Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-07-06
ssThe Keys of Paris. "

A letter writer in Paris says: The
death OF d'Artois, the father OF dra-
n,atic writer's, has created vacancy IN
the ranks of those veterans whose eX-
ertions to amuse us in our youth
caused us in our ripper age to greet the
very name with ready smile. DArtols
was the author of some OF the most
loyous follies of the repertoire OF the
vaudeville, and the broad farces he III
vented for the coarse appetite of the
allied generals during their occupation
of Paris rendered him the most pOpu-
Tor man of the whole nation. Once
when the Censor had refused to grant
permission for the performance of one
of his pieces de Circumstance, called the
s'Keys of Paris" at the very last mo-
ment the embarrassment of both au-
thor and manager had become so great
nothing short of a miracle cOuld save
them. Every place had been taken by
the foreign officers, anxious to see how
the subject was TO be treated by one oil
the conquered. In the horrible diem
ma d'ArtOis resolved npOn the extreme
step of seeking the permission refused
by the Censor from the Governor oi
Paris, the great Rostopchine himself.
He loved to tell the story and told ii
well.
The great RostOpchine was residing
at the Palace of the Elyse of Bourbon,
and ON arriving there d'ArtOis was
shown into the marble saloon on the
ground floor which opens into the
garden, at that moment ali redOlent
with the most delicious odor and gay
with the most choice and lovely flow.
ers. In the midst of the enameled
grass plot Immediately in front of the
window, where stood d'Artois awaiting
with impotence the appearance of ROs-
topchine, stood two Cossack soldiers,
motionless, side by side, bare-headed,
gazing fixedly upon the ground. Pres
entity emerged from behind the thick
hedge of lanrels which bordered the
view, a tall, splendid-loOking Russian
officer, who, as if in a meditative
mood, walked with slow and measured
pace across the lawn straight to the
spot where stood the two soldiers, and,
cody taking from his belt the two pis-
tolls with which it was adorned, fired
with both hands at once, and at the
same moment the two COssacks fell flat
upon their faces, and long before the
sound of the pistol shots had died
away, the tall, magniiicent-looking
officer had entered by the glass door
and stood by the side OF the pale and
trembling author, needing no other in
PRODUCTION to be recognized as the
great ROstOpchine himself. His man
ner was afIable and courteous, high
bred in the extreme. He actually badel
the author be seated and compose
himself, assuring him that he was far
from being so severe as was represent
ed, that his love for the arts was ex-
treme, and that, had he not been com
PEELED To follow the career of arms by
would most certainly have
been himself poet by choice. And
all this while the dead bodies of the
Cossacks were being borne past the
windows of the saloon, and the white
garments of the mOTjites,. on whose
shoulders they were carried, all stained
with the blood of their victims. The
was granted of course, but
poor d'Artois was so Ill with the shock
of that mornings adventure that he
could not assist at the representation
of the piece, and at midnight was
aroused by a message from his Excel
lency, the Governor of Paris, bearing
an ink-stand of gold and malachite,
with "a most courteous note of thanks
for the hearty enjoyment he had ex-
perienced in witnessing the perform
ance of "The Keys of Paris,