The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1885-08-23

third OF the name, who had caught n glimpse
at fetes Of the beautiful Spaniard, wished
TO dream with her by moonlight beneath the
huge trees OF Compiegne. When they stood
there: Who taught you, Mademoiselle,
your speech y 'Merimeo. Were YOU not
aware that lie was my first teacierr The
young girl spoke no falsehood, but she did
not reveal tho whole truth. The Emperor
supped with her. He imagined that he
would overcome in trice the lovely
foreigner. Why should she not I've n left
handed kmpress, as so many fair foreigners
that frequented Saint Cloud and Compieene,
where they slaughtered almost as many vir-
tucus women as they did antlered stage,
would gladly have been Whyi IT'S the
secret of the gods. Tho Emperors passion,
maddened by resistance, for Napoleon did
not think that virtue would have hand in
The game, rose above the smoke of passions
flame. Napoleon III had consulted France.
and she had said to him. 'Bs Emperor
He did not consult her in respect of his mar
riage, although she was to sign the contract.
Did the nation sign it i''
NJ. lIoussaye's estimate of the Empress Is
by no means as favorable as that of Napoleon
III, and he reproaches her with her foreign
birth, with her cruelty--shown in hunting
expeditions--an with her lack of courage
at trying periods. That her life was not al
together peaceful may he inferred from the
following
The Empress was beset by more than
one funereal presentiment of the abyss that
already yawned at her feet. When the
Prince Imperial presided over the distribu.
ton of prizes at the general competitive ex-
animation Godefroy Cavaignac, who had
been awarded n first prize for Latin verses,
wonld not accept wreath from the hands Of
the son of the man that sent his father into
exile. The young students made Godefroy
Cavaignao the object of an ovation. The
news threw cloud over the mirth of an
imperial dinner at Fontainebleau. Every
body was smiling at the joys of life. But the
Empress understood that her son would
fatally bear the penalty of the % of Decem-
Der. Instead Of weeping she broke out
aughing--laughing that woeful laugh that
breaks ones heart; for, as Dante has said, It
is Satan laughs within us. Her laughter
ceased not, and all were terror. stricken by
her forced merriment. The Emperor led
her to her apartments, seeking to console her
with gentle words. But cruel laughter pos
sessed her so thoroughly that il was heard
even In the park. She stood at q window,
imploring Heaven. The sky, so beautiful
until sunset, was filed with the clouds Of a
storm that was raging afar. Do you see p
she asked the Emperor. He answered that
they were merely passing clouds. Just then
female friend appeared. She fell upon her
bosom, and her laughter turned to sobs.
How often were those grand palaces-Fon-
tainebleau, Saint Germain, Versailles, Saint
Cloud, the Tuileries-thes scene of like crises
The jewellers therein pay no small rental
unto the sorrows of humanity"
Houssaye writes otGeorge Sand:
George Sand never had drawing room.
In Paris she had but smoking room, now
and then dining. room, but particularly a
study in which philosophers and musicians
came together. Few literary men were TO be
seen there-IIeine, Balzac, Malleflle. Two
painters met-Engene Delacroix and Paul
Huet-but they came rather as litterateurs
than MS painters. They had to plunge
willy-nilly into the thick of political discus
sions with Pierre Leroux, Michel de BOurges,
Lamennais, Anselme Petiu, and Charles
Didier. Strange to say, George Sand was
not at all fond of The political conversations
she set afoot, and as soon rs the disputants
fell out-and this happened speedily-she
motioned to List, to Chopin, or to Pauline
Garcia, one of whom went to fret or to caress
the piano, after which came frugal sup.
per, In accordance with the usages of the
period. The truculant partisans of romanti
cism, male and female, were ignorant of the
art of gommomaise: they talked good deal
of their deeds in orgies, but drank water.
1t was even so with those that dazzled their
readers eyes with radiant descriptions of
princely interiors and dwelt In rooms such
as the burghsrs of the present day would
not occupy. Merimee, Sainte- Beuve, and all
their fellow academiciaus, az we'll rs many
outsiders, did not know how to lead Ia grande
cic-not even Lamartine. Hugo, Japin,
Beauvoir, and Karr alone understood the
luxury Of stuffs and furniture. As for my
self, even before I had money possessed
Gobelin's tapestry; like Tardif, would
rather have dined amid art works than have
had good meal and poor abode. At No
liant George Sand ended by having n bed
room of some character, though 1t was
adorned by framed engravings of miscel-
laneous sort. Why this and why that 7
Why Rembrandt's sAdulterous Woman p
Gradually the bourgeois appearance of the
place disappeared, and II took OH an artistic
air. George Sand placed on the mantel an
ivory Christ, got gothic arm chairs, and
looked at herself in a Venetian mirror; but
what impaired special majesty to the room
was the bed in which her grandmother died,
a majestic bed, topped by four gilded pome-
granates. few daggers were scattered
here and there, and some pipes arranged in
a most inviting fashion. For George Sands
pipes represented not merely smoke, but
summoned voluptuous Dreams"
The characteristics of Rachel's genius are
briefly touched upon:
"Consecrated by Chateaubrand, as was
Victor Hugo. her every step was marked by
triumph. Count Duchatel, Minister of the
Interior, offered her library composed of
the masterpieces of the stage; Samson i'm
parted to her the most learned instruction;
bnt, az ever, IL was nature studied with her.
That daughter of 1ischylus, as Chateauhri-
and called her, had all the grandeur of an
tiquity; the psplum TRANSPORTED her to such
an extent that she became at once Hermione,
Andromache, Phadra, Camilla, with the
proud accent of those immortal personages.
If she had masters, they were Corneille and
Racine, but it may be said that she made
Racine greater by impressing more deeply
the Olympian character upon the poet who
was too often deceived by the Olympus of
Louis NV. The weepers of tragedy have
reprOached Rachel with her lack of sensi-
tiveness, and claimed that she knew not the
fount OF tears. Different styles must not ba
confused; Mile. Adrienne Lecouvreur spoke
to the heart and Rachel to the soul. What
Bouchard0n observed when he read Homer
"The men appear to have grown cubit
taller'-was repeated by the spectators that
had seen the marvellous tragedienns as Ph@
dra and HermiOne. She was In private life
the most adorable of women; her wit was
always at hand and never sought, and hers
was the grace of doing and saying every.
thing. Count Mole one day remarked to
her: 'Ah Madsmoiselle, you have saved
literature from barbarian invasion. The
French language is greatly indebted to you
How fortnnatel never learned 1t = an
swered Rachel in the simplsst fashion. One
day at a dinner at NJ. do Morny's the host
was landing her beauty. you cannot fancy,
all you who now call me beautiful, how
began by being ugly. that was to act in
tragedy, ! had face for comedy; 1t was
enough to make one die laughing, with my
horn shaped forehead, my nose like comma,
my pointed eyes, my grimacing mouth. You
can imagine the remainder. l ons day went
with my father to the Louvre. | passed the
pictures by without special emotion, though
he called my attention to David's tragic
scenes. But when | stood amid the statu-
AIRY know not what revolution, like reve.
lation, took place within me. found that
It was beautiful to be beautiful. left the
Louvre taller, with borro we'd dignity that
was TO turn into natural grace. On the
next day looked over some engravngs after