The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1869-07-23
The French narrister.

OF the Second Empire. we quVVo Oi0
ing description of ''The Barrlster'
Il must have come within the personal eA-
perience of the reader that OF nVe or siA i uo1on
ono will occasionally distinguished itself from
its fellows bv bursting without apparent cause.
A. ~ is With bottles in general so 1t is with
men. and as it is in particular with the bottle
yVbich bursts so il was with the barrlster Maltre
Andre Leon, who exploded one afternoon last
winter without giving previous notice of his
Intentions The day before the explosion
there had been no perceptible difference be-
t1veen Maitre Leon and other bottles-that is,
borristers He had the same sort OF look
Hbouohtful face and black whiskers), wore
GOWN of the same stuff, was every day
to be seen pacing about the sale des
Pas Perdus in hungry impatlence OF Drlels,
and Mt the Cafe Voltaire, where his leisure
tool, him of an evening, was usually to be des-
cried dividing his attention in equal parts
botveen n lug of beer and an Opposition
noner On the morning of the explosion no
one who saw him walk down to the Palais de
Justice would have said, ''Ihere's man
who's going to explode;' and yet 10y o clock
that evening the name of Maitre Leon was IN
every mouth in Paris. At the cafe on the
bonlevards where the fippant Jules takes
his absinthe in the company of the frivolous
Octave; the Cafe Anglaise and the Maison
d'Or where the Russian princes gally spend
all thev have and a good deal over; at the
tbrae crack clubs-the Jockey, the AIirlitons,
ond tbe Noutards: at the theatres at all the
ministries. at every one of the police stations,
and in every drawing-room, boudolr, and
study-not excepting that OF his Imperial
Naiesty-was the same question asked and
repeated. "Have you read Andre Icons
speech? M. Emile de Girardin, whose bril-
liant language is always equal to the occasion,
thus pictured the event in an article headed
ANDRE LEON.
soTo he man. and to feel oneself standing
beside a Gulf. immeasurable, unfathomable.
To take out ones watch and say, 1T is three
o'clock. The gulf is before me-. The gulf
The abyss TO take out ones watch an hour
later and to say, 1T is four o'clock And to
feel that the gulf has been crossed. Crossed
What has passed ?-an hour? No; a gulf
And what is the gulf? The gulf is nothing
the gulf is everything. Why is the gulf no.
thing? Because genius clears it at bound
Why is the gulf everything Because it sepa-
rates the herd from the elect; the many who
toll unknown from the few who have been
anointed famous by the golden finger of
popularity Maitre Andre Leon, thou hast
crossed the gulf. greet thee.-EM DE G.
NJ Victor Hugo was even more explicit.
In one of those stirring epistles which he
makes point of sending to nations, princes,
or humble individuals lndlScrlmlnately, ne de-
ivered himself as follows
'HAUTEv1LLE HOUSE, Dec, 1S68.-Citizen,
hail On the giddy heights of the Peak of
Tenerife, where the rarefed air cuts the
human breath like razor, and whence the
pebble of an ounce weight cast down by
careless hand cracks the head of the peasant
below like a walnut shell-on the crest of
that vast segment of rock which towers into
the clouds of infnity, vulture sits medita-
ting over its prey a mangled yet living dove.
The Peak of Teneriffe is high; the vulture
has nothing to fear. rustic is ploughing in
the distance, but he is rejecting that he has
only six sous in his pocket What cares he
for the pigeon, that rustic? Further on a
woman is churning, but she sees her lover
coming down the road; it would take more than
apigeon to attract her. Besides, had they both
the will, it is only eagles who soar to where
the vulture is sitting. The eagle-the bird
of Jove Courage allied to strength! Power
welded to speech! Eagles are rare; the vul-
ture is safe. And yet, no; for the wall of the
persecuted is the clarion which calls cham
pions to the rescue. Amidst the shrieks of
the wind an eagle starts from its eyrie,
spreads its wings, flies over field and water,
then with defiant Cry swoops down upon the
peak beside the vulture. The vulture is
black; the eagle is white Both confront
each other. But the glance of the vulture
quails; he knows that the eagle has come to
ask for the pigeon. Citizen, the pigeon is
the bird of liberty torn from its cot on the
night of the I'd of December, 1851. The
vulture-never shall my pen soil itself 10y
writing that name. The eagle is Andre
Leon, thyself Greeting and fraternity
VICTOR HUGO.
To put all this into plain English, a certain
Boquillon unfavorably known at the Prefec
ture de Police had been shouting give Il
Republique!" That he thus shouted from
very enlightened sympathy with liberal insti
tutions is improbable, seeing that he ha(
frequently been pressed into service to shou
f'Vive lEmpereur" on festive occasions, an,
had always acquitted himself of the task witt
zeal-for a consideration of twenty sous
Boquillon hadbeen oft imprisoned for offense
devoid of political interest, unless, indeed, hi
appropriation of purses and watches belongn
to his neighbors be considered as only a rigi
application of communistic principles B
trade he was nothing, and his education wa
incomplete. All he knew of the difference
between one form of government an
the other was that during tn
Republic of AS a band of ex-gaol birds ha
installed themselves in the Tuileries an
made merry with the late Kings wines
whilst other bands had amused themselves b
Backing the Palais Royal and destroyin
everything they could find in the way of pic
lures, fixtures, and furniture. As thes
amusements were Just of the sort that BE
auillon loved, and as there was no indulgin
in them under imperial rule, it is most ikel
that had it been put to him what sort of go,
ernment he liked he would have cried, ''Giv
me back 49," But it is only fair to add thG
he was not the man to court martyrdom f
his convictions. Boquillon was always to
found in every row and riot; but at the fir