was a superstitious idea that it was impious.

I have stated above that Protestant marriages were not valid when Madame d'Oberkirch and M. Mercier were engaged on their

as much as it amuses.

The following, from Mercier, may come the worst case that might be cited. As an under the first head; but it is far from being instance of the results of common hospital practice, it contrasts startlingly with what now occurs in the same locality.

The corpses daily vomited forth by the hospital of the Hôtel Dieu are carried to Clamart, a vast cemetery whose gulf is ever open. These bodies are uncoffined; they are simply sewed up in a winding sheet. They are hurriedly dragged from the beds, and more than one patient pronounced dead has awoke to life under the eager Others have shrieked out that they were living, hand that was sewing him up in his shroud. in the very cart that was conveying them to burial. The cart is drawn by twelve men; a dirty and bemired priest, a bell, and a crucifix

such is the sum of the honors paid to the poor. This gloomy cart starts every morning

are

from the Hôtel Dieu at four o'clock, and journeys These last extracts will serve to show the amid a silence as of night. The bell which pre-different staple of which are composed the cedes it awakes some who slept; but you must respective works of the Baroness and the meet this cart on the highway to correctly ap- Bourgeois. That of the former will be read preciate the effect produced on the mind both merely to amuse the passing hour, but in the by its sight and sound. In sick seasons it has sketches of Mercier there will always be found been seen performing the same journey four times in the twenty-four hours. It can contain something worthy of the attention, not only fifty bodies. The corpses of children of the general reader, but of the statesman, squeezed in between the legs of adults. The the moralist, and the philosopher. whole freight is tossed into a deep and open pit, J. DORAN. quick-lime is liberally poured in, and the horrorstricken eye of the observer plunges into an abyss yet spacious enough to hold all the living inhabitants of the capital. There is holiday here on All Souls' day. The populace contemplate the spot wherein so many of them are destined to lie; and kneeling and praying only precede the universal drinking and debauchery.

Let us turn, by way of conclusion, from burials to bridals. In the account given by Madame d'Oberkirch of the marriage of the Prince de Nassau Saarbruck with Mlle. de Montbarrey we recognize not only what the fair authoress calls "a very grand affair," but an infinitely amusing one to boot. We spare our readers the execrable poetry, by" a drawing-room poet," which was read with great avidity during the bridal festivities. It is necessary, however, to allude to the effusion, as will be seen from what follows:

A TAME BUTTERFLY.

vember morning, when the sky, the air, and all One cold, bleak Nonature wore that sullen and desponding look so peculiar to our climate at this season, a lady, who for the first time had risen from a bed of sickness, went into an adjoining apartment, where she perceived a gay and beautiful butterfly in the window. Astonished at finding this creature of flowers and sunshine in so uncongenial a situation, she watched its movements and operations. As the sun came out for a bright, brief space, it fluttered joyously about the window, and imparted to the sick-room an air of cheerfulness and hope. Towards evening, however, the tiny creature glass tumbler on the mantel-piece. During the drooped its wings; the lady then placed it in a

night, hard frost came on, and the room was in butterfly lay in the bottom of the tumbler appaIn the morning, the consequence very cold. rently dead. The invalid, grieved that her gentle companion of the previous day should so These verses are very stupid, but I quote them soon perish, made some effort to restore its fragile because they amused us exceedingly when we con-existence. She put it on her own warm hand, sidered that this husband, “ possessor of your and breathing upon it, perceived it give signs of charms," and who " to love's enchanting bliss returning animation; she then once more placed shall wake,' was a child of twelve years of age, it in its glass-house on the rug before the fire. who wept from morning to night, frantic at be- Soon the elegant little insect spread out its maing made an object of universal curiosity, flying ny-colored wings, and flew to the window, where from his wife, and even repulsing her with the the sun was shining brightly. By and by, the rudeness of an ill-bred child, and having no sun retired, and the window-panes getting cold, desire to claim a title whose signification he did the creature sank down on the carpet again, not understand. During the ball, the apparently lifeless. The same means were used bridegroom could on no account consent to dance to restore animation, and with the same success. with the bride. He was at length threatened This alternation of life and death went on for with a whipping in case of further refusal, and many days, till at last the grateful little thing promised a deluge of sugar-plums and all sorts became quite tame, and seemed to be acquainted of amusements if he complied. Whereupon he with its benefactress. When she went to the consented to lead her through a minuet. Though window, and held out her finger, it would, of its he showed so great an aversion to her who had own accord, hop upon it; sometimes it would a legal claim upon his attentions, he manifested settle for an hour at a time upon her hand a great sympathy for little Louisa de Dietrich, a or neck, when she was reading or writing. Its child of his own age, and returned to sit beside food consisted of honey; a drop of which the her as soon as he could free himself from the lady would put upon her hand, when the butennuyeuse ceremony of attending on his bride. terfly would uncurl its sucker, and gradually sip This was the husband whose "rapt embrace" it up; then it usually sipped up a drop of water awaited the young princess. My brother under- in the same way. The feeding took place only took to console him, and was showing him some once in three or four days. In this manner its prints in a large book. Amongst them there existence was prolonged through the whole winhappened to be one which represented a marriage ter, and part of the following spring. As it approcession, which, as soon as the child saw, he proached the end of its career, its wings became shut the book, exclaiming, “Take it away, sir, quite transparent, and its spirits apparently detake it away! What have I to do with that?jected. It would rest quietly in its "crystal palit is shocking and hold," continued he, point-ace" even when the sun was wooing it to come ing out a tall figure in the group, "there is one out, and at last, one morning in April, it was that is like Mademoiselle de Montbarrey." found dead - quite dead. — Chambers' Journal,