Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1875-01-26
COLIGNY, THE NIGHT.wALKER.
The Career and Death of a Partisan
Celebrity.


Celebrity.
Mr.. Arsene Houssaye, in his last letter
to the New York Tribune, writes
Paris lost yesterday night-walker
who has left no fellow. He was a friend
of mine, and his name was Charles
Coligny. He was buried with some dis
play, at night, for it is dark at 5 o'clock.
| was, therefore, not altogether lucid in
my eloquence, speaking over his remains.
had given tomb to Gerard de Nerval;
| gave the same to Charles Coligny not
through economy. as retired shop
keeper might think, but because there
was more than one point of resemblance
between these two poets. Both Of them
thought that gas had advantageously
replaced the sun. They therefore went
to bed in the morning and got up at
night. They came together one evening,
Gerard on the point of putting an end
to his life, Coligny still believing in his
dreams, but not having twenty.four sous
between them. Do not suppose that the
money question had any consequence
for them; they we're the sort of men to
whom every one extends Scottish hos.
pitality. They were free spirits who
cared nothing for the pomps and vani-
ties of this world. They only believed
in the passing hour. In reality they
were wise because they lived as they
pleased. No one could regulate either
of them. had given to Gerard de Ner-
val little pavilion in my old Beanjon
hotel. he could have lived there, among
books, in garden full Of vines, having
only a step to walk to breakfast and to
dine with me. But he would not stay
fortnight in the pavilion because
he was compelled to rise in the morning
and 20 to bed at night. That was not
his affair at all. But those who do not
give their reason the benefit of the sun
light always end badly Gerard de
Nerval hanged himself in the Rue de la
| Veille Lanterne and Coligny has just
died with a waist like barrel, gained,
as he said, by effacing some fifty glasses
of beer nightly. His evening began at
six and ended at daylight Before devo.
ting himself to beer he made prelude
like our Edgsr Poe and our Alfred de
Musset, with absinthe and sacre CHEN
Charles LIoligny though not comparable
to these Or eat geniuses, was no ordinary
man. He G'isdained to join the Society
OF the Men of Letters, and perhaps
would have refused to join the Academy
for the same r,sason-that he would hav'
been forced to associate with men whc
we're not his eunsls as grammarians
His pride was Ca stilian, and he, drapeC
himself in his mis- cry, was like a gran
dee of Spain. He was once very hand
some, with his black curls, his larg
eyes, brilliant and gentle, his moutl
well cut for smiling and sneering. H
resembled Moliere, though not in comi
genius, for he could not invent dia
logue. He had no imagination. ii
was paraphraser, whatever his subject
He had an odd vanity OF his own. A
night, when he wandered through Pari
with. his friends, the night walkers, b
frightened the passers-by and walked tn
slee, ,ers with the cry which has becom
famous, "0h he Bourgeoise Of Paris
Hide your wives Charles Coligny /
passil lgl" If he does not live it is no
for w ant of style or wit in his work, bu
becau, se he lacked creative imagination
His pr, ase will be efiaced like the pot
of beer he drank, bat something OF hin
will rel n ain in his sonnets.