LAMARTINE 
 
 AND HIS 
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRI DE LACRETELLE 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 MARIA E. ODELL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 182 FIFTH AVENUE 
 I880.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1880, BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YOHJC.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. FIRST VIEW OF LAMARTINE I 
 
 II. THE BEGINNING OF OUR FRIENDSHIP. . 14 
 
 III. LIFE AT SAINT-POINT 26 
 
 IV. THE RECEPTIONS AT PARIS. 39 
 V. SOCIETY AT SAINT-POINT. . . . .53 
 VI. THE "BiEN PUBLIC.". . . . . 69 
 
 VII. MONCEAUX 83 
 
 VIII. THE BANQUET AT MACON 101 
 
 IX. PREPARING FOR THE REPUBLIC. . . .116 
 
 X. THE REPUBLIC OF 1848 130 
 
 XI. THE ADDRESS AT CORMATIN. . . .154 
 
 XII. AUTUMN AT SAINT-POINT 167 
 
 XIII. REMINISCENCES. 176 
 
 XIV. PECUNIARY TROUBLES. . . . .186 
 
 XV. RECOLLECTIONS OF PARIS 203 
 
 XVI. ARRANGING. THE DRAMA 220 
 
 XVII. SAINT-POINT 234 
 
 'XVIII. 1849 TO 1851 .247 
 
 XIX. A PERIOD OF RELAXATION 264 
 
 XX. LAMARTINE'S BENEFICENCE. . . . 279 
 
 XXI. LAST YEARS 301 
 
 XXII. LAMARTINE'S DEATH 319
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I. 
 
 First view of Lamartine, 
 
 I BELONG to that privileged group which had 
 the happiness to live in the light of the greatest 
 genius of this age. I believe it to be my duty to tell 
 all that I know of this noble life, that my contempo- 
 raries may record it later in history. I will tell of his 
 greatness, and will not be silent upon his weakness. 
 Such a statue should be placed in its true light. 
 Sincerity is an homage to it ; and if the measure of 
 praise is a hundred times larger than that of criti- 
 cism, it is because I have penetrated the depths of 
 a soul into which God has put the most of him- 
 self. 
 
 My companions and I often bowed before the 
 ideas that he promulgated, but seldom before the 
 man. We were satisfied in loving him, and I do not 
 think that our friendship should exclude admiration. 
 I was very young when I first saw him who was to 
 charm and impassion so many years of my life. My 
 father was walking in the garden of Bel-Air, one 
 afternoon in autumn, when the name of Lamartine
 
 2 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 resounded through the house. I remember that my 
 mother smiled, while I felt myself growing pale. 
 
 M. de Lamartine, coming seldom to Macon,did 
 not often visit his " confrere " of the Academy. He 
 was thought to be a legitimist, and he believed him- 
 self one ; on the contrary, my father was the leader of 
 the liberal party in the city^ Their relations were not 
 intimate, but every bower and grove of Bel- Air was a 
 kind of sanctuary for worship and incense-burning 
 before the poet. From my early college days, I had 
 bowed in admiration before two idols, Lamartine, 
 and Hugo. Their verses, committed to memory, 
 were the charm of my rambles, and the loving com- 
 panions of my solitude. I could conceive of nothing 
 more radiant than their glory. So, there was for me, 
 something supernatural in such a visit. I should not 
 have been more impressed, had it been announced 
 that Homer, Virgil and Shakespeare, were coming 
 down the avenue of horse-chestnuts, and that it was 
 one of their divine hands, then ringing the door-bell. 
 My first impulse was to run away, still I wanted 
 to see, so I hid myself in my mother's room. Noise- 
 lessly, I turned the slats of the window blind, and 
 peeped through. Lamartine was sitting in front of 
 the house, under a great tree, which partially shaded 
 him. He must have been about forty years of age, 
 it being in the early days of the government of July. 
 He still preserved that well-known elegance, which
 
 FIRST VIEW OF LAMARTINE. 3 
 
 accorded so well with the purity and seriousness ot 
 his stanzas. His manly and gentle face, with its 
 firmly carved features, stood out like marble, in the 
 shadow of the tree. His harmonious, and simple 
 manner, even in repose, asserted the strength of 
 his genius, and his great black eyes, shining with the 
 light of the Orient, reflected the goodness and beauty 
 of his soul. By his dress and attitude one could 
 easily tell that a part of his time was spent on horse- 
 back. Even at that time, he was wearing one of 
 those high grey hats, afterwards so well known in 
 Paris, and such as he continued to wear, summer, and 
 winter, to the end of his days, He was fondling a 
 greyhound that had followed him, and the first sound 
 that I heard of that deep voice which was to resound 
 from the tribune, and sink into the hearts of the peo- 
 ple, was the name of his dog Fido. 
 
 My father hastened to meet him. He had an 
 exquisite grace in conversation, quite equal to M. de 
 Lamartine, who was one of the most charming talk- 
 ers in the world. I listened behind the blind, more 
 absorbed in contemplation than interested in the 
 discourse. They discussed politics, the academy, 
 their travels, and the vintages. Finally M. de 
 Lamartine deigned to inquire about me. 
 
 " He is a great boy, who can scarcely be roused 
 from his reveries, and with strongly implanted repub- 
 lican ideas," replied my father, " He has already
 
 4 LA MA R TINE A ND HIS FRIEND S. 
 
 dedicated to you several ambitious poems, which I 
 have thrown into the fire." 
 
 The poet counted his enthusiasts by thousands, 
 but he was polite enough to smile benevolently, and 
 I was much moved. 
 
 I remember, as the conversation became more 
 familiar, that my father asked Lamartine, if he had a 
 good memory. The reply was negative, which I 
 found afterwards to be a calumny, but it was fol- 
 lowed by this charming definition. 
 
 " Memory is the hand of the mind. It collects 
 and coordinates, but produces nothing." 
 
 O, memory ! I now make a pious invocation to 
 thee ! Bring back to me, without changing the purity 
 and vibration, the many words of encouragement and 
 advice, which have been addressed to me ! Awaken 
 the sleeping echoes of the past, and restore to me the 
 traces of his steps, who always walked towards a 
 good intention and noble aim ! If thou wert faithful, 
 how many volumes I could fill with what he said to 
 me alone ! But alas ! 'tis gone, like the murmur of a 
 great river whose waters are dead ! 
 
 The second time that I saw Lamartine, was at 
 Saint-Point. My father frequently visited him, and 
 took me with him, one day, to breakfast. Almost 
 every one who will read these lines, has made a pil- 
 grimage there, either in reality, or through the pages 
 where the poet reproduces those exquisite scenes
 
 MADAME DE LAMARTINE. 
 
 5 
 
 with more accuracy, and more brilliant coloring, than 
 the Camera-obscura reproduces the image. 
 
 The surrounding mountains were more sombre 
 than they are to-day. Financial difficulties had not 
 compelled the sale of the beautiful forest, which then 
 covered them. The high pointed tower, adorning 
 the little castle, was not yet built. The great stable, 
 now empty, resounded with neighing and stamping 
 steeds. Beautiful young girls wandered gaily through 
 the fields and woods. The cries of the peacocks 
 were less melancholy, and all was more primitive 
 and more pleasing. 
 
 Sitting in a court, near a stone table, that had 
 been brought from the old abbey at Cluny, and which 
 tradition said once belonged to Abelard, was a lady, 
 looking over and throwing upon the grass, a heap 
 of newspapers and pamphlets. This was Mme. de 
 Lamartine. Their marriage had taken place about 
 twelve years before, and already they had travelled 
 extensively in Italy and the Orient, as Lamartine 
 had served in the diplomatic corps as " charge" 
 d'affaires " at Florence, and afterwards " ministre 
 plnipotentiaire," to Greece. Their two children un- 
 fortunately died while in the East. The marriage 
 had been a serious romance with Mme. de Lamartine. 
 She was a young English lady, distinguished by her 
 education and noble character. While travelling in 
 Europe with her mother, she met Lamartine, then in
 
 6 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the glory of his " Meditations," and was attracted 
 and dazzled by his talent. Even if she were con- 
 scious that she was giving herself to a genius at her 
 peril, and that her fortune would only add a greater 
 lustre to an already luminous train, she was willing to 
 make the sacrifice, if there was to be one. There 
 were difficulties. Lamartine's family, strictly ortho- 
 dox in its Catholicism, was alarmed at the invasion of 
 a protestant. But he, who had examined, and well 
 understood the heart, and who had also learned from 
 the ancients that marriage is the "res politica vitae," 
 felt no scruples. However, the young lady, not will- 
 ing to be an object of controversy, and confident that 
 the religious belief to which the man she loved gave 
 his tacit consent, ought to be the best, was quickly 
 converted, and became a French woman, as nearly as 
 any one can. She accomplished the sacrifice of her 
 ideas with a steady purpose, and enthusiastic devo- 
 tion, and by her persevering assimilation to French 
 thought, and sentiment, she gradually lost her Eng- 
 lish characteristics. At first she had the zeal of a 
 neophyte. Better versed in orthography than her 
 husband, she assumed the charge of correcting his 
 proofs, and she was alarmed at whatever offended her 
 new dogma. As the pages grew more and more 
 philosophical, she often exhausted herself in defend- 
 ing an orthodoxy that, at one time, had almost exiled 
 her from her happiness. But an intelligence, so full
 
 MADAME DE LAMARTINE. 7 
 
 of light, comprehended at last that a zeal could be 
 excessive, so dividing her time between her painting, 
 in which she was an artist, and her works of charity, 
 where she showed herself a simple Christian, she 
 descended gracefully from her intolerance, and be- 
 came in politics as well as in literature, the true 
 companion of her husband. Inspired by admiration 
 and a keen sense of her duty, she, who from her 
 youth had quaffed from the fountains of aristocratic 
 pride, became at length a republican militant. 
 
 In 1848, I saw her urge Lamartine towards the 
 barricades, from which she knew he was praying 
 never to return. I have seen her, times without 
 number, aiding the most humble, and making them 
 feel that she was one of them, without in the least 
 losing her own dignity. Noble in her poverty, as 
 she was modest in her luxury, she dwells a holy and 
 happy martyr in my memory. At this time, how- 
 ever, when I first saw her, she was far from the lavas 
 of those popular eruptions, and domestic sorrows, 
 which subsequently overwhelmed her happiness and 
 home. I remember that she was wearing mourning 
 for her little Julia, who died in Judea, where they 
 buried her under a palm, like a child of the Bible. 
 No one knew better than Mme. de Lamartine, how 
 to conceal her grief under the charming exterior of a 
 hospitable hostess. She made us sit down beside her, 
 while she told of the newspaper work before her.
 
 8 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Lamartine, descending the little wooden staircase 
 that led from his study to the court, met there, Aime 
 Martin and Edgar Quinet. He was followed by an 
 old priest, very thin, and very diffident, whom he 
 designated as the old cure of Saint-Point. Aimd 
 Martin had already married the widow of Bernardin 
 de Saint Pierre. He made his debut as an author in 
 " Lettres a Emilie," a juvenile production, and had 
 just published another book entitled, "L'Education 
 par les meres de famille," where free thought breathed 
 in every page. His unpleasant face with its little 
 black moustache, appeared to me ill-humored and 
 taciturn, but I was willing to believe in his redeeming 
 qualities, in consideration of the good intention of his 
 books, and the friendship Lamartine manifested 
 towards him. 
 
 Edgar Quinet, beside whom I now have the honor 
 of sitting in the National Assembly, was just begin- 
 ning his career, which since then, not even interrupted 
 by twenty years of exile, has been filled with poetry, 
 eloquence, and patriotism. Already he had won 
 popular favor by the success of his poem in prose, 
 " Ahasuerus." 
 
 His meditative seriousness foreshadowed the phil- 
 osopher and republican, and his conversation out- 
 lined the substance of a work upon the " Revolution 
 of Italy," and also that magnificent " History of the 
 French Revolution," which did not appear until
 
 EDGAR QUINET. g 
 
 1861. He who later, aided by Michelet, attacked the 
 Jesuits so vigorously, supplied what was lacking in 
 the silence of Aime Martin, in an earnest discussion 
 with Mme. de Lamartine, who had all the ardor of a 
 polemical religionist. 
 
 My father was, however, the best talker, and 
 commanded the most attentive listeners. 
 
 The little dining-room, which was large enough to 
 offer the most generous hospitality to all the celeb- 
 rities of Europe for half a century, was redolent 
 with the perfumes of autumn, and the repast was 
 replete with cheer. Every one had an anecdote 
 to relate. Edgar Quinet had just left Paris, and in 
 Paris was the Abbaye-aux-Bois, and in the Abbaye- 
 aux-Bois was M. de Chateaubriand, who had given 
 Mme. Re'camier a few pages of his " Memoires 
 d'outre-tombe," which were not to be published 
 until after his death. Quinet, though a conversa- 
 tional genius, drew his inspiration from Chateaubri- 
 and, and narrated some of the breakfast-table con- 
 versations at Prague, where the royal family was 
 exiled. These breakfasts were not so charming as 
 Lamartine's. 
 
 I do not know how it happened that the conver- 
 sation turned upon the Maconnais. Saint-Point is 
 only six miles from Cluny. My father with the elo- 
 quence and interest of a historian, retold the marvel- 
 lous story of the Benedictine Abbey of Cluny, that
 
 IO LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had given three popes to Rome, and for six centu- 
 ries was the intellectual focus of the Catholic world. 
 He told of the splendor of the sacristy, that had no 
 parallel in France, of the library, and of the capacities 
 of the abbey, which were so great, that when Saint 
 Louis, and his retinue of three thousand lords, came 
 to visit, not a monk was disturbed in his cell. He 
 anathematized without pity the vandal, who, in 1810, 
 had sold those grand old stones which even the 
 Revolution had respected. 
 
 In the meantime, Mme de Lamartine had become 
 visibly embarrassed ; the old cur bent his head over 
 his plate ; the young ladies whispered to each other, 
 and the servants smiled. It was evident that my 
 father had chosen an unfortunate topic. 
 
 Lamartine, departing from his habitual courtesy, 
 interrupted him, and taking religious houses as a kind 
 of text, made a digression in favor of Mount Cassin. 
 It was an admirable story of a morning visit to the 
 monastery, which, as its name indicates, was situated 
 on the heights. The departure was from the little 
 inn at St. Germane, accompanied by a Roman prince, 
 and his two nieces. The morning sun was just peep- 
 ing over the trees, brightening the pathway, and 
 gilding the windows of the abbey. 
 
 " We rang the bell," said Lamartine, " and the 
 father-porter opened the door. He saluted the 
 prince, and made a furtive sign of the cross at the
 
 THE MONK AND THE GIRL VISITORS. \ \ 
 
 sight of the nieces. He said that his house was holy, 
 and nothing unclean could enter there. The unclean- 
 ness was a young laughing countess, and her pretty 
 sister, trying to penetrate the dimness of the clois- 
 ters with their great black eyes. They shook their 
 heads impatiently under their umbrellas, and used as 
 many artifices and as much cajolery to persuade the 
 father, as if they were dealing with St. Peter himself. 
 The monk adhered, heroically, to his principles. We 
 could hear the rich tones of the organ in the chapel. 
 Through the half open gate, we could see the shining 
 altar, and the outlines of a madonna, with more 
 diamonds on her waxen neck, than an archduchess 
 would wear at a ball. The air was fragrant with the 
 sweet odors of violets and mignonette, growing abund- 
 antly in the courts. 
 
 "The two charming sinners reluctantly sat down on 
 the outside steps, while we were permitted to enter, 
 although one half of our pleasure was left behind. 
 Our guide showed us everything, but we saw noth- 
 ing. Finally we reached the library, permeated with 
 the piety of ages, where the great books were re- 
 flected in the mirror-like brightness of its tiled floor. 
 A young man, having the face of a Casanova, in the 
 costume of a novice, was writing at a long table. I 
 cast my eyes over his shoulder. He was writing a 
 panegyric, in Latin, upon the celibacy of priests. The 
 future monk rose. He belonged to a family of dis-
 
 ! 2 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 tinction, and knew the prince. Desiring to do the 
 honors of the house, he put his manuscript in a pocket 
 of his cassock, and preceded us in the labyrinth of 
 cloisters. He talked of his vocation with rather too 
 much emphasis. Occasionally, there came from his 
 lips a low whistling of the airs from the " Barbier de 
 Seville." At our departure, he politely conducted 
 us to the outside gate, and was brought face to face 
 with our inquisitive petitioners. They captured their 
 prey at once, and with a laudable vengeance over- 
 whelmed him with affability, and questions. He 
 stammered out his replies, blushing violently, and did 
 not take his eyes from the chestnut curls of the sig- 
 nora. He had the prudence not to cross the thresh- 
 old, and left us before he had in any way compro- 
 mised himself. I watched him slowly disappearing 
 in the shadows of the cloisters. Fragments of paper 
 were falling behind him on the tiles. He was tearing 
 to pieces his panegyric on celibacy." 
 
 Lamartine paused, and nothing more was said. 
 We rose from the table. Coffee was served on the 
 balcony, which extends from the drawing-room 
 towards the garden. 
 
 My father took Lamartine aside and said. 
 
 " So I, inadvertently, made a blunder. Why 
 didn't you allow me to finish my philippic? Cer- 
 tainly you do not favor the vandalism ! " 
 
 Lamartine pointed to the old cur, who was
 
 THE DESTROYER OF CLUNY. 13 
 
 walking at a little distance from them, reading his 
 breviary for his digestion. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons, my dear friend," said 
 he, " but there is the destroyer of Cluny."
 
 II. 
 
 The Beginning of our Friendship. 
 
 TWO years later, M. de Lamartine extended to 
 me a friendship, which soon grew into that in- 
 timacy so precious to me. For my passionate admi- 
 ration, he gave me an indulgent protection. In no 
 other man of his intellect and power, was there ever 
 found so much simple affection. He did not concern 
 himself about the age of his companions ; he sought 
 for souls to fertilize, as the' wind, transporting the 
 pollen, seeks for corollas. He knew that he was a 
 second Plato, and desired disciples, and moreover, 
 possessing an indefatigable benevolence, he was 
 always ready with a helping word and smile. 
 
 One day, I was with Leon Bruys d'Ouilly and 
 Guigue de Champvans, both of them relatives and 
 friends, at the little Chateau d'Ouilly in the woods a 
 few miles from Saint-Point. 
 
 Sometimes Leon and I tried to persuade our- 
 selves that hunting was an agreeable pastime, but 
 more often, we left our guns on the moss, and took 
 our pencils to write a few unpretentious verses. 
 Champvans, who disdained poetry, went off into the 
 by-ways with the " Contes de Voltaire." Bruys, who
 
 GU1GUE DE CHAMPVANS. 15 
 
 was a dozen years older than I, and whose unhappy 
 history I shall relate further on, was a type of man 
 that we envied, and a friend whom we adored. He 
 was handsome and generous, and dissipated one for- 
 tune in travels, while waiting for another from in- 
 heritances. He was also a poet, painter, and musi- 
 cian, and more than all, thoroughly good. At that 
 time, he was building a villa on the site of the pater- 
 nal chateau, which, we all knew, was destined for an 
 Italian countess, whom he was to marry, after the old 
 count was dead. Leon's heart was given to all sorts 
 of generosities, and his life to sentiment. He was 
 wrong in writing a poem, for he lived one. 
 
 Guigue de Champvans, now Prefect of Gard, 
 from whom I am separated by an abyss of political 
 opinion, though hearts united from youth are never 
 completely separated, was more intimate in the 
 family of Lamartine than we were. He was private 
 secretary, and lent himself with facility and fidelity, 
 to all the different phases of Lamartine's political 
 ideas. He saw more clearly than we, the imminency 
 of the Republic, and if any one had predicted that 
 this amiable and good fellow, a little of a sceptic too, 
 would, later, have imbibed the very quintessence of 
 clericalism, we would have cried out with holy hor- 
 ror at the impossibility. God is good not to let us 
 penetrate the winding paths of the future. If 
 Champvans is happy in his retrogressive conversion,
 
 1 6 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I congratulate him. I only regret not seeing him 
 any more. 
 
 This Sunday morning, after the farmers and ser- 
 vants had gone to mass, a messenger came from 
 Saint-Point, saying, M. de Lamartine had company, 
 and expected us to lunch with him at two o'clock. 
 We saddled our horses, and crossed the mountain. 
 It was a beautiful summer day.. The court at Saint- 
 Point was full of empty carriages. The grooms 
 pressed into service by Mme. de Lamartine, were 
 going backward and forward, bending under the 
 weight of dishes. The easy chairs in the drawing- 
 room were occupied by ladies in handsome toilettes. 
 The reception, generally so cordial, had the effect of 
 a diplomatic ceremony. There was very little talking, 
 and Lamartine seemed as wearied as if he were at his 
 embassy at Florence. We three took refuge in the 
 bay window. " Alas ! " said Champvans, " We are 
 in a wasp's nest of legitimists. M. de Lamartine has 
 opened his doors only to the right to-day." " And 
 not one of us wears a decoration ! We will lose our 
 reputations," I replied. 
 
 Bruys told us who the people were. That very 
 handsome lady who seldom smiled, was Mme. de 
 X , living in the neighborhood. She was accom- 
 panied by her husband and Count Xavier de Maistre. 
 M. de X., gave dinners to the Academicians, which 
 was as near as he could ever get to the " pont des
 
 COUNT XA VIER DE MAISTRE. 17 
 
 Arts," perhaps because he was really entitled to ad- 
 mission. 
 
 Count Xavier de Maistre was repulsive to met 
 simply on account of his name. I saw beside him 
 his terrible brother Joseph, standing at the foot of a 
 protective scaffold, ill omened and sinister as a white 
 Robespierre^ But this unreasonable antipathy was 
 not lasting, for the Count was a pleasant old man, 
 with silvery white hair, lavishing his good humor 
 upon all, and we could forgive him for having had 
 such a brother, in consideration of his books " Voy- 
 age autour de ma chambre," and " Le Lpreux de la 
 cite d'Aoste." 
 
 I will say nothing of the lunch, which was as 
 sepulchral as a sacerdotal ceremony. There were too 
 many marquises present for Lamartine to feel in his 
 element. He did not talk a great deal. His neigh- 
 bor Mme. de X was very beautiful, but stupid. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine tried to remove the stiffness by 
 a promenade. She led us to the " pavilion," which 
 has heard more magnificent orations than the Athen- 
 ian portico, for Lamartine spent a part of his after- 
 noons there for twenty years. This little retreat is 
 situated on an elevation in the middle of the garden, 
 right in the heart of a valley enclosed by beautiful 
 hills. It had a broad mossy seat, resembling an 
 oriental divan, a floor covered with mats and a ham- 
 mock. Two sides were open, showing the rich land-
 
 1 8 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 scape, like enchanting scenes of a theatre. Such 
 was the little spot, that has taken so large a place in 
 our memories. It has first heard the murmurs ol 
 those immortal verses. It has listened to the songs 
 of those great artists who have visited Lamartine. 
 It has received Hugo, Lablache, Liszt, Lamennais, 
 Lacordaire, Beranger, la Malibran, Nodier, Janin, the 
 kings and queens of poetry and song ; the lyres and 
 flutes of the world. 
 
 Those who went to the " pavilion," this day, 
 walked as solemnly as in a procession. M. de Mais- 
 tre, no more entertaining than the rest, lighted a cigar 
 for lack of a wax taper. The beautiful Mme. de X., 
 made a little grimace, but resigned herself to the 
 smoking of an illustrious man. 
 
 We thought a storm was about to appear in the 
 celestial serenity of that charming face. Mme. de 
 Lamartine made a sign, and the servant bringing the 
 coffee, brought the pipes also. They were long chi- 
 bouques from the Orient, full of yellow latakia, 
 Bruys, Champvans and I prepared to light ours. 
 We were sitting upon the divan, and we exhausted 
 our matches in trying to reach the end of the pipes. 
 
 Mme. de X., grew quite pale, and taking her 
 cousin by the arm, she went away, casting upon us 
 terrible looks of scorn. We heard her say to her 
 friend, 
 
 " Those young men imagine themselves in a beer
 
 MADAME DE X. AND THE PIPES. ig 
 
 saloon!" Our position was very delicate. We had 
 put to flight the most charming woman of the Fau- 
 bourg St. Germain, and as a recompense, had been 
 insulted by a mouth worthy of Murillo. 
 
 " Let us invoke the gods for a breeze to extin- 
 guish our matches," whispered Bruys, who was a 
 troubadour. 
 
 " No, indeed ! I protest by a whole Vesuvius. 
 Down with the aristocrats ! " exclaimed the revolu- 
 tionary Champvans. 
 
 " But when they are only twenty-five years old." 
 I pleaded, taking the jasmine stem from my mouth. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine had lost nothing of the scene, 
 nor of our comments. Such a manifestation could 
 have but one interpretation. Mme. de X. intended 
 it as a lesson in good taste. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine disappeared, and very soon 
 returned, leading Mme. de X. by the hand, saying, 
 " You do not know what you are refusing, my dear 
 friend. The incense, burned in the Delphia Temple, 
 was extracted from this latakia. Pardon me for 
 bringing you back to the perfumes and habits of the 
 Orient, and permit yourself to be incensed, as a 
 Greek Sultana that you are." 
 
 Then, kneeling down before us, Mme. de Lamar- 
 tine lighted our chibouques, with the cigar of M. de 
 Maistre. 
 
 M. de X. was not much happier than his charm-
 
 2Q LAM 'A R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ing wife. I have just said that he was anxiously 
 hoping for a chair at the academy. Death alone 
 could, offer an opportunity and prospective hope, so 
 that the illness of an Academician imposed a con- 
 sultation with his cook. He was a man of strong 
 mind conciliatory, showing himself a grand lord only 
 by his facility in fascinating the ladies, who felt the 
 charm of his condescension and kindly services. 
 Generally, he was as genial as a mandarin, but what 
 will not the academic fever lead a man to do, or say ? 
 
 I had not the honor of being known to him. 
 After the episode of pipes, my name was mentioned. 
 He came hurriedly towards me. By way of parenthe- 
 sis I must say, that the newspapers, merely to fill up 
 a space, had announced the illness of my father, con- 
 sequently, there had been more or less talk about his 
 successor. M. de X, jumped at the question, without 
 any preparation. He could not have sprung with 
 more agility towards the dome of the " pont des 
 Arts," under which, he had sworn that he should be 
 received some day. 
 
 "How is your father?" said he to me, with 
 vehement interest. 
 
 " Very well, or I should not be here." 
 
 M. de X. almost fainted, although he had a true 
 and good heart. 
 
 " Ah ! so much better ! " he replied. 
 
 Lamartine told me afterwards, that he had seldom
 
 AFTER THE PARTY. 21 
 
 experienced such a sensation of coldness as in hear- 
 ing the intonation of that " so much better." Those 
 few words expressed more sadness, than the wails of 
 the chorus, in the Orestes of ^schylus. 
 
 "What! Is M. de Lacretelle not going to die! 
 Is it possible that I shall not go back to Paris to give 
 my dinners, and to make my visits ? Will no one 
 resign his chair to me ?" All this, and more, was in 
 the little words. " So much better." 
 
 And they were addressed to a son ! 
 
 At last the guests departed, and M. de Lamar- 
 tine declared that he would not invite the nobility 
 again very soon. 
 
 The more he inclined towards democracy, the 
 more efforts his family made to return him to his 
 peers, as if such a man had peers. It is in vain for 
 any one to throw himself into the current of the river 
 of Liberty ; there are always interfering friends with 
 good intentions, who bring back the old clothes left 
 on the shore. 
 
 Lamartine asked for a peplum, and they brought 
 him a marquis' costume, but he would not put it on. 
 
 When the guests had gone, Lamartine, v/ho had 
 been an exquisite in dress at the end of the Empire, 
 put on his old gray jacket and great pantaloons again, 
 and came back to us, with his macaw on his shoulder, 
 and a pack of greyhounds gambolling about him. 
 
 " Now let us amuse ourselves," said he,
 
 22 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 We were in the blue room. The evenings were 
 growing cool, and the fire of vine-fagots was lighted, 
 as usual every evening, summer and winter. Around 
 the table was a group of nieces, who for twenty years, 
 succeeded each other, like the morning stars. 
 
 We went into the billiard room, where at one 
 time an inevitable and pertinent pun escaped from 
 M. Sauzet, the president of the assembly, who was 
 playing with Lamartine. 
 
 " As many caroms as I may make, you will always 
 have ' cinq points ' more," (Saint-Point). 
 
 Lamartine did not amuse us, he enchanted us. 
 " I was thinking of you yesterday,'' said he to Bruys, 
 and here are a few verses that I wrote on the pom- 
 mel of my saddle, while riding in the woods of Ouilly. 
 
 Then he read to us these lines, which are in his 
 ' Memoires." 
 
 A LON BRUYS D'OUILLY. 
 
 Enfants de la meme colline 
 Abreuves au meme ruisseau, 
 Comme deux nids sur 1'aubepine 
 Pres du mien Dieu mil ton berceau. 
 
 Souvent je vis ta jeune mere 
 De nos pre's foulant le chemin 
 Te mener comme un jeune frere 
 Vers moi, tout petit par la main,
 
 AFTER TEA. 23 
 
 Et te soulevant vers ma lyre 
 En ses bras qui tremblaient un peu, 
 Dans mes vers t'enseigner a lire. 
 Enfant quijoue avec le feu. 
 
 So as it often happened, we heard the first vibrations 
 of those silvery rhymes. Bruys was happier than if 
 he had heard of the count's death. 
 
 Tea was served, and Lamartine laid down, as 
 usual, on the great sofa, He would often fall into 
 a doze ; then Mme. de Lamartine would beg us to 
 rouse him with questions, for such a sleep spoiled 
 his night's rest. The waking was always bright. To 
 be more agreeable, he resorted to excuses for keeping 
 awake, chasing the dogs through the rooms, search- 
 ing for cigars in mysterious closets, where there were 
 valuable banknotes, pages of poetry still more valua- 
 ble, tobacco and Windsor soap, all heaped together 
 in delightful confusion. He lighted a cigar, but did 
 not smoke more than half. Then he looked over a 
 game of " Boston " that one of his sisters had ar- 
 ranged. He never became interested, for he detested 
 cards. " I have been a gambler "he said, " from 
 necessity ; that was in the time of poor Graziella, in 
 lue des Florentins, at Naples. I did the same as 
 chevalier de Grammont, but more honestly. My 
 family refused to send me means, and they were 
 right. For weeks, I ate nothing but a little macca- 
 roni, and then I gained a thousand piastres, with
 
 24 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 which I bought new boats for all the fishermen of 
 Ischia. I knew a wonderful combination, which I 
 had studied long enough to have gained a baccalau- 
 reate, and if I had applied myself to it diligently, I 
 should have been as rich as Rothschild. I am a 
 gambler still, but as I cannot indulge my passion, 
 after having received the benedictions of all the 
 apostolic hands of Europe, I have resigned myself to 
 the planting of vines. 
 
 "The vines are the green cloth of the gaming table. 
 The sun and the clouds, are the two croupiers, who 
 throw you fortune or ruin. We will go to Monceaux 
 to-morrow, and I will make a calculation of my 
 grapes. I must have eighty thousand francs of wine, 
 this year, or else I shall be reduced to the necessity 
 of killing my last aunt, as M. de X., wanted to kill 
 jHenri de Lacretelle's father, this afternoon. I will 
 ride Saphyr, and we will go by the way of Milly, and 
 compose poetry on the road." 
 
 Nine o'clock sounded. It was Lamartine's bed- 
 time. He carried with him one of his favorite 
 books, Mme. Sevigne's or Voltaire's letters, which 
 he never wearied of, or a book of travels of which 
 his library was full. Later in life, he was absorbed 
 in Thiers " Histoire de 1'Empire." He was more 
 charmed with those pages which tell of him whom 
 the world so long accused of being only a con};en> 
 plat or.
 
 LA CHUTE D'UN ANGE. 2$ 
 
 He went away candle in hand, followed by his 
 white hound. 
 
 Almost every evening was passed in this way. 
 We remained half an hour longer with the ladies. 
 One of the party, who could not keep a secret, be- 
 trayed the confidence of a visit made or received by 
 Lamartine, I do not remember which, explaining why 
 he needed the eighty thousand francs. Mme. de- 
 Lamartine entertained us, with accounts of her East- 
 ern travels. At last, the candles were lighted, and 
 dripped down over the hands of a gay company, who 
 mounted the broad winding stairs. The bed-room 
 doors closed upon laughing good-nights, and we 
 went off to our rooms, proud in the consciousness 
 that something historical and beautiful was being 
 prepared in the house. We knew that the next 
 morning at five o'clock Lamartine would be at work 
 upon one of his wonderful poems, for he was then 
 writing " La chute d'un Ange."
 
 III. 
 
 Life at Saint-Point. 
 
 I LINGER over familiar details, for nothing con- 
 cerning Lamartine is lacking in interest. His 
 historical side I do not propose to review. I will 
 show him as I have always seen him, in the intimacy 
 of his home, and as I think of him, in his simplicity 
 and grandeur, and as I need him still, to aid and 
 strengthen me, whenever I am not near Victor Hugo. 
 
 No one dared to rise late at Saint-Point. Lamar- 
 tine had risen. We would imitate him in that at 
 least and see if from the little study, at the end of the 
 house, there would not escape an inspiration, which 
 gliding along the gallery like an electric current in 
 the morning air, would reach our imaginations. How 
 many times, as the village clock was striking the 
 early morning hour, and the sun was drying the 
 mists of the valley, I have leaned from my window, 
 towards that sanctuary, where the high priest was 
 praying after his own fashion, by writing one of those 
 grand pages, that a loving public will never forget ! 
 
 Lamartine in the morning went directly from his 
 bedroom to his study, which was a little room, con- 
 taining only a table of black wood, and a high easy
 
 LAMARTINE S EARL Y AIORNING. 2/ 
 
 chair. He never disturbed a servant. Throughout 
 the whole season, he lighted his fire at five o'clock, 
 and prepared a cup of tea. 
 
 During those long morning hours, he covered 
 pages of enormous dimensions with history, politics, 
 and memoirs, writing with marvellous rapidity, and 
 with an elegance which was the last remains of his 
 aristocracy. 
 
 How did he compose his poems ? He never told 
 me, but I could divine. He belonged to his dogs, 
 more than the dogs belonged to him. There were 
 half-a-dozen of them coming constantly, scratching at 
 the door opening on the staircase leading to the 
 court. Lamartine was never deaf to these appeals, 
 and the door was always opened. They seemed to 
 know the days that their slave devoted to poetry, and 
 came and went oftener than usual. Between the 
 comings, and goings, Lamartine would compose a 
 verse. And it was in this way, that " Jocelyn," and 
 " La chute d' un Ange," were written. Fido was his 
 co-worker. 
 
 The poet was like an Indian in his respect and 
 admiration for animals. In his study he had cages 
 full of birds, filling the room with a noise insupporta- 
 ble to a man less patient. When the beautiful West 
 Indian birds, whose plumage was like a painter's 
 palette, were dead, they were replaced by common 
 canaries. Paroquets and macaws, added their shrill
 
 28 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 cries to the clamor. All sounds of life were neces- 
 sary to Lamartine, who was a musician by the har- 
 mony of his words. 
 
 He never finished dressing until the breakfast 
 bell rang. Mme. de Lamartine and the guests did 
 not wait for him. He would finally come, in his old 
 gray jacket, having probably written twenty letters, 
 independently of his literary work. He always suf- 
 fered more or less from dyspepsia, and consequently 
 ate very little, but he filled his plate from which he 
 fed his dogs, to the destruction of the dresses near 
 by. He did not talk a great deal in the morning, not 
 because of fatigue from his work, for that he did not 
 feel, but from anxiety in business affairs, which were 
 beginning to harass him. As soon as he perceived 
 that his silence affected his guests, he would rouse 
 himself and tell how he had spent the morning. 
 Often, still filled with the spirit of what he had writ- 
 ten, he would say to us, as to a comrade. " And what 
 have you done, Lacretelle, and you, Bruys." He 
 seemed to put our poor lucubrations into the same 
 scale with the effulgence of his genius, and in good 
 faith too, for in his estimation, the man who lifts a 
 handful of sand for a noble purpose, is as worthy of 
 eminence as he who moves a block of marble. Dur- 
 ing his conversation, like a disciple of Brahma, he 
 would help himself to the vegetables, especially 
 spinach, and pumpkin. The macaw would perch on
 
 THE HORSES. 
 
 2 9 
 
 the shoulders of the guests, screaming in their ears, 
 and claiming his share, but Lamartine paid no more 
 attention to him than to the others. 
 
 One of our party always arranged the excursion 
 for the day, making it long in prospective, but gener- 
 ally we were obliged to wait for the messenger who 
 brought the letters and papers over the mountain, 
 thereby gaining several hours over the regularpost, and 
 we seldom started for our walk before three o'clock. 
 
 Invariably after breakfast, Lamartine carried 
 bread to his horses. He had a dozen at least, 
 though generally of little value, For twenty years, 
 there was only a span for the carriage, and a pony 
 for the saddle. He bought his horses either in 
 the country near by, or had them sent from Limou- 
 sin. He went into ecstacies over each acquisition, 
 the animal was incomparable, equal to the mare of 
 the Prophet, and an enthusiastic stanza was com- 
 posed before each stall. The exaggeration had the 
 merit of sincerity. Lamartine loved his Creator in 
 his creatures. His life had been spent among horses 
 from the time he was a body-guard, at Beauvais, up 
 to his great encampment, in the desert of Syria. 
 After the horse review, we would go to the pavilion 
 to smoke and read the papers, while the ladies pre- 
 pared for the walk or ride. Mme, de Lamartine, like 
 all Englishwomen, was a skilful horsewoman, and 
 taught the nieces.
 
 30 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 This day however, the political news was unim- 
 portant, and the papers were quickly run over, and 
 thrown aside ; Bruys, and Champvans, were obliged to 
 go away, so Lamartine decided that he and I should 
 go to Milly on horseback, taking the path over the 
 mountain, while the rest of the party went round by 
 the regular route, in the carriage, 
 
 I knew what a horse-back ride with Lamartine 
 under these conditions, promised, and was enchanted 
 with the programme. It would amount to this ; 
 simply to take the horse by the bridle, and walk 
 beside him. When I am in the stirrups, I like to run, 
 but a few experiences with M. de Lamartine de- 
 cided me never to take a horse when I went with 
 him, for then, I could listen better to him, and as it 
 were, put myself more completely in his shadow. 
 
 The great dog, and the grey-hounds followed us. 
 Lamartine, though the least sportsman of the coun- 
 try, carried a gun slung across his shoulders. I could 
 not understand the use of it, even after he explained, 
 that it was a guarantee against an encounter (alto- 
 gether improbable) with a mad dog, for I truly 
 believe, that this duelist of other days, would have 
 hesitated to put a ball into the brute, if he had met 
 him. 
 
 In going to Milly, one is obliged to leave the de- 
 partmental route at once, and take the steep moun- 
 tain path, which leaves the Maconnais behind. The
 
 THE ROAD TO MILL Y. 3 1 
 
 mountain grows more and more wooded, as one ap- 
 proaches the summit. We walked through cypresses 
 grown from seeds sown by the wind among the broom. 
 Lamartine often stopped, to let his horse nibble the 
 blades of grass, on the roadside. I profited by these 
 haltings, to question him. I was too young then, to 
 familiarly turn back the leaves of a life already 
 covered with fame, so I confined myself to those 
 questions, that would be likely to interest him. They 
 were enough to inspire one of those inexhaustible 
 improvisations, as natural to him, as water to its 
 source. He would mount his horse, *and gallop for a 
 little while without any apparent motive, dismount 
 at a dangerous place, talking, talking all the while. 
 I followed his movements, so as not to lose a word. 
 I was transported with admiration of his greatness, 
 and the multifariousness of his work, and yet he had 
 not then written " Les Girondins," nor " Les Confi- 
 dences," nor " Raphael," nor " Le Civilizateur," nor 
 pronounced one of his thrilling discourses, nor made 
 the Republic. 
 
 " I have not given my true measure," said he, 
 
 " nor shown how much I am worth. I would like to 
 
 have the moving, and direction of my government." 
 
 "You will never serve under the Orleans? " 
 
 " No, nor under any king. There are many who 
 
 loved the Bourbons, as I have, because we mistook 
 
 them for representatives of Liberty. They have
 
 32 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 wearied us. Their race will preserve upon its fore- 
 head the stains of blood, shed in July. My ideas all 
 incline, naturally, to an efficient domination." 
 
 " The Republic? " I asked, almost tremblingly. 
 
 " You will see it, once, and not unlikely twice," 
 responded Lamartine. " It will be the necessary suc- 
 cession of Louis Philippe. I am only twenty years 
 younger than he, and I shall be an old man when he 
 dies. All I ask, is to leave behind a mould, and even 
 if the statue which comes from it should be quickly 
 broken, it will be reproduced." His assuring words 
 excited great hope in me. 
 
 " For to return to what you call my physiogno- 
 mies, I am not known, even as a poet. I have never 
 made but one poem, and that is lost." 
 
 I drew nearer to him. 
 
 " The poem was entitled " Les Pecheurs," there 
 were twelve thousand lines, very superior to Jocelyn.'' 
 
 " How happened you to lose it ? " 
 
 " I had taken it with me on some of my journeys, 
 and thought that I left it in a trunk in the attic, at 
 Saint-Point, or at Monceaux, but I have searched 
 every where, in vain." 
 
 "And can you remember nothing of it?" 
 
 " I have never been able to remember one verse 
 of Lamartine's. They do not enter into the frame- 
 work of my memory. It is the result of a classical 
 education that I retain only those of Voltaire."
 
 THE APPROACH TO MILLY. 33 
 
 Then, he recited one of the lightest, like " Les 
 Fils de la Vierge," but less pure. 
 
 " Perhaps," he continued, " life will not permit me 
 to give my true literary character. There is a book 
 ripening slowly in me, as my sun goes down. I shall 
 call it, " Psaumes." The least unworthy of all my 
 thought, will be found there, wrapped in verse, and 
 it shall be my will, and testament, before God, in 
 religion and politics. If any of my works float on 
 the waves of time, I hope it will be this. I shall 
 make a beginning, and write a few verses this Au- 
 tumn." 
 
 He never did it. 
 
 Unceasing action, anxieties, and finally childish- 
 ness bowed down his giant intellect in his declining 
 years, and absorbed the book that would have sung 
 in future ages, like the psalms of David. If these 
 great thoughts, sculptured as it were in stone, could 
 have been scattered, there would have been fewer 
 materialists, and less superstition among our people. 
 Politics in the voice of such an apostle, would have 
 become a religion, and the Republic would have 
 given us the evangelists. 
 
 We began to descend the mountain towards 
 Milly. At the left, on the height, rose the village 
 church of Saint-Sorlin. 1 saw the little house, where 
 people said, a sweetheart of Lamartine's had once 
 lived. He glanced at it, but said nothing. He
 
 34 
 
 LAMART1NE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 pointed to a meadow, below the house, between the 
 road to Macon and the river. 
 
 " I fought a duel there, once," said he. 
 
 " With whom ? " I asked, hesitatingly. 
 
 " With a Polonais." 
 
 I did not dare to ask another question, for fear 
 that there might be an episode, upon which he would 
 rather be silent. 
 
 " Have you fought very often ? " I said. 
 
 " O yes. All, who drew breath in the eighteenth 
 century, had the fever of duelling. The captains, dis- 
 missed by the Empire, challenged us, at every cor- 
 ner. I stifled my duels under the grass, on which 
 they were fought. The only celebrated one that I 
 ever had was with Pepe. I was wrong, in generalizing 
 an accusation which pertained only to the common 
 people. They were avenged by a man of honor, who 
 put three inches of steel into my breast. Since then, 
 General Pepe has become my friend. I always liked 
 the exercise of fire-arms, and fencing; I was born to 
 move the masses, and I would rather have done it 
 by the sword, than by the word. I really believe, 
 that I should have been a captain of distinction. I 
 have missed my vocation," he added smiling sadly, 
 " but God has ordered my life better, for my con- 
 science." 
 
 I looked at him intently, while he thus accused 
 himself, recalling what Victor Hugo had said.
 
 M. DE CHAM PEA UX. 35 
 
 " I would have been a soldier, if I were not a 
 poet, " and my mental reflection was, that human 
 inferiority was to be found even in men of genius. 
 
 At length, we reached Milly. One of the gentle- 
 men who had escorted Mine, de Lamartine, came to 
 meet us. This was M. de Champeaux, who, though 
 not appearing in his character as secretary, always 
 accompanied the family. He was a count, a legiti- 
 mist, attached to the church, and a man of great 
 refinement. Though he was often roused with in- 
 dignation at the apparent heresies that he was obliged 
 to copy, yet he performed his task conscientiously. 
 Sometimes, however, his frankness exceeded its 
 bounds, and I have heard him criticize severely cer- 
 tain doctrines that he had just transcribed, and this, 
 too, before the master, who had the goodness not to 
 be irritated. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine arrayed herself at his side so 
 far as the dogma was concerned, but her admiration 
 for her husband carried her far away. 
 
 The fatigue of the controversy would sometimes 
 lead Lamartine to make concessions, and blemishes. 
 M. de Champeaux has to his account some deplor- 
 able modifications of text. May posterity pardon 
 him ! He was, nevertheless, faithful unto death to 
 Lamartine. On their second return from the East, 
 he was taken suddenly ill, died on the vessel, and 
 was buried at sea.
 
 36 LAMA H TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " The ladies are waiting for you, in the drawing- 
 room, " said he. 
 
 Lamartine urged his horse, and hastened on with 
 a beating heart. 
 
 " I feel as if I were going to meet my mother, 
 and feel once more her kiss upon my brow, " he ex- 
 claimed. "Milly! This is the Himalaya of my happi- 
 ness ! " 
 
 I had never seen Milly, or rather, I had never 
 seen it except through the splendor, and tenderness 
 of that poem, called, " La Terre natale." The name 
 always suggested to me a cheerful smiling landscape, 
 with a house outlined against the sky, supported by 
 angels, like the house of the virgin which was borne 
 by celestial agency, until it found, at last, a resting 
 place at Lorette. My angels, only had an existence 
 in the stanzas of the poet. My disenchantment was 
 complete. The framework of mountains, enclosing 
 Milly, were gloomy and sad, without being pictur- 
 esque. The garden or quadrangle was so small, that 
 a cure could walk to the end, before he had read 
 more than half a page of his breviary. The dwelling 
 was very contracted, and looked like a cottage of a 
 poor man. There was not the action, nor cheerful- 
 ness of a farm. The rooms opened into each other, 
 under festoons of spider-webs. The drawing-room 
 was almost divested of its furniture, and the dust 
 was so thick, that we left the impression of our feet
 
 YOUTHFUL MEMORIES. 37 
 
 on the floor. Mme. de Lamartine, and the nieces 
 looked cold in all this gloom, and I was indignant 
 with myself, for not feeling any emotion. But in a 
 very few minutes, all was transfigured. Lamartine 
 has rarely been more earnest or magnetic. He led 
 us through the house, with enthusiasm in every look 
 and gesture. He showed his mother's room, his 
 sister's and his own. There was a story to tell under 
 each door-way. He brought again to life the beauty, 
 and songs of those women, though two of them had 
 been dead twenty-five years. He placed his mother 
 at her work-table, surrounded by her little family, 
 and his father, with his gun upon his shoulder, going 
 to his vineyards. He showed us the meadow, where 
 he used to meet Janette, the little peasant, he inno- 
 cently loved through the medium of marguerites and 
 eglantine, to which he alludes in his " Memoires." 
 He made himself the resurrectionist of his youth, of 
 these lifeless bodies, of his early hesitations and pre- 
 sentiments of his future glory, whose first echoes 
 were repeated by those black stones. He made 
 Champeaux weep, who ordinarily, was very unim- 
 pressionable, and he never knew a prouder moment 
 than when at our departure, an old vintager, with- 
 out removing his hat said to him, 
 
 " Good by, Alphonse." 
 
 I went away from Saint-Point the next morning. 
 I took courage and left on the mantle-piece of my
 
 38 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 room a few humble verses upon the bell at Saint- 
 Point. Two days later, at Bel-Air, I received as a 
 response and encouragement, that despairing but 
 pathetic hymn, with the same title "La cloche de 
 Saint-Point, " that Lamartine had had the goodness 
 to dedicate to me.
 
 IV. 
 
 The Receptions in Paris. 
 
 I WANT to tell of Mme. de Lamartine's recep- 
 tions, at Paris, from 1837 to 1848. In those few 
 years, which were long enough to fill twenty existen- 
 ces with triumph, wonder and tears, there was pre- 
 paring the supreme power of a day, comparative dis- 
 tress, ruin, and finally abandonment. The household 
 was installed in apartments, on the first floor of No. 
 82, rue de 1'Universite, situated between a court and 
 gardens. The maximum rent at that time was six 
 thousand francs, and it represented the establish- 
 ment of a nobleman. The stair-case did not ascend 
 higher than the first floor in this wing of the hotel, 
 and thus the sanctity of the English home was pre- 
 served. 
 
 I will endeavor to give a description of the rooms, 
 where so much has occurred to make them historic. 
 Through that large dining-room, and the drawing- 
 room, with its great divans, and the studio where 
 there was always a fresh painting of Mme. de Lamar- 
 tine's on the easel, have passed and repassed politi- 
 cal, artistic and plebian Europe. The privileged few 
 have opened the door at the right, and discovered
 
 40 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the beautiful cabinet, where Lamartine never worked, 
 filled with books, collections of harmless poetry, which 
 had been presented to him, newspapers, and public 
 documents of the Assembly. They have also been 
 welcome to the little room, where Lamartine slept, 
 and where he wrote, in the early morning, and where 
 he received the crowned heads of the world, the 
 thinking heads, I mean. They can also recall hang- 
 ing in the studio, the portrait of the poet, with his 
 two greyhounds at his feet, painted by Decaisnes, 
 the odor of Eastern tobacco which permeated every- 
 thing, and the clear, bright fires blazing in the fire- 
 place. 
 
 Alas ! who now inhabits this sanctuary of his 
 glory and goodness, despoiled by a Revolution 
 twenty-two years ago ? Who has felt moved to 
 restore within those walls the generous hospitality of 
 Lamartine ! 
 
 At this epoch, approaching ruin was foreshadowed 
 by financial anxieties. An elegant style of living was 
 preserved, although there never was an expenditure 
 of more than forty thousand francs a year. I do not 
 include the charities, which doubled the disburse- 
 ments. 
 
 M. de Lamartine brought four horses to Paris, 
 two for the carriage, and two for the saddle. The 
 staff of domestics was very modest. There were no 
 grand dinners, except on the day when the Republic
 
 POETRY AND POLITICS. 41 
 
 of Geneva sent a famous great trout from Lake 
 Leman. Every evening, there were several guests, 
 who came by chance or were self-invited. Lamartine 
 often went for a horseback ride to the " Bois de Bou- 
 logne," returning only in time for the session. This 
 was during the first years of his Parisian life before 
 politics completely controlled him. Although he re- 
 ceived his friends every evening, there was always a 
 little more ceremony than usual, on Saturday. 
 
 Every year, he gave a fine concert, and a lottery, 
 for which the charities of Mme. de Lamartine served 
 as a pretext. But his secret reason was to create an 
 absolutely necessary occasion for writing a poem. 
 He wrote now, only under compulsion, and an urgent 
 occasion was afforded by the lottery. The stanzas, 
 fancifully written by Lamartine, and enframed in ara- 
 besques, were the principal attraction. Gold was spent 
 freely for the verses, and each rhyme assuaged a grief. 
 
 While telling of his poems of this time, let me 
 note one singularity. Lamartine would not have 
 read one of them in public, under any circumstances. 
 He assumed that it would destroy his political influ- 
 ence. He rarely went out in the evening, and seldom 
 did us the honor of coming more than once, during 
 the winter, to the literary reunions held, at my 
 father's. It was there where Emile Deschamps, 
 Jules Le Fevre, and many others recited their first 
 productions. Victor Hugo read to us " Les Rayons
 
 42 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 et les Ombres." My father opened the poetical 
 herbarium of his old age. There was an excellent 
 public, in perfect accord, proud of having among 
 their number some gifted women, who threw their 
 acclamations with full hands at the laureate of this 
 poetical tournament. 
 
 In spite of supplications, in spite of smiles, we 
 could never obtain a single line from M. de Lamar- 
 tine, and God knows, how happy he always was to let 
 us breathe in the spring-like freshness of his verse, at 
 Saint-Point, or at Monceaux. 
 
 At Paris, his lips opened only for political 
 speeches. This resolution of poetical abdication was 
 affected. He made a mistake in granting such a 
 concession to M. Cunin-Gridaine. 
 
 His political life changed him a little. He had 
 always the same exquisite delicacy, and simplicity, in 
 a " tete-a-tete," but in public, and to those who did 
 not know him, his great height made him sometimes 
 haughty. He carried into his circle of polemists and 
 strategists, the manners and habits he had adopted 
 while in the Legation. Those who have thought 
 
 o o 
 
 him supercilious, have only seen him under such cir- 
 cumstances, and judged him superficially. These 
 delicate shades were penetrable by his friends, who, 
 after the preliminary words, saw his goodness shining 
 through his eyes, and gleaming through the varied 
 expressions of his mouth.
 
 MONTALEMBER T. 
 
 43 
 
 I preferred going to rue de 1'Universite the ordi- 
 nary evenings, still I went often enough on Saturdays, 
 to be able to give a few sketches. I shall forget 
 much, for there was always a crush. It seems to me 
 now, that every one upon whom the sun has shone, 
 has been there, at one time or another, During the 
 the first years, I met Montalembert several times. 
 This man drew upon himself the aversion of the 
 democracy, after having served it. We only half 
 forgave him at the last, on account of his hatred for 
 
 the Empire, and his love for the Republic 
 
 of the United States. 
 
 I remember him as quite a young man, without a 
 beard, wearing his coat buttoned closely to his throat, 
 as was the fashion then, and as M. Laboulaye wears 
 his now. His clerical tendencies, and aristocratic 
 pedantry, then quite apparent, held me at a distance, 
 although he was already famous for a libel suit, and 
 distinguished for a talent, of which the chamber of 
 Peers recognized its revolutionary side. But he was 
 too much in the church, to be very strong in Liberty. 
 Much as I have admired him, I have never been sorry 
 not to have been intimate with him. Lamartine, 
 who was so impartial, that he had a tendency to 
 praise his enemies, seldom met him, and always spoke 
 of him with antipathy. Subsequently, this antipathy 
 deepened into anger against Montalembert, when in 
 March 1848, he attempted to rouse Europe against
 
 44 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the Republic, putting himself at the head of the 
 Polonaise delegation and demanding the intervention 
 of arms. Lamartine never failed to recall this epi- 
 sode, during the innumerable reactionary explosions 
 of M. de Montalembert. 
 
 Montalembert caught a glimpse of truth, under 
 its different masks, as he approached the tomb. 
 
 It is said, that before he died, in speaking of the 
 men of the Low Church, he exclaimed, " and to think 
 that I have sacrificed forty years of my life to 
 them." 
 
 In one corner of the drawing-room was a circle 
 from which a masculine voice confidently launched 
 forth its sharp epigrams, and doubtful anecdotes. 
 
 It belonged to Mme. Sophie Gay, the mother of 
 Mme. Emile de Girardin, who inherited much of her 
 mother's mental vigor, without having impoverished 
 her. 
 
 Mme. Gay wrote romances, of trifling value, and 
 recklessly darted her words like lances, which always 
 carried against the adversaries of M. de Lamartine, 
 
 o 
 
 but only in rue de 1'Universite. She did not attract 
 us very much by her contralto tones, though there 
 was no need of approaching her, in order to hear her. 
 Lamartine detested bitterness of speech, and would 
 not have invited her so frequently, had she not been 
 the mother of so brilliant a daughter, and Mme. de 
 Lamartine would have made the sign of the cross on
 
 MME. DE GIRARDIN. 45 
 
 hearing her voice, if she had not been the mistress 
 of the house, and forced to give her approbation. 
 
 The daughter, who accompanied her during many 
 years as a beautiful Muse, under the lights of the 
 Restoration, when she was simply Delphine, often 
 came after her mother's visits had ceased. She was 
 more remarkable for her imagination than for her 
 poetry, although she had written " Judith, " which 
 is a fine drama. Her intelligence, almost amounted 
 to genius. Her conversation would have made 
 one forget that she was a woman, if her beauty 
 had not recalled it at every moment. We shall find 
 this luxurious, and variable nature again, at Saint- 
 Point, where we can study it leisurely. I shall never 
 forget the kindness she showed, in consecrating a 
 whole number of the " Vicomte de Launay " to some 
 stanzas that I sent to Victor Hugo upon " La Place 
 Royale." She often met the old General Girardin at 
 Lamartine's, who listened ecstatically to her, and 
 could scarcely be restrained from announcing that 
 Delphine was his daughter-in-law. He was very 
 proud of his son Emile, as the Republic has been 
 since, and as Liberty will always be. 
 
 M. and Mme. de Circourt usually accompanied 
 the Girardins. Mme. de Circourt died after a long 
 illness, through which she did not lose her Muscovite 
 wit. Her husband still lives. He knows as much as 
 if he had passed twenty lives in reading, and he pos-
 
 46 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 sesses an almost supernatural memory. Dates, facts 
 forms of discourse, and typographical order, are in- 
 delibly engraved upon the impressible tissues of his 
 brain. He is never more happy than in rendering a 
 service, by replying to no-matter-what question in 
 the most elaborate and profuse manner, but after all, 
 he could not help it. Lamartine used to say, " Cir- 
 court is an Alexandrine library. I spend my life in 
 consulting his shelves, and in trying to decipher his 
 papyrus." 
 
 In 1848, a caprice of friendship, or of aristocracy, 
 decided Lamartine to send the Count de Circourt, as 
 Ambassador of the Republic to Washington. He 
 represented it loyally. He opened his case of diplo- 
 macy, and did his work as if he had grown old in 
 statesmanship. Barnum did not dare to propose a 
 a salary to a man like him. If he had he would have 
 made a fortune in exhibiting so excellent and incom- 
 parable a phenomenon. 
 
 Emile Deschamps was one of the most constant 
 visitors. He held himself at a distance, and tossed 
 back the ball to Mme. Sophie Gay and Mme. de 
 Girardin, only it rebounded with good-will from the 
 hands of that wonderful juggler, and the thought pre- 
 serving its beauty and grace, remained pure, and har- 
 monious. 
 
 He died six months ago, in blindness, at Ver- 
 sailles, carrying only one regret from a world, where
 
 SA TURD A Y E V EN INGS. 
 
 47 
 
 he had had so much happiness. This regret was for 
 French literature, and not for himself. The Academy 
 had not condescended to nominate this most refined 
 writer, this Phidias of rhyme, who, though not living 
 in the eighteenth century seemed to have crossed 
 every one of its literary circles. He went out of the 
 world, excluded from the " Palais du Pont des Arts," 
 like Balzac, Beranger, Lamennais, and Dumas, who 
 would have formed with him a whole Academy, and 
 who must have smiled when the immortals refused 
 them immortality. 
 
 Vigny, Alexandre Soumet, Guiraud, Jules Le 
 Fevre, abbe Feletz and Briffaut, often came there 
 also. Vigny brought his " chefs d'ceuvres," like 
 " Stello," and " Le Cachet Rouge ; " Soumet, tragedies 
 that would have been classic in the future, if they had 
 been less so at their first representation ; Jules Le 
 Fevre, those poems, whose verses were so luxuriantly 
 interlaced, like the branches of a virgin forest, that 
 their very vigor produced shades and coolness. 
 Felitz, whose title of abbe, served only to dignify 
 him as a theatrical critic, was a master, even at that 
 epoch of imperial obscurity. Briffaut, brought a 
 clericalism of * ir:i mstances, imposed upon him by a 
 pension, which did not hinder him from writing let- 
 ters, bearing a strong resemblance to those of Vol- 
 taire. 
 
 Jules Janin, whose wit and intelligence were
 
 48 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 scarcely quicker than his movements, mounted the 
 stairs every Saturday. He was then only in the tenth 
 year of his literary reign. At each Olympiad, he 
 renewed his oil for the contest, and his " verve " as a 
 poetical novelist. He possessed in the highest de- 
 gree a knowledge of good taste, and the most ex- 
 quisite and flexible expressions of our language. He 
 was grateful for admiration, and never forgot who 
 had moved or excited him. So it was, that through 
 the Empire, he never failed to speak with the most 
 respectful enthusiasm of Victor Hugo, the grand 
 exile of Guernsey, nor of Lamartine the exile of the 
 Interior. 
 
 After the appearance of " Lucrece," he brought 
 Ponsard to Lamartine, who received him with that 
 effusion, which soon established a fraternity, if not 
 equality. This was almost an event. Lamartine, 
 Hugo, Vigny and Sainte Beuve had been the ac- 
 knowledged leaders of " 1'ecole romantique," to which 
 we younger men all belonged. Our instincts drew us 
 towards the true, and beautiful, and we made our- 
 selves the servants of that Shakespeare, revealed in 
 the splendors of " Hernani," " Marion Delorme," 
 " Le Roi S'amuse," and of " Ruy Bias." 
 
 The classic party seized some of the beauties of 
 " Lucrece," and thought to avenge its own interreg- 
 num by exaggerating these beauties, and opposing 
 Ponsard to Hugo, which was like opposing a consti-
 
 PON SARD. 
 
 49 
 
 tutional prince to Charlemagne. Our romantic faith 
 was one of the expressions of our love for Liberty. 
 We were indignant when Lamartine patronized Pon- 
 sard, and almost accused him of defection. 
 
 Happy epoch, when the civil war was only 
 between those who held to the three rules of compo- 
 sition, and those who wanted to depart from them ! 
 
 The personal qualities of the man and poet, after 
 a while, made us pardon the favors with which Lam- 
 artine overwhelmed Ponsard, and we agreed that he 
 was not wrong in extending his hand to a laureate 
 who gave promise of being a master. 
 
 A few years later, Ponsard held a high position 
 in our estimation. He took his gun in December, 
 1851, but unhappily, soon after, placed it in the 
 library of the Senate. He exhausted his own hero- 
 ism in the characters of his heroes. He only knew 
 how to be an Academician of great talent, and tender 
 heart, and this is why so many mourn for him, who 
 died so young. 
 
 The attitude of the Academy towards Lamartine, 
 was rather peculiar. Individually, every member came 
 to the receptions of their illustrious " confrere," who 
 conferred upon them individually a continual honor, 
 of which as an association they were very jealous. 
 To be a member of the Academy, and not appear at 
 one of the sessions where the time was passed in 
 heated discussions over a dictionary, a labor resem-
 
 5Q LAM AR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 bling the tapestry of Penelope ; to indulge in a horse- 
 back ride every day ; to travel in the Orient, and 
 attract the attention of all Europe to one's tent ; 
 finally to effect a Revolution, and proclaim a Repub- 
 lic was a code not found in the manual of the Cupola 
 of the " Pont des Arts." The Academy protested 
 officially, by epigrams, and each guilty composer came 
 Saturday night, to get absolution, so as to recom- 
 mence the next Thursday at the regular reunion, 
 Lamartine willingly repeated the epigrams, and they 
 did not in the least destroy the beauty of his smile. 
 The most bitter assailants were the most indignant 
 at the little verse of Casimir Bonjour ; but to be in- 
 dignant, they were obliged to bring the verse back. 
 
 Lamartine, who, during the session, had stood 
 almost alone in Parliament, was now becoming more 
 and more necessary to the opposition, and often was 
 its leader. Every morning, his speeches were read in 
 every house in Paris. In spite of his reservations, 
 one felt that his chest was large enough to contain the 
 breath of a Revolution. The court was not ignorant 
 of this, and ministries were offered to him, which he 
 refused. The whole official world would leave every 
 other house for his. Garneir-Pages and Ledru-Rollin, 
 brought M. Mole there. All the legations, and for- 
 eign travellers of note, came to see a Parisian assem- 
 bly, which was at the same time, Athenian, for here 
 were formed artists, polemists, peers of France, mar-
 
 REPUBLICAN VISITORS. 51 
 
 quises who had not taken their oath, and where the 
 nuncio risked stepping on the toes of Beranger. 
 Mme. de Lamartine, who had the hospitality of an 
 Arab, went from group to group with cordial greet- 
 ings. When Lamartine wanted a congenial spirit, 
 he found it in the corner where he had left Voltaire. 
 AH the conversations, political indiscretions, and 
 chance encounters, served as a text of the chroniclers 
 for the following week. The modest lamps of that 
 apartment in rue de 1'Universite', were the light- 
 houses illuminating intelligent Paris, and this lasted 
 for fifteen years. 
 
 The sudden advent of the Republic, brought other 
 groups into that room. Duchesses were replaced by 
 leaders of political clubs. Barbes, in the enthusiasm 
 of his chivalrous nature, often came seeking encour- 
 agement. Blanqui, to be combatted, and disarmed. 
 Deputations came crowding in, as at the Hotel de 
 Ville. 
 
 In the early days of March 1848, Lamartine was 
 obliged to install himself as Minister of Foreign Af- 
 fairs. As he sat down in M. Guizot's chair, he found 
 his own name written on a sheet of paper, and the 
 ink scarcely dry, where the Minister of Louis Philippe 
 had refuted the last speech of Lamartine, his suc- 
 cessor. 
 
 During the existence of the Executive Commis- 
 sion, Lamartine lived in a house of Madrid, Bois de
 
 52 LAM A R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Boulogne. A month before, France would have 
 given him the "Tuileries," by acclamation, but he 
 would not listen to an impulse, however grateful, 
 that would compromise the Republic.
 
 V. 
 
 Society at Saint-Point. 
 
 ONE of the most delightful seasons, that I can 
 recall in that luminous life, was spent at Saint- 
 Point. There was a host of visitors, and I was obliged 
 to take refuge in an old house, below the garden, 
 which had once been a presbytery. Mme. de Girar- 
 din, M. and Mme. D'Esgrigny, Lafon, and his daugh- 
 ter, were among the guests. Two nieces, Mme. de 
 Pierreclos, and Mile. Valentine de Cessiat, who was 
 just merging into womanhood, aided Mme. de Lamar- 
 tine in doing the honors of the house. Mme. de 
 Pierreclos was the widow of one of the best friends of 
 my youth, Count Leon de Pierreclos, who died in 
 early manhood. He was a poet and a republican, 
 rejoicing in the almost paternal friendship of Lamar- 
 tine. Every recollection of my youth brings back his 
 name, and his poems. In that other world, under 
 skies concealed by fewer clouds than ours, he guards 
 apart of the affection he carried with him. His wife, 
 whose esteem I value, buried herself for a long time 
 in an almost hopeless grief, from which the vitality 
 of her nature, gradually forced her. Her brightness
 
 54 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 appeared even through her tears, and during her 
 sojourn at Saint-Point, one could hardly tell, which 
 was the more dazzling, Mme. de Pierreclos, or Mme. 
 de Girardin. 
 
 Mile. Valentine, whose beauty unfolded a new 
 enchantment every day, was already beginning her 
 work of passionate devotion to her uncle, which 
 continued unfaltering through his life, and has fol- 
 lowed him beyond the tomb. 
 
 She would not permit Saint-Point to be sold at 
 auction. She bought it in, with her small means, 
 and preserves there the traditions of the old hospi- 
 tality with so much grace, that when one sees her 
 appear upon the piazza., in the pale light of the sun, 
 he thinks, for a moment, that the family must follow, 
 that the dead will leave their grassy mounds to wel- 
 come the guest as in days gone by. 
 
 M. 'd'Esgrigny made a place for himself among 
 this illustrious company. He was so sympathetic, 
 that a long conversation was necessary to perceive 
 that his ideas were your mortal enemies. Veuillot 
 has never been better defended, and with a good 
 taste so unlike him, that we always came out of the 
 controversies ashamed of having been charmed by a 
 champion of the Society of Jesus. M. de Champeaux 
 was frightfully distanced, and I felt obliged to fortify 
 myself in my republican faith with M. Ronot, an 
 enthusiastic comrade of Lamartine's, who concealed
 
 LAFON. 
 
 55 
 
 a delicacy only equalled by his fidelity, under an 
 attractive good nature. 
 
 He was one of those who loved Lamartine and 
 Liberty, more than any thing else, and in whose 
 friendship, Lamartine rejoiced for half a century. He 
 had the happiness to die before the Empire, during 
 the greatest expansion of the Lamartinian glory. 
 His son, one of my dear friends, continues his father's 
 qualities with much intelligence, and good sense. 
 He has administered many times in our department 
 as intermediate prefect. 
 
 As I have already said, Lafon and his daughter 
 were among the guests. We could not explain how 
 he had succeeded in enchanting a whole generation. 
 Fanatics liking the Toulousian accent, even dared to 
 place him as a rival to Talma. Without much urging, 
 he used to recite to us, under the trees, interminable 
 and somnolent harangues, which often came, alas ! 
 from Racine, and Voltaire. He was only a pompous 
 declaimer, with a warmth which had become reputa- 
 tion because it was a continuous flow. 
 
 The fact of his success remained, in spite of our 
 impressions. He had drawn around him a host of 
 admirers, for which the youth of the tragedian, and 
 that of the public must have been the excuse. He 
 appeared to be an excellent man, whose character was 
 unspoiled by the mask that he was obliged to wear, 
 and he was more proud of his daughter than of his own
 
 56 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 fame. There was a smile of the innocent conscious- 
 ness of a Watteau, on the lips of the daughter, and a 
 charm of the seventeenth century in her toilettes. 
 She painted with Mme. de Lamartine, but the ideal 
 heads, delineated by her pencils, were, certainly, much 
 less beautiful than her own. 
 
 Dr. Pascal was another occasional visitor. Lam- 
 artine often speaks of him in his writings, as the 
 most intimate friend of his youth. He had had a 
 duel with Toussenel, I believe, concerning an article 
 in the " Journal de Saone-et-Loire." He was the 
 firmest and most refined of all the republican circle. 
 One day, Lamartine, knowing that he was sick and 
 alone, invited him to come and die at Monceaux. 
 
 He did so. 
 
 I was thus, in the midst of genius, and beauty. 
 The summer days were spent on horseback, or in the 
 carriage, and the evenings filled with brilliant con- 
 versation and harmonious lyrics. Often, Lamartine 
 took us for a walk after breakfast, to the shade of a 
 fine forest, to the borders of a pond, on the slope of 
 the mountain, which he still owned. Out of respect 
 to his guests, he dressed himself with care, but his 
 clothes soon lost their freshness, by contact with his 
 climbing dogs and macaw. 
 
 o o 
 
 One day, his costume presaged something un- 
 usual. Mme. de Lamartine anxiously awaited a 
 revelation. We followed him along the path lead-
 
 A N IMP ROMP T U PICNIC. 5 7 
 
 ing to the pond, but he turned aside in another direc 
 tion. 
 
 " Where are you going, Alphonse," said Mme. de 
 Lamartine. 
 
 " To one of the wonders of the world," he replied. 
 
 We descended at the right. The dogs preceded 
 us, and were waiting, barking vociferously. At the 
 angle of the road, were standing the two horses, har- 
 nessed to the carriage that Lamartine had brought 
 from Vienna. The other horses, saddled for ladies 
 and gentlemen, were pawing the ground impatiently. 
 A vintage cart was laden with hampers, overflowing 
 with hams, bread and waffles, 
 
 "What does this mean?" exclaimed Mme. de 
 Lamartine. 
 
 " That we are going to lunch at Chateau-Tiers," 
 replied her husband. 
 
 There was a sensation among the white dresses. 
 They were not prepared for a ride on horseback, and 
 the evenings in the valley, were always chilly. How- 
 ever, one could not very easily resist one of Lamar- 
 tine's amiable fancies. He had foreseen the objec- 
 tion. Shawls and wraps filled up the cart ; there 
 was also a large bag of money. Our curiosity was 
 much excited, 
 
 Was he going to announce the project of a long 
 journey? And to what country ? No one dared to ask. 
 
 He only half succeeded in forming his party.
 
 58 LAMA R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mme. de Pierreclos made a pretext of her mourning, 
 for remaining behind. Mile. Valentine pleaded a les- 
 son, that she must give the children of Mme. de 
 Lamartine' s school. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine, Mme. d'Esgrigny, Mile. 
 Lafon, and M. Ronot occupied the carriage. Lam- 
 artine mounted Sapphyr. Dr. Pascal, and I had our 
 own horses, and after the saddles had been changed, 
 Lafon and M. d'Esgrigny took the horses designed 
 for the ladies, Lafon soon adapted his tragic dignity 
 to the heavy movements of his Limousine steed. 
 We followed the carriage as closely as possible. 
 Lafon, having the hams before his eyes, talked of 
 them with marked graciousness. It was a premedi- 
 tated flattery. Lamartine loved to discuss the culin- 
 ary art. The same lips, on which floated the most 
 charming expressions,delighted in telling classic re- 
 ceipts. He developed his theory of hams,upon which 
 he had meditated with the seriousness of Alexandre 
 Dumas. 
 
 "I have arranged that receipt myself," said he, 
 " and it will outlive ' Jocelyn.' It is exquisite. There 
 are five or six poisons in the composition. Lady 
 Stanhope gave me one of them, and I think that I 
 brought another from Smyrna, it is the one that 
 Mi thri dates abused so much, but it is quite harm- 
 less. Have you ever played Mithridates, Lafon ? I 
 will write a play for you, so that you may eat poison
 
 PROPHECIES. 
 
 59 
 
 every evening, and truly too, before an enthusiastic 
 public." 
 
 " What do you call your poison," said Dr. Pascal, 
 " Let me know, and, perhaps, I can explain the ner- 
 vous malady existing in you." 
 
 " My poison will be public ingratitude," resumed 
 Lamartine now becoming serious. "The people will 
 raise me to the clouds, where Barthelemy says I now 
 live, and then it will let me fall into its mud." 
 
 He was a clairvoyant, and has had a glimpse of the 
 future. We respected his contemplation, and did not 
 reply. He soon perceived that it was unseasonable, 
 and rallied. M. d'Esgrigny like a man of good taste, 
 was charmed with the profile Mile. Lafon presented 
 to us from time, to time, as the carriage turned in the 
 road. Lafon responded, by praises of Mme. d'Es- 
 grigny, which started a new topic. Lamartine ap- 
 proved, but not in a very cordial tone. 
 
 " I have never found true beauty, except in the 
 Orient," said he. " Do not believe in the hyperboles 
 of my poems. Do you know why it is more beauti- 
 ful there, than elsewhere? Because it is combined 
 with goodness. The races of the East are better 
 than ours. They have not that quickness of intel- 
 lect which makes the eyes sparkle, while it is incon- 
 gruous with the lips. The women of the East wear 
 the expression of their captivity ; sadness in its su- 
 premest sense. They are only the flowers of pleas-
 
 6o LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ure, and are swayed by all the breezes that waft you 
 to them. I shall never forget my passage among 
 the Grecian isles. My vessel was announced, and I 
 was an emir there. The men came to meet me, in 
 the boats, and the women, in their beautiful bare feet, 
 gathered together on the river banks, while the 
 young children hid among the fig-trees, and vines. 
 What I breathed of peace, romance, and fancy, I 
 could not tell in a poem of twelve thousand lines. 
 There were daughters of Corfu, of Mount Tayjette, 
 of Cerigo, and of Cithera. My eyes will never see a 
 more ravishing sight, even should they open in the 
 Prophet's Paradise. Do not talk to me of the women 
 of the West." 
 
 " But what of Elvira? " asked Mme. de Girardin, 
 who had heard the conversation from the carriage, 
 and whose feminine pride was touched. 
 
 " Alas ! you have not been Elvira," said Lamar- 
 tine in a low tone. " If you had been ! " 
 
 " You would have had still more enthusiasm for 
 the shepherdesses," replied Delphine. 
 
 We arrived at Chateau-Tiers. 
 
 We sought in vain for the promised marvel. 
 There was a ruin of no positive character. The 
 house, comparatively modern, was bounded by a 
 landscape restricted and uncolored, like the Charolais 
 generally. There was a wing of the Chateau, of the 
 time of Louis XIV. a tower springing from the old
 
 JANETTE 6 1 
 
 wall of the enclosure, and the remains of a French 
 garden, and nothing more. 
 
 We could not permit ourselves not to be charmed, 
 and in fact, we were going to be. 
 
 Lamartine had a powerful motive for bringing us 
 here and unloading the cart, for ordinarily, he had a 
 horror of dinners on the grass. He chose a place in 
 the corner of the orchard, pleasantly shaded by 
 willow trees. The 'groom brought water from the 
 well in the court, where there was a little farm-house 
 built against the ruin. The china sparkled in the 
 sun. The waffles had crumbled on the way, and 
 were spread in golden fragments on the grass. Lam- 
 artine commenced carving the hams. A woman 
 about fifty years of age, stout, and still handsome 
 under the grey hair escaping from her cap, came out 
 of the farm-house, bringing a great loaf of brown 
 bread, and a jug of foaming milk. She saluted the 
 company, but when with lowered eyes, she passed 
 Lamartine, she blushed. 
 
 " Good morning, Janette. Do you not recognize 
 me ?," 
 
 " O, yes sir ! but it is a long time since the mig- 
 nonette faded, " she replied. 
 
 " And you live here with your children. How 
 many have you ? " 
 
 " Six, " said she with pride. 
 
 " Let us go and see the ruins. There is noth-
 
 62 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ing more to be seen here," interrupted Mme, de 
 Lamartine, upon whose nerves this conversation 
 grated. 
 
 ' The ruins have their price, " said M. Ronot, 
 laughingly, to Dr. Pascal. " There is no need of 
 disturbing ourselves," Lamartine rejoined dipping a 
 piece of brown bread into his milk. " I want to tell 
 you what I know about the chateau. My uncle, the 
 abbe de Lamartine, often came here in his younger 
 days, and he has told me a great deal about it. The 
 fief was inherited by the beautiful Mile, de Chateau- 
 Tiers, who never married. She led a very gay life 
 here. The nobility used to come, on their fine 
 horses. Mass was celebrated every day, in the little 
 chapel, which was on this side." 
 
 " You know nothing of your ancient history, '' 
 interrupted Mme. Girardin. " I have never heard of 
 Chateau-Tiers, and consequently, I can tell better 
 than you, what they did here, having for a foundation 
 the prolonged celibacy of the noted beauty. Remain 
 a Demosthenes, and do not try to be a Tallemant des 
 Reaux, it is not your fate. If Mile. Lafon will go 
 in search of periwinkle, with Mme. d'Esgrigny, I 
 shall feel more at liberty to -talk, without fear of 
 shocking their modesty." 
 
 " I converse with Veuillot, every day, " said Mme. 
 d'Esgrigny, "and my daughter never misses an 
 evening of French Comedy."
 
 MME. DE GIRARDIN'S STORY. 63 
 
 "You will certainly never speak in that language, 
 Madame, " said Lafon. 
 
 " Well, then, " resumed Mme. Girardin, " the 
 summons to mass sounded every morning, in the 
 chapel, and this is the way, they went to it. The 
 little Chevalier de Berz6 .... is there a Berze in 
 your province, Lamartine ? " 
 
 " There is." 
 
 " The little Chevalier had won twenty louis the 
 night before at a game of cards, which was prolonged 
 so late, that in the darkness he was deceived in find- 
 ing his room, and unhappily was obliged to spend 
 the night in Mile, de Chateau-Tiers' vestibule, essen- 
 tially incommoding the abbe de Lamartine, who wa,s 
 forced to cross the vestibule in the morning. We 
 will notice, that this vestibule had only two doors, 
 the one belonging to Mile, de Chateau-Tiers, and 
 the other that by which the Chevalier had entered. 
 Mile, de Chateau-Tiers, a little languishing, like a 
 rose that had slept badly from having listened too 
 long to a nightingale, appeared at the window, to 
 powder her chesnut curls. 
 
 "The marquis of Pierreclos, who had been on the 
 mountain to kill a hare, was resting under a pavilion. 
 He was hunting for violets, and found a " femme-de- 
 chambre." The horses, ready for the chase, were 
 impatiently prancing in the stable-yard. The dogs 
 were whining, and the horns had sounded. The
 
 64 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 cooks were plucking the fowls. The little daughter of 
 Pere Mazoyer was coming up the path, leading her 
 donkey, which bore the tithe belonging to Mile, de 
 Chateau-Tiers. Still the summons continued to 
 sound, and go they must. They did not get there 
 until after the elevation, which made the officiating 
 priest swear. 
 
 "The marquis de Pierreclos took a chair next to 
 Mile, de Chateau-Tiers, and in a low tone, proposed 
 marriage to her. Glancing at the said abbe de Lam- 
 artine, she refused. The abbe" was talking in a still 
 lower tone to the chevalier. 
 
 " What were you doing in the vestibule ? " 
 
 " I was playing checkers, I had found a checker- 
 board." 
 
 " Do you play with foils as well ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Without guards?" 
 
 " Most assuredly," 
 
 " Very well, then. At five o'clock behind the 
 orchard wall." 
 
 "Agreed: but remember, if I draw a pint of 
 blood from you, you will pass a night in the vestibule, 
 and only there." 
 
 "And this is the way they heard mass at Chateau- 
 Tiers, and I hope that M. Villemain will never again 
 give me the Monthyon prize for the purity of my 
 verse, if I have in the least overdrawn the picture."
 
 THE SECRETARY OF STATE. 65 
 
 Lamartine merely bowed. He hated an indeli- 
 cacy or innuendo from the mouth of a lady, but this 
 time his look was a little unjust, for Mine, de Girar- 
 din had related her story with a good deal of inspira- 
 tion and eloquence. 
 
 He said ; 
 
 " The seventeenth century was hardly responsible. 
 It was an interregnum of God. The devil reigned." 
 
 " The devil was called Voltaire," interrupted M. 
 d'Esgrigny. 
 
 " Or rather, Louis XV." said Dr. Pascal. 
 
 Mme. de Girardin opened her beautiful eyes, in 
 astonishment, upon Lamartine. 
 
 " Do you believe in the devil? " she exclaimed. 
 
 "A little. God, that is, Sovereign Reason, at 
 that time, spoke only through two men, Rousseau and 
 Voltaire, more especially through Rousseau, how- 
 ever. The spirit of evil was Master. When I weigh 
 carefully, the injustices, the human monstrosities 
 the subversion of morality, the absurdities of true 
 history, I am persuaded that God, after that battle 
 between good and evil, the result of which no one 
 has ever known, abandoned several centuries of our 
 planet to Satan, or Eblis, and that the men of that 
 epoch were governed by laws emanating directly from 
 evil. Lucifer was Secretary-of-State ! " 
 
 " But your theory is horribly blasphemous ! " 
 said Mme. de Lamartine.
 
 66 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Blasphemous ! No ! And what does it matter ! 
 Human speech cannot attain to God. He permits 
 times of strongest temptations, but he meets out a 
 recompense. Those who have fought the battle of 
 life here, are gathered into another sphere after death, 
 perhaps into a paradise. I do not know. Truth, the 
 irrfallible light of order, and justice, appears to them 
 for a season. Then, their eyes are closed again to 
 this light, and they fall in other battles, and so, into 
 other spheres, under other suns, with other trials and 
 proofs, but always of work, which is the supreme 
 law, and the highest happiness. God is no more 
 eternal than man, but He is conscious of his Eternity. 
 But I am wearying Mile. Lafon, and we have wan- 
 dered far away from Chateau-Tiers. Let us return." 
 
 Then taking the arm of the pretty Mile. Lafon, he 
 led her across the broken walls. We went into the 
 old garden, with the other ladies. Soon after, I 
 escaped with my cigar into the old tennis court. 
 There was a broken window looking out upon the 
 farm yard and I heard Lamartine's voice. I had 
 been sadly reflecting his last words, and for the first 
 time in my life, was irritated with him. This con- 
 cession to the existence of a devil, did not belong to 
 him. Probably, it had been imposed upon him in 
 his youth, by one of those charming Jesuits he 
 speaks of in his " Memoires," and for whom he has 
 altogether too much indulgence. He often alluded
 
 JANNETTE. 67 
 
 to it afterwards, but I always observed that it was 
 during his extreme sufferings. Not daring to accuse 
 God, he created a devil out of respect, impossible as 
 it was. 
 
 Even in the fertile and well-cultivated field of this 
 great intellect, some of the enemy's tares had fallen. 
 
 I glanced out of the window into the farm-yard, 
 Lamartine had taken the bag of money from the cart. 
 The farmer's wife was standing near him. 
 
 " Hold up your apron, Janette, as you used to do 
 when I threw the flowers.'' 
 
 This, then, was the Janette of his " Memoires," 
 the first rural love of the youth, at Milly. 
 
 Her eyes shone with tears as she looked at him. 
 She was beautiful in the illumination of the past. 
 She saw, again, the handsome young man from over 
 the mountain, and heard, again, his promise, that her 
 image alone should dwell in his heart. Holding up her 
 apron, like one who had never known how to refuse 
 him anything, she received the shower of silver that 
 he poured into it. There must have been two thou- 
 sand francs. 
 
 " This will buy the conscription of your son. Do 
 not speak of it to any one, especially, Mme. de Lam- 
 artine." He bent down and touched the grey hair 
 with his lips, as he had so often done, long years 
 before. Then he walked away whistling to his dogs. 
 The whole man was there. No one had ever been
 
 68 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 more beloved than he. Every day there came letters 
 full of declarations of love, to which we were obliged 
 
 o 
 
 to reply. He conversed with all Europe. 
 
 His fame was an uninterrupted intoxication, and 
 still, when his house was full of charming people, he 
 had remembered this old love, living in the country. 
 He had even dissimulated for the sake of helping her, 
 and had pushed his flattery to that point, of asking 
 her not to speak of the interview to Mme. de Lam- 
 artine.
 
 VI. 
 
 The " Bien Public" 
 
 IT WAS a little while after this, that Lamartine 
 desired to found a newspaper for himself. His 
 political individuality was becoming the most impor- 
 tant in the Assembly. His voice drew about him 
 enthusiasts. He had already given his grand speeches 
 upon the regency, the fortifications of Paris, and the 
 abolition of capital punishment. His very whisper 
 was causing a movement in the tide of public opinion. 
 Outside of France, the world read Lamartine. 
 
 He did not want to establish a political organ in 
 Paris, believing that his power would be more effec- 
 tive if he placed the tribune at a distance. He made 
 the trial through me. Pelletan was starting the 
 " XIX e Siecle, " in Paris. Lamartine did not think 
 it wise to write for the paper, but he liked Pelletan 
 so much, that he proposed to me to undertake the 
 responsibility of the authorship. 
 
 ' One day in November, while walking up and down 
 the gallery, at Monceaux, he gave me an idea of an 
 article upon the statesmen of the government of July. 
 
 In tracing the outline, he really gave me the 
 whole article, and under the pretext of taking notes,
 
 7O LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I wrote almost from his dazzling dictation. A week 
 later, I carried the article to Pelletan, without indi- 
 cating its source, as I had been commanded. Peile- 
 tan, doubtless, suspected its origin, and not to startle 
 his readers by a too attractive decoy, had the cour- 
 age to refuse it. He will know now, what associate 
 he refused, and will forgive this historical indiscretion. 
 It was Pelletan who afterwards gave Lamartine so 
 many proofs of passionate devotion, and who has 
 given to the religion of democracy so many testi- 
 monies of faith, and courage, and who, without ceas- 
 ing to be entirely himself, re-appears in the spirit, 
 eloquence, and courage of his son Camille Pelletan. 
 
 Lamartine wrote to me in August 1843, propos- 
 ing the honor of being one of the founders of the 
 " Bien Public." 
 
 He asked me to bring with me, my good neighbor 
 Hippolyte Boussin, who subsequently entered deeply 
 into the intimacy at Monceaux. 
 
 I was to find at Saint-Point, Bruys d'Ouilly ; 
 Champvans; Adolphe de La Tour, our judicious 
 friend from Paris ; Dureault, who had been deputy of 
 the opposition ; Garnier-Lacombe who suffered per- 
 secution during the Restoration ; Versaud, an honor- 
 able merchant ; and Charles Rolland, whom I did 
 not then know, but who, in spite of his youth, was 
 already talked of as Mayor of Macon. For the past 
 twenty years, Rolland and I have walked in parallel
 
 THE CAUSE OF THE REVOLUTIONS. 71 
 
 paths, and our hands have often met over the short 
 distance between us, as our votes have mingled in 
 the National Assembly, in spite of the almost imper- 
 ceptible line of separation. I do not think that I 
 have omitted to mention one of those men, who, for- 
 tifying each other fora work of democratic devotion, 
 and foreseeing the Republic beyond those years still 
 remaining of the reign of Louis Philippe, desired to 
 unite their hopes in one indestructible bond. 
 
 Lamartine very rapidly unfolded his views. He 
 did not have to persuade us. He did not hide from 
 us the fact, that we were to create an annual necessity 
 of pecuniary sacrifices, and made us see what was 
 worth more than a little gold scattered by the way, 
 the sentiment of Liberty that we should awaken in 
 the hearts around us. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all these Revolutions 
 for the last sixty years ? " said he to us. " It is the 
 pursuit of a single idea, and these changes are only 
 the different phases of a single Revolution. France 
 wants a rational government, that, without distinction 
 of classes, calls to the conduct of power men who are 
 most elevated by intelligence, and character. She 
 wants a government that will spread its benefits over 
 the entire society. She wants to apply to politics 
 the doctrine of social charity. So long as this end 
 is not attained, so long will Revolution follow its 
 course, stormy or calm, according to the obstacles
 
 72 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 or facilities it finds in its passage. Let us make a 
 harbor, where she may deposit, not tumultuous 
 ideas, but living truths, and upon their accretions, as 
 on those of the Nile, we will cultivate the harvests 
 of Liberty." 
 
 He continued talking in this way for a long time, 
 always walking on the balcony, and sending his words 
 to us through the windows of the salon. The ora- 
 tion was magnificent, and we had no need of inter- 
 rupting it, for our resolutions had been taken in 
 advance, and we voted unanimously for the founda- 
 tion of the newspaper. Each of us took shares for a 
 thousand francs, and Lamartine alone, ten thousand. 
 It was evident, that this fund was only a prelude. 
 But Lamartine was going to write for the paper. 
 Editors were giving fifty thousand francs for a single 
 work of his. His name seemed like an assured for- 
 tune, though he did not allude to it. As it will be 
 seen, it proved our ruin. 
 
 Champvans, for the past year, had been on the 
 editorial staff of the " Journal de Saone-et-Loire," 
 where he proclaimed the policy of Lamartine. He 
 was, therefore, appointed Editor-in-chief, and for 
 three years acquitted himself ably and conscien- 
 tiously. In 1848, he was recompensed by the pre- 
 fecture of Ain, and elected representative. Soon 
 after, he boldly accused Lamartine of forgetfulness, 
 and to our utter consternation, went over to the re-
 
 THE DUKES VISIT. 73 
 
 actionists. It will be unjust not to remember that 
 he gave the best years of his life to truth, and I do 
 not think it will be distasteful to him, since he has 
 gone so far towards the shady horizon, if I recall to 
 him so courageous and happy a period. 
 
 The " Bien Public," made a great sensation from 
 its first appearance. All the newspapers reproduced 
 the articles they recognized as Lamartine's, who, in 
 this way, fed the whole press. I will give a few ab- 
 stracts, which would have been an honor to any 
 polemist, had he not happened, at the same time to 
 be a poet, orator, historian and chief of thegovernment. 
 
 September 23d, 1843, the Duke and Duchess of 
 Nemours stopped at Macon. Lamartine gave an 
 account of their visit, in a long article which he ter- 
 minated thus, 
 
 " On the whole, the weather was very fine, the 
 prince affable and modest, and the princess pleasing. 
 The functionaries have been reserved in their expres- 
 sions, the people, respectful, and public sentiment 
 cold. Everybody did his duty, and nothing more. 
 Yesterday morning, when at the salute of the cannon, 
 the young travellers went on board the gaily decora- 
 ted boat that was to take them to Lyons, nothing 
 had changed the feeling. A prince and princess had 
 passed. That was all. One 1 carried away with him 
 the esteem of thoughtful men, the other, the admira- 
 tion of all who beheld her.
 
 74 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " But the situation is the same. The government, 
 and the country are not especially affected, nor are 
 they better understood. 
 
 " The river flows on, as it did the night before, 
 and Time is going where it went yesterday." 
 
 In replying to " La Reforme," Lamartine wrote 
 under one of his oratorical inspirations. 
 
 " If the National Assembly could come out of its 
 grave to-day, and find itself in the presence of its 
 work, thus disfigured, who is there among its states- 
 man, who would recognize the Revolution in your 
 hands ? From reaction to reaction ; from corrup- 
 tion to corruption ; from fear to fear ; from pretext 
 to pretext ; what principle have you left standing ? 
 Instead of democracy, an oligarchy ; instead of 
 equality, an electoral nobility ; instead of a magis- 
 terial royalty, a dynastic royalty; instead of the free 
 press, the laws of September ; instead of association, 
 prohibition to assemble ; -instead of an emancipated 
 religion living from the altar, religious quarrels, and 
 denominations disputing for the budget ; instead of 
 properties divisible to infinity, properties of mort- 
 main, increasing every day in the hands of corpora 
 tions, and disinheriting families ; instead of labor, and 
 free industries, France is sold to capitalists ; instead 
 of the moral and movable supremacy of intelligence, 
 the supremacy of imposts and the sovereignty of the 
 glebe and patent ! "
 
 LA REFORME. 
 
 75 
 
 In an apostrophe to " La Reforme," of October, 
 26, 1843, ne writes, 
 
 "The French Revolution is a good spiritualism 
 in action ; its work is to substitute everywhere, mind 
 for matter, right for force, putting man, where the 
 ancients put things. The Revolution is an outflow 
 from a Christian source. Those who see it in a Con- 
 stituent Assembly; those who see it only in the Con- 
 vention ; those who would like to see it only in the 
 Institutions of July, are equally mistaken. Its first 
 name was Liberty ; its second was Equality ; and its 
 last shall be Charity. The Constituent Assembly is 
 only its principle ; the Convention is only its Anger, 
 and the Government of July shall be its repentance. 
 Will " La Reforme " understand this? ' 
 
 Five years later, the editor, to whom Lamartine 
 had thus replied, was his friend and colleague in the 
 Provisionary Government, and Lamartine was often 
 obliged to reassure the republican faith of this honest 
 man, who was alarmed by the clamors of the riots, 
 which he thought were incompatible with universal 
 suffrage. 
 
 It was in August 1844, that the " Bien Public" 
 recounted the little episode ofabb Thyons. Champ- 
 vans, who has since then prostrated himself before 
 the church, had not then taken up arms against her 
 for the first time. He could, therefore, meet the cure 1 
 of Chanes with a clear conscience, and true disinter-
 
 76 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 estedness. Lamartine's articles upon the State, the 
 Church and Instruction were inflaming public opinion. 
 The Bishop of Autun, to counter-balance the influ- 
 ence of these, demanded letters of adhesion from his 
 clergy. There is no doubt, but that Champvans 
 counselled his friend to refuse his signature. The 
 priest listened to his advice, and wrote to the Bishop. 
 The eloquent letter had undoubtedly been attentively 
 read by Lamartine, and this is the preface that 
 Champvans gave in his Journal. " The Bishops have 
 exacted adhesion from their Clergy. We say de- 
 signedly, exacted, for evidently, the Bishop holding 
 in his hand the fortunes and honor of his inferior 
 Clergy; the Bishop, possessing the unheard-of, the 
 unreasonable, and iniquitous right of discharging, 
 revoking, and interdicting, according to his good 
 pleasure, will obtain as many signatures as he desires, 
 except from such honorable and courageous exam- 
 ples, as we signalize here. The letter of M. Thyons 
 throws a ray of light upon one side of the great ques- 
 tion, the separation of Instruction from the Church 
 and State.'' 
 
 The letter will be read with the interest that 
 a man excites, who exposes himself to attack in 
 order to preserve his dignity as a man, and priest. 
 
 The letter from abbe Thyons, to the Bishop of 
 Autun. 
 " Monseigneur :
 
 ABBE THY QMS' LETTER. 
 
 77 
 
 " There are two things in what you ask of me, a 
 political act and an act of agreement, as there are 
 in me two men, the priest and the citizen. As a 
 priest, I am submissive to you ; as a citizen, I am 
 answerable to my conscience only. 
 
 " I am not convinced, Monseigneur, that this Epis- 
 copal manifestation, this enrolment of opinions, this 
 crusade of signatures, can have any good result. It 
 has too much the appearance of an assault on public 
 opinion. 
 
 " There remains only oneoi two things ; the adhe- 
 sion that you demand of me is free, or it is imperative. 
 If it is free, my conscience forbids me to give it to 
 you ; if it is imperative, it has no value. 
 
 " Under these circumstances, to my great regret, I 
 find that I must refuse my signature." 
 
 This letter, and many others that followed, made 
 a great noise at Sion. The " Siecle," and the 
 " Nationale," and all the liberal papers, copied it. 
 Abbe" Thyons seemed to have breathed the atmos- 
 phere of" Jocelyn." His popularity became such, 
 that the Bishop thought it his duty to strike him with 
 an interdict. 
 
 Lamartine, Champvans, M. de Saint-Ildefonse and 
 I went to see him in his disgrace. He gave us the 
 welcome of his table and his mind. He appeared to 
 me prodigiously inferior to what he had written. 
 Who had helped him ? It was not the dead Rous-
 
 78 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 seau, not the living Champvans, who had not the 
 power of managing the philosophical language to that 
 degree. M. de Lamartine never divulged the name 
 of the poor cure's helper. Lamartine's protection 
 and Champvans' friendship continued faithful. After 
 having tried to write a book, that was to resemble 
 the "Confessions of Jean Jacques," the abbe was 
 nominated Consul at Bucharest. The reaction soon 
 drove him from there, he came back to his own 
 country, poor, and was again aided by Lamartine. 
 He had the weakness to retract, and ask for bread 
 from the church, who rewarded him by a cure of the 
 fourth order. Here he died with the double remorse 
 of having betrayed his apostolate, without possessing 
 the moral strength to sanctify it by martyrdom, and, 
 finally, was himself betrayed. 
 
 The " Bien Public " continued conspicuous for five 
 years. Lamartine shed a light over all its questions, 
 by his own fire. It is impossible to choose from 
 these articles, they were so remarkable that I should 
 have to tell of all. 
 
 Charles Holland, Boussin, and I, had the honor of 
 writing often for the paper. Its action was not con- 
 fined to the department. It would have been one 
 of the batteries, giving the hardest blows to the 
 Establishment of July, if it had not been, first of all, 
 an instrument of peace and civilization, preparing 
 the way and the philosophy of the Republic of 1848.
 
 EDITORS' REUNIONS. 79 
 
 It exerted an indisputable influence, indirectly, 
 among its founders. It was the excuse for a reunion 
 every year, meeting at different places. Once we 
 met at Saint Gengoux and at Sercy at M. Dureault's 
 the old deputy ; at Holland's in Macon, at Gamier 
 Lacombes and finally at my house at Cormatin. 
 
 Lamartine's presence always caused a great excite- 
 ment. All the surrounding population came to see 
 and hear him. How many magnificent speeches 
 were given in the villages and applauded by the hon- 
 est hands of laborers and vintagers! How many 
 generous thoughts were uttered, and perhaps only 
 half comprehended, but which ameliorated the condi- 
 tion of the people by the simple fragments a man 
 could carry home to his family ! 
 
 At first the new doctrine, meeting the inherent 
 force of the Napoleonic traditions, caused wonder and 
 surprise, but little by little, the fruit ripened in the 
 shade. The great teachings of the lettered Repub- 
 licans of our generation, transmitted from father to 
 son, have at last been understood by the people, and 
 the result shows in the almost unanimous republican 
 vote in our department to-day. 
 
 At each of our meetings, we noticed an increase 
 of receipts, by subscription, and also a much greater 
 increase of our expenses. This explained itself. 
 Every time that Lamartine inserted an article, he in- 
 creased the issue ten fold, and sent copies to all parts
 
 80 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of the world. We could not put a money value upon 
 this dissemination of the good word. We willingly 
 sacrified our patrimony, for the sake of recruiting 
 citizens, for the future Republic. There never was a 
 company of shareholders, who ruined themselves with 
 more enthusiasm. 
 
 I remember what Lamartine said to me, one day 
 after we had discussed our deficit. 
 
 " Let us reflect upon this. May we not here ex- 
 perience a legitimate sense of satisfaction and self- 
 gratulation ? While most men in their enterprises 
 have for their principal, or secondary object, the in- 
 crease of their capital, and division of large receipts 
 among themselves ; while their reimbursements come 
 from exclusively industrial transactions ; while they 
 put into their safes, the tithe of their stock, the scum 
 of their brokerages, and, finally the more or less open 
 subsidies, which the Budget of State, with an attempt 
 at concealment, has constantly slipped into the hands 
 of those, whose consciences and opinions, are as 
 flexible as their pens ; is it not consoling to see per- 
 sons, possessing disinterested ideas and opinions not 
 only scorn all corrupt prosperity, but even willingly 
 impose onerous taxes upon themselves, and, as it 
 were pay their own ransoms with their mites, for 
 the sake of being independent, of remaining entirely 
 and essentially national, and of diffusing as far as 
 lies in their power to the most remote and inhospita-
 
 THE EXPENSE OF THE BIEN PUBLIC. gl 
 
 ble corner of the country, a policy, conducive to the 
 material interests of the departments, and to the 
 social interest of entire France ? " 
 
 The " Bien Public," cost Lamartine more than 
 fifteen thousand francs a year. It was one of those 
 unseen graves, where a part of his fortune was buried 
 for common safety, that fortune, so often made and 
 unmade, spent charitably and democratically for the 
 country, and which the country could not restore. 
 
 The Republic, whose outline the worthy journal 
 had sketched so long beforehand, was the final cause 
 of its disappearance from Macon. Lamartine, having 
 fallen so abruptly from power, needed a newspaper 
 at Paris to explain his policy, so he continued his 
 title to this one. Pelletan and LaGuerroniere worked 
 brilliantly for it under Lamartine's direction, and 
 Pelletan learned that disinterestedness and consci- 
 entiousness of politics, which gave so much power to 
 his talent and character in the National Assembly, 
 and La Guerroniere learned that maturity of style, 
 and graceful manner, which made him sympathetic 
 and eloquent, even after he became senator of the 
 Empire. 
 
 The " Bien Public," whose honest title has been 
 repeated in France and other countries, formed a 
 generation of citizens invincibly devoted to the Re- 
 public as the only source of Liberty. If any one has 
 departed from the great principle, he must still look
 
 82 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 back with pride upon those warm seasons of struggle 
 and generous thought. Our cooperation, brought us 
 all under one master, unequalled in gentleness and 
 genius, and gave us a deeper insight into the best 
 heart that God ever made. 
 
 The " Bien Public " grouped a phalanx of disci- 
 ples around a modern Plato, who sent out to the 
 mountains and vines of the Maconnais as many dis- 
 courses as ever died away on the billows of the Pirea. 
 His language was a model of the French, and he will 
 remain the catechism of the Republican religion. 
 If, of all Lamartine's great works, there had survived 
 only the " Bien Public," it would have left a train of 
 light crossing his century and losing itself in the dawn 
 of the new Republic.
 
 VII. 
 
 Monceaux. 
 
 I HAVE not yet spoken of Monceaux, where 
 Lamartine spent the autumn, and early winter 
 and where he carried us with him. The most mov- 
 ing scenes of his political, as well as his private life, 
 unfolded there. Monceaux was more truly the home 
 of the politician, the counsel general, the host of all 
 European celebrities, than Saint-Point, still the man 
 did not disappear in the vortex. 
 
 The chateau at Monceaux, and its surrounding 
 vineyards, which, during the last years, were the only 
 remains of his fortune, had been given to Lamartine 
 by an uncle, M. de Lamartine senior, who was a Vol- 
 tairian even after becoming a royalist in 1815. He 
 was a handsome old man, a savant, rich, and conse- 
 quently an autocrat, who held the youth of the poet 
 under the despotic rod, more menacing than effective, 
 of family. No sale of wines was ever made, no 
 journey undertaken, no marriage projected, without 
 the authority of this chief of the clan. In his 
 " Memoires," Lamartine speaks of him with a respect- 
 ful horror, mingled with pity. One would have to 
 live in a province, and in a family where there was
 
 84 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 one such member, to have an idea of the autocratic 
 power of Louis XIV. 
 
 The chateau at Monceaux was begun under that 
 reign and finished in all the florid style of the Pompa- 
 dour. There is a large fagade, with a pavilion on each 
 side ; a little court where there is a chapel ; an avenue 
 of chestnuts, and the terrace running down to the 
 grape vines, formed the only garden. Mme. de Lam- 
 artine had built two small English houses at the en- 
 trance, and had planted an avenue of walnut trees, 
 which went through the vines to meet the terrace. 
 In spite of all our entreaties, Lamartine had these 
 beautiful trees cut down, as they shaded the vines 
 too much, for it was from them that he expected to 
 free himself from embarrassment. He only looked 
 upon Monceaux as his living. 
 
 The landscape was at Saint-Point, though that at 
 Monceaux was not to be despised. From the terrace 
 on a clear bright day, one could see the lofty snowy 
 summit of Mont Blanc beyond the mountains of 
 Beaujolais. The eye rested only upon richness and 
 fertility. In the house there had once been a large 
 hall for a theatre, where the young nobles and can- 
 onesses of the eighteenth century used to meet. 
 Lamartine converted this into a gallery, where he 
 spent most of his time. 
 
 How many lamps were lighted there, how many 
 chibouques smoked, and how many brilliant talks
 
 M ONCE A UX. 85 
 
 those long walls have heard ! Alas ! the lamps are 
 extinguished, the fragrant odors ascend no more, the 
 loving words have ceased ! We are in the way here, 
 . we have outlived all these joyous scenes ! 
 
 I cannot recall Monceaux without a sense of per- 
 fumed warmth. . 
 
 The reception rooms, extending to the right and 
 left, occupying the entire first story, were always 
 brightened by clear, open fires. The heaters were 
 only for the corridors. At a door in the middle of 
 the gallery, was a " benitier," representing three 
 angels, sculptured by Mme. de Lamartine from a 
 model, still to be found at St. Germain 1'Auxerrois. 
 
 There was a continued coming and going of 
 guests. Their silken robes rustled in the halls. The 
 sabots of the vintagers, mounting the wooden stair- 
 case leading to Lamartine's cabinet, had a peaceful 
 and rural sound. 
 
 The chateau had a southern exposure, and was 
 never enveloped in the mists of the valley, and the 
 sun always shone on the terrace. It was bright there, 
 even on a rainy day. 
 
 Some of the visitors came regularly every year, 
 and remained several months. M. and Mme. Dar- 
 gaud spent November and December there, which was 
 never too long. Dargaud has left a name as writer 
 and philosopher. Born in the department of Paray- 
 le-Monial, educated in the same manner as Edgar
 
 86 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Quinet, he commenced life early as a man of letters, 
 and has never been misunderstood. Among other 
 things he has written a fine study upon " Marie 
 Stuart," a dramatic history of religious liberty, " Life 
 of Queen Elizabeth," and " La Famille," where each 
 page gives an exquisite scene of provincial life. 
 
 He has left a manuscript work upon Lamartine, 
 much better than mine. Mme. Dargaud aided him 
 in his literary work. He is dead. She is blind. 
 She lives in a night brightened by many memories, 
 and she still composes verses, which she writes 
 between bars, like the blind at Quinze Vingt. She 
 has descended into old age, with a mind calm and 
 firm in the face of an inevitable misfortune, but with 
 more light in her blindness than many have who 
 see clearly. 
 
 Dargaud worshipped Lamartine as much as any 
 
 of us. His intimacy commenced at an earlier period 
 
 than mine. He was our resource after dinner, when 
 
 Lamartine, with his feet stretched out on the hearth 
 
 before the fire, was taking his daily nap. 
 
 Then Dargaud would shake himself solemnly, and 
 out came a myriad of anecdotes, told rather slowly, 
 but always in an agreeable manner. Lamartine 
 would arouse, and continue them until bedtime. 
 
 Dargaud was a man for a philosophical walk. 
 Every once in a while, he would halt, and his com- 
 panion was obliged to do the same. In cold weather,
 
 L UIS DE R ONCHA UD. 8 ; 
 
 this was not so agreeable. In order to more surely 
 retain one, he would take him, resolutely, by the 
 button of his overcoat. But his conversation was 
 attractive, and we rarely left the button in his hand, 
 so that if we took cold we at least, saved our polite- 
 ness, and our overcoats. 
 
 Louis de Ronchaud used to come to all the fetes 
 of St. Martin. I love him too much not to speak of 
 him. He has devoted his life to poetry, art, politics, 
 and to the Republic. He has sculptured a marvel- 
 lous study of Phidias, like one of the marbles of the 
 Parthenon, which gave him the honor of an entire 
 number of the " Cours de Litterature." He has 
 written some fine dramas for himself, and some noble 
 verses for the reviews. 
 
 Assisted by Dumesnil, the talented son-in-law of 
 Michelet, he is now revising a complete edition of 
 Lamartine's works. The revision could not be done 
 under more auspicious circumstances, nor by more 
 loving, and appreciative hands. This is what the 
 public knows, or will know of Louis Ronchaud, but 
 it will still be ignorant of the almost heroic part that 
 he has taken in democracy militant, for the last thirty 
 years. 
 
 M. Grevy, who presides over the National Assem- 
 bly to day, perhaps because he is the most honest 
 man, has a sincere and enduring friendship for Louis 
 Ronchaud.
 
 88 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 This tells a whole story. 
 
 There is one more sympathetic face of the circle 
 at Monceaux. Every year at almost the same time, 
 just as the fogs had reached the lower vines, we saw 
 a little carriage coming up the avenue, in which was 
 shaking backward and forward, a great -grey hat on 
 the back of a head, and we said. " It is the gentle- 
 man" 
 
 " The gentleman " responded, and happily for his 
 friends still responds, to the name of J. B. Desplaces. 
 
 He had lived ten or fifteen years in England, and 
 brought back with him, English habits and English 
 
 o * O O 
 
 whiskers. 
 
 He edited in London, the French journal, " Le 
 Courrier de 1'Europe." He belonged to an obscure 
 but upright family of the suburbs of Macon. He 
 was self-made, and chose the best models. Having 
 visited much in London society, he could speak 
 English with Mme. de Lamartine, and related agreea- 
 bly all the commercial and diplomatic chronicles of 
 the metropolis. He was as well versed in questions 
 of fine art as in financial questions. Upon those, 
 especially, he gave Lamartine most excellent advice, 
 which was never followed. 
 
 When Lamartine's ruin was inevitable and the 
 unhappy question of national subscription was raised, 
 to which I shall refer bye-and-bye, M. Desplaces beg- 
 ged Lamartine to allow him to go to America to see
 
 DESPLACES IN AMERICA. 89 
 
 what could be done there. This was a few years 
 after 1848, and Desplace felt certain, that the great 
 Republic of the United States, would hold it an honor 
 to aid one, who had proclaimed the same form of 
 government in France. 
 
 Desplaces departed. He was gone eighteen 
 months, and his mission was almost fruitless. The 
 great coffers of New York and Washington did not 
 open for an unfortunate, so far away. If Lamartine 
 had shown himself in person, and had given a series 
 of lectures, he would have brought back a whole 
 Mississippi of dollars. Practical business men could 
 not forgive him for not coming to see them. They 
 could not see the civilizing side of Lamartine's mis- 
 sion. 
 
 Desplaces held conferences in vain, where nothing 
 was lacking that could persuade. The subscribers 
 belonged chiefly to the Southern States, or to the 
 Latin race, who understood the " Meditations." 
 
 Desplaces could not console himself for not bring- 
 ing back a million by the sale of books alone, as that 
 was his object more than to raise a subscription. 
 He felt ashamed of the American indifference, and 
 believed himself in some way responsible for the 
 littleness of a great people. His disappointment only 
 increased his friendship for Lamartine, and Lamar- 
 tine's for him. Lamartine never allowed him to see 
 that he had counted upon a success.
 
 9 o 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Desplaces consecrated himself to philosophy and 
 liberalism. 
 
 To-day he is one of the most fervent apostles of 
 the republican, and anti-clerical cause among us. 
 
 M. and Mme. Adam Salomon were most wel- 
 come guests. 
 
 Salomon could be pardoned for being a photo- 
 grapher, because in his pictures, he did not forget that 
 he was an artist. Mme. Salomon devoted herself to 
 charitable work in the Israelite world, as Mme. de 
 Lamartine, in the Catholic. The hours that she 
 spared us from her work were always full of charm, 
 and always too short. 
 
 I am embarrassed in speaking of the grace, and 
 intellect of those I name, but Lamartine could only 
 have about him people of intelligence, to whom he 
 made few exceptions, myself for example 
 
 A most entertaining and dear friend was Ed- 
 mond Texier, who brought there his three young 
 daughters. They had the honor of playing their 
 youthful comedies, in which they put so much talent, 
 and naivete, that Lamartine, who generally did not 
 care much for the theatre, unless there was a farce, 
 was sincerely amused. 
 
 One of the flatteries of Adolphe de La Tour, was 
 to reserve a box at the " Vari6tes " for Lamartine. 
 Odry and Arnal were his heroes. As for Texier, I 
 shall tell nothing new in saying that his wild, unsatis-
 
 EDMOND TEXIER. QJ 
 
 fied, Bohemian, and at the same time, classic imagina- 
 tion made him an inexhaustible joy for his auditors. 
 He had an unknown side of tenderness, which Lam- 
 artine discovered and appreciated. 
 
 " Do not ask a favor of Texier," said Lamartine 
 to me, " he is so good, that he promises all, without 
 realizing it. It is not forgetfulness. His generosity 
 makes him guarantee impossibilities. He would com- 
 promise himself by his kindness." 
 
 Texier did not only bring his own wit to Mon- 
 ceaux, but he brought forth a new light in Lamartine. 
 We had often seen the flashes of the lightnings in 
 our familiar intercourse, but they were lost in the 
 power of his philosophy and eloquence. When 
 Texier was there, we had an amusing Lamartine. 
 He was transformed into Voltaire. He would make 
 us laugh for hours. Laugh ! It was really that, and 
 with what abandon ! 
 
 One evening, after the young ladies had gone to 
 bed, he proposed to read one of the tales of Boccac- 
 cio to us. We were enchanted at the unexpected- 
 ness of the proposition, though none of us would have 
 dared to confess that he could not understand Italian 
 without a dictionary. Lamartine had talked with 
 Graziella, and in spite of his northern birth, had an 
 oriental and meridional genius. He could have 
 spoken in the Parliament at Florence, or in a Conclave 
 at Rome, with equal ease.
 
 9 2 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIEXDS. 
 
 He went to get the book, and showed us that he 
 had bought it at a Venetian Cardinal's sale. 
 
 Dargaud who did not understand Italian, thought 
 the distraction was hardly worth the while. 
 
 " It is not a translation then," he said. 
 
 " I have never had but one translation, that is 
 yours of the book of Job." 
 
 " You are very kind." 
 
 "Apropos, Dargaud, you speak Hebrew of 
 course ? " 
 
 " Seldom, there is a Latin edition of 1735. 
 
 Dargaud felt the necessity of changing -the con- 
 versation. 
 
 " If you would be so kind as to read us a tale 
 from Voltaire," he replied, 
 
 " The ladies are here, and there is more sentiment 
 in Boccaccio." 
 
 So, bravely putting on his spectacles, which was 
 a great concession, for he was not ignorant of the 
 magnetism of his eyes, Lamartine took his seat 
 under the light, and opened his book. 
 
 " It was so small, that the cardinal used to take it 
 into the confessional, and read, while he was listening 
 to an old dowager." 
 
 Lamartine did not think of sleeping that night. 
 His eyes sparkled under the glasses, his gestures took 
 forms we had never seen before. He read in French,
 
 A TALE FROM BOCCACCIO 
 
 93 
 
 without destroying the vivacity of the verse by his 
 translation, one of the most marvellous tales, in 
 which there were twenty characters, and where spark- 
 ling epigrams and daring thoughts were silvered in 
 Italian grace. By closing our eyes, we could almost 
 have sworn, that we were at a representation'of the 
 " Comedie Francaise." His voice changed at each 
 speaker. Sometimes it was the nasal tones of an old 
 "procureur'' of the Margellina, at Naples, or the 
 hoarse voice of a soldier, or the flute-like tones of a 
 love-sick signorina. The intonations were so marked, 
 that we. seemed to see the actors. He laughed, he 
 cried, he grimaced, he transported us into gallant 
 Italy of the fourteenth century. The Fiametta 
 and Filomela defiled before us in their unknotted 
 mantles, and sat down on the grassy mound to the 
 music of castanets, and guitar. The water from 
 the fountains fell from step to step ; compliments 
 flowed from mouth, to mouth ; the prior sat before 
 a bountiful repast ; the shops of Boulogne re- 
 sounded with gossip ; the palaces lifted the curtains 
 of their alcoves, and a perpetual joy pervaded every 
 picture. 
 
 The reading, or rather the representation, lasted 
 two hours. We were exhausted with delight. Lam- 
 artine, then on the pinnacle of popularity, with a 
 nature grave and sad, became again a young man, 
 joyous by his age, and melancholy by his talent, who
 
 94 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had listened to Pasquino at Rome, and had met with 
 all sorts of adventures. 
 
 As Ossian had put on the gown of the " Malade 
 Imaginaire, " or Byron had sung an impromptu song 
 at the " fete de Piedegrotta." 
 
 Lamartine did not go to bed that night until 
 eleven o'clock, an event which never happened, ex- 
 cept during the revolutionary nights of the Hotel-de- 
 Ville. 
 
 He did not dream of his dignity, scarcely of his 
 majesty. It was an hour of forgetfulness and im- 
 provisation, and all because his own nature was so 
 simple, and he saw that his good-will brought tears 
 of gratitude to our eyes. 
 
 Since then, I have looked for the text of that 
 tale, and have only found the framework. With- 
 out one of us suspecting it, Lamartine had added 
 more than three quarters, with such a delicacy of 
 assimilation, that Fiametta would have found no 
 fault. So, after that evening, whenever he said to 
 me that he ought to have been a financier, I never 
 protested, even mentally. He had made himself a 
 great comedian, and what more might he not have 
 done ? 
 
 I do not desire to conceal anything of his charac- 
 ter. I must show how hard he was one day, he, who 
 was always so good, and so courteous. Every touch 
 given to this great statue, must be precise.
 
 AN UNWELCOME ARRIVAL. 
 
 95 
 
 One evening in September 1846, I was going to 
 Monceaux unexpectedly. By way of explanation, 
 let me say, that Lamartine, imagining that we might 
 be assailed by requests, had positively forbidden us 
 presenting any one, no matter who, to him, without 
 warning, leaving us to suppose that he hated new 
 faces. Just as I was turning below the terrace, I saw 
 gestures on the horizon, and a tall man approached 
 me, making demonstrations of great joy. I recog- 
 nized X. I had not seen him for fifteen years. 
 
 He had been my classmate at college, and we had 
 passed an adventurous youth together. As a young 
 man, he had a savor of Creole fancy, and to his friends 
 was as romantic as a hero of Hoffman. He had been 
 sent to conduct a ministerial newspaper in the pro- 
 vince, where duels were fought to sustain a subpre- 
 fect. He subsequently founded a diplomatic review, 
 and though he received a government subsidy, he 
 preserved his independence. 
 
 One morning M. Guizot reproached him for a 
 journey he had taken under false direction. 
 
 4i What will you have, M. le Ministre," said he " I 
 will call it my trip to Gand." 
 
 One night, on his way home with some friends, 
 passing through rue Saint-Benoit, he went into a 
 grocer's, and bought a piece of chalk, then stopping 
 before the office of the " Revue des Deux-Mondes, " 
 he wrote in great capitals on the door.
 
 9 6 
 
 LAM A R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Buloz ! Beware of the ides of March ! " (iddes 
 de Mars) M. de Mars was M. Buloz' secretary and 
 proof-reader who had put too many punctuation 
 marks in one of X's articles. 
 
 I was astonished to meet him at Monceaux. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" I exclaimed. 
 " Have you come from Lamartine ? " 
 
 " Alas! No. I was passing through Macon, and 
 I never should have forgiven myself if I had not seen 
 the house of this great man, so I have walked out. 
 It is nearly six o'clock, and I have not been to din- 
 ner." 
 
 I shuddered, for I saw what was expected of me. 
 A matter of great importance compelled me to see 
 Lamartine that night, or I should have proposed 
 going back to Macon. 
 
 " You know Lamartine very well," said he. 
 
 It was impossible to deny it, my relations with 
 him are too public. I did not reply. 
 
 He continued, 
 
 " Present me to him." 
 
 The blow was struck. I felt a pity for my poor 
 comrade, with whom I had had so many pleasant 
 associations, and could not bear to think that after 
 turning aside from a journey purposely to see Lam- 
 artine, he was to be disappointed, when I had only 
 to open the door. 
 
 " It is very late," I said.
 
 A DILEMMA. 
 
 97 
 
 " It is dinner time." X. replied in a sad tone. 
 
 Clearly, there was no deception. The visit was 
 made in good faith, He could not have foreseen my 
 arrival and nothing but admiration had brought him 
 there. 
 
 " Let me tell M. de Lamartine of his good for- 
 tune, and get into my carriage while waiting." 
 
 We were in the court. Affairs were getting a 
 little complicated. The servant told me that there 
 were many guests. I entered. The gallery was full. 
 There were friends and strangers too, all in evening 
 dress. Lamartine welcomed me with his habitual 
 expression of happy surprise. 
 
 " The house is overflowing. You will have to 
 sleep in the library," said he. 
 
 I drew him aside into the bay-window, and ex- 
 plained my perplexities. His face grew severe. 
 
 He was the recognized leader of the opposition. 
 
 " X. ? " said he " One of Guizot's spies." 
 
 He calumniated X. although he did not attach to 
 the word " spies " its ordinary meaning. 
 
 I tried to pacify him, saying that the encounter 
 was entirely unforeseen, and that the poor fellow had 
 been looking disconsolately at the illustrious roof 
 for the last two hours. 
 
 " Bring him in," said he, finally. 
 
 I went away dissatisfied. " X. will have a poor 
 idea of my credit with Lamartine," I thought, "he
 
 9 8 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 will write to the newspapers that his hospitality is 
 decidedly over-rated." 
 
 I met Champvans at the foot of the stairs, and 
 told him my story. 
 
 " I would not like to be in your place," said ha, 
 leaving me hastily. 
 
 I indulged the secret hope that reflection, and 
 native kindness, would accomplish their work. I did 
 not tell X. of the cloud. I introduced him. Every 
 body was looking at us. Lamartine had told. He 
 was more than cold, he was haughty. He did not 
 ask a question. He confined himself to generalities, 
 and started off in an invective against the ministry. 
 X, was disconcerted. Perhaps, he was thinking of 
 Hugo's " Danube en Colere." 
 
 The clock struck the hour for dinner. There was 
 no allusion. Lamartine said that he needed me for 
 the next fortnight. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine, who saw my discomfiture, 
 stepped forward to ameliorate X's condition. 
 
 Her husband stopped her, with a slight gesture. 
 X. was generally very prompt to act, but now he 
 could not find a word to say. It might not have 
 helped much; however, he would not have appeared 
 so much like an idiot. The dinner bell sounded, I 
 took X. by the arm, determined to take him back to 
 Macon, and present him to my father for compen- 
 sation ; Lamartine divined my intention.
 
 LATE REPENTANCE. 
 
 99 
 
 " You will take Mme. de M., to dinner," said he, 
 loud enough to mark the exclusion. 
 
 To let X. go, was to give a lesson. I had my 
 horse re-harnessed, and ordered the man to take my 
 friend back to Macon. I cannot remember all the 
 excuses that I invented. I have never seen him 
 since. If he ever reads this, he will know what I 
 suffered. 
 
 I pouted a little that evening. Lamartine re- 
 doubled his favors. He made me recite poetry, and 
 thanked me a dozen times for coming. Under such 
 treatment the slight wound to the heart was quickly 
 cicatrized. Still, I felt that I had cause for complaint, 
 and the next day, I said to him, 
 
 " You were cruel yesterday." 
 
 " I do not belong to myself," he replied. " If X. 
 had dined with me, all Europe would have said that 
 I accepted the ministry. Politics is more tyrannical 
 than the Empress of Russia. But I really like the 
 young man. Let us go and see him at his hotel at 
 Macon. 
 
 " He went away this morning." 
 
 " Lacretelle," said he, " if ever he wants a note of 
 a thousand francs whisper to me." 
 
 " He would rather have a good word." I replied, 
 in order to raise my companion in his estimation, and 
 still speak the truth. 
 
 X., never received the note, nor the good word
 
 IOO LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 He had a heart without resentment, and showed a 
 generous forgetfulness. All he said to the Divan Le 
 Pelletier, was, that Lamartine was a Jacobin. 
 
 He has since become rich, and he nobly revenged 
 himself, by adding his name to the Lamartine sub- 
 scription. I did not have another occasion for many 
 years, to find fault with the bad temper and cruelty 
 of this courteous man. Lamartine was Chateaubri- 
 and only on that day.
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Banquet at Mdcon. 
 
 TN the meantime, during a period of two years, 
 L " Les Girondins,'' had been appearing, at inter- 
 vals of three months. This great work, recounting 
 the history of a past Revolution, and containing the 
 germs of a future Revolution, caused unprecedented 
 excitement, which, like a fire, died away, only to re- 
 kindle at the publication of each successive volume. 
 Lamartine the greatest poet, and one of the most 
 powerful forces at the tribune in moving the Assem- 
 bly, now revealed himself as the most pathetic of his- 
 torians. By one of those curious transformations, 
 which authors frequently produce, Robespierre, 
 though not deprived of his robe of blood, surpasses 
 in interest the Girondists, who are the true heroes. 
 Who could imagine it ? 
 
 Lamartine was attracted by the austerity of his 
 habits, and by the bold sincerity of that spiritualism 
 which drew upon him the hatred of the Atheists of 
 the 9th Thermidor. This rehabilitation of a char- 
 acter so universally detested, conflicted with public 
 sentiment. The royalists pursued Lamartine, night 
 and day. The philosophers, alone, pardoned him.
 
 I02 LAM AR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 These opposing sentiments only stimulated the suc- 
 cess of the work, which continued to fascinate like a 
 romance, and was committed to memory like the 
 Annals of Tacitus. 
 
 Historical style was clothed in new colors ; that 
 inexhaustible genius expanded, crystallizing in the 
 imagination like waves of marble. No one could 
 doubt the facts presented in those stirring pages, and 
 through them, the heart of the people was directed 
 immediately towards the Revolution. It was clear, 
 that the first word pronounced, would be : Republic ! 
 
 Enemies, and superficial thinkers have claimed 
 that " Les Girondins " could not be classed among 
 serious works. Perhaps, because the reader never 
 wearies. Can it be possible that a history, whose 
 editions have multiplied without number, and which 
 has been the means of obliterating a dynasty, is not 
 a serious work? The army that surrenders ; the king 
 who takes flight ; the barricades that rise ; the Na- 
 tional Guard, that with one voice proclaim, " Long 
 live Reform," and all this, because the ideas concen- 
 trated in some eight volumes of history, have ger- 
 minated in their hearts ; is this not serious ? 
 
 Search the chronicles of the people and the libra- 
 ries of nations, and how many books will you find, 
 beginning in the enthusiasm of the people and end- 
 ing in such scenes as that at the Hotel-de-Ville, where 
 the red flag of communism is trampled under foot,
 
 MATERIAL FOR " LES GIRONDINSr 103 
 
 capital punishment abolished, and where Eternal 
 Truth, and the Republic are proclaimed. I might 
 almost say, that I saw Lamartine write " Les Giron- 
 idins." He was preparing for the work, by visiting 
 the country and the houses he was to depict ; collect- 
 ing about him the survivors of that great epoch, as 
 well as the letters, and contemporaneous newspapers. 
 He went to the house of Mme. Roland, near Ville- 
 Franche ; to that of Charlotte Corday's aunt, in Nor- 
 mandy ; to the cellars of Marat, and to Robespierre's 
 apartments in rue St. Honor6, Paris. He conversed 
 with Danton's widow ; and an old friend of Fouquier 
 Thinville, for he had a few, came to give some infor- 
 mation in regard to the " procureur " of the guillo- 
 tine. 
 
 "And what kind of a man was he?" asked 
 Lamartine. 
 
 " A charming person, always merry ! " replied the 
 friend. 
 
 After Lamartine had made sufficient inquiries ; 
 after he had revivified his characters and, as it were, 
 listened to their voices, filled with his subject, fresh 
 from its sources, he wrote with prodigious facility and 
 rapidity, never dictating until towards the latter part 
 of his life. 
 
 He planned a journey into Brittany for material, 
 in view of a special volume regarding the War of the 
 Vendee. February intervened. The journey was
 
 104 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 not taken and the volume was never written. Lam- 
 artine received four hundred thousand francs for the 
 manuscript of " Les Girondins," and the editor made 
 a fortune out of it. 
 
 The excitement at Macon was so intense, that we 
 felt the necessity of some special demonstration. 
 What should it be ? Public meetings were forbidden, 
 The prefects closed their eyes upon banquets, so a 
 banquet was decided upon, in July, 1847. 
 
 A committee was chosen, and the duties divided. 
 They were easy to accomplish, for public opinion was 
 not only favorable, but urgent. The Republicans 
 wanted to know their strength. Not a word was to 
 be said, but the idea was apparent even under this 
 imposed silence. 
 
 An immense space was prepared, for we were 
 to receive an entire population. Delegates from 
 twenty departments were expected. The govern- 
 ment felt that there was a battle of words in prepara- 
 tion against it. It did not dare, openly, to put a gag 
 into the mouth of such an agitator, but we did not 
 doubt that difficulties would be invented, and traps 
 set for us. 
 
 Lamartine did not forget that he had been a 
 diplomat. He offered the presidency of the banquet 
 to M. Delmas, prefect of Saone-et-Loire. This was 
 ingenious, for the prefect could not accept, and by 
 declining the honor of presiding over a meeting, he
 
 PREPARA TI'ONS. 
 
 105 
 
 admitted the possibility of it, and his letter became 
 an authorization. After all, how could he prevent 
 an homage offered to a literary work, and treat the 
 author of " Les Meditations " as an insurgent ? 
 
 The presidency was given to our friend Charles 
 Holland, who though very young, was then Mayor 
 of Macon. The following notice appeared in the 
 " Bien Public." " In a few days, two thousand of our 
 citizens will unite in a friendly banquet, celebrating 
 the triumph of the most remarkable historian of our 
 day. Among them will be men of great talent, and 
 noble character, and none but friends of Order." 
 And again ; 
 
 " The banquet is decidedly fixed for Sunday, July 
 eighteenth, at four o'clock in the afternoon. Those 
 desiring to take part, are requested to address one 
 of the one hundred and twenty members of the com- 
 mittee designated. 
 
 "The price of subscription is five francs. Each 
 subscriber will have the privilege of presenting one 
 or more ladies." 
 
 Again on the thirteenth was another notice : 
 " The committee trust exclusively to the public 
 sentiment for the maintenance of order and dignity 
 on this occasion. Such a gathering has no recom- 
 mendation except in itself. Its discipline results 
 from its seriousness, and from the solemnity of the 
 patriotic act that is to be accomplished."
 
 1 6 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 We proceeded prudently, and by degrees, and 
 when the affair was too far advanced to be suppressed 
 by the government, without violence, we gave to it a 
 political character. 
 
 July 1 8th was a hot day at Macon, and six thou- 
 sand visitors from other cities, sought in vain for a 
 refreshing breath in the burning streets. The de- 
 partment of Saone-et-Loire sent all its disengaged 
 population. There were deputations from sixty cities. 
 Railroads were not known here, at that time, and in- 
 numerable carriages and omnibuses followed in rapid 
 succession, over the dusty roads, through crowds of 
 peasants bringing their children to see the spectacle. 
 
 The space chosen, on the right bank of the Saone, 
 covered more than a hectare, (13.000 sq. yds.). It 
 was a long parallelogram, where five hundred tables, 
 shining with white linen, were sheltered from the sun 
 by awnings and tents. On the four sides were eleva- 
 ted seats, for the accommodation of spectators. At 
 the end was a table higher than the others for Lam- 
 artine, and a platform for the authorities. 
 
 I had come from Cormatin, leading a caravan of 
 queer vehicles, and every conceivable animal for 
 riding. Every cart and donkey had twice its load. 
 We were pilgrims, going to worship at the Mecca of 
 Genius. I wore my committee badge. Leon Bruys 
 surpassed himself in introducing the fair sex. 
 
 This was one of the last exhibitions of the Macon-
 
 THE SPECTACLE. . IQ/ 
 
 nais. The wives of wealthy farmers, brought out 
 from their closets their rich silk costumes, and coifs 
 of lace, which had passed from mother to daughter, 
 since the days of Margaret of Savoy. The Enamels 
 of Bourg were displayed, and necklaces, and golden 
 crosses sparkled in the sunlight. Six thousand spec- 
 tators occupied the elevated seats. There were jour- 
 nalists from Paris and elsewhere, peasants in blouses, 
 priests in robes, workmen in jackets, young girls in 
 summer finery, gentlemen from the cities in fashion- 
 able attire, soldiers on the wing, and foreigners 
 who had turned aside from their journey to see a 
 French meeting. All were eagerly questioning each 
 other, gesticulating, perspiring, and expectant, as if 
 there were to be a revelation. And the monstrous 
 meat-pies, and the corks bursting from the bottles, 
 letting out a flood of rich red wine ; the thousand 
 flags unfolding to the breeze ; the cries of fright from 
 the throng, crowding upon each other ; the cries of 
 joy of friends meeting each other ; the greetings, 
 the stamping feet, the merry laughs, and the confused 
 clamors, the great respect in this patriotic intoxica- 
 tion, the sanctity, one might almost call it, in the 
 tumult, were a reminiscence of the Federation at the 
 Champ-de-Mars. And all these movements all 
 these hopes, marking a time exceptional in the festi- 
 vals of the people, was the prologue of a day historic 
 in the Annals of Macon.
 
 108 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " A Roman Coliseum but a Coliseum living and 
 popular." Lamartine said to us afterwards. 
 
 The curtain was about to rise, when a grotesque 
 episode changed the weariness of waiting into hilarity. 
 Four young waiters appeared on the scene, bearing 
 majestically towards the table of honor, a calf, roasted 
 whole. 
 
 It was Homeric, certainly, but only imposing 
 in the Iliad. M. Calvert-Rognat, our worthy ca- 
 terer, thus anticipated the Empire of which it was 
 symbolic, beginning with an Eagle and ending with 
 a calf. 
 
 Four o'clock was sounding from old St. Vincent, 
 when Lamartine appeared with his municipal escort. 
 He was dressed in black, and was very pale, but it 
 was the pallor of joy, a compensation for many tears. 
 How many huzzas, how many waving hands and 
 beating hearts, how many flowers thrown in homage 
 to a great genius, would discourage a narrator to tell 
 of! To have taken twenty steps, once in a lifetime 
 in such an acclamation, must, later, render a martyr- 
 dom very light, or very heavy. 
 
 The excitement lasted a quarter of an hour. 
 Charles Rolland had the honor, which seldom happens 
 to one so young, of giving the welcome to each guest. 
 (It met the national sentiment, and resulted in two 
 nominations for him, to the " Constituante " in 1848, 
 and to the National Assembly in 1870, without count-
 
 CHARLES ROLLAND. 109 
 
 ing those of the future).* His welcome was very 
 happily expressed, and much applauded. He at- 
 tracted a little of the absorbing interest given to 
 Lamartine. I remember a part of the discourse. 
 
 " We thank you for having accomplished the 
 great work of our day. You have separated from 
 the faults of time, from the errors of man, from the 
 crimes of factions, the immortal principles of the 
 French Revolution, and have held them before our 
 eyes, in all their purity and power, France will never 
 forget, thanks to you, the value of Liberty, Equality 
 and Peace, nor the progress of the human race to- 
 wards all questions of social improvement. 
 
 " Ah ! let us not forget that anarchy arrests, and 
 cruelty destroys these priceless boons. By the won- 
 derful power of eloquence, the secret of which you 
 possess, you have given to public opinion an impene- 
 trable armor! " 
 
 A storm was approaching, a veritable tempest in 
 the heavens. The last words were still vibrating, when 
 from the surcharged clouds, the lightnings flashed. 
 The wind followed fast upon the pealing thunder. 
 
 The superstitious saw in this, an omen of events. 
 The Revolution was about to break loose. The 
 Tuileries would tremble in the tempest. 
 
 The tents and awnings were blown away. The 
 
 * Charles Holland died a senator, in 1877. These lines were 
 written in 1872.
 
 IIO LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 sky opened, letting down a deluge of rain and hail, 
 while the thunder continued to roll and crash over 
 our heads. But this crowd of six thousand people, 
 were so powerfully held by curiosity, and admiration, 
 that except for a few frightened women, no one left 
 the place. 
 
 Lamartine came forward on the platform. His 
 first words were an inspiration. 
 
 " You are truly the sons of those Gauls, who said, 
 " If the sky falls we will raise it again with our 
 lances ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 In order to see better, we climbed upon the 
 tables, which from time to time, broke down under 
 our weight. The spectators fell ; many were injured, 
 but not a cry was heard. We closed up the ranks, 
 as during a battle, after the cannon has made a 
 breach, and the speech continued for two hours, in- 
 terrupted only by frantic applause. It was one of 
 the most magnificent and inspiring improvisations 
 the world has ever heard, 
 
 The force of expression did not detract from the 
 majesty and beauty of the thought. For a long time, 
 the voice was accompanied by the rolling thunder, 
 like the sub-bass of an organ, but this, at last grew 
 weary, and gradually died away, before the indefa- 
 tigable eloquence of the tribune. 
 
 I can only give a few fragments brought to us 
 on the wings of the wind.
 
 LAMA R TINE'S SPEECH, III 
 
 " In listening to the words, which have just been 
 addressed to me, in your name, by my young friend 
 M. Rolland, the first magistrate of your city, who has 
 laid aside his official capacity to appear here in the 
 character granted to him by your friendship ! In 
 contemplating this immense concourse of citizens and 
 strangers, this camp of friends, this army of guests, 
 and this brilliant throng of ladies, who represent here 
 the highest role in the history of Revolutions, that 
 of Mercy and Pity, what foreign traveller, happening 
 to enter our city or pass by our own river, would 
 not ask, what National event we were celebrating 
 to-day, what civic commemoration, what great man? 
 What minister, what distinguished citizen, were we 
 honoring by this reception, this acclamation, this pub- 
 lic munificence ? And if some one should reply that 
 there was nothing of this kind going on, that there 
 was no minister, no great statesman, no soldier carry- 
 ing the palm of a victorious campaign but simply, 
 the return to his fireside of an obscure citizen 
 (protestations). Yes ! a simple citizen like your- 
 selves, who wishes no other distinction from you 
 than the esteem and affection you lavish upon him : 
 I repeat it, the return of a simple citizen, who having 
 defended, alas ! too often fruitlessly, the national 
 principles at the tribune, has also imperfectly written 
 a fu\v pages of the history of his country. Is there, 
 I ask you, gentlemen, is there a stranger, who would
 
 H2 LAMAKTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 not be astonished at such a spectacle, and who would 
 not exclaim, that a people capable of according such 
 honors to the most modest works of the mind, is, 
 above all a people of intelligence, meriting the su- 
 premacy, not of the soil, but of the intellects of Eu- 
 rope, by those very works that it recognizes so soon, 
 feels so keenly, and recompenses so magnificently. 
 
 " Is the French Revolution, as its adversaries have 
 called it, a sedition of the people, agitating itself 
 needlessly, and crushing its church, its monarchy, 
 its castes, its institutions, its nationality, and even 
 rending the map of Europe? If this is true, the 
 Revolution produced by Christianity must also be 
 called a sedition, for, in order to take its place, has 
 it not, from the beginning, caused a subversion of 
 old systems and ideas, to the remotest corners of 
 the known world. No, the Revolution was not a 
 miserable sedition in France, for a sedition subsides 
 as it rises, leaving behind it only ruin, and death. 
 The Revolution has left its scaffolds and desolation. 
 This is its remorse and unhappiness ! But it has 
 also left a doctrine and a spirit which will be per- 
 petuated, and endure, as long as human reason ex- 
 ists. 
 
 " Reaction is the recoil of ideas. It seems as if 
 Reason, seeing the new truths, which Revolutions,
 
 LAMA R TINE'S SPEECH. 1 1 3 
 
 made in its name, have thrust upon the world, 
 frightened at its own boldness, recoils and with- 
 draws, from all the ground that it has gained. But 
 this is only for a day ; other hands will re-load that 
 peace-giving battery of thought, and there will be 
 new explosions, not of bullets, but of light, shining 
 with full power upon those truths which seem to have 
 been abandoned, or vanquished. 
 
 " And should you ask what is this new force that 
 will subject governments to a national will, I will re- 
 ply ; it is the sovereignty of ideas, it is the royalty of 
 the mind, it is the Republic, the true Republic, the 
 Republic of Intelligence, in other words, it is Public 
 Opinion ! This force holds in its hand the balance 
 of Reason, in which ideas and institutions are held in 
 equilibrium. In one of the scales, you must under- 
 stand that for a long time, there will be put the old 
 credulities, the prejudices, so-called useful, the divine 
 right of kings, the distinction of rights between classes 
 of men, between nations, the spirit of conquest, the 
 simoniacal union of Church, and State, the censor- 
 ship of thought, the science of the tribune, ignorance 
 and complete abasement of the masses ! 
 
 " In the other scale, we will put, WE, gentlemen, 
 the element, the most impalpable, most imponderable 
 of all that God has created, LIGHT ! A little of 
 that Light, which at the end of the last century was
 
 114 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 projected by the French Revolution, from a volcano 
 no doubt, but from a volcano of truth ! 
 
 , "I have kept you standing a long time ; standing, 
 like witnesses in the great litigation between the past 
 and the future ! Pardon me. 
 
 You have given me, in spite of an inauspicious 
 sky, a beautiful day, the most glorious day of my 
 political, and literary life. Grant me one wish. Give 
 me your names, that I may preserve them for my 
 peaceful years, among the cherished souvenirs of the 
 past, and in showing them to posterity, I may say, 
 " Such a day that a country like France gives to one 
 of her children, does not go down with the sun ! " 
 
 These were his last words. He fell back upon the 
 platform, like a prophet exhausted with the visions 
 of the glorious future, that he had just proclaimed. 
 
 The enthusiastic applause calmed, only to revive 
 again. We carried him almost fainting, to his car- 
 riage, while two thousand voices sent out " La Mar- 
 seillaise," as a parting tribute. We accompanied him 
 to his apartments in Macon, a ground floor, opening 
 out upon a garden. 
 
 This little salon soon over-flowed with ardent 
 patriots. If Lamartine had had as many hands as 
 Briareus, he could not have shaken all that were ex- 
 tended to him, When the flood of visitors had sub-
 
 OMENS OF THE REPUBLIC, 115 
 
 sided, he opened the door, and walked out into the 
 garden to refresh himself after the excessive fatigues 
 of the day. Drops of rain from the trees fell upon 
 us, as we strolled in the darkness. 
 
 ' You have proclaimed the Republic," we said to 
 him. 
 
 " Perhaps so ! " he replied, " but I shall see only 
 a very few years of the Hegira." 
 
 Then pointing to a rift in the clouds, where a few 
 stars were shining, he said. 
 
 " The Republic comes from heaven. Let it never 
 be corrupted here below ! "
 
 IX. 
 
 Preparing for tJie Republic. 
 
 ONE day in November, 1847, I was sitting in 
 my father's cabinet at Bel-Air. He was then 
 eighty-one years of age, and God was to preserve 
 for seven years longer that clearness of mind, which 
 was not obscured until the hour of his death. The 
 question of Liberty had always interested my father 
 more or less, but he believed that the only realiza- 
 tion was in a Constitutionally Monarchical govern- 
 ment. He comprehended freedom only in opinions. 
 I cannot say, that it had not been a bitterness to 
 see how college ideas, and the study of ancient his- 
 tory had turned his son towards the Republic, con- 
 tinuing even when the boy had become a man. But 
 the choice of my master re-assured him, and his own 
 tolerance stifled his groans. He knew very well that 
 an abyss separated our Ideal from the " Terror," of 
 which he had been a witness and victim, which had 
 mowed down his friends, and had left in him what I 
 would not like to cz\\ prejudices, against the Repub- 
 lic. He often discussed its dogmas with me, and my 
 faith needed to be strongly implanted>not to be up- 
 rooted by his eloquence, and paternal authority.
 
 CA USS1DI&RE. 
 
 117 
 
 This day, we were talking of the banquets then 
 being held in the country around us. One had just 
 been announced for Chalon-sur-Saone, and I did not 
 ^care to tell him, that M. de Lamartine had asked me 
 to go to it, where I should meet Ledru-Rollin, Flocon 
 and many of the radical circle. Just then a servant 
 announced that some one desired to see me. 
 
 " What is his name ? " I asked. 
 
 " M. Caussidiere. Shall I ask to come here? " 
 
 Caussidiere had a terrible reputation, of which his 
 intelligent and honest firmness has since robbed him. 
 This unexpected visit surprised me, and I was sure 
 that it would trouble my father, because it would 
 seem to class me with such men. 
 
 Ought I to say it? At heart, I was flattered. I 
 was proud that. a man of such combative democracy 
 should seek me. 1 was not so well known then. 
 What did he want? He had the reputation of being 
 a conspirator. That side did not please me. I always 
 had a horror of a combat not fought under the clear 
 light of heaven. 
 
 I was then writing my first romance, " Les Ven- 
 deurs du Temple," which was appearing in, " La 
 Reforme," Etienne Arago had given me a welcome 
 in his paper. He was a man who always walked 
 hand in hand with kindness, and patriotism. In those 
 pages, inexperienced as they were, I was trying to 
 trace a picture of the surroundings of Louis Philippe
 
 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 and the corruptions of the impost regime. I was too 
 ardent and severe. The reign of Bonaparte has since 
 demonstrated that I then transcended the limits of 
 criticism, and that it would have been more just to 
 reserve the infamy for the crime itself. I expected, 
 every morning, to be threatened by a lawsuit. My 
 obscurity preserved me from that rather mixed pleas- 
 ure. I was very careful not to let a copy of " La 
 ReTorme " come to Bel-Air, though my father has 
 since read the book and forgiven me. 
 
 And this is the reason that I did not want him to 
 see Caussidiere. It was a mistake, for he would have 
 been pleased, 
 
 I ordered the servant to show Caussidiere into 
 my own room. My father only questioned me by a 
 kind look. He had heard the name, but he respected 
 my way even in blaming it. 
 
 Caussidiere was already up stairs, when I reached 
 there. I saw a tall robust man. His very first words, 
 showed a good nature tinged with acuteness. He 
 seemed to have frequented bar-rooms too often. But 
 was that his fault? He must proselyte, wherever he 
 could find an audience. 
 
 I made him feel at ease by lighting my pipe, and 
 begging him to draw his own from his pocket. He 
 told me that he was travelling for " La Reforme, " 
 and had the goodness to say that my romance was 
 very successful. He asked me to get subscribers in
 
 CA USSIDIERE. 
 
 the neighborhood of Cormatin. He could not stay 
 in the country. The commissary of Police, at Macon, 
 was on his track. He talked of the banquets ; he 
 expected to be present at Chalon. At that time, 
 there was great rivalry between the republican 
 schools, one represented by the " Nationale, " Gar- 
 nier-Pages junior, and Armand Marrast ; the other, 
 by " La Reforme," Ledru-Rollin, Beaune and Flocon. 
 
 We were for " La Reforme." 
 
 I tried to make the conversation less general, and 
 asked him, if he did not feel that he was quite in the 
 heart of the Republic, on the ground where the " fete 
 des Girondins " had been celebrated. 
 
 " Not exactly, " said he smiling, " there are too 
 many police there." 
 
 I recalled his words the next February. 
 
 I told him that the Republic would be established 
 in that near future, when any one could say and 
 write what Lamartine was writing, and that the only 
 objection against it, was the fear of social questions 
 which might arise, and "La Reforme " compromised 
 the event, by examining these too closely without 
 displaying a true socialistic flag. I wandered inten- 
 tionally among all these troublesome questions. 
 
 " I am quite of your opinion " replied Caussidiere, 
 perhaps from kindness. " I write to the editors every 
 day not to frighten the middle class ; to leave this 
 dispute to the schools that know how to dispose of
 
 120 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 it. But I do not believe, as you do, in a Republic 
 in our Calender." 
 
 " And yet you proclaim it, every day, between 
 your two glasses of beer." 
 
 " I should proclaim it better still between two 
 cannon balls, " said he proudly. " It is a duty to 
 die, and until one can die, to speak, even if the cause 
 one sustains is despairing. I will never betray the 
 people, by buttoning up under my coat what is in 
 my heart. But it is neither you nor I who will see 
 the consummation. 
 
 " When a man of genius is put at the head of a 
 movement, that movement is in the thought of God, 
 and he succeeds, responded I. " If you had been here 
 the eighteenth of July, you would feel more confi- 
 dent. The Revolutions are personified in a hero, 
 and we have him among us." 
 
 " I have heard Lamartine speak at the tribune, " 
 he replied, " and I will not pretend that he has not 
 moved me deeply. His speech is like the wind upon 
 the waves, and will only raise the surface. The 
 waves make a great noise, when they do not carry 
 great fleets. We are not ready yet. We shut our- 
 selves up in our habits and in our shops, like oysters 
 in their shells. So long as the working class will not 
 let themselves be organized into regiments, the reg- 
 ular army, drawing its rations of soup and good 
 shoes, will always beat us. I would make a very
 
 TALK OF THE REPUBLIC. 121 
 
 good kind of a sergeant, but at the moment of attack, 
 I should have only the rabble at my heels. Unfor- 
 tunately for himself, and his friends, Lamartine is a 
 nobleman, he has not sucked the milk of the she- 
 uolf. One must suffer, to know how to exact from 
 others. He will believe that he had paid his debt to 
 his country by dedicating to it a strophe. He will 
 seek for a rhyme where he should be seeking for a 
 cartridge. He is too brave ever to betray his coun- 
 try, but he will betray himself. He will force Legit- 
 imists into the Republic, and it will be a fine thing 
 to see Marquises dressed like Tiberius Gracchus." 
 
 " As the future, perhaps, will see them dressed like 
 Caussidire," said I laughing. 
 
 I endeavored afterwards to explain to him that 
 our first guarantee to the Republic, should be Uni- 
 versal Suffrage, and that would endure always. 
 
 " Bah ! " he replied, with a sagacity almost clair- 
 voyant, " if the suffrage is direct, the peasants will 
 vote for Jocrisse as Emperor, or King." 
 
 "Time has moved forward. The peasants will no 
 longer vote for Jocrisse ; he has too much blood on his 
 hands." 
 
 We talked again of " La ReTorme," and finally 
 agreed to meet at the banquet, at Chalon. In going 
 away, we turned-into the garden to avoid passing my 
 father's cabinet. Caussidiere walked slowly, as if he 
 had something more to say.
 
 122 LA MA R TINE A ND HIS FRIEND S. 
 
 " I do not want you to think, that I am a " sans 
 culotte," said he, at last "I am travelling for busi- 
 ness and the good of the country, at the same time. 
 I know that the guillotine caused more shutters to 
 close, than heads to fall. I have a bad face, but a 
 good heart, and if I had lived in his time, I would 
 have walled up Marat's cellar, and he might have 
 drowned himself in his infectious inkstand. I insist, 
 that the streets should be free, and that the cleans- 
 ing of social vaults should not interfere with pure 
 respiration. I would make order by the strength 
 of solid fists, if necessary, and if I had been the 
 police of Louis Phillippe, I would have arrested 
 Caussidiere long ago. I sometimes drag a straw 
 mattress to the pawnbrokers, but I do not think that 
 we should make a grand washing in the castles 
 without the permission of those who have soiled 
 the linen. If you had a chateau, I would go and 
 ask for soup, but I would light nothing but my 
 pipe. While waiting for me to come, draw up a 
 list." 
 
 " Of the prescribed?" said I, taking his great 
 hand, and again laughing. 
 
 " No, subscribers for " La Reforme." I receive 
 forty cents for each subscriber, One must live, and 
 make people read " Les Vendeurs du Temple." 
 
 We reached the gate. Some one was ringing. 
 I saw, with trepidation, that it was Lamartine.
 
 THE BANQUET OF CHALON. 123 
 
 "Will you let me present you? " said I to Caus- 
 sidiere. 
 
 " No," he replied reddening, " I smell too strong 
 of absinthe." 
 
 I opened the gate for Lamartine. Caussidie>e 
 bowed to him and disappeared. Four months after 
 he was Prefect of Police under Lamartine. I related 
 our conversation to Lamartine, while it was fresh to 
 me, a circumstance doubtless powerful towards the 
 nomination, which was one of the brilliant actions of 
 the Revolution of February. 
 
 The banquet of Chalon was announced with great 
 commotion. Lamartine came to talk over the mat- 
 ter. His refusal to appear annoyed me. I thought 
 after the great triumph of the " fete des Girondins," 
 that there could not be a patriotic festival without 
 him, but I lament this one occasion where his sover- 
 eign word was lacking. I begged that his absence 
 should not have an appearance of disapproval. 
 
 " That is what it is, however," said he. " I do 
 not want to combat Ledru-Rollin in public. I admire 
 him and consider him a force in the democracy, but 
 my sympathies are not with the Radicals. I do not 
 want always to go to the root of the matter, and 
 hinder the flowering. 
 
 "The tree consists of more than what is in the 
 ground. It has all that can grow from the sap it con- 
 tains ; the tree of Liberty as well as others. It has
 
 124 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIEXDS. 
 
 a trunk, and branches, which I do not pretend to 
 prune. So let us not confirm a fatal distinction 
 between Republicans and Radicals. We do not 
 .want too many of a family to make a people. Say 
 that for me. You will do it better than I." 
 
 This way of speaking was habitual to him. 
 
 I went to Chalon. It was not a festival of sun 
 and storm, that made so striking a spectacle at 
 Macon. The sky was gray ; the space more con- 
 tracted ; the company not a quarter so large. M. M. 
 Ledru-Rollin, Flocon, Beaune and Caussidiere, did 
 the honors of the occasion. Letters of regret, or non- 
 acceptance, from Lamartine, Mathieu, de Thiars, 
 deputies of Saone-et-Loire, and Dupont de 1'Eure, 
 did not console the public for their absence. 
 
 Ledru-Rollin pronounced a magnificent, though 
 rather exclusive eulogy upon the Convention. Lam- 
 artine criticized it from a republican stand-point, in 
 the Bien Public. 
 
 This is what he said. 
 
 " We have read M. Ledru-Rollin's speech. It is 
 bold, eloquent and significant. From M. Lediu- 
 Rollin's and his friend's point of view, there is much 
 to admire in its appropriateness. It is pure and 
 clear; it has a firm fibre ; it contains a desire and a 
 design ; there is no disguise in it; it does not psalm- 
 odize in words of cotton or snow, which fall noise- 
 lessly upon the earth, effacing all the road-ways.
 
 LEDRU ROLLIN 125 
 
 M. Ledru-Rollin is comprehensible, perhaps too 
 much so," etc 
 
 The great interest of the day to me, concentrated 
 at M. Mathey's, the deputy of Chalon, who had in- 
 vited the famished orators to dine with him. 
 
 M. Mathey was afterwards Commissary of the 
 Republic, at Macon, where he left many pleasant 
 memories. He was father of Alfred Mathey, a friend 
 of Lamartine's, prefect of Ardennes in 1848, and who 
 continues the paternal traditions in excellence and 
 patriotism. 
 
 There was a large gathering at M. Mathey's. A 
 quarter of the future members of the Provisionary 
 Governments were to sit at the table, unconscious of 
 that immediate future. I regretted not having Caus- 
 sidiere there; he would have given character to the 
 scene. I never had had the honor of meeting M. 
 Ledru-Rollin till then, and have never seen him since. 
 His voluntary exile, for the past twenty years, has 
 kept us apart. He was a powerful instrument in the 
 democratic ranks, unhappily too long silent. Gam- 
 betta evidently has restrained him. This silence is 
 like an accusation. The tribune is large enough for 
 many voices. 
 
 He had made a splendid speech, and did not 
 seem at all exhausted. That great chest held breath 
 enough for twenty speeches, but there were ladies 
 present, and he did not impose upon them longer
 
 126 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 than to satisfy their curiosity. He proved himself a 
 temperate and attractive speaker, and left the impres- 
 sion of being a thorough man of the world. 
 
 The absence of Lamartine was not hard to bear 
 since it gave him the first place. He asked many 
 questions about the banquet of the " Girondins," and 
 spoke with warm interest of the great work. 
 
 " The greatest service that Lamartine has ren- 
 dered to the public," said he, " is, that one can now 
 discuss Robespierre, without being taken for an an- 
 thropophagus." 
 
 Flocon abandoned himself to his theories, and 
 frightened the ladies. 
 
 " We belong to the " Reds " said he, using this 
 new denomination for the first time, " if we come to 
 the power, our flag shall be purple." 
 
 The color was ill-chosen, especially at table. Led- 
 ru-Rollin only approved of it, outwardly. Who 
 could have foretold, that in February following, 
 Flocon would have been the most intrepid soldier of 
 the government in his campaign against the red flag, 
 and that Lamartine was constantly obliged to re- 
 animate the courage of Ledru-Rollin, which turned 
 to a moderation almost inert. 
 
 After dinner, I went out on the quay to smoke 
 with Flocon. His speech at the banquet produced 
 a marked effect. Though it was a little too much 
 like a newspaper article. After the initial conversa-
 
 FLO CON: 127 
 
 tion, I found the man much more gentle than his 
 doctrine, and that the terrorist envelope was only a 
 decoration of doubtful taste. There was an honesty 
 about him, mixed, as it was, with the odors of a 
 smoking room. The reaction, with its habitual frank- 
 ness and moderation, had made him a blood-drinker 
 when he was only a colorer of pipes. He had the 
 dignity of exile, and the recompense for his poverty. 
 He went out of the Ministry with empty hands, and 
 in his exile among the Swiss mountains could hear 
 the nauseating satire of those whom he had saved, 
 but in turning his ear towards a clearer horizon, he 
 could hear the voice of Lamartine, who spoke of him 
 as one of his most esteemed and beloved co-workers. 
 
 We went back to M. Mathey's. Ledru-Rollin 
 predicted that I should represent the department of 
 Saone-et-Loire, an honor not coming to me until 
 twenty-three years later. 
 
 I went home to Cormartin, that same evening 
 and told my wife of the banquet and addresses. 
 
 I had heard many eloquent words, and shaken 
 hands with many strangers, whom political opinions 
 had almost made friends, and yet I had not brought 
 back a gratified feeling. I felt no emotion at the 
 remembrance of the day. 
 
 I asked myself the reason 
 
 We were all combatants for the Republic and our 
 aspirations were identical. Beyond the veil, con-
 
 I2 8 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 cealed from the common gaze, we could see dynasties 
 flying in the distance. We had been called citizens 
 for the first time, a name perhaps made too common 
 since, but belonging to those great gatherings where 
 the forum is improvised, and manly, independent 
 speech is heard. But I was not trustful, nor even 
 grateful. 
 
 I could only explain it, in one way. 
 
 God did not enter into the hopes of these men, 
 which without Him, were shadowy and irresolute. 
 No free-thinker is farther than I, from the adoration 
 of dogmas and worn-out practices of worship, but the 
 more of a Republican I am, the nearer I feel to God, 
 He is not only the Light but the fortress of our De- 
 mocracy. Without Him, without an idea of Sacrifice 
 and human responsibility, Constitutions are only texts 
 of the law, monuments of sand, demolished and re- 
 built by every wind that ever blows. There is no 
 true fraternity in morality alone, and without frater- 
 ternity, there is no Republic, 
 
 This is my conviction, and I wish, without being 
 accused of mysticism, that I could convince my co- 
 religionists in Democracy, of it. 
 
 Science has given freedom to intellectual order, 
 and unlimited progress to material order. It cannot 
 give the Ideal. That, Lamartine has poured out 
 with a lavish hand. He is dead, and Hugo is no 
 longer at the tribune. Those who dare to speak
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 129 
 
 God's name, lessen it by talking of the Pope, and 
 Veuillot, does not comprehend Him, or misinterprets 
 Him by making Him the signal of all his enmities. 
 I see the prophets of the past weeping around a lost 
 Jerusalem, and I seek in vain for the prophets of the 
 future, who, kindled by his inspiration will sing around 
 the Republic, the New Jerusalem of the people. 
 
 This prophet must appear. He sits in some 
 shadowy corner, and I am sure that the day is near 
 when he will arise.* 
 
 * He has arisen. Hugo is in the Senate.
 
 X. 
 
 The Republic of 1848. 
 
 FEBRUARY 22d. 1848, I went, with M. Gor- 
 mand, a dear old friend, who has recently died, 
 to see L6on Bruys, at Ouilly, who was then beginning 
 to feel the pressure of circumstances. In the hope 
 of a marriage, which, certain as it appeared, never 
 was consummated, he had demolished his old Chateau 
 and built a villa for an Italian Countess who was 
 never to see it. He had the imprudence to put his 
 sonnets into stone, and his fortune into illusions. 
 
 He received us at the farm to which his decreas- 
 ing income had reduced him. The supper there was 
 merry. M. Gormand, who had seen the world under 
 the Empire, and had read its history in books, and 
 had been persecuted by the Restoration for his 
 radical opinions, opened to us a treasure-house of 
 anecdotes. Three beds were arranged in the great 
 chamber, and we tried, in vain, to sleep. We all 
 gave loose reins to our imaginations, that night. We 
 knew that a Reform banquet was in preparation at 
 Paris, and that the Government had resolved to inter- 
 fere. Our hopes became certainties. In the depth 
 of the woods, we heard the rumors of a Revolution,
 
 MACON. 131 
 
 and the Republic was our first thought and expres- 
 sion. We held its advent assured, in spite of all im- 
 probabilities, and each of us sang its praise in his own 
 diapason. There are always germs of events travers- 
 ing space. These, we collected, and our confidence 
 was such that, though not prepared, we went the next 
 day to Macon to be nearer action. 
 
 I ask pardon for giving two chapters without 
 Lamartine, but he is so inseparably connected with 
 all that we did, that a record of the events of those 
 few days seems necessary to what I have yet to say 
 of him. During that time of action, we, his friends, 
 made it our constant duty to be inspired by him. 
 
 Macon was full of rumors. The Revolutionary 
 wind had risen beyond the walls of Paris, and was 
 blowing fiercely all over France. Paris was far away, 
 for the lines of railroad had not yet been established, 
 and kept its news to itself, but we felt that something 
 terrible was going on. 
 
 The public generally did not believe in the fall 
 of the dynasty. The most daring only dreamed of 
 an electoral reform, and a change of ministry. Macon, 
 having had its " fete des Girondins," breathed the 
 renovating air of the Republic. 
 
 Every body was in the street or on the quay. 
 We knew nothing more, than that Lamartine had 
 made a great speech, and had declared that the 
 " left " would go with him to the prohibited banquet.
 
 132 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 We could not control our impatience. We extem- 
 porized democratic feasts. The patriots gathered 
 around a long table, over which were busts of Lam- 
 
 o 
 
 artine, the republican deputy of Saone-et-Loire, and 
 Mathieu, the learned brother-in-law of Arago. Many 
 ardent but prudent words, were spoken there. We did 
 not sleep that night. We were sure that there was 
 fighting in Paris. The Revolution would have its 
 three traditional days : so while waiting, we watched 
 on our arms. 
 
 The next day, the government of Louis Philippe 
 was a dead letter at Macon. The soldiers did not 
 interfere with the public meetings, and cries of " Long 
 live Reform," were heard on all sides. The post had 
 not arrived. From the road, we could see the arms 
 of the telegraph agitating convulsively, but its signs 
 were unintelligible. The revolt against the despised 
 government, was fermenting in all hearts. The pow- 
 erless prefecture, not receiving any news, did not 
 dare to organize any resistance. An intelligent pop- 
 ulation could easily repress any violence that might 
 break forth, but leaders were necessary. The city, 
 like all others, had its proportion of liberated convicts. 
 Under a pretext of patriotism, crime might burst all 
 restraints. Suspicious groups were already threaten- 
 ing to throw M. Delmas, the prefect, into the Saone, 
 and to set fire to some of the convents. Rolland, in 
 his capacity as Mayor, provided against the first
 
 THE PREFECTORIAL COMMISSION. 133 
 
 danger. A popular assembly was convoked at the 
 Hotel-de-Ville, and a prefectorial commission of 
 twelve, was formed. As it is a part of our local his- 
 tory, I will give their names. MM. Carteron, Senton, 
 Bruys D'Ouilly, Saclier, Foillard, Bouchard, Ordinaire, 
 Hippolyte Boussin, Henri de Lacretelle, Sambin, Ver- 
 saud, Chanorier. 
 
 Our first duty was to install ourselves, in the 
 prefecture, dispossess the prefect, and assume the 
 direction of the government. We were still in com- 
 plete ignorance of the state of affairs at Paris. 
 
 There was a dangerous possibility that the Re- 
 public had been overcome. In such a case, we would 
 be shot. Bugeaud was said to be a prompt man. 
 
 However, if patriotism was not manifested, blood 
 would flow, and the torch would be applied. 
 
 Lamartine's name was mingled in the struggle, 
 and in order that he should not die in a wretched 
 failure, it was important, that the movement should 
 take a republican character. We had been working 
 for years for this result, by every throb of the heart. 
 None of us hesitated. It was night. 
 We went to the Prefecture. The concierge opened 
 wide the doors. We appealed to M. Delmas, in the 
 name of the people, of the future, and of public Con- 
 cord. He showed himself a man of sense, and though 
 warning us that we were playing a dangerous game, 
 did not resist. He suspected perhaps, that he might
 
 '34 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 be threatened. We allowed him to remain as a 
 private citizen as long as he thought agreeable, guar- 
 anteeing his security upon our honor. 
 
 He had not unlimited confidence in the solidity of 
 his government, and he was -thinking, too, of a future 
 reaction. The Prefects had no desire to sacrifice 
 themselves for Louis Philippe. Sacrifices were re- 
 served for St. Etienne, in 1871, and for the Republic. 
 M. Delmas resigned officially. He summoned the 
 Chiefs of the service, and put the direction into our 
 hands. 
 
 We were to sleep at the Prefecture. 
 There were now twelve prefects. As many of 
 my colleagues are still living, without fear of offense 
 I shall simply say, that some were men of great intel- 
 ligence, and all were men of courage. 
 
 This sudden stroke of policy had not been unwise. 
 Holland aided our inexperience by his counsels. He 
 thought it was useless for all to remain at the Pre- 
 fecture that night, and finally the choice fell upon 
 Bruys and myself. 
 
 By request, the Colonel of the National Guard 
 had put two companies at our disposal. We had 
 seen the general, M. de Lostende, and had demanded 
 the disbandment of the regiments at once. As a 
 loyal soldier, he refused, but his attitude assured us 
 that we had nothing to fear from their bayonets. 
 We were finally settled in the private office of the
 
 FEBR VARY <2.t,th AT MA CON. \ 3 5 
 
 Prefect, and, for hours, there was a constant coming 
 and going with orders. When this ceased, I said 
 to Bruys, 
 
 " Thou wilt sleep in the Easy-Chair and I will 
 stand watch." 
 
 He looked at me with surprise. He was many 
 years older than I, and this was the first time that I 
 had ever used the intimate form of address, 
 
 " I take advantage of the revolutionary period," 
 said I. "Since we share the same danger, I feel that I 
 love thee too well to say " You." 
 
 He held out both hands to me, and responded 
 most earnestly. 
 
 " I shall bless the Republican era for this," 
 said he. " I do not believe that I can sleep. Who 
 knows what will happen to Lamartine in this fiery 
 ordeal ? " 
 
 " Lamartine, dying for Liberty, will surpass all the 
 glories of history," said I, " and there is no doubt but 
 that we shall be wrapped in a corner of his shroud." 
 
 " You take a mournful view of affairs. You are 
 thinking of your wife. I have just made a journey 
 into Switzerland, and have a passport. You may take 
 it. I am a bachelor, you know." 
 
 " As you prove every day," said I trying to laugh, 
 for a diversion. " I shall not leave the post of danger 
 any sooner than you. I have other anxieties than my 
 wife. My father, mother and brother are in Paris
 
 136 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Strong excitement are sometimes fatal to aged people. 
 My fear is paralysis or a stroke of apoplexy, and 
 then my father could never forgive me, for protesting 
 against the established government. The very name 
 of Republic is a horror to him." 
 
 " In your anxieties, you misjudge him. The 
 second Republic will pardon the first, in the most 
 prejudiced mind, if Lamartine directs it. Your father 
 will honor you, for having obeyed your convictions.' 5 
 
 I felt that he was right, and that I was only doing 
 my duty, though my father's eighty-two years were 
 constantly before me. 
 
 " After all," said I, to myself, " if Paris is a coward, 
 and France is indifferent, it will be a proud thought 
 for us all, to have proclaimed the Republic in Lam- 
 artine's own city. In all reason the question must 
 be settled to-morrow. Let us prepare for it. Let 
 the provincial movement go from here." 
 
 I took up a pen to write an announcement, to sub- 
 mit to my colleagues. A hasty step was heard, 
 others soon followed. The National Guard entered. 
 They tell us that the convicts mean to set fire to M. 
 Courteau's house. "Will you come ? " 
 
 This question of convicts was constantly rising. 
 It was time that the government should take hold of 
 it and make some kind of a law, ensuring social secu- 
 rity, as well as the regeneration of these creatures. 
 M. Courteau had brought upon himself great un-
 
 NE WS FROM PARIS \ 37 
 
 popularity, as mayor, a few years before, so that an 
 attempt against his house was not unlikely. 
 
 We called two other companies, and hastened to 
 
 jthe threatened quarter. All was absolutely tranquil. 
 
 The streets were deserted. Excited imaginations 
 
 had seen torches, where there was not even a lantern. 
 
 There were no other incidents that night. 
 
 The next day, the most contradictory rumors were 
 heard everywhere. Travellers coming from Chalon 
 said that the Republic was declared officially at Paris, 
 and that Emmanuel Arago had passed through the 
 city, by post, to take possession of the Prefecture at 
 Lyons. Other said that Louis Philippe had with- 
 drawn to Vincennes, and was preparing to bombard 
 Paris from the forts, and that the Council of Magis- 
 trates would make short work of the rebels. This was 
 only a stronger reason for us to decide. A large 
 meeting was called at the Hotel-de-Ville. The same 
 names were proclaimed, and we asked to have M. 
 Pissere's added, as the working class should be repre- 
 sented. 
 
 The post arrived at noon. We received procla- 
 mations of the Republican Provisionary Government 
 signed Lamartine, Dupont de 1'Eure, Arago, Ledru- 
 Rollin, Louis Blanc, and Flocon. It displayed the 
 red flag. Personally we were safe, but this red flag 
 floated before us like an evil omen. We were not 
 men of that color. We foresaw the tragic scenes of
 
 138 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the Hotel-de-Ville, where Lamartine as dictator, by 
 his courage and the power of his word caused the 
 furious crowd to lay down the axes they had raised 
 against him, and lower the red flag that they would 
 have forced upon France ; where he so filled their,*' 
 hearts with his own ardor and clemency, that for two 
 months, the name of Lamartine was the only one upon 
 their lips. 
 
 Many words spoken from the steps of the Hotel- 
 de-Ville during the tempest of February, have already 
 been published. The episode of the red flag is only 
 one of many grand speeches sent into the midst of 
 the tumult. A story will be written of that in the 
 course of events. 
 
 Here is another, which prevented the first blood- 
 shed, that afterwards flowed like a river. 
 
 One day in March, workshops were fermenting 
 either for want of occupation, or in the miasma of 
 sinister theories. An immense concourse of men 
 thronged the place, crying " Vengeance ! Death to 
 Lamartine !" He descended at once. The crowd 
 redoubled their imprecations, and gesticulations. 
 They were ready to throw him to the wild beasts. 
 He walked steadily forward, until he was in the 
 midst of those picks, and axes, still bearing the rust 
 of 1793- 
 
 " You ask for the head of Lamartine," he cried. 
 
 "Yes! Yes!"
 
 PROGRESS OF THE REVOLUTION. 139 
 
 " Would to heaven, you had it on your own shoul- 
 ders! You would be less insane, and you would not 
 extinguish the light of the Republic in its dawning ! '* 
 
 He knew that his eloquence was a sovereign force 
 to disarm. Their souls were moved, and Lamartine 
 had only to stretch out his hands to their lips. 
 
 What a magnificent government is that having 
 no other Praetorian Guard than Courage and Genius! 
 We received the news of what was happening, with 
 great enthusiasm. During the first week, there was 
 nothing but an exchange of patriotic sentiments. 
 We seemed to breathe in a higher atmosphere. 
 Truth shed its glorious light upon all sides. Every 
 day was more lustrous. The Emancipation of Slaves, 
 the Abolition of Capital Punishment, Universal Suf- 
 frage ; with these acts we would found a government 
 fit for saints, and philosophers. Hearts expanded 
 from the influence of the Republic dwelling in them. 
 Let those who since then, have thrown the venom of 
 their hatred against the men of the Hotel-de-Ville, 
 show us a sovereign who has given the people greater 
 proof of generosity and wisdom. 
 
 We did our best to impregnate our administrative 
 acts with the spirit of democratic benevolence. We 
 did not appoint new Mayors any where, nor did we 
 displace those that the people sustained, even if they 
 had served under another regime. 
 
 We held popular meetings to explain republican
 
 140 
 
 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 principle and Universal suffrage. We preached Con- 
 cord ; we encouraged associations ; we extracted the 
 bitterness from irritating questions ; we aided labor, 
 and established a practical brotherhood. We rose 
 early, to announce the progress of the Republic, and 
 lay down late, to assure a repose for all. 
 
 There were some bright spots in our serious 
 movements, and in our duties. Dr. Carteron, a true 
 Gaul, presided. Dr. Bouchard improvised beautiful 
 verses, and Dr. Ordinaire too many physicians, 
 alas ! for a Republic which appeared to have a robust 
 Constitution, cheered us by his vivid imagination. 
 
 There was quite a rivalry between Macon, and 
 Chalon. One day, the " Moniteur " brought to us 
 the news of the nomination of two Chalonnais, as 
 special Commissaries of the Republic. 
 
 " Ye great Gods ! exclaimed M. Carteron. " Two 
 Carthagenians at Rome ! " 
 
 The convent of" Les Filles-Repenties " was hated, 
 partly because it was a convent, and partly because 
 it competed with free labor. There were threatening 
 demonstrations. We protected the nuns against the 
 riots, although they were more frightened than they 
 had any reason to be. We were obliged to foresee 
 and provide against any excess, and so it was decided, 
 that the holy house should be vacated. I was de- 
 tailed to take charge of the expedition. It was with 
 a good deal of repugnance that I accepted a commis-
 
 LES FILLES-REPENTIES. 141 
 
 sion, likely to make me very ridiculous. The Hospital 
 had offered a refuge to the prescripts. Curiosity 
 had collected a great crowd of people, who wanted 
 to see the young culprits, whom Religion claimed to 
 have drawn from vice, while at the same time, she 
 drew from them a lucrative profit. This crowd might 
 suddenly be transformed into a dangerous element. 
 
 The sisters were at the apex of terror. They 
 pretended to think that the soldiers we had stationed 
 to protect them from insult, had come to massacre. 
 The door opened only in the name of the law. The 
 Mother-Superior, threw herself at my feet, beseeching 
 me to save them. 
 
 " That is what we are here for," said I, " get 
 ready, and follow me ! The sisters at the Hospital 
 are expecting you there." 
 
 " But the walk, sir. The people will kill us, 
 because the Republic takes us away. I will not 
 expose my daughters to their vengeance. Kill me 
 on the spot ! " 
 
 I was not touched by this appeal : the fright did 
 not seem sincere. 
 
 " The Republic," said I, " is a guarantee for your 
 goods and your lives, and I have come, in its name, 
 to take you away." 
 
 " The house will be pillaged, if we leave it. These 
 people are only robbers, and will violate the goods 
 of the church."
 
 142 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 She cried very loud, and I was afraid that her 
 lavish epithets would excite indignation. The whole 
 house was in tears. They cried according to rule, 
 while in their hearts, they laughed, as the result of 
 the tumult might be their liberty. I said to the 
 superior, if she prolonged the scene, I should remove 
 her by force. She raised her eyes to heaven, invoked 
 all the Saints in the Calendar, and then proceeded to 
 pack her valise with preserves. 
 
 The people, outside, were singing, and the soldiers 
 were disposed to be a little gallant, a demonstration 
 that I was obliged to crush. To bring a body of 
 armed men against women, was not an agreeable 
 thing to do. So I removed the company, and, in a 
 few hours we were on the road to the Hospital. A 
 double row of idle spectators were waiting to see us 
 pass. I wore my scarf as magistrate, and walked at 
 the head of the weeping column. I looked round 
 once in a while, wishing that I was a hundred miles 
 away. The scene was absurd, but the question in- 
 volved was grave, and one that was to come directly 
 under my supervision. 
 
 A young girl with a Raphaelesque head, and a 
 face brightened by a smile of apparent sincerity, 
 detached herself, little by little, from the group of 
 penitents, and walked beside me. She related her 
 story, how she had been deceived by the father of a 
 family, where she worked by the day. The scandal
 
 PROGRESS OF THE REVOLUTION. 143 
 
 filled the quarter, and she was shut up in a convent, 
 where they promised to restore her virtue. They 
 sent her to Macon, where she was badly treated. She 
 begged me to let her go, assuring me of her lasting 
 gratitude. She plead in the name of her youth, her 
 eighteen years, and she was as ready with her co- 
 quetry, as with her tears. Her supplications were 
 accompanied by gestures, strongly resembling ca- 
 resses. The public eye was upon us and it may be 
 that my sincerity was doubted. The Superior did 
 not interfere, hoping, unquestionably, that such an 
 advocate, would be useful to the rest of the company. 
 I hurried towards the Hospital, and recommended 
 the penitent to the care of the Sisters, and came back 
 to the Prefecture, thinking that Leon Bruys would 
 have been much more embarrassed, if he had had to 
 deal with such a fascinating petitioner. 
 
 That same evening, I was at the Hotel-de-Ville 
 with Rolland. The Commissary of Police of the old 
 government, whom the people hated for his zeal in 
 arresting, came silently into the shadows of the cor- 
 ridors, to tell Rolland that his degradation had taken 
 the bread from the mouths of his family. 
 
 He asked for a letter to Caussidi6re, stating that 
 he had been honest in his duties. There was nothing 
 to say against his private character. The Mayor was 
 touched, and the letter was written. There was great 
 indignation, when the people heard of this. They
 
 144 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 blamed Rolland, but exonerated him in a few days. 
 The old commissary went to Paris, and boldly pre- 
 sented his letter to the Prefect of Police. Caussi- 
 diere did not take the trouble to read it. 
 
 " I recognize you," said he, " You followed me 
 very diligently, two months ago, in the time of Louis 
 Philippe. I need a man like you, and nominate you 
 to the Palais Royale quarter." 
 
 Caussidiere thus made the Republic without 
 Republicans. 
 
 The story circulated, and the laughers were all on 
 Rolland's side. 
 
 However, there was an end to the functions of 
 the Intermediate Commission. M. Mathey was 
 nominated Prefect of Saone-et-Loire, and the rest 
 of us scattered ourselves throughout the department, 
 to prepare the elections for the Constituents. It was 
 a question of turning the minds of the people towards 
 the Republic, and of instructing them. M. Mathey 
 as a loyal and experienced democrat, helped us in 
 our task, by the public information that he sent. 
 
 Bruys, and I did our proselyting through our 
 newspaper, with which we inundated the country. 
 We felt that we were to be candidates, by obligation, 
 as well as by the friendship of Lamartine. An elec- 
 toral commission, formed at Paris, arranged every- 
 thing without consulting the departments. The list 
 o candidates passed without protest and our two
 
 CHAMPVANS. 145 
 
 names were not on it. To be sure, we had only the 
 voice of one canton, but that was unanimous. 
 
 Champvans had just been nominated representa- 
 tive in the department of Ain. His advancement 
 had been rapid. He was chosen prefect of the Re- 
 public at Bourg. From the very beginning, he gave 
 the fever to his whole department. Even now, when 
 I think of him at Gand, I do not doubt his sincerity 
 at that time. Once, he was at Nantes, haranguing 
 the people. A providential storm accompanied his 
 resonant voice. As the wind howled through the 
 cliffs around the lake, he exclaimed. 
 
 " Even should this rock fall upon my head, it will 
 not keep me from, crying, " Long live the Republic ? " 
 
 Ledru Rollin, who disorganized his prefectures 
 trying to fortify them, sent M. Anselme Petetin to 
 Bourg, as a special commissary. Champvans sus- 
 pected the future functionary of the Empire, and 
 could not forgive Lamartine for allowing an inspector 
 to be placed over him. He sent in his resignation 
 with a great flourish, and went out of the Prefecture, 
 dramatically carrying his baby's cradle, thus giving 
 the budding reaction an opportunity of making a 
 profit out of his misfortune. He was sent to the 
 Constituante. 
 
 I tell these things without mercy, because Champ- 
 vans has now a reputation, and if a mind less pre- 
 judiced, had admitted that Lamartine with the weight
 
 146 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of France upon his shoulders, could not occupy him- 
 self with his friends, a natural sensibility was justified 
 in feeling wounded at this lack of confidence. 
 
 Champvans gradually passed over to the Legiti- 
 mists, and to the church. But he made a good war 
 against the Empire, and in spite of what he is to-day 
 or whatever may be our personal political griefs, we 
 cannot help admiring him, nor can we help seeing 
 him in the past, as one of the soldiers of the De- 
 mocracy. 
 
 Lamartine did not forget his disciples, though 
 some of them, Adolphe de La Tour among others, 
 were left in a lamentable inaction. We had not yet 
 adopted the Republic without Republicans. Abbe 
 Thyons, I have already said, was sent as Consul to 
 Bucharest. Dr. Pascal received a nomination as 
 Prefect of Allier, but declined, not caring to abandon 
 a lucrative practice. His nephew, our much to be 
 regretted friend, Felix Mornand, was Commissary 
 of the Republic in the South. Lamartine was kind 
 enough to write to me, proposing a diplomatic mis- 
 sion to Italy, giving me a choice of residence. I 
 have his letter yet among many others in that dear 
 hand-writing. 
 
 Owing to sickness in my family, I was kept at 
 Cormatin, and did not witness the Revolution of 
 February on its own theatre, for which I never can 
 console myself. It would be necessary to go to Italy
 
 PARIS IN MA Y. 147 
 
 at once, and I ould not, then, take my wife. More- 
 over, it was March, and the choice of candidates had 
 not been made. I believed that I had a chance, and 
 felt that I could do more for the Democracy in Par- 
 liament, than I could in the Legation. The honor 
 of a title, was not a sufficient inducement, and for the 
 first time, I refused Lamartine. He approved of it, 
 nine months after. I certainly should have resigned 
 December tenth, and it would have been a loss of 
 time for the small satisfaction of writing on my card, 
 " Ex-minister of France to Italy/' 
 
 We went to Paris, at the end of May. It was as 
 stormy as an ocean between two tempests. The 
 Republic, as was its duty, allowed itself to be attacked 
 by an insolent reaction. Lamartine had begun to 
 descend from his height. For his prudence and gen- 
 erosity, which had kept him from putting Ledru- 
 Rollin aside, he received only the fifth place in the 
 Executive Commission. In this way was he re- 
 warded, who had been sent by twelve departments, 
 and to whom the bourgeoisie of Paris, half-crazy with 
 fear, after the eighteenth of May, would have given 
 the crown, and whom the National Guard had pro- 
 claimed through the streets, crying, " Long live King 
 Lamartine." 
 
 I found him one morning, in his little cabinet, at 
 Faubourg St. Germain, a king indeed, but, happily, 
 without a sceptre. I never saw him in such a state
 
 I 4 8 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 0? excitement. He had just learned that the man of 
 Strasburg and Boulogne had asked for a candidacy 
 to return to France. Lamartine was hurrying to the 
 Assembly to oppose the measure with all his power 
 and eloquence. I went with him. The drive was 
 one continuous invective. He predicted all that has 
 happened, the insanity of the people, the ruin of the 
 Republic, the Restoration of the Empire, the orgies, 
 the bloodshed, the conquest and the invasion. He 
 could not have been more eloquent at the tribune 
 than he was in the carriage. The repeal of the law 
 of banishment was voted, in spite of all his efforts. 
 Several days after, I was at the Bois de Boulogne, 
 where he had lived for the past three years. A guard 
 was before the door, and in the court. 
 
 There was no longer a tempest in Paris, but regu- 
 lar waves of people dashing themselves against an un- 
 known and uncertain shore. M. de Falloux, who 
 was skilled in sapping the Republic, had obtained the 
 abolition of the national workshops, and thus, pub- 
 lished a decree of famine to two hundred thousand 
 workmen. 
 
 Lamartine was less troubled this day. He felt 
 that a battle was imminent, but he trusted to the 
 word of Cavaignac, the Minister of War, who told the 
 Government a dozen times a day that an army was 
 on its way to Paris. Lamartine did not forget out- 
 side matters in his care for those nearer home. He
 
 BARRICADES AGAIN, 149 
 
 announced that instructions were to be sent for ar 
 army to descend into Italy. He counted as much 
 upon the effect of his Manifestoes to Europe as upon 
 regiments, for the prompt solution of the Austrian 
 question. He no longer confided in Pius Ninth 
 as an auxiliary of the Republic. Was he perfectly 
 sincere as Head of the Government, in the hope that 
 he openly expressed to those who pressed about him 
 to hear what he had to say ? 
 
 The barricades arose the next day. They were 
 not the result of popular defiance against a govern- 
 ment. They sprang from social questions, for which 
 there was no solution. They came from empty work- 
 shops, from impossibility to find work, from cries of 
 starving children and despairing mothers. They 
 came, more especially, from those hideous recepta- 
 cles of Bonapartist gold that, mixed with blood and 
 filth, was poured into the hands of those unfortu- 
 nate creatures, who were ignorant of its source, by 
 those who afterwards were to direct the massacres 
 of 1851. 
 
 These barricades arose, almost without resistance, 
 and in front of scarcely three regiments, for the 
 Minister of War had been deceived, and the battle, 
 now ready, depended upon the responsibility of a 
 divided National Guard, and a precarious temporary 
 guard. 
 
 I went to rue de TUniversite" and met Pelletan at
 
 LAM 'AR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 the foot of the stairs. I asked him about this irra- 
 tional crime against the Republic. 
 
 " It is no longer a question of the Republic," he 
 replied. " Tis a society that is agonized and a Cor- 
 sican banditti loading its muskets. Lamartine has 
 just gone to meet Death." 
 
 I went up stairs. Mme. de Lamartine was very 
 pale, but it was more for sorrow at the destruction 
 of Paris, than fear of personal safety. Lamartine 
 had no need of encouragement, but tears in his wife's 
 eyes would have disheartened him, so the tears never 
 came. Her soul lived only in her husband's. Though 
 a foreigner and an aristocrat, she had just said to 
 him, " I have seen your death in the Republic, and 
 I have also seen your honor. Go ! Long live the 
 Republic ! " 
 
 What he said that day in the insurrectionary 
 Faubourgs ; the kisses upon his hands, the women 
 kneeling before his horse, the balls that he barely 
 escaped, the despair of that great voice which could 
 not prevent the adoration of the deceived, nor the 
 imprecations of mercenaries, those only know, who 
 with their cries, followed the fatal course, but they 
 are all dead upon the barricades. 
 
 Lamartine went back home in despair. It was 
 that despair which tempted the ancients to suicide ; 
 but God who imposes life as an inevitable burden, 
 sustained him.
 
 JUNE 24/A. 151 
 
 I could not go to him. 
 
 After four day's battle, during which there was 
 heroism on both sides, summary executions, generals 
 killed, an archbishop assassinated, a city laid waste 
 by cannon-balls, they told us that the Republic was 
 victorious. 
 
 It was dead. 
 
 I add a few details given me by my friend, Count 
 de Trveneuc, a friend of Carrel's, who, though wear- 
 ing a uniform, moved, and still moves, more by reason 
 than predilection, towards the Republic. He had 
 been presented to Lamartine, at the Assembly, but 
 by reason of his youth, had not received much 
 attention. 
 
 The 24th of June he came to rue de 1'Universite, 
 
 " What do you want?" said Lamartine hastily, " I 
 have no time to listen to you, I am going to the 
 barricades." 
 
 " I am going with you." 
 
 " I have no horse to offer you. Mme. de Lamar- 
 tine's is already lent to Prince Pierre who goes with 
 me." 
 
 Pierre Bonaparte, then representative, and sitting 
 on the extreme left, had placed himself at Lamartine's 
 disposal, and had been accepted on account of the 
 importance of his name. M. de TreVeneuc, and 
 Pierre Bonaparte were friends, and were going to the 
 same massacre. They pressed each other's hands.
 
 152 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " I have hired a horse of Duplot," replied the 
 Breton, " and I am ready to go too." 
 
 From the first, it was evident that Lamartine went 
 forth to meet a ball. His tall figure was well-known. 
 The streets, emptied by civil war, had few passers. 
 They saw in Lamartine's presence, an official state- 
 ment of an hour of peril. 
 
 Lamartine went directly towards the Hotel-de- 
 Ville, where he found nothing to do. There was no 
 fighting yet, and it was the battle he was seeking. 
 He soon found it, or at least there was shooting near 
 the canal St. Martin, at the corner of rue St. Maur, 
 in front of a high barricade. A yelling, and threat- 
 ening crowd were loading themselves with paving 
 stones. The horses could not advance one step, 
 Speech was interrupted by frequent shots. It was 
 there where the attempt was made to speak, and the 
 few cries of " Vive Lamartine," and the imprecations, 
 of which I have spoken. There were no soldiers to con- 
 tend with, and a few shots were fired upon the group. 
 
 " Lamartine preserved his calmness," said M. de 
 TreVeneuc, " in the midst of the falling balls. M. 
 Duclerc, the courageous and skilful Minister of Fi- 
 nance shared our danger An editor of the " Sie"cle," 
 who had joined us, besought Lamartine to withdraw. 
 His only reply was a pressure of the hand. It seemed 
 as if that was to be his place of apothesis, and that 
 by his death, the Republic would live.
 
 JUNE zyi. 153 
 
 Pierre Bonaparte's horse fell with a fractured knee. 
 Lamartine came to me, and said in a low tone, "Tr6- 
 veneuc, remember this and repeat it. I lost my 
 popularity, and afflicted you all, when I asked you to 
 put Ledru-Rollin on the Executive Commission. It 
 was important that this force should be with us for 
 the days that I saw approaching. It is here. The 
 Republic will triumph in the end. I shall have broken 
 nothing in its bonds." 
 
 The Liberator Death was not to come that day. 
 Lamartine was obliged to go back to Paris, so as not 
 to prolong a scene that only exhausted all heroism. 
 
 On the Boulevard, he was surrounded by a squad 
 of Cavalry. At rue de la Paix, a gathering more 
 ignoble, though of a higher class, cried "Vive 1'Em- 
 pereur." Pierre Bonaparte, the witnesses say, horse- 
 whipped them.
 
 XL 
 
 The Address at Cor matin. 
 
 ~T~ AMARTINE returned to Monceaux in Septem- 
 J-J her. He was conquered, but with him were all 
 the founders of the Republic. He left his work in 
 the hands of an honest soldier, in whom justice, rather 
 than the high ideal of good was paramount. He left 
 it also, to an Assembly, in which were germinating 
 the principles of the Legislative. What did it matter 
 so long as the Republic survived, even nominally! 
 Lamartine was resolved to defend it, to bear his per- 
 sonal griefs in silence, and to uphold those who had 
 snatched his power from him. Here was the most 
 sustained, and the least suspected development of 
 this heroic character. He wanted his work for the 
 Republic to remain,disfigured as it might be by the 
 rubbish piled upon it. 
 
 We surrounded him. The neighboring country 
 remained faithful. His great glory was considered a 
 provincial patrimony. It was the only one left to 
 him. The neighboring cities sent deputation after 
 deputation. The peasants thought it an honor, to 
 come and salute the Father of a Republic, that they 
 were just beginning to comprehend. For a fortnight,
 
 THE PEASANTS' HOMAGE. 155 
 
 Monceaux was transformed into a Forum. Lone 
 
 O 
 
 processions, with beating drums, succeeded each 
 other on the terrace, and Lamartine harangued them 
 from the balcony. He seemed to renew himself in- 
 cessantly, talking always in a language intelligible to 
 his auditors. There was something of the Evangelist 
 in him, and his parables were the lights of the Repub- 
 lican Church. The peasants, transformed, poured in 
 like wine from the press. Eager hearts were beating 
 under those blouses. The most rebellious against 
 liberty, and the most hardened in ignorance, proud 
 or humble, were converted. 
 
 One day, Lamartine received a letter, announcing 
 a visit from the inhabitants of Saint Gengoux-le- 
 Royal. 
 
 " I will not trouble them to come so far," said he, 
 " Invite me to Cormatin, and then they will have 
 only two leagues to travel." 
 
 The day was fixed for October seventeenth. 
 
 The chateau of Cormatin, for it really is a chat- 
 eau, as the monarchists of the last elections have so 
 frequently printed it, hoping to make me suspected 
 by the Republicans, who have responded to them by 
 seventy-eight thousand votes, though much too 
 magnificent for the resources of its proprietor, had 
 been one of the favorite resorts of Lamartine, in his 
 youth. He had loved it with the facility which char- 
 acterized him then, and often describes it in his
 
 i 5 6 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Memoirs." Every year, I had the pleasure of a 
 visit. A special room was consecrated to him, and 
 there he wrote one of his most remarkable chapters, 
 the last banquet of the Girondists. The enchantment 
 of the visits was always prolonged into other seasons. 
 This particular visit was to bear a strictly political 
 character. I invited my neighbors ; it was to be the 
 event of the Canton. 
 
 Unfortunately, a fair, of which I was ignorant, was 
 to be inaugurated at Cormatin on the same day, Oc- 
 tober seventeenth. That morning, a few strangers 
 arrived at the hotel. Gold was seen rolling about on 
 the table. Everybody thought that it belonged to 
 some transaction of the fair. 
 
 There might be a volume written upon what we 
 did at Cormatin, but I shall not have the imprudence 
 to do it. Still, as it served as a theatre for the pro- 
 logue of the Bonapartist reaction, I must give an out- 
 line in order to make the scene understood. Lam- 
 artine also was there, so this is my excuse for writing 
 as follows. 
 
 The chateau was finished in 1612, by the Marquis 
 d'Huxelles, the father and grandfather of the two 
 marshals who bore that name. He was a rich lord, and 
 brought workmen and artists from Italy for the inte- 
 rior decoration of the north wing. The gildings, deli- 
 cacy and style of these apartments are well preserved. 
 Those who know the style, admire it. In the five
 
 THE CffA TEA U OF COR MA TIN. 
 
 157 
 
 great rooms with high mantels, and in the grand 
 hall, it is easy to imagine oneself at Fontainebleau. 
 Henry IV. visited there, before the house was finished, 
 Mme. de Sevigne" and Coulange, as well as a great 
 party from the court of Louis XIII. were also guests. 
 The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries brought 
 their rapiers, their plumed hats, their swords, their 
 loves, and their ruins. According to ecclesiastical 
 newspapers, from all these escutcheons, from all these 
 pagan divinities, which are found on the ceilings, there 
 can come only feudal inspirations. One has no right 
 to feel himself one of the people, nor to dream of the 
 Republic if, though only a poor combatant with the 
 pen, he happens to inhabit the ancient dwelling of a 
 marshal of France. Political convictions result from 
 the roof under which one lives. There has been a 
 duke here ; therefore it is impossible that there should 
 be a democrat. One is condemned to idiocy and ster- 
 ility, because one of his ancestors did not know how to 
 sign his name. If one ascends a marble staircase, he 
 must necessarily be a defender of the king, and must 
 be conspiring for his return. Yet, within fifty years, 
 three deputies have gone out from Cormatin, and I 
 have the honor of being the third. 
 
 The chateau was attacked before 1789 by an in- 
 cendiary band, and rescued, after a skirmish. In 
 1812, in consequence of family disasters, and sundry 
 adventures, it fell into the hands of the " Black-band "
 
 jjS LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 (bande noire). The south wing on the long court 
 formerly closed by a draw-bridge, was demolished, 
 but the valiant chateau killed its destroyer, for a 
 beam slipped, crushing him to death. Two facades 
 remain standing. We enter by the gates where the 
 taste of the Renaissance sculptured Ionic and Corin- 
 thian columns. The court now opening upon the 
 garden, is very large, and it was here, vf here the scene 
 was to take place. 
 
 The National Guard of Saint Gengoux-le-Royal, 
 that patriotic and picturesque little city, arrived at 
 ten o'clock, bringing in its train, all those having a 
 spark of democracy or curiosity. Dixmier, of whom 
 I shall speak again, was commandant. The guns were 
 stacked in the hall and court. 
 
 The music of fife and drum were mingled with 
 the ringing shouts of the village fair. 
 
 The lowing of cattle would be heard above the 
 orchestra. The speech of the charlatan dentist on 
 his cart, would respond to the oration of Demosthenes. 
 
 One after another, the carriages came down the 
 avenue. Even our neighbors, who were Legitimists 
 at heart, prepared to give a hearty welcome to the 
 man, who, though fallen from the highest position 
 that France could give him, had also banished Louis 
 Philippe. At noon, Lamartine drove into the court. 
 He was accompanied by Ronchaud and Eugene 
 Pelletan. Pelletan, who continued the direction of
 
 LA MAR TINE A T CO 2? MA TIN. 
 
 159 
 
 the " Bien Public," was already celebrated, by those 
 grand studies in politics and style, to which " La 
 Presse " owes a part of its fortune. I had with me 
 Bruys, Ronot fils, M. Dureault, M. Gormand, Hip- 
 polyte Boussin, M. Menand, etc. The weather was 
 cold : a rain-storm was approaching. 
 
 " You did not tell me of this fair," said Lamartine 
 to me. 
 
 " I did not remember it ; but you will have a 
 much larger audience." 
 
 " I do not like such an audience as this," he 
 replied. He, then, entered the salon. He had been 
 recognized in passing through the village. The gates 
 were open, and crowds of strangers came down the 
 avenues, inundating the court. The National Guards 
 of Saint-Gengoux, -and of Cormatin, which I com- 
 manded, formed a half-circle to maintain an open 
 space between the orator and the crowd. I was in 
 uniform, and circulated freely among the different 
 groups, thanking those who had come to take part 
 in the patriotic festival, and happy in the respect 
 that they were paying my old house. The rain had 
 commenced and was falling fast. The people still 
 lingered. Not to prolong the damp condition, Lam- 
 artine resolved to hurry matters. He advanced to 
 the centre of the old faade, where the steps of red 
 granite descend to the court, and stood partially 
 protected by the Corinthian portico. The orders
 
 l6o LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had been violated, and the lines forced. The great 
 staircase was invaded, and already twenty heads 
 were at the windows, and men were hanging on the 
 roof. The assault was tumultous, but how was it 
 possible to refuse entrance to people who wanted 
 to shelter themselves from the rain ! 
 
 Lamartine was greeted with applause by the 
 National Guards ; the peasants saluted ; the men 
 from the fair said nothing. I said a few words of 
 welcome to Lamartine, in the name of the country. 
 He replied in his usual cordial manner. He always 
 could say something new on the same question, " the 
 Republic" 
 
 In one of his most forcible phrases, a drunken 
 voice interrupted with the growl. " Down with the 
 forty-five centimes ! " Another voice, probably better 
 paid, took up the refrain, with, " Down with the Re- 
 public ! Down with Lamartine ! " Finally there 
 was a chorus of unknown and scattered voices crying, 
 " Long live the Emperor ! " a cry only appropriate 
 to the battle field of Waterloo. 
 
 For a moment Lamartine looked as if he had 
 stepped on a serpent, but not wishing to excite a dis- 
 turbance he feigned not to have heard and continued. 
 
 I was exasperated to hear such a cry and demon- 
 stration, at my house. If I could have judged the 
 miscreants at that moment, I should have dealt with- 
 out mercy.
 
 "LONG LIVE NAPOLEON." l6l 
 
 The indifferent and doubting, asked in low tones, 
 
 "The Emperor! What Emperor ?" 
 
 The National Guard made a movement. Dixmier 
 had difficulty in restraining his men, who charged 
 upon the offenders with their bayonets. For a 
 moment it seemed as if there would be blood-shed. 
 
 Lamartine finished by a magnificent profession of 
 Republican faith, which called forth a salvo of ap- 
 plause. But the desire to punish the offenders of our 
 peace was paramount. 
 
 The Bonapartist resumed, " Down with the Re- 
 public ! Long live Napoleon !" The same cry came 
 timidly from two or three windows. 
 
 It was evident, that this was a premeditated 
 stroke. The man at Ham had prepared it. His 
 mercenaries had lanced the odious name of Napoleon 
 to try for a vibration. Their departure was a little 
 accelerated by threatening feet, and they disap- 
 peared in the crowd. 
 
 The men from the fair had been well paid, and 
 had drank freely at the shops. They held possession 
 of the windows, corridors and stairs. At the least 
 complication the house might be sacked. They con- 
 tinued their cries of " Long live Napoleon ! " with a 
 scorn, according to rule, as if to disconcert Lamartine, - 
 my guests and myself, by their infamous discord- 
 ance. 
 
 I felt responsible and started to do my duty as
 
 1 62 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 proprietor. Pelletan and Boussin were equally furi- 
 ous, but had more prudence than I, and restrained 
 ine. The rain ceased. The men finding themselves 
 very comfortable at the chateau, persisted in their 
 coarse laughs and songs, in which politics had ceased 
 to take part. No one recognized an inhabitant of 
 the canton among them. They were itinerant ped- 
 dlers, evading the law, begging everywhere, showing 
 obscene pictures to the boys and girls of the village, 
 sowing seeds of immorality and iniquity in these 
 moving bazars, and corrupting the public in every 
 evil way. The Bonapartist gold .had slipped into 
 their soiled hands. They appropriated it deceitfully 
 for they soon substituted a song in praise of Mandrin, 
 instead of proclaiming the name of Napoleon. They 
 paraded at the attic windows, they invaded the stair- 
 cases, and soon pervaded the whole house. The 
 patience of the guardians of order and the Republic, 
 was at last exhausted. The worthy peasants indig- 
 nantly joined us, and a solid phalanx mounted by 
 another passage and advanced with energetic cries, 
 of " Long live Lamartine ! '' 
 
 The corridors were cleared in two minutes, and 
 the offensive band fled, to finish its refrains elsewhere. 
 
 The honest people alone, remained. 
 
 An attempt at Bonapartist Jacquerie had. been 
 crushed. Lamartine shook many loyal hands, and we 
 drank a glass of wine in the name of Liberty.
 
 LAMA R TINES FROPHEC Y. \ 63 
 
 The last flourish of trumpets saluted all that re- 
 mained of the Provisionary government. 
 
 Lamartine was very sad, in spite of his effort to 
 appear cheerful. I was more so than he. I blamed 
 myself. I ought to have considered that a fair is an 
 incessant excitement, where the peasant loses the 
 serenity that results from his peaceful labors. I felt 
 that, henceforth, Cormatin would be an accursed spot, 
 and asked Lamartine's pardon, for having unwittingly 
 drawn him into a snare. 
 
 He led me back into the grove, which had been 
 the scene of many confidences. We were alone with 
 Pelletan, and Boussin. 
 
 " The evil comes from afar," said he " Cavaignac 
 will not be nominated President." 
 
 " I hope not," interrupted Pelletan, looking at 
 Lamartine. 
 
 " I, too," he replied. "The Empire begins in my 
 own department. The name of Bonaparte has only 
 found a few echoes to-day. In fifteen days a thunder 
 will reply, and the story of blood will be retold. 
 Bonaparte is as eternal as death. I said so when the 
 fool was recalled. Man can only make outlines. I 
 have made a rough sketch, and designed the fresco 
 of the Republic. It will be effaced by the finger of 
 an adventurer, but it is sure to reappear. You will 
 all be Representatives under the Third Republic. I 
 shall be sleeping then, under the sod. Put some
 
 j64 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 compassion into your Republic, if you want it to 
 endure. Now, let us go and amuse ourselves," he 
 added in a tone of forced gaiety. 
 
 He only half amused himself. He was very seri- 
 ous. This symptom saddened him, more than he 
 would acknowledge. He made an effort not to com- 
 municate his depression to us, and was full of cordi- 
 ality for all. 
 
 The table was full. Lamartine related a few epi- 
 sodes of his Government. My legitimist neighbors, 
 whom I had invited at his request, to make a fusion 
 of politics, listened with astonishment. They could 
 not comprehend a nobleman, who had decreed uni- 
 versal suffrage and democracy. How was it ? He 
 owned vineyards as they did. He. kept his horses, 
 dressed well, had a distinguished air, and yet he was a 
 Republican. His family piqued themselves upon their 
 fine manners, and when the opportunity was so favora- 
 ble, he did not recall Henry V. It was disgraceful ! 
 
 Always the argument of the " chateau," to which 
 I alluded a little while ago. Fortunately these 
 gentlemen did not dare to think aloud. They saw 
 before them a man who was moulding history. 
 
 Lamartine did all that he could to destroy the 
 shameful impression of the morning. I remember 
 his charming reply to Pelletan, who told him of one 
 of his acquaintances, an invalid, living near by with 
 a lady who had bequeathed him two million francs.
 
 CHA P UIS MONT LA VIL LE. \ 65 
 
 " Two million ! " replied Lamartine. " That is 
 worth a thousand crowns." 
 
 This gave an impulse to gaiety. Bruys counter- 
 feited a preacher in the wildernesss, taking alternately 
 the English and German accents. This was a sure 
 sign of exuberance of spirits. Pelletan talked like a 
 master, to the great astonishment of the nobility, 
 who did not like to admit that a mere journalist had 
 so much taste and moderation. 
 
 We smoked around a bright fire, with conversation 
 still brighter. Those living at a distance, did not 
 ask for their carriages until after Lamartine had gone 
 to bed. After all had departed, I went up to the 
 village. The wound of the morning was still rankling. 
 The cafes were open, on account of that cursed fair. 
 I made diligent inquiries, and finally got proofs of a 
 plot. If Caussidiere had been there, he would have 
 found something to do. 
 
 The individuals in great coats, who had displayed 
 their money so freely in the morning, were unknown. 
 The workmen in blouses, who had cried 4< Vive Na- 
 poleon ! " had come from certain villages, under the 
 influence of Chapuis Montlaville. He, Chapuis, had 
 served all the ultra-monarchists first ; then, during the 
 last years of Louis Philippe, the extreme left had had 
 the foolishness or weakness to admit him. The Re- 
 public honestly offered him nothing, and so he turned 
 to Bonapartism. He had just organized a campaign
 
 1 66 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 in his Canton, against the " forty-five centimes." He 
 was preparing for the tenth of December, and a Pre- 
 fecture. The Prefecture came with the Reaction. 
 Bonaparte in making his imperial journey, took a 
 bath at his house. Chapuis Montlaville sent a vial 
 of the water to all the mayors of his department, as 
 Chateaubriand had brought home a vase of water 
 from the Jordan where Christ had been baptized A 
 month later, Chapuis Montlaville was Senator. 
 
 There are several droll stories about him. 
 
 The fifteenth of July 1830, he was journeying in 
 Switzerland. When he registered his name at the 
 hotel, he wrote : 
 
 " The Baron and Baroness de Montlaville, and 
 Suite." 
 
 The fifteenth of August, he returned to the same 
 village. 
 
 The Revolution was then reigning in France. 
 
 He wrote on the same leaf: 
 
 " Chapuis, wife and servant. 
 
 This attempt at a Bonapartist riot at Cormatin, 
 undoubtedly, emanated from him. 
 
 Having solved the problem, I endeavored to 
 encourage the people, and succeeded. The next 
 day, when Lamartine passed through the village, his 
 carriage was greeted by cries of " Vive Lamartine ! ' 
 
 But the miasma was in the air.
 
 XII. 
 
 Autumn at Saint-Point. 
 
 ONE morning in the autumn of 1848, I cannot 
 now recall the date, I was at Saint-Point. The 
 sun was drying the mists of the valley and the feathers 
 of the peacocks that were pluming themselves in the 
 court, as we went out from the house, and ascended 
 the hill, through the newly-planted vines. The ladies 
 fearing the heat, did not accompany us. Lamartine 
 foreseeing an attack of rheumatism, hoped to prevent 
 it by the sun. 
 
 The carrier had arrived, and we took with us a 
 pile of unopened newspapers. The dogs bounded 
 gaily at our side. We reached that part of the 
 forest, which had been sold. Only a few grand trees 
 were preserved, as a peristyle, for a future grove. 
 Lamartine sat down on the ground, with his feet in 
 the sun, and his head shaded. We went from tree 
 to tree, as the sun advanced. The conversation, or 
 monologue accompanied us. I have seldom seen 
 him more felicitous. Chateaubriand's " Memoires 
 d'outre-tombe " were appearing in " La Presse." I 
 asked his impressions. He did not like to be ques- 
 tioned upon Chateaubriand in public. Those who
 
 l68 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 did not know his unconsciousness of self, too apparent 
 sometimes, would have suspected a rivalry between 
 them. 
 
 " Entre nous," said he, " Chateaubriand has done 
 more evil than good to his age. The superstitions 
 and mummeries of Catholicism, stifled by the great 
 breath of the Revolution, and fallen into their own 
 dust, are raised again by some sort of phantasmagory 
 of color, in his " Genie du Christianisme." 
 
 "The newly-placed idols will retard the march of 
 reason, by the genuflexions they will demand, and 
 by their height, will hide the face of God. Chateau 
 briand's style is only a magnificent mechanism. Not 
 a page has the true light of inspiration. The tints 
 are as false as the light on the student copy-book 
 from the class-room lamp. I have re-read Atala, 
 and laughed over it as much as I wept at eighteen. 
 I feel reproached for having fascinated women, by 
 unconsciously imitating this inflated style. Chateau- 
 briand has never been natural. Listen ! " 
 
 Lamartine took " La Presse " and read aloud 
 one of those remarkable chapters on the campaign 
 in Russia, where hatred to Bonaparte is justice and 
 eloquence. The reader was carried out of himself, 
 and read as if improvising ; 
 
 " Very well. Yes ! " said he, when the article was 
 finished. " It is as beautiful as Saint-Simon or Ma- 
 chiavelle. Here is a pillory erected in the snow, and
 
 AT SAINT-POINT. 169 
 
 the Emperor, pale and wan will remain fastened there 
 in history. These " Memoires d'outre-tombe," are 
 the only serious work of Chateaubriand." 
 
 " There are a dozen volumes," said I. 
 
 He re-read the article quietly. I saw his chest 
 heave. The artist was filled with mute admiration. 
 
 He wished, however, to justify his first opinion, 
 and recited from memory, an homage certainly, a 
 stilted page from " Le Natchez." 
 
 " I prefer Mme. de Stae'l," he added, " she is more 
 of a man." 
 
 From the Revolution of '89, where we com- 
 menced, the conversation turned to the Revolution of 
 February, which was so recent. I asked cautiously, 
 if he had not compromised the Republic in refusing 
 the Provisionary Dictatorship, that the majority 
 would have imposed upon him in March and May. 
 
 " Most certainly, I should have caused the dem- 
 ocracy to rule," he replied," but I should have been 
 obliged to have two scaffolds. One on the right, for 
 M. de Montalembert, and another on the left, for 
 Blanqui. You know what I think of the inviolability 
 of human life, and of the durability of governments 
 by terror. I want to leave a proof, that the Repub- 
 lic is only another name for clemency, and brotherly- 
 love. The Republic, I should then have tried, would 
 have lasted two years. That which is to come, will 
 endure for centuries."
 
 170 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 He did not say, ahvays. This contemplator, and 
 student of history, did not believe in the uninter- 
 rupted movement of progress. He recognized times 
 of reaction. He judged from exhumed ruins that 
 the civilization of India and Assyria had been as near 
 perfection as ours ; that Nineveh and Babylon had 
 enclosed as many wonders as Paris; that the Repub- 
 lican soul of Cicero had had no less light than Mira- 
 beau's ; that truths are lost and found again in the 
 march of ages ; that it was rash to affirm that Con- 
 fucius was not equal to Montesquieu, and that hu- 
 manity had not been bathed in as much light in the 
 morning of our globe, as in the evening. 
 
 He never abandoned this grandiloquent paradox. 
 
 I questioned him, for the twentieth time, about 
 his colleagues of the Provisionary Government, and 
 especially about Louis Blanc. 
 
 " Louis Blanc," said he, " is a star upon which 
 rests only one cloud. The social question cannot be 
 solved in a system. It is the mother question of all 
 improvement, the eternal contemporary of sorrow, and 
 will only be resolved by fragments. I am a socialist, 
 too, as I have proved in my first stammerings upon a 
 Rational Policy ; but I do not comprehend special- 
 ists among curers of wounds that will never heal. 
 Louis Blanc has shaken opinion and disturbed our 
 attitude by throwing over our little group the drapery 
 of a Thesis. I know very well, that only a broad ex-
 
 LOUIS BLANC. 
 
 171 
 
 pansive charity exists in him. I have never found a 
 grain of ashes on the hearth of that sympathetic sou). 
 The eternal flame of good has passed from the heart 
 of Beccaria into his own ; and a sanctuary is always 
 needed for such lights. Louis Blanc is an admirable 
 writer, and if he sometimes hesitates as an orator, it 
 is because the working of his conscience makes him 
 see many phases of truth. But he is firm and up- 
 right upon all important questions. None of my 
 friends have aided me more than he in the abolition 
 of capital punishment. Every word that he uttered 
 was baptized in courage, and conviction. 
 
 He has had as much as I to do with sweeping the 
 shadow of the guillotine from the soil of the Repub- 
 lic. One half of the preambles of the decree belong 
 to him. He has not permitted one drop of the blood 
 of 1793 to fall upon the date of 1848. And in this 
 way he is mine, and I hold out my arms to this apos- 
 tle in his exile. If there are some doubtful notes in 
 his mind, they always resolve into the right chord 
 when they touch the sounding board of this heart of 
 gold. I see him always as at the Hotel-de-Ville. 
 When I proposed the decree for the abolition of capi- 
 tal punishment for the first time, there was a unani- 
 mous consent, but Dupont de 1'Eure raised some ob- 
 jection as to the manner of proceeding. The decision 
 was adjourned. Very early the next morning, Louis 
 Blanc returned trembling with indignation and wrath.
 
 \J2. LAMARTIXE AND II1S FRIEXDS. 
 
 He ran round the table with his newspaper in his 
 hand. The royalists had given the day when we 
 would revive the guillotine. We fell into each others 
 arms, and voted enthusiastically. Louis Blanc will 
 always vote in this way." 
 
 Lamartine talked for a long time. I repeat his 
 words almost exactly, for they still vibrate in my 
 memory. My illustrious and dear colleague Louis 
 Blanc, will pardon me for recalling a criticism, which 
 gives so much sincerity to praise, and he will rejoice 
 to know that he has so firm a friend on the other side 
 of the veil. The sun, which had been declining during 
 this speech, now shone directly in our faces. Lamar- 
 tine rejoiced in it. He loved to have heat and light 
 in great floods. He believed himself meridional, 
 because he had had his most beautiful romance in 
 Italy, and he always saw the sun near the trellis of 
 Ischia, through the beautiful black hair of Graziella. 
 Mme. de Lamartine, who foresaw these ecstacies had 
 given me an umbrella to shield his head. He pushed 
 it away, laughing. 
 
 " Go on, my dear fellow. Strip me. The place 
 is propitious. We are all alone in the woods. 
 Rob me of my recollections. I will not cry for 
 help." 
 
 " If I were older, I would ask you for an abso- 
 lutely intimate confidence," said I. 
 
 "Ask it. 'Tis so warm, I shall not be afraid to
 
 A QUESTION AND ANSWER, if$ 
 
 throw off one of my garments. I will show myself 
 to you as naked as an Abencerage." 
 
 " Or as a god of Olympus." 
 
 " O, that is bad. 'Tis too easy to say, with your 
 admiration." 
 
 " My respectful friendship." 
 
 " Too short a friendship. Come, let us have this 
 great question." 
 
 I mused a moment, finally, I said. 
 
 " How is it that from the summit of your literary 
 glory, you have plunged into the unknown current 
 of politics ? You did not know your strength. You 
 did not know whether your voice, only accustomed 
 to sing in solitude, would resound well on the marble 
 of the tribune. If you had not been Lamartine, you 
 might have diminished yourself, by this elbowing in 
 the crowd. You have been more than successful, but 
 was it not a bold step ! " 
 
 " Let us go and take a walk ? " said he rising, and 
 not replying directly. 
 
 His silence seemed like a lesson. We walked 
 towards the woods. He looked sadly at the falling 
 trees that he had been forced to sell. The neighbor- 
 ing peasants had been enlisted as wood-choppers. 
 As we passed through the group, they recognized 
 Lamartine, but the worthy men knew how much he 
 suffered in seeing his mountain stripped, and respect 
 ing his grief, did not accost him.
 
 174 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The moment that we turned aside into the path, 
 one of the youngest of them, taking his pipe from 
 his mouth cried, " Vive la Republique ! " It was 
 re-echoed from every mouth, and resounded through 
 the clearing. Lamartine acknowledged it, and dis- 
 appeared. There was a smile on his face. 
 
 " Now you see why I have gone into politics," 
 said he. " Happily chance has given an answer to a 
 difficult question. I felt myself more than you can 
 think, I needed to be in action, as much as a horse 
 needs to leave his pasture for the road. I said to 
 myself. ' Meditations, on the borders of a lake, do 
 riot make a whole man.' I was irritated with my 
 claim upon literary glory, which kept me from being 
 taken as a serious combatant, and from that came my 
 puerile imprecations against my verses. I wanted 
 to go into the river, where I felt sure that I could 
 swim. I wanted to carry to my Master at the end 
 of my days, an accomplished action. And I had 
 another ambition. I wanted by my example to lead 
 the most humble before the face of truth. Words 
 thrown on the wind, sow ideas. Ideas are germs of 
 facts. These peasants seeing me to-day, utter the 
 cry of Liberator. I have succeeded. The harvest is 
 ripening, and I am paid a hundred fold for my sweats 
 at the Hotel-de-Ville." 
 
 I took his hands in mine, and we descended the 
 hill. This great man's teachings were as simple and
 
 THE ACTS OF LAMAR TINE. \ >j 5 
 
 unpremeditated as the parables in the Gospel. I 
 have thought much of this. There ought to be a 
 Bible written on the Acts of Lamartine. But he 
 alone could do it, and Death has arrested his hand. 
 
 The ladies were waiting for us in the court, at 
 the dining-room door. It was late. 
 
 " What have you been doing all this time, Al- 
 phcnse?"said Mme. de Lamartine. 
 
 " We have been talking nonsense," he replied. 
 " There is nothing in the world so good as that."
 
 XIII. 
 
 Reminiscences. 
 
 I LOOK around among all the loved, and remarka- 
 ble faces that I have seen at Lamartine's, or that 
 recall a single incident of his life, for the man is only 
 complete by his surroundings, as Socrates still exists 
 through his disciples. I find all these faces at the 
 National Assembly. We are the protective phalanx 
 of Order and Liberty, who have sworn to defend our 
 principles, at all hazards, only through the Republic. 
 Almost all who came near Lamartine, received from 
 him the breath of regeneration. We have brought 
 away a fragment of the sword broken in his hand. 
 
 Lamartine's friends bear him witness. Ducuing 
 was one of the regular visitors. His manly face, 
 recalling an antique medallion by its varied expres- 
 sions, announced his opinions beforehand. Some 
 people show themselves, pre-eminently, as knights ; 
 others, as citizens. Ducuing was both, Citizen of a 
 mild Sparta, and knight of the people. He was known 
 to Lamartine through his solid studies of political 
 economy. When Mires came to Lamartine to pro- 
 pose founding the " Pays," a newspaper that has 
 completely changed its character since the Cassagnacs
 
 DU CUING. 
 
 177 
 
 have been its directors, Lamartine made an absolute 
 condition that Ducuing should be associated with him. 
 
 " I have a pen of gold, perhaps," said he to Mires, 
 who was to furnish the funds, " but Ducuing has a 
 pen of iron, and I want it on the paper." 
 
 Ducuing, in spite of his youth, and his admiration 
 for Lamartine, never laid aside his frankness. 
 
 One day, he came into the master's study without 
 being announced, where he found Mme. de Lamartine 
 in tears. Usually she reserved her griefs for her 
 private apartment, and she never wept on her hus- 
 band's account. She rose and left the room without 
 saying anything, as Ducuing entered. 
 
 " Never get married, Ducuing, and do not let a 
 woman see too closely into your life,"said Lamartine, 
 " the best of them will lead you into difficulty. I 
 defy you to find a better woman than Mme. de Lam- 
 artine, and yet you have witnessed a crisis in our 
 conjugal felicity. It is odious ! " 
 
 Ducuing came forward, with his honest manly 
 face, " I do not know what the question was," said 
 he, " but Mme. de Lamartine has cried, and I am 
 sure that you are wrong.'' 
 
 " Come and dine with us this evening," resumed 
 Lamartine taking up his pen, and changing the con- 
 versation. At seven o'clock, harmony was restored 
 in the household. At each turn in the conversation 
 Lamartine would say :
 
 178 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " It is useless to appeal to Ducuing, Marianne. 
 He always agrees with the ladies. They have spoHed 
 him.'' This kind of good-humored revenge lasted a 
 month. During that time, Ducuing increased the 
 circulation of the paper to a degree, that was not 
 compensated later, even by the gold of the imperial 
 purse. 
 
 I also find on the same seat with me in the As- 
 sembly, and with a ballot of the same color in his 
 hand, Edmond Adam, upon whom Lamartine de- 
 pended during the revolutionary days of the Hotel- 
 de-Ville. He was one of the firmest in upholding 
 the flag of the republican order. Once, when he had 
 subdued a tempest by his' wise and eloquent words, 
 Lamartine embraced him, and called him his son. 
 This accolade was a more noble decoration than the 
 Cross of the Legion of Honor, which he refused from 
 the insolent Empire. 
 
 Many years after the scenes in the drama of the 
 Hotel-de-Ville had become historical, Lamartine had 
 some business transactions with Adam, who was then, 
 secretary-General of a banking-house. The great 
 man showed himself a great child. He had some 
 money deposited in the bank, and went to Adam to 
 have it sent to Macon in gold. 
 
 " I am going away in a few days, I owe the 
 money to my vinedressers. Make haste, and send 
 it in gold." " Nothing will be easier than to give
 
 THE POET AND THE BANKER, 
 
 179 
 
 you credit there," said Adam. " Gold is not a rare 
 article. The transportation and insurance will cost a 
 great deal. I will send it in paper." 
 
 " I want the gold to come from Paris. The vine- 
 dressers do not dare to spend it, and it will be a 
 fortune to them." 
 
 " But allow me to repeat, that the expense will 
 be considerable." 
 
 " Bah ! said Lamartine, ' I sold a romance, last 
 Monday to the ' Constitutionel.' I was four days 
 in writing it. Next Saturday, they will pay me ten 
 thousand francs." 
 
 Though perfectly exact, it was an absurd state- 
 ment to make before a crowd of clerks, who had as- 
 sembled to watch his departure. 
 
 His generosity was often mistaken for pride, and 
 his prodigality for avarice. 
 
 " L'or pur que sous mes pas semait sa main prospere, 
 N'a point paye la vigne ou le champ du potier." 
 
 he says somewhere. Alas ! the gold gained by his 
 genius has too often paid for the vine. 
 
 Emmanuel Arago had been sent to Lyons as 
 Prefect, the second day of the Republic. There was 
 a Lyonnais tempest as well a Parisian. Arago en- 
 tered the city unknown, with the same qualities that 
 we find he still possesses a rare fertility of argumentj 
 a thrilling and inexhaustible voice to send these argu- 
 ments into the crowd, and moreover an hereditary
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 conviction and natural inclination to Order. Under 
 the fantastic though not reassuring name of " Vo- 
 races," he was obliged to allow a battalion to organ- 
 ize, whose rays, and clamors rendered many unfore- 
 seen services to the public peace. 
 
 He could write an amusing and telling book upon 
 his government at Lyons, but he tells it so often, 
 and with so much imagination that probably he never 
 will write it. 
 
 One morning a multitude besieged the Prefecture. 
 A company of weavers were seen coming down from 
 " la Croix Rousse." The red flag crossed the bridge, 
 and it seemed as if the city would be given up to the 
 violence of demagogues. 
 
 Emmanuel was haranguing fiercely on the square. 
 
 A man came to him, saying in a low tone. 
 
 "Citizen Arago. I have just come from Paris. 
 Here is a letter from Lamartine." 
 
 The Prefect did not cease speaking, while he read 
 the letter. It was written with a pencil, and simply 
 signed, " L." The writing was firm and clear, and 
 there was only one line. Here it is in its dark laconi- 
 cism ; 
 
 " Friend, hold out as long as you can at Lyons. 
 We are overpowered here. To-night, the hand that 
 writes to you, will be cold." 
 
 Arago had no doubt of the authenticity of the 
 style or writing. Such a declaration from the ac-
 
 EMMANUEL ARAGO. jgi 
 
 credited chief of the government, announcing his 
 approaching death, was not very encouraging to the 
 speaker, but he continued, drawing his energy as it 
 were, from the source of discouragement and defeat. 
 
 A few months after, Arago was nominated Minis- 
 ter-Plenipotentiary, at Berlin. Before his departure, 
 he went to the Minister of Foreign Affairs for instruc- 
 tions. Lamartine was confined to his bed with an 
 attack of rheumatism. He thought that he knew all 
 the courts of Europe, but his state officers sometimes 
 deceived him. 
 
 " At Potsdam, you will meet the charming and 
 leading head of Berlinois politics. It is the Princess 
 Royal. A little active body, brown and nervous, 
 sympathizing with liberal ideas, and conducting all 
 the diplomatic corps by her charms in fact, she is 
 one of those mythical princess we read of in the tales 
 of Hoffman or Goethe. Fall in love with her. It 
 will be an advantage to France." 
 
 Emmanuel actually thought that he had a pro- 
 spective romance. There was nothing to do in Prussia, 
 but to be presented to Queen Mab, who was Au- 
 gusta. The same Augusta of those letters from Ver- 
 sailles, through which her husband sent the daily tem- 
 perature of France. 
 
 She was tall, cold and imposing, as straight and 
 stiff as a weather-beaten column of a Lutheran 
 Church, blonde as the froth of the national beer, and 

 
 1 8 2 LAMAR TINE A ND HIS FRIEND S. 
 
 utterly irresponsive to any words of love. Except 
 for these few shades of difference, the portrait drawn 
 by Lamartine fitted the frame exactly. 
 
 Lamartine laughed heartily at the joke, when Em- 
 manuel related it. Such a princess, as he saw, might 
 have contracted an alliance between France and 
 Russia. 
 
 Instead of listening to Arago, Augusta dreamed 
 of the model of the Krupp gun that her husband 
 had shown her. In the breweries of Bonn, she had 
 already caught a glimpse of the young student Bis- 
 marck. 
 
 These pages are not all of politics. 
 
 There was Adolphe de La Tour, of whom I have 
 spoken in connection with the history of the " Bien 
 Public," a friend of Emmanuel Arago and mine also. 
 Lamartine, who might have helped him more in poli- 
 tics, appreciated keenly his rare qualities, and devo- 
 tion to true ideas, which so plainly marked him for a 
 political life. In the Republican clubs of 1848 no 
 one was better listened to, than he, and he would have 
 been one of the surest counsels of the National As- 
 sembly, though at the time to which I allude, we had 
 only the sJiadow of the Republic in our hopes. 
 
 Adolphe de La Tour invited M. de Lamartine 
 twice a year, to dine with him. His apartment was 
 a perfect museum. The dinner though charming, 
 was only a pretext. The evenings were almost
 
 AT THE THEATRE. ^3 
 
 always spent at the " Varits," or at the "Palais 
 Royal." The noble head of the poet and future regu- 
 lator of the Republic, was enframed in one of the 
 proscenium boxes of the Opera Bouffe. 
 
 Lamartine laughed heartily at the witticisms of 
 Oudry and Arnal. In listening to Potier, he threw 
 aside his great cares for the time, and was as merry 
 as in the youthful days of Graziella. 
 
 Leon Bruys d'Ouilly, Champvans and I were the 
 only guests and for the moment mirth made us the 
 equals of this great man. 
 
 He had that exquisite familiarity belonging to the 
 eighteenth century, and the beginning of the Res- 
 toration, of which we only saw the remains. The 
 pun, that contortion of the tongue, always reduced 
 him to silence. He could not bear jugglery except 
 in action, and could not comprehend a jest that was 
 not taken directly from nature. Often he withdrew 
 into the recesses of the box where his conversation 
 attracted us. A chance word would lead him to 
 philosophy, or politics. I have heard him discuss 
 the fortifications of Paris, in as masterly fashion as if 
 at the tribune, while Mile, de Esther Bongars was 
 permitting herself to be embraced on the stage. I 
 remember one of his charming sayings between the 
 acts at the Palais Royal. He was engaged in pub- 
 lishing a new edition of his works, and told us that 
 he had spent three thousand francs that morning, in
 
 1 84 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 advertisements. We exclaimed against the extrava- 
 gance. " What would you have me do ? " he replied. 
 " God himself needs some one to ring the bells 
 for him." 
 
 If our memories had been stenographs, what a 
 dazzling collection of his pleasant sayings, we might 
 have had. 
 
 Lamartine's jests were not of the same coinage as 
 Voltaire's and Rivarol's. They bore their own stamp 
 and had a higher value. There was so much in him 
 that he seldom quoted others. 
 
 The ingenious hospitality of de La Tour made 
 many amusing evenings for Lamartine, and he repaid 
 us with a good humor, which was as eloquent as his 
 genius. His greatest effort of courtesy was to pro- 
 long the entertainment ; however, he never went 
 beyond ten o'clock. We left with him, and often it 
 was necessary to break through the crowd, for the 
 report that Lamartine was in the hall was always 
 enough to attract the multitude who watched for his 
 departure. This curiosity was not agreeable to him, 
 and often deterred him from going to places that he 
 was not in the habit of visiting. 
 
 He was then living at rue de rUniversite", and 
 when the weather was pleasant, he walked home. 
 He would accept a cigar for companionship, but 
 seldom smoked, as it was not his time. 
 
 Crossing the bridge would suggest a song that he
 
 THE GROUP OF HOTEL DE VILLE. 185 
 
 had heard on the quay at Margellina, or at the fete of 
 " Pie de Grotta." It was more the suspicion of a 
 song, than an actual humming, but we were always 
 glad to see content place her light crown upon his 
 head, if only for a moment. Heavy cares were to be 
 engraven there, too soon. 
 
 One of the men who did most to lighten his cares 
 and whom it would be unjust to forget in this re- 
 spected list of friends, was Garnier-Pages. He often 
 came with his son-in-law M. Dr6o, my friend and 
 associate. Lamartine and he would go over their 
 recollections of the Government of February, and 
 imagine themselves in the same stirring scenes of 
 patriotism and courage. 
 
 " If the Republic could always be personified in 
 such men as Garnier-Pages." Lamartine has often 
 said to me, " it would be still more contemptible not 
 to adore it." 
 
 Notwithstanding my sympathy for Garnier-Pages, 
 I used to think that Lamartine ought to have been 
 more general. 
 
 The group seen on the steps of the Hotel-de-Ville, 
 in which we saluted Dupont de 1'Eure, Louis Blanc, 
 Marrast, Arago, Ledru-Rollin, and Flocon, has en- 
 tered history, with an unparalleled escort of virtue, 
 eloquence, intellect, science, and disinterestedness 
 and its provisionary government will be eternal. 

 
 XIV. 
 
 Pecuniary Troubles. 
 
 ONE morning in September 1848, I went to 
 Saint-Point. Lamartine said to me, 
 
 " I have a new secretary. You will like him. I 
 will introduce you." 
 
 He took me up stairs, where a young man, with 
 regular features and cold haughty eyes, sat before a 
 table that was covered with proofs. Lamartine in- 
 troduced us. 
 
 This was Paul Saint- Victor. 
 
 In his first conversation, I recognized a future 
 master of style. He was a finished critic in literature, 
 and art. His sentences, even when figurative, were 
 clear and concise, and young as he was, a satirical 
 eloquence showed his predisposition. His speech 
 had in it the same ring and resonance that are found 
 in his writings to day. 
 
 I have passed many a pleasant evening with him 
 at Saint-Point and at Monceaux, at the fireside, when 
 all the household had gone to bed. 
 
 He told me of a book that he was preparing, on 
 Beau Brummel, whom he slightly resembled. He 
 made the impossibility of warmth and faith in seep- 

 
 PAUL SAINT VICTOR. 187 
 
 ticism, a reality. He never was mistaken in his vo- 
 cation. He often would say, 
 
 " My ambition is to write a play." 
 
 This, he has been doing for the last twenty years, 
 only, each play is a book, and each book is a master- 
 piece. I have an irrefutable proof that he is not so 
 impassive as the envious say. Lamartine had just 
 written that incomparable lament called, " Pere Du- 
 temps." He read it to me in Saint-Victor's presence. 
 In the evening when we were alone. Saint-Victor 
 said to me. 
 
 " Let us read ' Pere Dutemps ' again." 
 He turned to that page, which contains the 
 greatest compassion that can enter the heart of man, 
 and is the sublimity of sadness. He could not con- 
 tinue the reading. Tears choked his voice. And yet, 
 he had made six copies for the papers. I have not 
 forgotten those tears, if Saint- Victor has. I hold them 
 in tender memory, for they honor him. 
 
 Saint- Victor seemed to have an affection for me. 
 
 In Paris, when we left Lamartine's at noon, we 
 often met Pelletan. How many long walks we had 
 in the gardens of the Luxembourg, and in the Champs 
 Elysees, where one was the peripatetic philosopher, 
 and the other, the marvellous sophist. Suddenly, 
 and without a cloud coming between us, our acquain- 
 tance ceased. I was ready then to love him, and I 
 have never ceased to admire him. 
 
 \
 
 !88 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 That day at Saint-Point, he was doing a humilia- 
 ting work. Lamartine had just written almost breath- 
 lessly. " L'Histoire de la Revolution de 1848." It 
 was too soon. The events were not sufficiently cold. 
 One would have said, that he felt the need of justi- 
 fying his heroism, but there was another motive in 
 this precipitation of which I speak. A curious idea 
 had taken possession of him a reform in punctuation. 
 He found that periods often interrupted the flow of 
 a phrase and thought that when the idea was not 
 completely finished, the new sentence should begin 
 with a small letter. 
 
 Saint-Victor was charged with this subtle modi- 
 fication which, after all, Lamartine subsequently re- 
 nounced. At that time as I say, Saint -Victor was 
 erasing capitals from the proofs and the work irritated 
 him. 
 
 " This will drive me crazy," said he, " I have 
 already fifty pages to revise, and ten thousand semi- 
 colons to put in." 
 
 I offered to aid him. It was a great labor. The 
 interest of the book constantly distracted us, and after 
 reading a page, we were obliged to go back and cor- 
 rect. We talked too. I asked him, if he had an idea 
 of going into the diplomatic corps, under Lamartine's 
 influence, as was the report. 
 
 " No," said he, " I am happy enough in serving, 
 disinterestedly, a great man who has fallen. Besides
 
 FOREBODINGS 
 
 189 
 
 the dictator of a few months ago, could not give the 
 position of tobacconist to-day. Genius has no credit 
 with the mediocrity in power. And, moreover Lam- 
 artine is a ruined man." 
 
 He looked thoroughly convinced of this. I had 
 heard warnings of this catastrophe so many times, 
 that I was indignant. 
 
 " You are not yet accustomed to the tone of this 
 house," said I. " M. de Lamartine proclaims his 
 ruin every morning, at the breakfast-table, before his 
 servants, whom he pays regularly, and five minutes 
 afterwards, he will give five hundred francs to any 
 one who will ask for it." 
 
 " If I seem to speak indiscreetly to you, whom I 
 do not know, it is because you are devoted to him 
 even to death, and because I have seen this misfor- 
 tune in all its enormity. You are in a better position 
 than I to risk advice. Some one must prevail upon 
 M. de Lamartine, not to buy any more wine, and to 
 spend only his income. This book has brought ten 
 thousand francs," added he, showing me the proofs, 
 " and would be worth quite as much, without the re- 
 formed punctuation/' 
 
 The conversation continued full of solicitude. 
 
 I insert here a parenthesis to tell what I know of 
 the many ways, which led so fatally to misfortune. 
 
 Lamartine had five sisters, and the paternal patri- 
 mony was very restricted. He was rich, not on ac-
 
 190 
 
 .LAMART1NE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 count of his talent but by right of primo geniture, 
 through the legacies of his aunts and uncles be- 
 queathed to him during a period of twenty years. It 
 mattered not to these clingers to the ancient regime, 
 that the heir was celebrated. All they thought of, 
 was the perpetuity of the name. Is it continuing a 
 name, when one adds to it in such enormous propor- 
 tions? This once humble family of gentle folks, was 
 now known all over Europe. This was only a second- 
 ary consideration to Lamartine's ancestors. 
 
 These donors were no benefactors. Each trans- 
 mitted domain was taxed with a fabulous number of 
 legacies to all the sisters, and nieces. Lamartine in- 
 creased them. The land was sold, and the receipts 
 were seldom sufficient to pay the charges. Lamar- 
 tine borrowed; thus, the more his ancestors enriched 
 him, the more they ruined him. The heart was the 
 constant destroyer of the fortune. 
 
 These little provincial nobles were a singular caste, 
 throughout the kingdom. They knew enough of 
 light poetry to quote to a pretty partner, over the 
 game of Boston. 
 
 Whatever might have been their religious theory, 
 their practice was exceedingly narrow. They were 
 positively ignorant of the Gospel, and laughed im- 
 moderately over the Catechism. 
 
 They sent their nephews to the Jesuitical school, 
 and their nieces to the little convent. They held
 
 A MUSE WITHOUT TALENT. ICj l 
 
 their family name in profound respect, but it all con- 
 centrated in the eldest son. The younger sons were 
 sent out into the world to care for themselves, and 
 they never murmured. So, good and amiable as these 
 ancestors may have been, they were no less destroy- 
 ers. The first disaster was the inheritances, which 
 completely failed in their end, and the second was 
 the great prodigality, and insatiable generosity of the 
 heir. He felt that he had royal blood in his veins, 
 at a time when kings were not speculators. I never 
 saw him give anything but gold to the poor on the 
 street. 
 
 I remember one characteristic, which, though a 
 fault, was frequently repeated. 
 
 One day I was in his cabinet, in rue de 1'Univer- 
 sit. He was reading some important political article 
 and was hurrying to go to the Assembly. His ser- 
 vant brought in a card. 
 
 " Here is that again !" he exclaimed. One of 
 his inherited habits was to swear in private. 
 
 " Shall I tell her that you are not here," said I. 
 " Who is the woman ? " 
 
 " A Muse without talent. She annoys me with her 
 Alexandrines. She spends at the theatre all the 
 money that she can extort from fools." 
 
 " Send her away," said I. 
 
 " That is what I am going to do." 
 
 He opened a little closet in the chimney. I saw 

 
 192 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 a basket full of gold and bank notes. He took one 
 of them of one thousand francs, and gave it to his 
 servant, saying, 
 
 " Tell her never to come again, and give this 
 money cautiously." 
 
 This was his mode of sending away importunate 
 people. 
 
 The three months of government cost him one 
 hundred and sixty thousand francs. Thus, he sur- 
 reptitiously disarmed the rioters who were exciting 
 Paris, and sending the Republic to perdition. I un- 
 derstand now why he called himself a lightning-rod. 
 
 His last borrowed capital was devoted to public 
 service. And naturally for years, the reactionary 
 newspapers announced that Lamartine had stolen 
 two millions during the time that he had control of 
 affairs. His only foolish expenditure was his voyage 
 in the Orient, and yet he sold the book that he 
 brought back, for one hundred thousand francs. His 
 household expenses was never more than forty thou- 
 sand francs a year. He owned many horses when he 
 lived in the country, but none of them were valuable. 
 His hospitality was great and incessant; his table fur- 
 nished abundantly but simply. 
 
 His vinedressers brought quantities of fowls and 
 waffles. " I live upon their presents," he used to say 
 but he never added, that he regularly paid two and 
 three times their value. His personal wants were
 
 A MISTAKE OF GENIUS. 
 
 193 
 
 very moderate. His charities alone dug the pit that 
 engulfed him, and during his most disastrous years, he 
 would submit to no reduction here. 
 
 As a young man, Lamartine's resources were very 
 small, and from the time that he had cared for him- 
 self, he had lived side by side with debt. He formed 
 a system from his experience. When his affairs 
 seemed to be in a little better condition he said to me. 
 
 " I shall now arrange so as always to have two 
 hundred thousand francs of debt. In individuals as 
 well as in governments, debt is the necessary stimu- 
 lant to production." 
 
 On this subject he was always paradoxical. He, 
 who so rarely admitted that he was a genius in any 
 thing, thought himself a brilliant financier, and this 
 is why, in spite of the many prudent entreaties on 
 the part of his dearest friends, that he never would 
 suffer any interference in his affairs. Friends like 
 Pereire and Mires, thoroughly disinterested and 
 skilful financial managers ; others, experienced ad- 
 ministrators, M. Edward Dubois, Charles Rolland, 
 and M. Chamborre proposed twenty times, to recon- 
 struct a fortune out of what remained, with the 
 reservation that he should sell a part of his lands, and 
 that he should buy no more wine from his vintagers. 
 
 Lamartine smiled at these affectionate offers, but 
 in his heart, revolted at any intervention between 
 him and debt.
 
 194 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The enormous sums realized from his writings 
 only caused illusions. He always believed that with 
 the next success, which came annually, he would be 
 able to raise the mortgages on his property. He had 
 a superstitious tenderness for his lands. Milly held 
 a large place in his heart, by the recollection of boy- 
 hood, and as his birthplace, was sacred to him. 
 Perhaps there was a consciousness of his prodigality 
 in this resolution to preserve his lands. He wanted 
 to leave an inheritance as his uncles had done, as 
 well as a guarantee for his creditors. Meanwhile he 
 loaded himself with mortgages, thinking to raise them 
 by doubling his work. At last, he was forced to sell 
 Milly. It was heart-rending. He. thought himself 
 guilty of disloyalty to his tenantry, in giving them 
 another master, and, that he had desecrated the 
 family tombs by giving away his cradle. In 1849 at 
 one of his most critical periods, I heard him refuse 
 to take for Monceaux, three times the sum that was 
 obtained after his death. 
 
 There was a sadder reason for his obstinacy than 
 the affection for his lands. 
 
 His purchase of wines. 
 
 This is the local custom. The proprietors of the 
 Maconnais, in years of failure, advance money to 
 their vinedressers. This debt is paid by the follow- 
 ing vintage, as one half of the product belongs to the 
 vinedresser, and is his capital.
 
 HIS METHOD WITH THE VINTAGERS. 195 
 
 This arrangement is perfectly correct, and irre- 
 proachable. Lamartine found that he could borrow 
 no longer. The vintages then became his desperate 
 resource. He bought, sometimes a thousand casks 
 of wine, on credit, at a high price, and sofd them for 
 cash, at a loss. In this way he could touch the 
 money at once. 
 
 This man, who had shown himself so skilful in 
 adjusting and equalizing the different questions of 
 the constitution : and who was extravagant for all 
 the fine points of honor, never suspected that he was 
 committing an enormity before the law. His conso- 
 lation for his losses was, that he enriched his villages. 
 The peasants who served him at Saint-Point and at 
 Monceaux are now capitalists. 
 
 There were, of course, delays in payment. The 
 interest gradually absorbed more than the income. 
 Lamartine was frightened and hence, the prodigious 
 work of the last twenty years of his life. 
 
 Without mentioning " L'Histoire de la Restaura- 
 tion," some parts of which are equal to " Les Giron- 
 dins," and is the most forcible argument against the 
 First Empire ; nor " Genevieve," nor Raphael, two 
 master-pieces; nor " L'Histoire de la Turquie," in 
 which we find a biblical Mahomet ; nor " L'Histoire 
 de la Russie ; " he undertook three immense publi- 
 cations. " Le Conseiller du peuple," " Le Civiliza- 
 teur," and l< Le Cours de Litterature.'' This last
 
 I9 6 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 work, thanks to manuscripts left, appeared within a 
 few months. The sale of his works was unparalleled. 
 He was enabled to reclaim some of his lands. But 
 the frost attacked his vines. Every decreasing degree 
 of temperature carried away millions of francs. Credi- 
 tors began to harass him. Some friend suggested a 
 national subscription, such as England had raised to 
 recompense Cobden and O'Connell. Lamartine was 
 furious. 
 
 "7!" he exclaimed, "I! hold out my hat for 
 pennies ! I would rather shoot myself! " 
 
 Alas ! it was then, as a subterfuge, that he thought 
 of an edition of his works, published by himself, by 
 which he could make a direct appeal to France and 
 America. France, where every literary man already 
 had a complete edition of Lamartine, did not respond 
 well. The Americans as I have said before, had never 
 forgiven him for not coming to see them. The re- 
 ceipts did not cover the expense of publication. 
 Lamartine had a blind confidence in advertisements, 
 and spent immense sums for them alone. 
 
 Every succeeding year wore more heavily upon 
 him, still, there were occasional gleams of hope. Turkey 
 was grateful for what he had written about Islamism. 
 He had also spoken on the Oriental question, several 
 times, with marked effect. He liked to believe that 
 he belonged to the pastoral races of the Caucasus, 
 and often said that the best of men inhabited Asia.
 
 THE SULTAN'S GIFT 
 
 I 9 7 
 
 The sultan Abdul-Medjid, as a testimony of his 
 gratitude as well as his desire to have a claim upon 
 the West by relieving one of its sons, ceded to 
 Lamartine, in consideration of his misfortunes, a 
 quarter of the province beyond Syria, for a period of 
 thirty years. The poet dreamed of ending his days 
 under the cedars, where David had sung. He in- 
 vited us, all to emigrate with him, and found a French 
 Colony, under the true sun. In the magnificent 
 concession, he saw ten times the amount of his 
 debts, in France. 
 
 " All of you must be more or less involved," said 
 he to us, jestingly. " Come with me. We will divide 
 the promised land." 
 
 He sent Charles Rolland, as agent to Constanti- 
 nople, who acquitted himself honorably in the mission. 
 
 Lamartine could not cultivate this newly-acquired 
 territory alone, and an English Company offered to 
 take it, giving three hundred thousand or four hun- 
 dred thousand francs a year, for the privilege. The 
 Divan was disturbed at the thought of this immigra- 
 tion. He wanted the honor of Lamartine alone, 
 and not a British Association, and consequently, he 
 refused to authorize the company. 
 
 M. and Mme. de Lamartine set out for Constanti- 
 nople. They urged me to go with them. I have 
 always repented not having accepted. I have since 
 seen the Orient, but with Lamartine, it would have
 
 198 
 
 LAMARTTNE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had another color. That journey was unsuccessful. 
 M. de Champeaux died on the voyage. They were 
 obliged to abandon all their hopes upon their arrival 
 at Constantinople, for the Sultan was inflexible. He 
 did not take back the grant, but rented it for twenty 
 years at thirty thousand francs. This price, by ex- 
 change, was reduced one third, and the balance was 
 extremely insufficient for the interests of the debts. 
 
 Lamartine had no other resource now, but in 
 financial combinations. We knew that it was not 
 for himself that he sought fortune so perseveringly. 
 The ignorant public condemned him, justly, according 
 to appearances. 
 
 I come now to the most lamentable part of his 
 life, where he placed himself in an equivocal position. 
 The abominable seizures of property, by the very 
 men who had lived upon his bounty ; the harsh legal 
 processes of expropriation ; flagrant ingratitude and 
 sordid cupidity, tormented him at every step. He 
 ran from one extremity to another, with incessant 
 appeals for subscribers to the " Cours de Literature," 
 and with the bait of a lottery, that poorly disguised 
 a subscription. 
 
 A friend assisted him, materially, in this painful 
 task, and was a witness of the generosity and great- 
 ness, remaining in his humiliation and decay. Louis 
 Ulbach may tell, sometime, of that long campaign 
 in mortifications and refusals.
 
 MONE Y DIFF1CUL TIES \ 99 
 
 Lamartine was partly to blame, but the most 
 guilty was the country. 
 
 Lamartine could not comprehend why the 
 country did not help him in his season of distress, 
 when he had opened his hand so generously for 
 her. He knew at what price of pain, and almost 
 despairing eloquence, he had saved Paris and 
 France by the Republic. He was so free from 
 selfish interest, that I cannot doubt, that in the 
 multiplicity of his appeals, there entered a desire to 
 give his country a chance to wash its hands of in- 
 gratitude. 
 
 He had, as I have said, an exaggerated ambition 
 to leave an estate to his dear family, and not to cause 
 the loss of a penny to his vinedressers, who were 
 now his creditors. 
 
 Thus the vine was his ruin. 
 
 As he well said at one time " it was the green cloth 
 of the gaming table." 
 
 For ten years, not to die insolvent, this insatiably 
 generous man, who was so abstemious that he could 
 have lived on the vegetables of the Brahmins, with 
 only a simple fire of vine-fagots, by his pen alone, 
 made for himself a reputation for cupidity. This 
 prodigal in alms-giving, this nature so simple in its 
 grandeur, passed for a spendthrift or a miser in the 
 general opinion of the world. We had to submit to 
 the reproaches of outsiders. His justification was
 
 20O LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 too long and too psychological. Politically it was 
 majestically imposing. 
 
 I must tell the truth, not to say justice, of a gov- 
 ernment even if I hate it. 
 
 The Empire offered many times, to pay Lamar- 
 tine's debts. At first, under condition of accepting 
 a place in the Senate, and the presidency, and 
 afterwards without conditions. Lamartine did not 
 degrade himself by falling into the snare. The Em- 
 pire was willing that he should be on the opposition. 
 
 He refused. 
 
 These offers were renewed for several years, and 
 always with exquisite delicacy, for M. de La Guer- 
 roniere was the mediator. They were made to 
 Lamartine too, in his darkest days. Sick and ex- 
 hausted by his struggles with his creditors, and con- 
 scious of the scornful pity, that he had heaped upon 
 himself, by his useless appeals, he always refused, 
 unhesitatingly, in the same firm voice, and never 
 descended to bitterness to chastise an offensive gen- 
 erosity. He surpassed Cincinnatus in pride, and was 
 still worthy of his great name. Had his name borne 
 only a literary signification, it may be, that he would 
 have sacrificed it to save his creditors, but in it, he 
 caused the Republic of the past to be respected, and 
 preserved the Republic of the future. 
 
 The man of February could not be the pensioner 
 of the man of December.
 
 MONE Y DIFFSCUL TIES. 2O I 
 
 God strikes upon the loftiest height to prove that 
 the most perfect creature does not reach perfection 
 here below, and that other trials await him, before 
 the final purification. 
 
 Lamartine, who for thirty years had wrapped 
 himself in all the mantles of fame, showed himself 
 too plainly under the rags of misfortune. He made 
 an exhibition of his misery, and reproached his coun- 
 try as if for a national injustice. 
 
 The long years of his old age, were devoted to 
 the feverish pursuit of money, but it was to increase 
 his prodigality by the power of giving more. I must 
 be just to the loyal friends who stood by him. Not 
 one turned from the path of Belisarius. A circle of 
 subscribers were faithful to the Cours de Litterature. 
 Although harassed almost beyond endurance, Lamar- 
 tine never knew material constraint. He reduced 
 his household expenses, considerably, but never re- 
 nounced his hospitality, nor his charities. 
 
 His revenues from Turkey, the modest income 
 of Mme. de Lamartine from England, the Cours d-e 
 Litterature, the books sold, and the vintages from 
 his reduced property, would have made a handsome 
 living for any one else. What remained after paying 
 the first debts, would have been enough for a liquid- 
 ation. Before his intelligence was clouded, he knew 
 that the event of his death might cause regret, but 
 no one would suffer pecuniarily.
 
 2Q2 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 That admirable woman Mile, de Valentine de 
 Cessiat Lamartine, his niece, has sold the property 
 and paid all indebtedness. By great personal sacri- 
 fice, she has bought Saint-Point, where she, hospita- 
 bly, opens the door to all who come to warm them- 
 selves in the home, where once shone the light of a 
 great man.
 
 XV. 
 
 Recollections of Paris. 
 
 IN my many gleanings in the furrows of this fertile 
 life, I find numerous sheaves to bring upon these 
 pages, as they come, dry or dead, to my memory. 
 
 I do not know the dates of my harvests. 
 
 The seeds that I throw to the wind, will germinate 
 in the fields of another, where perhaps the sun will 
 shine more brightly, than on mine. 
 
 I want to tell of Lamartine in the streets of Paris, 
 where I often accompanied him. During the sessions, 
 and in the absence of a regular secretary, I was proud 
 to serve him, officially. My duties were limited. I 
 never copied for him. That work was for those whom 
 he could pay. Every day, I replied to five or six let- 
 ters, which I carried to him the next day to sign, 
 This he often did without reading them. So I have, 
 unintentionally, sent false autographs to many happy 
 individuals, who must have thought that Lamartine 
 had a very poor epistolary style, and an equally poor 
 penmanship. 
 
 I have, doubtless, been the cause of many heart- 
 beatings, for almost always my replies were to en- 
 thusiastic verses, or collections of poetry sent to the
 
 2O4 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 master. Sometimes they were declarations of love, 
 addressed to the lover of Graziella and Elvira, whis- 
 pering soul-confidences, to a sexagenarian rejuvenated 
 by their admiration. I have learned from this task, 
 that women especially poetical woman, have a great 
 deal of audacity in their letters. 
 
 Lamartine replied to the most private letters him- 
 self. Those that I read came from convents where 
 the recluses sighed for liberty, or from provinces, too 
 far away to be compromised by these confessions. It 
 was some Elvira, sitting on the borders of a lake, 
 where the bark of Raphael never passed, or some 
 Laurence, languishing in the listless shadow of a clois- 
 ter, where the confessor never recalled a Jocelyn. 
 
 Lamartine begged me always to reply to these 
 by generalities and not to be discouraging. 
 
 " Ah ! if the flower of the soul had two blossom- 
 ings ! " as he says somewhere. 
 
 For a poet, he held to a system of good moral and 
 practical sense. He could not take time to read all 
 that was addressed to him, and send back good advice. 
 He would not stimulate mistaken vocations, nor mis- 
 lead the minds of unknown and sincere young people, 
 by false hopes of becoming poets, nor would he be 
 cold, and unsympathetic to enthusiasts. He either 
 read or listened to the reading of some part of the 
 collection, and then gave me some idea of his real im- 
 pression. I do not believe that thus I have ever
 
 WALK'S IN PARIS. 205 
 
 clipped the wings of a future Apollo, or developed 
 illusions by hypocritical praises in the mind of a can- 
 didate, who was not capable of taking a diploma. 
 
 Among other masters, Vigny and Beranger have 
 taken much pains to send back a conscientious ap- 
 preciation, in an article upon the book dedicated to 
 them. I have always had a profound admiration for 
 this exquisite honesty. It is true, that they were 
 not occupied with politics as Lamartine was. When 
 the Assembly was not in session, Lamartine would 
 take me for a long excursion, or for some visits. He 
 always walked until the latter part of his life, when he 
 employed a coup6. 
 
 These days were always full of enjoyment. He 
 breathed in his freedom, with full lungs, like a boy 
 just out of school. His visits were returned by card. 
 If he suspected that the lady was at home, he gave 
 me the card, and the concierge would salute me 
 very deferentially, probably, having imagined Lam- 
 artine quite a different sort of person. When there 
 was a certainty of absence, he. left his name, and ex- 
 pressed his regrets. His true visits were made in the 
 open air. If we met anyone whose face was familiar 
 (and whom did he not know ?) he would stop for a 
 long time, talking to them. One of those whom we 
 no longer meet, was Major P., the grandson of a great 
 painter, who was, and is yet, one of Lamartine's 
 truest friends. He has been in the United States for
 
 206 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 a long time. He is an American of tender and noble 
 
 character, who has given his best thoughts to 
 
 Liberty. 
 
 He used to be accompanied by a very young girl, 
 
 whom he introduced to Lamartine with moistened 
 
 eyes ; the pride of paternity shone in his tender look. 
 
 His whole conversation was of her and Liberty. 
 
 One day we met him alone. He was gloomy and 
 
 nervous. He walked like one condemned to death. 
 
 He gave us his confidence. His loyalty had been 
 surprised. A religious emissary had glided into his 
 house, and had stolen his child. Fanaticism had been 
 as merciless, and less excusable than passion. The 
 door of the convent had closed upon that smiling 
 youth. The daughter now loved another, more than 
 her father. God had been given the ferocity of a 
 Don Juan. The evil was without remedy. The vows 
 had been pronounced. The Jesuits had profited by 
 innocence. For a long time, the unhappy man wept 
 without knowing that he was in the street. There 
 was an eloquence in . grief so genuine. Lamar- 
 tine was more than paternal. He offered to go to 
 that " house of God," where God was so manifestly 
 absent, and bring the stolen lamb back to her fold. 
 A thunder of indignation burst from him, against 
 these impious sequestrations, and bigoted visits from 
 convents. He demanded before heaven, the natural 
 claims of a father. He had all the holy revoltings of
 
 MAJOR P. 207 
 
 John Huss, and the sarcasm of Luther, against 
 Catholicism. If Major P. could have been consoled, 
 he would have found relief in these words. But a 
 father does not avenge himself upon his child. 
 
 He thanked Lamartine, but would not compro- 
 mise him by a useless intervention. The stone does 
 not hear. Devotion has ears of stone. 
 
 I never shall forget this scene. The noisy street ; 
 the strongman bowed down under the unrelenting 
 hand of the Church ; the orator powerful as a Bossuet 
 for combating it, and gentle as a Christ, for curing 
 its evils. 
 
 Major P. will pardon me for betraying his sorrow 
 which is still severe, but his unhappiness shows a 
 social danger of which I must warn other fathers. 
 
 I often went with Lamartine to visit the studios. 
 As he only went among masters, and desired to meet 
 them, he did not play the game of cards at their door. 
 
 Preault was one of his favorites. His broadly 
 sculptured marbles, showed a strong thought, rather 
 than delicacy of outline, but .his perfectly chiselled 
 words remain, and make the fortune of those who 
 sell them. 
 
 Once he said of Pradier ; 
 
 " He goes every morning to Athens, and comes 
 every evening to rue de Breda." 
 
 He collected a great many thoughts to unroll 
 before Lamartine, who was no longer brilliant every
 
 208 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 day, but would respond with exuberance if the right 
 chord was touched. 
 
 Sometimes we went to see Delaroche, and also 
 Gudin, who probably does not remember the young 
 man who used to follow Lamartine. I had a letter 
 of introduction to Delaroche when he was at Rome. 
 I can still see his house in the Pincian quarter, and 
 the little salon where the gallant Monsignori used 
 to search for the sketches of the beautiful ladies and 
 devotees, belonging to a society, which has now dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 M. Delaroche had a great kindness for me, un- 
 known as I was to him, but for Lamartine his wel- 
 come was the refinement of good taste. In later 
 years, he modified his style in painting. A few 
 months before his death, which surprised him too 
 soon for great renown, he said to Lamartine ; 
 
 " I am busy writing my Meditations," and led 
 him before those marvellous works, relating the New 
 Testament stories in all their biblical simplicity. 
 Lamartine appreciated the inspirations in the man- 
 gers, and holy homes, but perhaps he did not like 
 the comparison Delaroche had dared to make. 
 
 He said to me as we went away ; 
 
 " These may be Meditations, but Love is the one 
 thing lacking." 
 
 We would, then, go to Adam Salomon's. He 
 always had something to do at Lamartine's. He
 
 ADAM SALOMON. 2OQ 
 
 walked, and talked art and sculpture, with Mme. de 
 Lamartine. Lamartine promised to give a sitting 
 for a medallion. Salomon also succeeded in gaining 
 a promise for a photograph. Every thing should be 
 pardoned him, for he has modelled the most beau- 
 tiful bust extant of Lamartine, and sent to the tomb 
 at Saint-Point a fine monumental statue of Mme. de 
 Lamartine. Salomon has always been an artist, and 
 has preserved his individuality, even in working a 
 machine. He has gained a fortune with his camera, 
 and has not spoiled his artistic touch by dabbling 
 with collodium. His greatest success is little known. 
 Lamartine detested a photograph, which he regarded, 
 with some reason, as a negation of thought. Never- 
 theless, there are photographers who are artists. 
 The fanatically pure and simple, scorn the re-touch. 
 I have always suspected the successful of practising 
 this art in secret. Lamartine, however, liked Adam 
 Salomon very much, although he despised his busi- 
 ness beyond measure, and Salomon allowed him to 
 say so. 
 
 One day he brought to Lamartine two portraits. 
 They were as delicate, as the canvass of Lawrence, 
 and inspired, as the heads of Ingres. 
 
 Lamartine had one hour of delight. 
 
 Then Salomon put the pen into his hand, and 
 dictated to him for the " Cours de Litterature," a 
 recommendation for his studio of Photography. I
 
 210 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 do not believe that any one ever attained a result 
 apparently so hopeless. 
 
 In going from Salomon's, we passed by rue Co- 
 quenard, now rue Lamartine. I was astonished that 
 the ugliest street in Paris, should bear the most 
 beautiful name in history. 
 
 " It is a delightful joke," said Lamartine. " You 
 have often seen a young artist called Tourreau, at 
 our friends, Adolphe de La Tour's ? " 
 
 " Certainly, he was a young man of talent." 
 
 " He had the misfortune to live in rue Coquenard. 
 When, pushed to the last extremity, he was obliged 
 to give his address, he used to swear. He tore the 
 leaf, bearing the name, out of his pocket-book. He 
 would not admit that an artist's canvass could be 
 found in such a street. It became a mania with him, 
 and the misfortune was, that he liked his studio, 
 and could not bear to move. February came. He 
 welcomed it with acclamation, but only for personal 
 considerations. It was not the freedom of his coun- 
 try, but his own freedom that he saw. All night of 
 the twenty fifth and twenty sixth he worked. He 
 painted on tin, first, a dark blue ground and then put 
 in white letters ' Rue Lamartine.' Before daylight, 
 he took a ladder, and nailed these plates at every 
 corner of the street. Those who went to sleep in rue 
 Coquenard, awoke in rue Lamartine. There was not 
 a single protestation. My name had more resonance
 
 SA INTE-DE UVE. 211 
 
 than that of the poor citizen Coquenard, with whom 
 the reactionary newspapers so amiably confounded 
 me, two months afterwards. I learned of my new 
 glory, the next morning, at the Hotel-de-Ville. My 
 friends laughed heartily, and applauded the substi- 
 tution. O, unrolling of destinies ! My name is now 
 unpopular, but familiar to the coachmen. All that 
 remains of me, in the Revolution of February, is that 
 I replace M. Coquenard." 
 
 Another day we were walking in one of the little 
 streets, now obliterated, leading from the Hotel-de- 
 Ville to Palais Royale. 
 
 " Look down that passage," said Lamartine. " I 
 have witnessed an almost incredible scene there. I 
 will tell it to you alone, but after I am dead you may 
 publish it, for it is historical. I would never have 
 spoken of it, if Sainte-Beuve had not attached himself 
 to the Empire, and if he did not insult the men of the 
 Revolution every day. Remember this. It was in 
 the first days of March 1848, when I was drinking 
 in great draughts of popularity, having just escaped 
 the draught of hemlock. I was walking down the 
 
 O O 
 
 square. Every body recognized me, saluted and fol- 
 lowed me. Sainte-Beuve was passing, and putting 
 himself in front of the procession, took my arm. He 
 was suspected of clericalism then, though not long 
 after, he went over to Atheism. His monkish face 
 displeased the crowd. I do not know whether he
 
 212 LAMAR TINE A ND HIS FRIEND S. 
 
 heard the murmurs, or imagined them. He dragged 
 me along. Night was falling. He pushed me into 
 that passage to hide himself. The people outside 
 were crying, " Vive Lamartine," and " Vive la Re- 
 publique," but there were no menaces. Then, I had 
 the most lamentable spectacle. Sainte-Beuve crazy 
 with fear, almost knelt to me, crying, " Save me ! 
 You have made them lay down their arms ! " 
 
 " Yes, I have seen that grace of mind, that ele- 
 gance of style, that Athenian purist, kneeling on 
 these slimy pavements ! Joseph Delorme has kissed 
 my hands ! " 
 
 This was a painful revelation, and destroyed my 
 past admiration. Sainte-Beuve had a strong talent 
 in a weak character. I give this to the public as I 
 have beerr commanded and it is important that history 
 should know, that Sainte-Beuve was the only serious 
 man of letters, that the Empire can boast of having 
 seduced. 
 
 The house has been destroyed. May the shame 
 disappear from that memory, with the stones that 
 heard his cry ! 
 
 Sainte-Beuve has made a fine courageous speech 
 in the Senate. His liberalism of the last year has 
 been his repentance. Such repentances are accepted 
 in the heaven of the Republic. Lamartine often went 
 with me to see Adrien Decourcelle, who had drama- 
 tized a part of GenevieVe. I had the pleasure of in-
 
 ADRIEN DECOURCELLE, 
 
 213 
 
 troducing them. Lamartine highly esteemed a genius 
 so essentially French, from which was to come that 
 ingenious " Dictionaire de Docteur Gregoire," that 
 might have borne the signature of Rivarol or Se" vigne. 
 
 I am sure that the recollection of these rare visits 
 are dearer to Decourcelle, than the memory of his 
 most successful representation. 
 
 One circumstance brought Decourcelle very near 
 to Lamartine. He had been presented after the 
 success of the drama, but the subsequent interviews 
 were rare ; they were, however, frequent enough to 
 rouse an enthusiasm which soon showed its generosity. 
 It was at the time of the first appearance of the 
 " Cours de Litterature." Decourcelle had followed 
 with passionate ardor the consul who had touched 
 gold every where, and had come from Rome with 
 empty hands. He exerted himself, to get subscrib- 
 ers. He came to Lamartine's house, rue de la Ville 
 d'Eveque, and gave Mme. Gresset the price of fifty 
 subscriptions. He was about to give the names, when 
 the astonished Mme. Gresset, not knowing this ad- 
 mirer, insisted upon speaking to M. de Lamartine. 
 Decourcelle was sent for. It may be that Lamartine 
 had not manifested much sympathy for the dramatist 
 of Genevieve, and Decourcelle had noticed it. 
 
 "You take fifty subscriptions?" said Lamartine 
 " are they for yourself? '' 
 
 " I wish that my gratitude could afford such a 

 
 214 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 luxury," replied Decourcelle, " but I must acknowl- 
 edge that I have forty-nine friends, who, every month, 
 share with me the pleasure of reading your publica- 
 tion." 
 
 " ' Forty-nine ! ' The best friend I have, has never 
 brought more than seven. You must have taken a 
 great deal of trouble.' " 
 
 " I have run about a little, but the doors have 
 opened easily. I have my ' sesame.' " 
 
 Lamartine could not resist kissing the loyal face 
 of our friend, who from that time was among the least 
 platonic and most faithful. 
 
 Thus we went on, tasting at all the springs of 
 genial spirits, sometimes at Michelet's, sometimes at 
 Emile de Girardin's but most frequently at M. de 
 Chamborran's and Dupont-White's. 
 
 M. de Chamborran, a legitimist and clerical had 
 no point in common with Lamartine except the heart. 
 In spite of the principles separating them, the devo- 
 tion of M.de Chamborran was strong and true to the 
 end. He was so firm in his faith, that Lamartine 
 always enjoyed their discussions. He, who often 
 converted whole assemblies never could change M. de 
 Chamborran. This fidelity delighted him, and was 
 an unerring augury for other qualities. 
 
 M. Dupont-White was writing for the " Bien Pub- 
 lic " of Paris. His very remarkable articles have since 
 then become books, and have taken a high place.
 
 THE MILLANDS. 
 
 21$ 
 
 It is impossible to find the question of Political Econ- 
 omy, treated with more ability. 
 
 These two friends followed Lamartine assiduously 
 through life, and follow him in death, though happily 
 we still have them with us. 
 
 The " Conseilleur du Peuple," had established in- 
 timate relations between Lamartine and M. M. Mires 
 and Millaud who were the proprietors. M. de Mil- 
 laud had a capital of five hundred francs, when he 
 proposed the scheme to Lamartine, who helped him 
 gain more than a million to divide with Mires. In 
 the first degree of fortune, Millaud permitted the 
 luxury of gold-bowed spectacles. Arriving at the top 
 of the ladder he owned a house garnished with the 
 same precious metal. 
 
 I often went there, with Lamartine during an 
 afternoon. Mme. Millaud, by her beautiful golden 
 hair, was in harmony with her surroundings. She 
 had a Parisian smile on the lips of an oriental Jewess. 
 Lamartine used to say, that he thought of her as 
 the Queen of Sheba when she went to visit King Sol- 
 omon. 
 
 Coming from Mme. Millaud's, we passed directly 
 by the house of M. Thiers, Place Saint-Georges. I 
 had a great desire to see this illustrious man, which 
 would have been still greater, had I foreseen him on 
 the threshold of a Republic, out of which he will 
 doubtless have the honor of founding an imperishable
 
 2 1 6 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FR I ENDS. 
 
 edifice. As we passed the gate, Lamartine cast a 
 glance among the trees, but did not enter. 
 
 One day when he was in a confidential mood, I 
 said to him. 
 
 " Why do you never go to see M. Thiers ? " 
 
 " We were on the point of exchanging shots at 
 the foot of the tribune at one time, and that rather 
 hinders me from telling Thiers what I think of him." 
 
 " I am always surprised that you read everything 
 that he writes, with so much interest," said I. " His 
 style is so different from yours." 
 
 " My dear boy, opposites attract. In my younger 
 days, I was only drawn towards the women of the 
 Caucasian race, yet the world made me a descendant 
 of the Celts. Thiers reaches his profundity by his 
 wonderful clearness, and when I spend a part of the 
 night, in reading those pages, as pellucid as the waters 
 of a lake, I am no more ready to come from them, 
 than to come from the waters of Lake Leman into a 
 summer's sun. Thiers is good sense crystallized. So 
 long as France has such a man, she will not be en- 
 tirely lost. I am too much of a hurna'nitarian, and 
 he is too much of a nationalist, but let the great 
 crisis come, and his patriotism has the right muscle 
 for raising the country ! " 
 
 I have always remembered this prophecy and in 
 my voting have felt a confidence imposed by the 
 recollection and a gratitude from the necessity,
 
 AN ILL USTRIO US A SSEMBL Y. 
 
 217 
 
 Not wishing to forget any one in this review, 
 where no one should be lacking to the rendezvous 
 of admiration and friendship, I come now to the 
 most remarkable. 
 
 Events are like dice and often throw men to- 
 gether by chance. I do not think there are many 
 examples of this as striking as the one which I shall 
 relate. 
 
 One Sunday morning in 1847, I went, according 
 to habit, to rue de 1'Universite' . Sunday was generally 
 given up to audiences, and I only passed through 
 without staying. I walked through the antechamber 
 and great cabinet, and opened Lamartine's door. 
 There were only three with him, but what a reunion ! 
 
 Chateaubriand, Beranger and Lamennais. All 
 upon the most intimate footing. Certainly, the three 
 most illustrious, and different men of a contempo- 
 raneous period. 
 
 In my imagination, I still seethe group. Chateau- 
 briand, with his great head, cold and firm, was sitting 
 on a little chair near the window. Beranger heavy 
 and massive, with long white hair, was standing by 
 the mantel-piece. Lamennais half concealed, was 
 almost lost in the corner of the divan, and Lamartine 
 was sitting on his bed, for want of a chair, trying to 
 keep down the grey-hounds, leaping upon him. 
 
 If a stranger had been asked which was Chateau- 
 briand, he would have pointed to Beranger, whose
 
 2 1 8 LAMAR TINE A ND HIS FRIEND .9, 
 
 patriarchal forehead might have been the home of the 
 " Genie du Christianisme." 
 
 Chateaubriand came from the distant horizons of 
 legitimacy, upon which he often affected to turn his 
 back. Beranger had sung of " Lisette," and unfor- 
 tunately also of the Empire. Lamennais, a weak 
 though gigantic column of Ultramontanism, at this 
 time represented free thought in its most prophetic 
 expression, and the Revolution in its most absolute 
 Radicalism. He was timid in his sectarian charac- 
 teristics. Lamartine who pretended to be a Catholic 
 of the Restoration was soon to proclaim the Republic. 
 
 There had never been men more separated by 
 their antecedents, and there never could be an inti- 
 macy more imposing. 
 
 I had not power to open the door entirely. It 
 was a most enviable place for a witness and listener, 
 and I would have given a great deal to have heard 
 what they said. I was then only a child among these 
 old men and frightfully insignificant among men of 
 genius. My poor individuality would have totally 
 disappeared in so much radiance and my great dis- 
 proportion might have constrained them. I made a 
 sign to Lamartine, who encouraged me to enter. I 
 do not know whether I was courageous or afraid but 
 I closed the door and went away, thus lowering the 
 curtain upon one of the most remarkable scenes of 
 my life.
 
 CHA TEA UBRIAND. 
 
 219 
 
 All were not equal in genius, that word is too 
 grand for Be" ranger, but they possessed in themselves, 
 all the passions of their century. 
 
 What could they talk about, without tearing each 
 other ? Politics, philosophy or religion ? 
 
 They harmonized in courtesy, and so the concert 
 could not have a false note. 
 
 Certainly, the only sceptic there was Chateau- 
 briand.
 
 XVI 
 
 Arranging the Drama. 
 
 TN December 1849, at Cormatin, I received a let- 
 *- ter, as follows; 
 
 " Come with Boussin, and spend a fortnight at 
 Monceaux. I need you both to write some verses." 
 
 Hippolyte Boussin was a young man as talented 
 as he was idle, living in the same village with me, and 
 with whom I have spent my summers and autumns, 
 for the last twenty-five years. His indolence was 
 never visible in politics or friendship. 
 
 He was roused at the name of Lamartine, and his 
 trunk was soon ready. We could not comprehend 
 why we were sent for. 
 
 The author of the " Meditations " and " Jocelyn " 
 needed us to make rhymes ! 
 
 This enigma puzzled us through the thirty kilo- 
 metres separating Cormatin from Monceaux. It flat- 
 tered us too, for from another than Lamartine, we 
 should have felt that there was some subterfuge. 
 The chateau was illuminated. Fragrant odors came 
 from the kitchen. All the stoves sang. A great 
 case marked " Chevet," was in the vestibule. We 
 were invited to the wedding-feast of Gamache. But
 
 TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE 221 
 
 the poetry ? Were we to write madrigals for the 
 young ladies or was Mme. de Lamartine going to 
 hold a " Cour d'Amours ? " 
 
 We questioned the servants. 
 
 There were no guests at the chateau. 
 
 A great table was spread in the dining-room, 
 as when the sisters and nieces were assembled. 
 Lamartine was busy superintending arrangements, 
 and consulting with his butler as to the wines to be 
 served. 
 
 " You know that I am ruined," said he, as soon 
 as he saw us. 
 
 We knew it only too well, though at that moment 
 appearances were very strongly against it. 
 
 " This is what has happened. I have sold 
 " Toussaint 1'Ouverture," to Michel Levy and Mires 
 for thirty thousand francs." 
 
 "You have sold Toussaint?" I interrupted in 
 astonishment. I knew the grandeur and beauties of 
 this drama, and thirty thousand francs seemed almost 
 nothing, and with the added honor of the name of 
 the Founder of the Republic, its value was immeasur- 
 ably enhanced. 
 
 " I have sold him as his old master did," Lamar- 
 tine replied. " They want to begin rehearsing it, in a 
 month, at Porte-Saint-Martin, and the play is not yet 
 finished. An act and several scenes are lacking. We 
 shall have to hurry. Can you rhyme easily, Boussin ! "
 
 222 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I replied for my friend, whose modesty embar- 
 rassed him, and guaranteed a facility which hindered 
 him from working. 
 
 " Then we will look over the drama," continued 
 Lamartine. " Moderate your ardor, Boussin 1'Ouver- 
 ture. I expect Mires, Le" vy, and Frederick Lemaitre 
 this evening." 
 
 I was perplexed. I had seen the manuscripts, and 
 felt sure that there were already five acts to the 
 drama. 
 
 " Do you want to add a ' tableau ? ' " I asked. 
 
 Lamartine almost colored. 
 
 " No, but the fifth act is a little Shakespearian," 
 he replied. " These gentlemen are coming by post, 
 and they ought to be here, by this time." 
 
 " Perhaps, they got down at Macon to change 
 their dress." 
 
 " I hope not. We have every thing ready for 
 them here. Go and see if every thing is right in 
 Frederick Lemaitre's room. He is a capricious 
 genius." 
 
 The bells sounded in the avenue, and the travel- 
 lers soon made their appearance. There were four 
 of them; Frederick had brought his son Charles, who 
 was an actor of talent, and had appeared in several 
 dramas with my friend Charles Brot. He died two 
 years ago, of a cruel fever, in the full vigor of man- 
 hood. I only knew Frederick Lemaitre from having
 
 FREDERICK LEMAITRE. 223 
 
 applauded him in all his representations, since my 
 college days. He was one of the deities of our ro- 
 mantic Olympus. He has been without exception, 
 one of the most dazzling actors of our century, and 
 according to our fathers, could only have been sur- 
 passed by Talma. He has created types, which leave 
 an impression in the memory as distinct, as the 
 medallions we find in the museums. He has tran- 
 scended every possibility, in his impersonation of the 
 " Joueur," " Kean," "Richard Darlington," and 
 " Buridan." He rises to such a lyric height in " Ruy- 
 Blas," that he seems to improvise the immortal verses 
 of Victor Hugo, and the next day personifies, in a 
 character of scarcely respectable caprice, the greatest 
 audacity and impudence to be found in a class of 
 speculators. Since that time the Bourse has had an 
 unenviable reputation, and all the efforts of honest 
 men cannot wash out its stains. 
 
 There were the notes of a seraph in Frederick's 
 voice, and eloquence in every gesture. He has made 
 more feminine hearts beat than ever did Don Juan. 
 
 I recalled all this, as I saw him enter the gallery 
 at Monceaux. Don Caesar de Bazan, dressed in a 
 blue coat for the occasion, did not hold himself very 
 firmly on his legs. Lamartine intimidated him. 
 Mires followed. I must acknowledge, that so near 
 the author, one did not dream of Robert Macaire, 
 His relations with Lamartine, were through the " Con-
 
 224 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 seilleur du Peuple." He felt that he was needed and 
 yet was not at ease, in a house where " contre- 
 marques '' were not sold. 
 
 In spite of his acuteness, he neither foresaw his 
 immense fortune, nor his disasters, nor that he, a 
 Jew, would support the Pope, nor that his daughter 
 would marry a duke, nor that after, apparently hav- 
 ing made many dupes among his share-holders, his 
 courage and good-humor, in the face of those over- 
 whelming suits, which the more guilty escaped, would 
 be worth to him just as many faithful friends as he 
 had victims. He was more than loyal, in all his 
 relations with Lamartine. As I have said, he offered 
 to put himself at the head of Lamartine's affairs, arid 
 he would have saved him. He loved Lamartine 
 passionately, and there was almost a tenderness in 
 the contracts he made, and in the payments. 
 
 Many, undoubtedly, have gone through life more 
 scrupulously, but with fewer desires and efforts to 
 make themselves better. 
 
 The third comer, who was to amass a fortune also, 
 was the great publisher, Michel Levy. By paying 
 only the price of small pastries for books, he had 
 driven all the romances into the newspapers. Ob- 
 serving my intimacy with Lamartine, and knowing, 
 too, that I wrote, be offered his services, as publisher. 
 
 Six months later, I proposed to him, to publish 
 the romance " Henri de Bourbon," which had much
 
 FREDERICK LEMA I TRE. 2 2 5 
 
 increased the circulation of " L'Evenement." M. 
 Michel LeVy scarcely recognized me, and apparently 
 had forgotten his imprudent offer. Not so very im- 
 prudent, after all, for the romance, under the title of 
 " Le dernier Roi," has passed through several editions. 
 
 Lamartine led his guests to their rooms before 
 dinner, and here was the first incident. Frederick 
 announced that he would sleep at Macon, and would 
 come to Monceaux every morning. All observations 
 upon derangement and loss of time were useless. 
 
 Lamartine could insist no longer. He suspected 
 a travelling companion. But it was something else. 
 Mires and Levy accepted the entire hospitality. 
 Lamartine was very happy, and made all his guests 
 feel at ease. Gaiety was in order. Soon another 
 incident occurred, to disturb the serenity. Frederick 
 was drinking water. The reports concerning him 
 were false. 
 
 Lamartine passed him the wine of Lebanon and 
 Cyprus, of which he was so proud. 
 
 " I drink wine only in "Lucrezia Borgia " replied 
 Frederick, who appeared strangely preoccupied. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine believed the reports, and she 
 said, " Perhaps, you are in the habit of drinking other 
 wines." Frederick was embarrassed at so much 
 attention. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " Bordeaux." 
 
 " Why didn't you say so, at once," said Lamartine,
 
 226 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 " I have some that came from the Marquis de La- 
 grange : the most famous cellar of Medoc. John, 
 go and fetch it. ' 
 
 Frederick's embarrassment increased. . 
 
 " You are very good," said he. " I would not 
 disturb you for any thing. I would much rather have 
 this water. It is perfect." 
 
 " Do you suspect my Medoc ? " said Lamartine, 
 laughing. 
 
 Frederick was brave, however, and he continued, 
 "I feel on uncertain ground, and frankness is the most 
 beautiful virtue. For twenty years, I have drank 
 only a particular kind of Bordeaux." 
 
 " Tell me what it is, and I will have it brought." 
 
 " I have it in my carriage," said Frederick, in his 
 melodious voice. 
 
 He had brought his own wine ! ! ! 
 
 We tried not to laugh. 
 
 This, then, was the reason of his refusal to sleep at 
 Monceaux. He did not care to display his luxurious 
 habits, and preferred to bring his two bottles of Bor- 
 deaux, every day, and rely upon bribing a servant to 
 make the substitution without attracting attention. 
 
 The bottles were brought in. 
 
 " I have some soda-water too," said Frederick, 
 pointing to his syphon. 
 
 We observed that the syphon had not changed 
 its level, when the two bottles were emptied.
 
 FREDERICK LEMAJTRE. 22/ 
 
 Order was once more restored. 
 
 The cause of melancholy removed, Frederick be- 
 came genial though still a little stiff. The political 
 man subdued him. Had Lamartine only written the 
 " Meditations," Frederick would have "tutoyed " 
 him at the first interview. 
 
 Lamartine was careful to confine his conversation 
 to the theatre. Frederick talked thoughtfully and 
 sensibly of his profession, and related a few anecdotes 
 with a good deal of delicacy. The ladies did not find 
 him the Frederick they dreamed of. 
 
 When we were leaving the table, Lamartine said 
 to me, 
 
 " If I had known that it was to be so serious, I 
 would have invited the clergy." 
 
 After the cigars, a conspiracy of the nieces was 
 declared. 
 
 They wanted a scene from Robert Macaire. 
 
 " I have put on my most beautiful dress for it," 
 said Mme. de P., " You cannot refuse us." 
 
 Lamartine had the good taste not to urge. 
 
 Frederick was inflexible. He had not come to 
 appear in comedy. He was charged with the respon- 
 sibility of Lamartine's debut at Porte-Saint-Martin, 
 and had come to give advice, and to study his parts. 
 He could not pose as a harlequin. However, he 
 compensated for his refusal by relating more anec- 
 dotes, in which, in spite of himself, the marvellous
 
 228 LA MAR TINE A ND HIS FXIEND S. 
 
 artist appeared in every gesture and intonation. We 
 passed the evening as if at the theatre, and Mme. 
 de P., did not regret having put on her fine dress. 
 
 Lamartine gave us his manuscript, displaying as 
 it did, on the large leaves of vellum, his beautiful 
 penmanship. 
 
 " Cut it, add to it, and make it over," said he 
 to us. 
 
 Boussin and I were a little overpowered at this 
 confidence. It was imperative, and we were doing 
 him a favor. Lamartine was one, who could do 
 everything but correct his own work. 
 
 I took the first three acts, and Boussin, the last 
 two. The next morning, Lamartine came to us with 
 a very serious face. He read the famous suspected 
 act. 
 
 " What do you say of it ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is venturesome, and dangerous." I said. 
 
 The poet had had one of his most audacious in- 
 spirations, such as in " La Chute d'un Ange." 
 
 There were many beauties in it, though it was 
 very evident where the scene was laid. 
 
 We resolved not to touch this formidable act, and 
 so our work was accomplished, in a very few morn- 
 ings. We finished, here and there, an incomplete 
 verse, and added a few insignificant scenes, simply to 
 give clearness, and precision. Boussin had to his 
 account, thirty new lines, and I, sixty. They were
 
 FREDERICK LEMAITRE'S SCENE. 
 
 229 
 
 lost in the ocean of beautiful, and impassioned images. 
 From beginning to end, it was a cry of liberty from 
 the black race. 
 
 Lamartine declared that he was at the end of his 
 inventive resource, and having explained the diffi- 
 culty, he asked his three guests to give a little scene 
 for the unhappy act. Michel Levy, and Mires, with 
 good taste, acknowledged their incompetency, and 
 Frederick accepted the task. After three days of 
 concentration, he announced that he was satisfied with 
 what he had done. 
 
 The tribunal met again in Lamartine's cabinet, 
 Michel Levy, and Mires taking part. They repre- 
 sented the bank, and wanted to be sure that the cor- 
 rections had not compromised their thirty thousand 
 francs. 
 
 Frederick draped himself in a large cloak, and 
 read to us, a lifeless, spiritless nothing. 
 
 The wonderful actor was a poet, only before the 
 footlights. The scene would have been rejected as 
 too soporific, even by M. Bouilly, 
 
 The silence of the tomb followed the recitation, 
 Lamart.ine was in a tempest of rage, internally, and 
 without delay, put himself boldly to work. Eight 
 days later, the manuscript was complete, and we all 
 separated. 
 
 The most modest, and the most interesting per- 
 son of this group of counsellors, was Charles Lemai-
 
 230 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 tre, who betrayed his' future vocation, by his obser- 
 vations as an intelligent listener. His father's excel- 
 lent nature and persevering industry were spoiled by 
 an exaggeration of manner, but as a tragedian, he 
 was incomparable. 
 
 The preparations at Porte-Saint-Martin, dragged 
 along till the following spring. Lamartine, whom 
 the Assembly was absorbing for the last time, charged 
 Paul Saint-Victor and me with the direction of the 
 rehearsals. We were thrown into a theatrical world 
 upon which Saint-Victor was afterward to shed such 
 warm light by his criticisms, which were a course of 
 history, poetry, and eloquence. At that time, how- 
 ever, he was inexperienced, and in the darkness and 
 chill of that great hall, with only the uncertain, melan- 
 choly light of the half-hidden stage lamps, we sat in our 
 stalls, and had not authority enough to control anyone. 
 
 Frederick supplied our deficiencies. He was an 
 admirable manager and director. 
 
 Mile. Clarisse Miroy aided Lia F61ix, Rachel's 
 sister, who was a young debutante of sixteen. 
 
 When the responses were imperfectly given, Fred- 
 erick was magnificent in his anger, and tragic, in his 
 apostrophes. His good nature soon returned, and 
 his reprimands were visibly softened, He recited his 
 own role in a low tone. Sometimes, he studied an 
 effect, and he would startle us, as a lion that is trying 
 his roars. Lamartine only came to the last rehearsals.
 
 FIRST NIGHT OF THE DRAMA. 23! 
 
 Desplace was there, one evening, with Mme. de 
 Lamartine. 
 
 The poet, coming home late one night, said, 
 
 " I have just come from Porte-Saint-Martin, and 
 I am exhausted and bored. There is not the least 
 interest in the five acts. It will be a magnificent 
 failure." 
 
 He changed his mind, the night before the repre- 
 sentation. Frederick had been superb in the grand 
 monologue of Toussaint. The cries of a whole en- 
 slaved race were in the agonies of his voice. The 
 other actors were excellent, Michel Levy wept. 
 
 Lamartine went into the green room, to congratu- 
 late the actors. Clarisse Miroy came to meet him. 
 
 " Do not refuse my reward," she exclaimed, " and 
 let me say, that my lips have touched the brow of a 
 god." and she kissed Lamartine. 
 
 The signal was given. Lamartine also kissed Lia. 
 
 We brought in our claims of associates, and made 
 the tour of those charming faces. 
 
 The representation of this drama was the first 
 literary festival since 1848. The Republican party 
 had felt itself vanquished by the Reaction, but this 
 night of 1850, it gathered " en masse " at Porte-Saint- 
 Martin. The enthusiasts in art and poetry, who still 
 held to Lamartine, came in throngs. 
 
 Some of the scenes were successful beyond ex- 
 pectation. The great Homeric lines stood out in
 
 232 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 bold relief, and were applauded vociferously. There 
 seemed to escape from them, a current of electricity, 
 awakening the purest depths of the soul. The beau- 
 ties alone passed through the net work of the drama. 
 
 Lamartine was greeted as the great Emancipator. 
 We were certain from the first act, that the success 
 would be political. Lamartine was too lyrical for a 
 theatre. His stanzas required a temple. 
 
 The audience caught a glimpse of the poet behind 
 the grating of the box, and after the curtain had 
 fallen, cries of " Vive Lamartine " and Vive la Re- 
 publique," continued for half an hour, without ces- 
 sation. 
 
 The President's guard crowded into the corridors, 
 thinking that a new Provisionary Government was 
 about to be proclaimed. At two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, the Boulevards still resounded with these sedi- 
 tionary cries. Lamartine did himself too much justice 
 in his preface. " The drama has been forgotten. It 
 is the great comedian, who has been applauded. He 
 has surpassed himself, and I have been saved a fall, 
 that I merited and accepted, in advance. All is well." 
 
 What Lamartine failed to say was, that the drama 
 had thirty representations, and fully indemnified 
 Michel Levy and Mires. 
 
 The day after the first representation, I went to 
 congratulate Frederick. There was something that 
 I could not comprehend in his rendition, and I said
 
 FREDiVRICK LEMAITRE. 233 
 
 to him, " In the fifth act, when you are saying, that 
 the tiger has devoured the bodies of the white and 
 the black man. Why do you rest so long between 
 the two lines ; 
 
 " Et rougeant leurs deux corps de la tete aux orteils, 
 En leur otant la peau les avait faits pareils." 
 
 Frederick reddened and replied, " I will tell you, 
 and it will be a good thing for comedians to know, 
 and a warning against forming the compromising 
 habit that I have. Between the fourth and fifth 
 acts, I drank a bottle of Bordeaux, in order to sustain 
 the weight of a play that was going to fail. I was 
 actually asleep between those two lines. I even 
 dreamed. I never experienced such horror, as in 
 finding myself before the public when I awoke."
 
 XVII. 
 
 Saint-Point. 
 
 ~TTT~HILE Boussin and I were working upon the 
 VV corrections, we had seen coming into the 
 chateau, a tall young man, whose long light hair fell 
 over his shoulders, like the masters of the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 "That is another new secretary. You shall 
 know him." 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 
 " Charles Alexandre." 
 
 I thought for a moment. 
 
 " I know him already. I have read in the Brittany 
 newspapers some very flattering sketches of myself, 
 signed by him." 
 
 " He has written them because you belong to my 
 circle. I am his Brahma and his Bible. There was 
 no bond between us, still he has come two hundred 
 leagues, simply for the pleasure of being here. He 
 is rich, and gives himself to me as freely as the ocean 
 gives its waves to the Brittany shore. So, I insist 
 that our shore shall be hospitable to him." 
 
 The country has responded faithfully to Lamar- 
 tine's request. It has given a charming wife to
 
 CHARLES A LEX ANDRE. 235 
 
 Charles Alexandra, and sent him to the Assembly, as 
 a representative of the people of Bordeaux. 
 
 Charles Alexandre soon took a prominent place in 
 the household, and also in my affection. Mme. de 
 Lamartine recognized from the first, the poetic nature 
 and nobility of the Breton. He gained all hearts by 
 his frankness. At first he was a little abrupt, for he 
 never disguised a disapprobation. Profoundly spir- 
 itualistic, he knew how to make Mme. de Lamartine 
 understand that the Catholic annotations, added by 
 her trembling hand, spoiled the unity of Lamartine's 
 ideas. She was a woman of such intelligence and 
 good sense, that she thanked him for opposing her, 
 and she found in him an earnest cooperator in her 
 work. She was not even alarmed by those beautiful 
 verses, inspired by free thought, written on the death 
 of Lamannais. She felt that Alexandre had come 
 into a crumbling house only to keep away the lizards, 
 and prevent a stain upon its glory. He did not come 
 to Lamartine in his power, but waited till the twilight 
 of life was thickening, and brought to him the light 
 of a strong republican faith, and a passionate devotion. 
 However adverse his ideas were to hers, he continued 
 to be the intimate friend of Mme. de Lamartine's 
 declining years. There are no affections more last- 
 ing than those established by contradictions. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine showed wonderful elasticity, 
 and vigilance to the end of her days. She entered
 
 236 LAM A R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 democracy heart and soul, and never gave a counsel 
 against Liberty. She had sacrificed her fortune to 
 the political adventures of a great life, and rejoiced 
 in the prospect of assuring a peace after her death, for 
 she could not transfer anything. She was several 
 years older than her husband, and felt that he would 
 survive her. 
 
 She preserved her youthful habits not from co- 
 quetry of old age, but to keep sadness from her hus- 
 band's eyes. Though a constant invalid after her 
 voyages and griefs, she rose every morning at six 
 o'clock, and gave her early hours to painting, and cor- 
 recting proofs. She was always ready for the excur 
 sions, and kept up her exercise of horseback riding. 
 At seventy years of age, she had black hair, and a 
 slight and elegant figure. She was scrupulous in re- 
 gard to her own toilette for dinner, but no longer ex- 
 acted dress coats for the gentlemen. Too many hon- 
 est jackets had been seated at her table, for her to re- 
 sent a little negligence. She read everything, so as 
 to keep Lamartine posted in all literary matters. She 
 had the simplicity of good sense, which was apparent 
 in the discussion of all questions not obscured by a re- 
 ligious fanaticism, but this was gradually diminishing. 
 By her kind indulgence, she attracted even those whom 
 her title of foreigner prejudiced against her. I do not 
 believe that God has made many souls so steadfast. 
 
 She also had nieces, and cousins as charming, and
 
 MME. DE LAMART1NES NIECES. 
 
 237 
 
 more foreign, than Lamartme's. They came from 
 England and India, bringing with them the graces 
 and perfumes of other countries. They came usually 
 in the latter part of the Autumn, brightening the 
 woods and vines, with their beautiful faces. They 
 brought their own dreams to Saint-Point and Mon- 
 ceaux and left others behind. 
 
 Even if Monceaux had not had the attraction of 
 M. and Mme. de Lamartine, it would have been en- 
 chanting by these visits, which always inspired a verse 
 from Lamartine. Each new comer carried away a 
 bouquet of rhymes. 
 
 I remember the mother of one, who united the 
 Anglo-Indian type. She had founded a religious 
 faith half Christian and half Indian. During twenty 
 years of catechizing she had only made one convert. 
 Notwithstanding this apparent discouragement, she 
 placed herself as a priestess and tried to convert us. 
 Her daughter did not share her mother's belief, or 
 perhaps she would have succeeded better. I am 
 quite sure that Mme. X., came with the intention of 
 converting Lamartine. She succeded only in making 
 a friend. I do not know whether she is still living or 
 whether at last, she has reached Eternal Truth, the 
 secret of which she possessed. 
 
 Lamartine loved this searcher of souls, who en- 
 deavored to draw others only by gentleness and 
 charity. He called her a " fanatic lamb."
 
 238 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Among the other autumnal guests at Monceaux 
 was Charles Labor. A marriage of love had stranded 
 this son of the Mediterranean at Cormatin. He is 
 an artist, and gives to the admiring world a fresh pic- 
 ture at every exposition. His landscapes are as 
 tender and expressive as his heart. Like Alexandre, 
 he was a friend of later years. 
 
 It was impossible for Lamartine to give himself 
 to a stranger. Before one had seen his face, the heart 
 had received his verses. No one read his poem>, but 
 to know him, and Labor was one of those who knew 
 him the best. He had painted a " Lake," and a 
 "Valley" from the " Meditations." Great poets re- 
 cruit scholars for music and painting. Lamartine 
 has decided many events by the inspiration of his 
 verse. 
 
 Labor had loved his wife from reading Graziella, 
 and one of the chief considerations in his marriage, 
 was to live near Lamartine. 
 
 I did not impose him upon Lamartine during the 
 first visit,longer than a quarter of an hour. At the sec- 
 ond interview, Lamartine invited him to come again, 
 and could not do without him afterwards. Lamar- 
 tine was as sensitive to the communion of souls, as 
 the witch-hazel is to the spring. Labor has not lived 
 here for the last fifteen years. He has transported 
 with him the worship of Lamartine. He has made 
 Republicans and Spiritualists in a south, teeming
 
 DUMAS FILS. 
 
 239 
 
 with Royalists and Materialists. His expressive en- 
 thusiasm is contagious. 
 
 A part of himself is buried at Saint-Point; Labor 
 has had many conversations with Lamartine and his 
 memory will control my souvenirs. I write, hoping 
 to inspire others. We must make Lamartine live 
 again. He will have his Evangelists. 
 
 A collection of his letters is announced. I have 
 supplied some for the publication. They are more 
 particularly notes, and though wonderful, do not ex- 
 press all. A private and sustained correspondence, 
 was impossible to one who wrote to the whole world 
 through his books. It is the historic duty of his 
 friends, to tell all that they know of him. 
 
 Let us seek the other friends of these last years. 
 Dumas fils, often came, though not until the declining 
 days of that noble life. His bright mind re-illumined 
 the rays of a clouding sky. One could scarcely com- 
 prehend an intimacy between the author of " La 
 Dame aux Carnelias," and " Le Demi-Monde," and 
 the singer of Elvira, as he has been called, if one did 
 not remember that Dumas fils is one of the best 
 models of the French tongue. Conscious of belong- 
 ing to that class which refines and concentrates a 
 language, he desired to approach one who had im- 
 mortalized it. He did not come to Monceaux to 
 seek types and horizons for a scene or romance, about 
 which it might be said that he opened the door of
 
 240 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Beaumarchais and Balzac, if he were not a whole school 
 in himself. He came because he had always admired 
 Lamartine, and whom he admired, he loved. 
 
 One time, when he was at Monceaux, there was an 
 insatiable curiosity in the neighborhood, to see him. 
 Conversations were so manoeuvred, that Lamartine 
 was forced to send out invitations for a grand dinner. 
 
 Dumas fils was to be exhibited. 
 
 It was an insolence to think of coming to Mon- 
 ceaux to see any other than Lamartine, and Dumas 
 understood this. It was like a first exhibition, where 
 the boxes are free, and according to the chronicles of 
 all who were present, Dumas showed only a blonde 
 moustache over a silent or satirical mouth. He said 
 nothing during the evening, yet on any occasion, he 
 could send out his words with as brilliant effect, as 
 Ruggieri sends off his sky-rockets. He had the 
 courage" to appear insignificant, and saved his floods 
 of conversation for Lamartine alone, with whom he 
 talked in a low tone in one corner of the room. 
 
 The neighbors were indignant and vowed that 
 they would never buy another of Dumas pere's books, 
 nor would they ever go to the " Gymnase." 
 
 Lamartine came to my room, after the guests had 
 departed. " Dumas never showed so much spirit." 
 said he, " He has taught me a lesson, and has com 
 plimented me, at the same time, by his silence. If 
 ever I am Minister of Foreign Affairs, again, I shall
 
 NAD A UD. 
 
 241 
 
 send him to London. He is a diplomate of talent." 
 " First of all, nominate him to the Academy." I re- 
 torted. " After his father dies. I hope not to sur- 
 vive a man, who has amused me so much." 
 
 Nadaud always made Lamartine very happy. 
 Every year, he spent a month with Boussin,and they 
 were always on the road towards Lamartine's, who 
 delighted in the sensibility and refinement of Na- 
 daud's frank and, affectionate nature. He talked just 
 as he wrote, always in tune. One could see by the 
 lightness of his first efforts, that he had been a friend 
 of Musset. He was afterwards associated with Lau- 
 rent Pichat, and the measures of his rhymes are full 
 and complete, when he suspects that Pichat is near 
 enough to hear them. Nadaud has had a successful 
 career for thirty years, in which time he has never 
 succeeded in making an enemy. 
 
 Lamartine sympathized with the tone of melan- 
 choly, tinging even the most joyous refrains of this 
 inexhaustible song writer. He applauded in these 
 fancies, the trumpet-like tones of honesty and reason, 
 that sound through the couplets of Nadaud, but what 
 attracted him the most, was the inimitable artist who 
 was revealed whenever there was a piano. Lamartine 
 liked those who diverted him from his cares. If he 
 caused tears to flow, he could clap his hands with de- 
 light, to any one who gave him a ray of joy. The 
 " Gendarmes " would do him good for a fortnight,
 
 242 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 and he never was weary of it. Thus Nadaud found 
 his success at Monceaux, as everywhere else. He 
 was as popular as joy, and good as happiness. He 
 must be gratified, to have been the source of so 
 much pleasure to a ship-wrecked Hercules. 
 
 One day, after one of those evenings, when Lam- 
 artine had laughed like a common mortal he led me 
 into his study. 
 
 ' I am going to have the horses saddled," said he 
 "and we will go into the woods of Cluny. The fog 
 is an excellent mantle for a horseback ride. Before 
 they are ready, I shall have time to read you the first 
 pages of Raphael." 
 
 " What is Raphael ? " I asked. 
 
 " Raphael is myself. The book will also be called, 
 " Pages de la Vingtieme Annee." It will be the begin- 
 ning of my " Memoires/' I work at it at my leisure." 
 
 He had never spoken to me of this. 
 
 The book was ripening in the shade like winter 
 fruit in the dark. 
 
 The study at Monceaux had not the arched roof 
 of Saint-Point, which was like a sanctuary for the 
 winged inspirations that came before the setting of 
 the stars. It looked out upon a sombre square of old 
 chestnuts, the only garden of the Chateau. A wooden 
 staircase led to the court, encumbered with casks and 
 fermenting wine-tubs. The dogs filled up the room, 
 and tore into rags with their long claws the Persian
 
 RAPHAEL. 243 
 
 covering of the little divan. The vintagers, leaving 
 their sabots outside the door, as the faithful leave 
 their slippers at the entrance of the Mosque, were 
 always coming and going. There was a large case, 
 on which were scattered cigars and snuff. " The snuff- 
 box was the only inconsistent contrast to Lamartine's 
 elegant habits. A fire of vine-fagots and branches, 
 burned in the chimney. A large table of varnished 
 wood was heaped up with enormous pages of manu- 
 script. Whole quires of paper emerged, here and 
 there, from the ocean of newspapers and pamphlets. 
 In all this chaos, there was order only to Lamartine. 
 
 He was not dressed for his ride. He had on his 
 old ink-stained jacket. Unrolling the manuscript, 
 he said, " Do not be afraid, we will only read ten 
 pages. I only want to get an impression of the be- 
 ginning, and we must not keep the horses waiting. 
 Light a cigar. My dreams will pass away in smoke." 
 
 Then leaning back in his chair, and stretching out 
 his feet to the mantel-piece, he commenced. 
 
 I will not repeat " Raphael," for almost every one 
 knows it. Those who do not, I will ask if they have 
 ever accidently found in a book a few flowers, picked 
 by a river's bank during some voyage of long, ago? 
 Did not the sight of them bring back the whole 
 scene, the sun, the landscape, even the wind that 
 bent them ? Lamartine had seemed to put into these 
 pages all the flowers of his youth, culled on the shores
 
 244 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of the passions which had traversed his life. I felt 
 no longer in the presence of an old man, bowed by 
 the storms of life. I saw the young man Raphael 
 drinking in ecstasy and love from every source. I 
 saw Graziella and Elvira, winding their brown tresses 
 around his white brow. 
 
 The tenth page had been finished long ago, when 
 the servant rapped at the door saying, 
 
 " The horses are impatient. We cannot hold 
 Saphyr any longer." 
 
 " Walk them about," replied Lamartine, without 
 consulting me. 
 
 He shared my intoxication. 
 
 The reading was resumed, and did not cease till 
 lamp-light. He recommenced the next morning, and 
 read to the last line. I was suspicious of the entire 
 truth of his confidence. I could not feel that love 
 had remained so pure, with such charming mistresses. 
 I set a trap. 
 
 " The purity of your book will make it immortal. 
 You have known only the marriage of souls. All 
 these beautiful women pass before your eyes like so 
 many visions. You have not degraded them by 
 giving them senses." 
 
 I shall never forget his expression. This kind of 
 praise did not suit him. The man did not claim to 
 be more than human. 
 
 " I am not sure of that," said he, " perhaps, I have
 
 RAPHAEL. 245 
 
 shown too much respect for the modesty of my 
 readers. I shall not succeed in founding a Platonic 
 school, and I don't intend to. It is a horribly false 
 system. The sexes make a part of the mysteries of 
 creation. Faublas' character is truer than Raphael's. 
 But Raphael was a pupil of the Jesuits, of Belley, 
 who taught him their reticence. At all events, I 
 hope that the public will divine the truth, and that 
 these partially-concealed allusions, will not dishonor 
 me. I have purified the flames through which we 
 have passed, but they have burned us to the marrow 
 I have not embraced an empty vision, as the saints 
 of the Thebaide did. Man has his nervous, as well 
 as his physical system. I am not like Grandisson. I 
 accept the dualism. The senses have their raptures, 
 and this is a part of my poesy. I beg of you, rectify 
 my half-tints. However, I will do it myself in my 
 " Memoires." I never have taken the vow of chastity. 
 I have loved all whom I have adored." He was 
 noble and astonishing in his justification. He de- 
 fended himself from virtue. He walked up and down 
 the cabinet, almost irritated at my comments. I had 
 an object in continuing them. He had had the 
 weakness to spoil the last line of his inimitable " Lac." 
 
 Instead of "Tout disc: ils ont aime"," he had 
 written for a family edition, 
 
 " Tout disc : ils ont passe," which inspired a " bon- 
 mot " from Mme. de Girardin, who proposed :
 
 246 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Tout disc : ils ont fume ! " I made him almost 
 ashamed of his concession, and begged him to take 
 the first text. 
 
 " Why so?" said he, " Mme. de Lamartine has 
 reviewed the proofs, and says that I shall sell fifty 
 more copies in England. My debts have made me 
 do many cowardly things. Now, let us mount. The 
 poor horses have been tired out these two hours ! " 
 
 He had forgotten that he had commenced the 
 reading the day before. Time had passed with the 
 same rapidity as in his youth, in which he had plunged 
 anew. 
 
 " Do not speak of our discussion during my life- 
 time," said he. " I must remain angelic for the sake 
 of my nieces. Alas! a poor seraph in a grey-beard," 
 said he, looking into the mirror. 
 
 In the evening, exhausted by his long reading, 
 he slept by the fireside. 
 
 I shall always remember those radiant days. They 
 had done him as much good as they did me. He 
 had taken his staff again, and walked with the firm 
 step of twenty. Young girls with their black eyes 
 had again thrown their glamors over him. Memory 
 had restored to him a departed world. 
 
 He felt that these enchantments were vibrating 
 in my heart, and when he took his candle to go to 
 bed, he said to me confidingly. " Ah ! Lacretelle, 
 we have said beautiful things to day! "
 
 XVIII. 
 
 1849 t l8 5 r - 
 
 "FpROM 184910 1 85 1, were sad years at Monceaux^ 
 JJ as they were all over France. Ingratitude had 
 paid its debt to Lamartine. He was not re-elected 
 in his department. A chance nomination sent him 
 to the Legislature. He no longer occupied his high 
 position. He believed, too soon, that his political 
 role was finished, and he desired to bury himself with , 
 the Republic. The Republic was undermined, as it 
 is to-day, by monarchic parties in parliament, which 
 were playing the game of Bonaparte. The extreme 
 left was less tranquil than now. And between these 
 two mountains of intrigue, and ambition, Lamartine 
 could not maintain an equilibrium. He became the 
 scape-goat upon which the Israelitish Royalists piled 
 all their hatreds, and he was deeply sensible of the 
 universal ill-will. He thought that his voice would be 
 lost in their clamors, so little by little, he withdrew. 
 This was his fatal step, for he was still in full posses- 
 sion of his genius. It was not for the solitude and 
 privacy of his home, that he prepared those wonder- 
 ful speeches, which the questions raised by events, 
 inspired in him.
 
 248 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 How many words flowed over the trees at Saint- 
 Point or through the gallery of Monceaux and were 
 lost, that would have called the people to action, and 
 the living, self-contained, methodized Republic, such 
 as was inspired in the breast of that orator, would not 
 have been stifled in an ill-omened night, but would 
 have been proclaimed in the streets of Paris even after 
 the hideous crime of December second. 
 
 He begged and implored, in vain, during those 
 unhappy times. Lamartine was heart sick from dis- 
 couragement, and respected himself too much to 
 enter into a contest. He thought that his retirement 
 was the means for making his work endure, and re- 
 served himself for a new clawn. He dreamed that 
 the nation, in looking for its leader, would see him 
 in his voluntary exile. He waited for a return of 
 justice, which never comes. He allowed himself to 
 be calumniated, and his silence was taken for anger. 
 
 Nevertheless the hero in him protested. He rose 
 every morning, bathed in sweats of indignation, and 
 resplendent in mind, and it was then, that he wrote 
 those marvellous articles for the " Conseilleur du 
 Peuple," and that grand book, almost forgotten now, 
 " Le Passe, le Present, et 1'Avenir de la Republique." 
 The whole prophet was there. The book did not 
 contain printed pages alone, there were illuminations. 
 
 The " Conseilleur du Peuple " gave Lamartine an 
 illusion of a new fortune, but the fortune as I have
 
 1849 TO 1851. 249 
 
 already said, went less to him, than to his editors, 
 Mires and Millaud. The publication rendered him 
 a good service, indirectly. It kept him from dying 
 of weariness, and his writings supplied the excite- 
 ment of the tribune. 
 
 I do not know why he substituted the " Civiliza- 
 teur," for the " Conseilleur." It was, doubtless, from 
 the need of lessening his interest in the present, by 
 means of history. He wrote a few biographies. I 
 know nothing better than his "Caesar," his innu- 
 merable " Ciceros," in whose life he traced his own 
 analogy, and also his " Washington," whom he re- 
 sembled in almost every point except in the duration 
 of his Republic. 
 
 The " Civilizateur," lived some years, and was 
 forgotten for the personal speculation of the " Cours 
 de Litterature," which also helped him not to die. 
 
 Lamartine spent very little time at Paris during 
 these years. Age had not yet touched him heavily, 
 but his contemporaries were disappearing, one after 
 another. He had no longer around him the same 
 throng of admirers. 
 
 Political malice was carried so far, as to deny his 
 value and reputation as a poet. The aristocracy 
 could not pardon a nobleman, in whom the Republic 
 was symbolized. They looked upon him as a deser- 
 ter, for having passed over to the side of fraternity 
 and wisdom. They contested his native refinement,
 
 250 
 
 LAM -AR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 because he mingled with the people. The sacristans 
 excommunicated him, because he had fought for the 
 separation of the Church and State. 
 
 Veuillot forgot that he had sat for two months at 
 the table at Monceaux, and sent almost as many in- 
 sults to Lamartine, as he did to Hugo. The fortunes 
 saved by Lamartine, in the Revolution of February, 
 refused the contribution of a penny towards his sub- 
 scription, and consoled their avarice, by reading the 
 epigrams of the " Figaro." 
 
 These moral wounds had a physical counter-irri- 
 tant. Lamartine was often sick in those days. He 
 had always been subject to articular rheumatism, and 
 in his youth, had visited all the baths of France and 
 Savoy, and now that the attacks became more fre- 
 quent, he was often confined to his bed for weeks. 
 
 I must confess, that while his sufferings grieved 
 us, these fits of sickness gave us occasional days of 
 great rejoicing. A mussulman could not have ac- 
 cepted pain with more docility. He never rebelled 
 except by soldierly expressions, and became at once, 
 gentle, and courteous. We thoroughly enjoyed him 
 during these imposed retreats. He would often ask 
 us to read to him, and we knew what this meant. A 
 line awakened a remembrance ; an opinion led to a 
 discussion. He talked inexhaustibly, gesticulating 
 with his poor swelled hand. He was patient with 
 the dogs, that crouched under his coverlid, and was
 
 1849 TO 1851. 251 
 
 more indulgent to others in proportion to his own 
 sufferings. 
 
 When the swelling in his hand had diminished, 
 he would take his pen again. It was during one of 
 these intervals, that he wrote the work on the Re- 
 public to which I have just alluded. He had just 
 passed through one of these attacks at the end of 
 November, 1851. I was there, at Monceaux, with 
 Charles Alexandre. Every day brought us dismal 
 news. That violation of the law, that bloody cloud, 
 the Coup d'Etat, floated in the air. Would it come 
 from the majority of the assembly, directed by Chan- 
 garnier ? Would it end in the incarceration of His 
 Highness the President, and to a Restoration, more 
 or less odious ? Or, would it be declared by Bona- 
 parte himself, who alone of all France, had raised his 
 hand to heaven, swearing in God's name, that he 
 would defend the Republic ? 
 
 Lamartine saw that it could only come from the 
 Palais de 1'Elysee and from his sick bed, he sent to 
 La Guerroniere,editor-in-chief of his newspaper, the 
 " Bien Public " of Paris, article upon article, to warn 
 the public of the " attentat," and reveal the horror 
 contained therein. None of these articles appeared. 
 We could not believe that there was any complicity. 
 La Guerroniere's first impulse, on the second of De- 
 cember, was of indignation. He sent the resignation 
 of his brother, who was nominated sub-prefect. Leon
 
 252 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Bruys who had been nominated to the same piace, 
 by his friend M. de Thorigny, had the same pricking 
 of conscience, and although ruined, accepted nothing. 
 The "Attentat" awoke us one morning, with the 
 cruelty of a gaoler, who enters the prisoner's cell, and 
 tell him that the scaffold is ready and he is to be 
 executed. 
 
 The condemned were the Republic, and Lamar- 
 tine who had proclaimed it. His rheumatism dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 The fever of indignation cured the physical fever. 
 We were in the gallery with the frightened people 
 who had come from Macon, bringing new details of 
 the murder. The Assembly was dissolved, the repre- 
 sentatives imprisoned, a Plebiscitum announced, and 
 the electors sent to the polls at the point of the 
 bayonet. 
 
 No one will ever see such an explosion as that of 
 Lamartine's. To be cheated by an idiot ! To live 
 again under an Emperor! To feel that the work of 
 '89, the ardent pulsation of all the thought of a cen- 
 tury, all the philosophy, all the blood of martyrs, had 
 been thrown into an Imperial gutter! to be sent 
 back into the darkness of night, after having thrown 
 with full hands, the brightest lights upon one's coun- 
 try and history ! 
 
 " This man is beyond the pale of humanity," he 
 exclaimed. He is one of those wild beasts, escaped
 
 i8 4 9 TO 1851. 253 
 
 from the jungles, like Tiberius, Nero or Caracalla. 
 They do not tell us yet of massacres, but I tell you, 
 that he who goes through the boulevards of Paris, 
 has blood to his waist, and women and children have 
 been killed by thousands. Our race is cursed. After 
 seasons of peace, the descendants of Cain bequeath 
 their crimes in the dark. Whatever may be the ap- 
 pearance of social virtue, there is always, somewhere, 
 a woman betrayed by a Caesar ! Their offspring will 
 reign in rottenness. He will open his brothels, and 
 and sacristans will send their incense to him. You 
 are going to seethe Dictatorship of a beadle! He 
 will declare insensate wars, so as to throw flags over 
 the bed of a dead Liberty. And he will live long, 
 and have many faces, and he will lead you to invasion ! 
 And if France does not oppose him by a rampart of 
 Republicans, he will end in being an Emperor of 
 demagogues ! Ah ! poor generations, doomed to 
 simonies and servitude ! " 
 
 He walked up and down the gallery striking the 
 furniture in his impatience, moving even inanimate 
 things with the wind of his prophetic words, and 
 stirring our trembling souls. 
 
 "The country will rise from its sick bed as you 
 have," we said. " It will deal out justice to this 
 would-be-savior, before he has had time to gain his 
 crown." 
 
 " Do not believe that ! Cowardice is the in-
 
 254 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 separable companion of ingratitude. The country 
 has shown its ingratitude to me. It is ready to accept 
 anything. In the departments where the name of 
 Bonaparte still intoxicates, companies of Praetorians 
 are now making ready. In the middle classes, ener- 
 vated by the Orleanists, there are Trymalcions, ready 
 to open their banquet halls. Oh ! this miscreant ! 
 And he will not insult me by not proscribing me, 
 and if I open my lips, he will send an assassin." 
 
 Lamartine surpassed himself in his excitement. 
 We were face to face with an event so monstrous, 
 that nothing after it seemed impossible. 
 
 " None of us will leave you," said I to him. " You 
 know that they will have to go through many hearts, 
 before reaching yours. Our place is here." 
 
 " Your strict duty, the duty of all of you, is to go 
 home," said he angrily. " An insurrection is not to be 
 thought of against an army exhilarated by the smoke 
 of Austerlitz. However, ridiculous as the vote must 
 be, you are still the Republic's missionaries. Go ! " 
 
 I obeyed, and the cry of my conscience was an 
 echo of that heart-rending appeal. I was not certain 
 that there was not a tragedy in preparation for Lam- 
 artine, and had no assurance that I should ever see 
 him again.. I could not tell to what links in the 
 chain this crime of December would attach. The 
 heads of Republicans were not safe upon their shoul- 
 ders. France was shrouded in fatality. I felt that
 
 1849 TO 1851. 255 
 
 I was descending a valley enclosed by volcanoes, yet 
 I counted little upon the duration of their eruption. 
 
 Three hours later, I was at Cormatin. 
 
 I am not writing my autobiography, but I cannot 
 leave in the shade, one of the thousand events mark- 
 ing this sad period, and one of the falsehoods that 
 unhappily enveloped my modest and inconspicuous 
 life. All that I loved in the world, were at Macon 
 and Cormatin. At Macon, were my aged parents and 
 my brother. At Cormatin, my wife and only child. 
 
 About six o'clock in the evening, December fourth, 
 a worthy man of my neighborhood opened my door 
 mysteriously, saying, " I have just come from a fair. 
 The men of Saint-Gengoux are arming and will march 
 upon Macon to-morrow. There are five hundred of 
 them. They are coming here to get you to lead 
 them. My advice is, to mount your horse before 
 midnight and conceal yourself in the woods of Bour- 
 sier, so that they shall not find you. What I tell you 
 is as true as the Gospel." 
 
 . I pressed his hand. I knew that there were marry 
 patriotic men watching events, in the courageous 
 little town of Saint-Gengoux-le-Royal. 
 
 " I have a few words to say to them,'' I replied, 
 " and it is not my habit to fly from a danger that is 
 behind me. Thank you, but I will stay and sleep 
 here to-night." 
 
 He insisted.
 
 256 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 11 Your life is in danger. Think of Master Gaston." 
 
 Gaston was the son I had, and now have no more. 
 The good man was loth to leave me. I learned, 
 afterwards, that he stayed all night at the gateway, 
 listening. 
 
 In spite of what I said, I did not sleep. 
 
 Where was the RigJit ? 
 
 Incontestably with those, who rose to defend the 
 Constitution. But Lamartine's words were always 
 before me. He did not approve of taking arms. 
 That would only be a lost point to France, ready 
 everywhere to kneel from fear. Since the law of 
 May thirty first, the assembly had been frightfully 
 unpopular. An isolated combat would only decimate 
 an improvised army, arid render more atrocious the 
 assault against the Republicans. An army, ready 
 to rise simultaneously, all over France, must be pre- 
 pared. Even when it is just, civil war is a lamentable 
 extremity. Macon was to be the theatre of its out- 
 break. This probability made me shudder. Then, 
 I seemed to hear the peaceful respirations of my 
 sleeping wife and child; should I make them quick 
 and troubled, by rushing headlong into the unknown ? 
 Had the hour really come for such a sacrifice ? I 
 did not sleep until morning. The tocsin, sounding 
 from the market, awakened me. Hurried steps were 
 heard in the streets. Cries came from the village 
 doors.
 
 THE BAND OF GENGOUX. 
 
 257 
 
 It was the death-knell of the country, and the 
 first funeral signal of the insurrectionary march of 
 Caesar. 
 
 Fresh reports were constantly coming to the 
 chateau. The band of Gengoux, as they called these 
 soldiers of Liberty, had just arrived. The brigands 
 were carrying away the fire-arms from the houses, 
 and had even forced the strong-box of the assessor. 
 
 The people could not comprehend, and permitted 
 it. The men were gathering wood, in the forest, 
 and the women were at the river, washing. Drums 
 were beating, dismally, in the street ; guns were ex- 
 ploding in inexperienced hands, and all this for 
 a legitimate demand, but under deceptive appear- 
 ances. 
 
 My neighbor had not deceived me. I saw twelve 
 armed men coming down the avenue of acacias, and 
 crossing the bridge over the canal. I hurriedly em- 
 braced the dear ones, who surrounded me crying for 
 fear that they were going to take me away. Then 
 taking my gardener and servant as witnesses, I went 
 to the foot of the great staircase, to wait for them. 
 The neighbors half crazy with fear, were crowding 
 into the kitchen door. I recognized several well- 
 known faces in the advancing column. At its head, 
 was citizen D. who had given many proofs of de- 
 votion to liberty, during his life. 
 He was the speaker.
 
 258 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 He demonstrated in a very few words, that the 
 riot was with the violators of the Constitution ; that 
 the National Guards of Saint-Gengoux were going to 
 re-establish republican authority in the chief places, 
 and they demanded in the name of a common faith, 
 that I should put myself into their ranks. 
 
 I replied that the question of right had not been 
 asked, that we must try and save the Republic by 
 some other means than a generous imprudence, that 
 the ballot box would soon be open, and corrupt as 
 it might be, we must, before all, try this pacific meas- 
 ure, and that for my part, I was resolved to await 
 events, and in all probability, proscription. Citizen 
 D., by not insisting, proved that he was of my opin- 
 ion, at heart. He said, that he must proceed to make 
 requisitions. I asked him for a written statement. 
 I could give nothing to the war, since I had refused 
 my person. 
 
 D. consented. He demanded a horse, to send an 
 orderly to Cluny, and took an old carbine brought 
 from Spain, and a few charges of powder that I had 
 for my pistols. This was all. Twenty men were 
 witnesses. 
 
 D. was going away with his National Guard. I 
 called him back. 
 
 " An isolated movement is always a foolish one," 
 said I to him, in a low tone. " France is in a dor- 
 mant state, and will not protest. We know it.''
 
 FUTILE RESISTANCE. 
 
 259 
 
 " I know it, too, but there are among us, those 
 who urge, and press. You will do better to wait, I 
 am not free." 
 
 He pressed my hand sadly, called together his 
 cohort composed of two hundred men, and they left 
 for Cluny, singing the Marseillaise. 
 
 Five hours after, my horse was brought back to 
 me. There was almost a panic, the next day at 
 Macon. Stupid reports were in circulation, that the 
 peasants of Lugny and Aze were coming with bags 
 to pillage the houses. A battalion of engineers, was 
 sent out on the road to meet them. The insurgents 
 had recruited at Cluny and Samt-Sorlin, to the num- 
 ber of five hundred. They were poorly armed, and 
 had no ammunition. The meeting took place four 
 miles from Macon, just before reaching the park 
 belonging to M. de Rambateau. There was only one 
 feeble discharge of musketry. 
 
 Not an engineer was touched. 
 
 The commandant saw that he was dealing with 
 inexperienced rebels, and showed them that they did 
 not aim with precision. Three men fell, and the 
 others dispersed. A few arrived in great disorder at 
 Nancelle, where Champvans kindly received them. 
 
 This was the only resistance to the Coup d'Etat 
 in the Maconnais. 
 
 Lamartine had judged his country well. 
 
 Three days after all the newspapers of Paris were
 
 260 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 sold to the Empire. Those allowed to appear, an- 
 nounced, that a rich proprietor, between Saint-Gen- 
 goux and Cluny, had aided and abetted the insur- 
 rection, by giving three thousand francs to the chief. 
 Afterwards, books, paid for by the police, openly 
 named me, and with the vivid imagination of Vidocq 
 charged still more to my account. 
 
 I wrote to all of the Parisian papers, denying the 
 charge, and stating, that the men had taken nothing 
 except by requisition, and that private property had, 
 in every instance, been respected. So universal had 
 been the subjugation, that not a single paper had the 
 courage to publish my vindication, and the justifica- 
 tion of my compatriots. 
 
 They were more noble at Macon. A legitimist 
 paper, " La Bourgogne," though inimical to my opin- 
 ions, exposed itself to proscription, by daring to say 
 what I wanted, in three lines. 
 
 The proscription was going on very well with us. 
 A Napoleonic proconsul had just arrived. He died 
 two months ago, Chamberlain of the Emperor of 
 Russia, bearing the title of Baron de Romand. M. 
 de Romand deigned to think of me. 
 
 He proceeded with a perfidy, which showed in 
 advance his aptitude for Muscovite favors. 
 
 The Saint-Gengoux expedition was a good excuse 
 for making many arrests. 
 
 The Prefecture investigated opinions, not acts. I
 
 THE SUMMONS 2 6l 
 
 was summoned to appear before the Judge of In- 
 struction, as witness. 
 
 This was a beginning. The deposition might be 
 turned into an accusation. My friends were convinced 
 that I never would return to Macon. I went to 
 Monceaux, the evening before, to tell Lamartine of 
 the citation. Public agitations absorbed personal 
 incidents, and he did not pay much attention to what 
 I said. However, the next morning, I was called into 
 his cabinet. 
 
 " Ever> T word spoken to day, has the power of 
 sending you to Cayenne," said he. " What will be 
 your attitude, before the Judge of Instruction ? " 
 
 " I remember every thing distinctly," said I, " and 
 I shall clear these generous fellows from every im- 
 putation." 
 
 " But the question is also with yourself. M. de 
 Romand is seeking for some means to implicate me 
 in the uprising, and it is very natural. I rendered 
 him some service, at the time I thought that he was 
 writing for freedom. To reach me through my friends, 
 would be a good recommendation for him, to his 
 government. Be convinced that it is I, who will ap- 
 pear in your guise. Give me your deposition. Do not 
 change any thing. Let us weigh the terms, together." 
 
 I told him all that I could remember. He listened 
 with his head in his hands. 
 
 'There is enough to transport you," said he,
 
 262 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " Bonaparte's men will not understand, that you have 
 not happened to be killed to save your percussion 
 caps, and the second of December. M. X., the judge, 
 is a worthy compatriot. He will not listen to the 
 Palais de 1'Elysee, while he is writing your testimony, 
 Promise me, that you will come back to dinner, this 
 evening. Give me up." 
 
 Lamartine was visibly anxious, and I was also, 
 but only on his account. 
 
 " What will you do ?" said I to him. "Bonaparte 
 will not dare to touch you, but you cannot breathe 
 the air of the Empire." 
 
 " I shall settle in the East. I will build a house 
 near mine, for your family. I have drawn you into 
 the tempest, and it shall be my duty and pleasure to 
 conduct you safely into port. I would set out to- 
 morrow, if my affairs had not put the inquisitorial 
 collar around my neck. A political man ought not 
 to make debts. I have been very foolish. My histo- 
 rical dignity will be lowered by my actual nakedness, 
 but I will work hard enough to free myself. I will 
 go and temper the swords of France in the waters of 
 the Styx. My country is delivered up to Mandrin. 
 Come back soon." 
 
 He was sending me away. 
 
 " If you are arrested, I will plead for you," added 
 he, at the door. " I will make your condemnation 
 glorious."
 
 EXILE, A PASSPORT, OR PARDON. 263 
 
 He was not deceived in regard to M. X., 
 
 The judge, evidently, betrayed the mission he had 
 received. He dictated my testimony to his secretary, 
 and softened the ambiguities which might have com- 
 promised me. I was glad enough to weaken the 
 charges that weighed upon citizen D., and those who 
 followed or were led, by him. 
 
 There was no possibility of drawing a bolt upon 
 me. M. de Romand foamed with rage. He pub- 
 licly announced that my participation in the revolt, 
 could not remain unpunished. 
 
 For a fortnight he talked of Algeria. Afterwards, 
 the protests were so vehement that he limited himself 
 to saying, that he should send me a passport. 
 
 I went to Paris. 
 
 A friend made the journey, expressly, to warn 
 me that the decision was irrevocable, and that I had 
 only to anticipate it, by choosing my place of exile. 
 
 I preferred to wait until my arbiter was more ex- 
 plicit. I had not the pleasure of being seriously pur- 
 sued. Mme. de Romand, a woman of influence, and 
 of great intelligence, had met my mother, and been 
 much attracted by the serenity of my father. Doubt- 
 less, she did not desire to see a tragedy in the family. 
 The charge remained, but the passport was de 
 stroyed.
 
 XIX. 
 
 A Period of Relaxation. 
 
 I WILL not close my book, upon which I must 
 soon put the seal of the tomb, without showing 
 Lamartine in those merry happy times he often gave 
 himself. 
 
 In 1854 we were at Saint-Point. One morning 
 he mounted the winding stairs leading to my room, 
 and said. 
 
 " I must go to Monceaux to-day, to taste the 
 wines. Will you go with me, and give me your 
 opinion ? " 
 
 He did his duty, conscientiously, as " proprie- 
 taire." He entered the press with his little silver cup, 
 tasted, made a grimace of approbation, and then gave 
 his opinion as connoisseur. 
 
 The truth was, that he knew little or nothing 
 about it, and I, much less. 
 
 I said to him ; 
 
 " I shall be a poor judge. You had better take 
 Holland." 
 
 " Holland's taste is spoiled by his wines of 
 Thorins. You can give me an unbiassed opinion. 
 How did you come yesterday?"
 
 A VISIT TO BU SSI EKE. 2 6$ 
 
 " On horseback.'' 
 
 "Will your horse harness well?" 
 
 "Not at all. He kicks." 
 
 "That is nothing. We will harness him with 
 Saphyr. You know, he is the only horse that I have 
 now. We will go by Tramayes, and I will show you 
 the Bois des Sanves, those melancholy groves of my 
 youth, where the spirit of poesy used to come to me. 
 You will find some for your use, but I will not answer 
 for the quality. We will stop at Bussiere, to see 
 Mile. Bruys, who will send us on to Monceaux. It 
 will be a charming ride in the fog." 
 
 He worshipped the fog, as I have said. It may 
 have been because some people had compared him 
 to Baour-Lormian, the translator of Ossian. 
 
 We breakfasted at once. 
 
 York was not very rebellious, and accommodated 
 himself easily to his chance companion. 
 
 The route by Tramayes was hilly, and the horses 
 were obliged to walk. To save time, Lamartine gave 
 up showing me the Bois de Sanves, which I had 
 already seen more beautiful than in nature, in his 
 harmonious description. 
 
 We reached Bussiere without incident. I was 
 anxious to know how we were to get to Monceaux; 
 Mile, Bruys had only one old horse, and an old- 
 fashioned round carriage, dating back to the begin- 
 ning of the eighteenth century, that always at-
 
 266 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIEXDS. 
 
 tracted a curious crowd whenevei it appeared in the 
 streets of Macon. 
 
 Bussiere had been one of Lamartine's visiting 
 places, in his youth. Mile. Bruys, stiff, and straight, 
 was travelling gently towards her ninetieth year. 
 The house was very correct and proper, like its 
 owner. There were two outside stair-cases, narrow, 
 and steep ; one descending into a little court, where 
 no carriage could enter, and the other, into a little 
 garden, so contracted that seven or eight cassocks 
 entirely rilled it, when Mile. Couronne, in extreme 
 indulgence, permitted the cures to hold a conference 
 there. I have never known a house so perfumed with 
 quinces and sweetmeats. The table was always 
 spread and a numerous family filled the house. It 
 was a hotel, carried on by the strictest economies. 
 Mile. Bruys was the sole survivor of a large circle of 
 brothers, and sisters. One of the brothers, M. 
 Bruys de Vaudran, as a neighbor had the honor of 
 teaching the future author of the " Meditations," 
 to write. We were distantly related, and I came 
 to Bussiere like the other cousins. Mile. Couronne 
 was not rich, though the inheritor of' all the succes- 
 sions, and her hospitality resulted from her rigid 
 order. Everything was methodical with her, from 
 the arrangement of her blonde hair, to the ordering 
 of a repast, or the regulating of a conversation. 
 She permitted very little approach to levity, but we
 
 MLLE. BRUYS. 
 
 267 
 
 were told, that it had wandered around her, in her 
 youth. 
 
 There was a cure" at Bussie>e, a veritable cur of 
 a precious type, having a loud voice, and his hand 
 always extended towards a bottle of wine. He was 
 the manager of Mlle.'s money matters, and though 
 knowing how to make a capital out of the revenue 
 entrusted to him, he was, nevertheless, serviceable, 
 charitable, and always ready to take the initiative. 
 He had confessed to my father his long hesitation 
 between the profession of commercial traveller and 
 the apostolate, and had chosen the altar as providing 
 a certainty. 
 
 Bruys d'Ouilly was the presumptive heir to the 
 house, but he was already ruined when the will was 
 made, and the cur persuaded the aunt that she 
 would be insane to leave her fortune to one who did 
 not know how to take care of his own, for an eater 
 should not have his bread assured. In spite of the 
 cure, Mile, heroically left Lon Bruys two hundred 
 francs a year, as long as he lived. 
 
 Lamartine did not suspect the tricks of the apos- 
 tolic staff, and preserved a traditional respect for the 
 last survivor of an honorable family. 
 
 Mile. Couronne received us in a parlor where there 
 was no fire, though the weather was cold. The cur6 
 was there. Lamartine declared his intention at once 
 of asking for a relay to Monceaux. He was expect-
 
 268 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ing company to dine at Saint-Pcint, and his horses 
 must be saved for a quick return. Mile. Couronne was 
 disturbed. She knew how ridiculous her carriage was 
 for him, and tried to excuse herself; at the same she 
 worshipped Lamartine, even if she had not quite for- 
 given him for the Republic, and did not like to refuse 
 a favor. 
 
 <l I have a horse and cabriolet, M. Alphonse," 
 said the cure", " I am also something of a driver, and 
 can show you the country as well as one of Lafitte's 
 and Gaillard's conductors." 
 
 Lamartine had no desire to be indebted to him, 
 and was secretly amused at the embarrassment of 
 Mile. Couronne, who did not dare to confess her 
 equipage. 
 
 " I have a great desire to go in Mile. Bruys' coupe"," 
 said he, " My uncle has often praised its springs." 
 
 This promotion to the dignity of a coupe" touched 
 Mile. Bruys. 
 
 " My gardener has gone to the Fair at Pierreclos, 
 to-day, and I have no one to harness," said she. 
 
 " I will do it," said the cure, impetuously. 
 
 " You have a funeral to attend to, M. le Cure," 
 said Lamartine. " The bell was ringing, as we came 
 by." 
 
 " That is true," said the cure", opening a little 
 closet, and drinking a glass of cordial, before going 
 away.
 
 TOINETTE TO THE RESCUE. 269 
 
 Affairs were growing complicated, and Lamartine, 
 anticipating a gay recital to make to his nieces, in the 
 evening, was visibly delighted. 
 
 Toinette was there. 
 
 Toinette was the only servant of the house, who 
 prepared dinner for a dozen people, and arranged all 
 the rooms. 
 
 She remembered when he used to come with his 
 friend Ducret de T Ange, only a young man of eighteen, 
 and she loved him passionately. 
 
 She had suspected an episode, and was indiscreetly 
 listening at the half-open door. 
 
 " Bijou shall be in the shafts in less than fifteen 
 minutes," said she. " I sometimes take Mile, to 
 Saint-Sorlin." 
 
 Toinette on the box ! 
 
 This perspective redoubled Lamartine's delight. 
 But she was disagreeable to me, and we were likely 
 to meet some of the country gentlemen, who would 
 make remarks. 
 
 I gave a straight blow to Lamartine's hopes. 
 
 " Your coachman will drive you," said I. 
 
 Lamartine was thoroughly disposed to laugh that 
 day. A change of object, gave him another opportu- 
 nity for exercising his love for the ridiculous. The 
 coachman had had his day of fine turn-outs and 
 prancing steeds. Would he consent to mount the 
 antediluvian box ? Lamartine gave his arm to
 
 2/0 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mile. Couronne, and we descended to the stable- 
 yard. 
 
 Toinette had harnessed Bijou, and was holding 
 him outside. The coup had been drawn out. It 
 seemed to me more amusing than ever. It was 
 absolutely a fossil. The sun and rain had left their 
 traces. It had all the colors of a mouldy palette. 
 Mile. Couronne looked at it with shame and ten- 
 derness. 
 
 " It was thirty years old, when I made my first 
 communion," said she. '' The grandparents and all 
 the aunts younger than I am now, have ridden in it. 
 I am sorry not to be able to offer you a more suitable 
 carriage, M. Alphonse, but I see at the door so many 
 faces, that I weep in looking at it." 
 
 This poetical tenderness was lost on the coachman. 
 He would only drive the berlin, or take his dismissal. 
 He was attached to Lamartine. and deigned to help 
 Toinette harness, but that was all. The great Bijou 
 filled the traces well. He looked like a miller's horse, 
 and there was not much prospect of reaching Mon- 
 ceaux before night. 
 
 "Hurry, and get over the road through the vines, 
 so that no one may see you," said Mile. Couronne. 
 
 Lamartine sent back a hasty benediction, and 
 seated himself on one of the cushions. I retreated, 
 as far as possible, into one corner, so that he should 
 have full liberty of movement, for the space was
 
 THE ANCIENT COUPE. 
 
 2/1 
 
 contracted. I gazed upon that great historical head 
 in its incongruous frame. 
 
 " It was a capital idea of yours to borrow Mile, de 
 Bruys' horse," said he. " My history would have 
 been lacking, without this journey." 
 
 So it was / who had had the idea ! 
 
 The road through the vines, was full of people 
 that day. We met the splendid equipage of a 
 neighbor, who had come out boldly with four horses, 
 showing his fortunate speculations at the Bourse. 
 The carriage occupied the whole road. It was full 
 of gay young ladies, laughing merrily. The pro- 
 prietor, dressed in a kind of livery, was driving. He 
 stopped. 
 
 " The devil ! Here is Mile. Bruys' wheelbar- 
 row ! " he cried. It will frighten my horses and they 
 will break their legs against the rocks." 
 
 He tried to turn to one side, but his horses were 
 frightened, and with one spring, reared. 
 
 Bijou was imperturbable and continued his little 
 trot, and following a straight line, he passed between 
 the carriage and ravine. 
 
 I hoped that Lamartine would conceal himself 
 behind the panel, but he was determined to produce 
 an effect. 
 
 He lowered the glass and saluted. The laughs 
 ceased. The volatile heads inclined. 
 
 One of the ladies told me, afterwards, that she
 
 272 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 did not believe him so ruined. During that week, 
 she subscribed to the " Cours de Litte"rature." Lam- 
 artine sent the money to Mile. Couronne, to distribute 
 among her poor. 
 
 He was very much amused at the encounter, at 
 first, but soon relapsed into silence and memories. 
 The road to Milly always brought to him, its phan- 
 toms. 
 
 " Why should I not tell you what is absorbing 
 me ? " said he. Between these walnut trees and 
 vine-stakes, I have had more heart-beats, than any 
 where else. Remember what I tell you, and put it 
 into one of your romances, and if it causes one half 
 as many tears, as it has cost me, you will have had a 
 success." 
 
 " Do not try to remember an event that grieves 
 you," said I. 
 
 " Bah ! the sorrows of early days are the music 
 that stirs the soul. I was a lover in those days, and 
 I see her now a dear little girl of seventeen. I was a 
 few months older than she. It was Mile. P., of whom 
 I shall speak in my " Memoires." I had not a 
 thought beyond the pink and white between her 
 black curls. Whenever I pressed her hand, in the 
 crowd coming from church, my heart beat all the 
 afternoon on the quay. I had decided, irrevocably, 
 to marry her, and triumph over the difficulties made 
 by my family. My mother closed her eyes and lis-
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 273 
 
 tened to my heart. My father allowed himself to be 
 softened by her. But there was my uncle, M. de 
 Lamartine, whose very name had been the terror of 
 my life. I had confessed nothing, but they knew all. 
 There was a barrier between two souls, seeking each 
 other. I was indignant that a social question should 
 arise against nature, and that one found in me a con- 
 ventional superiority over that incomparable creature. 
 M. de Lamartine was an autocrat, like the only rich 
 member of a family, and the keeper of its hopes. 
 Everbody knelt obediently to him, and educated me 
 in the same sentiment of slavery. I have always told 
 you that theoretically Voltairian as he was, he pre- 
 served an invincible prejudice of caste. Mile. P. 
 belonged to the bourgeoisie, and her charms were 
 unworthy of a needy nobleman. I had re-read " Le 
 Contrat social," one morning, and was indulging in a 
 fond hope. M. de Lamartine had offered himself for 
 some election, I do not remember what. M. P., could 
 command fifty votes, and though he held himself in 
 a dignified and anticipative attitude, he did not dis- 
 dain my alliance, and would make no opposition to 
 my uncle, if my uncle was reasonable. I took my 
 gun, and started off to the mountains to hunt for 
 verses, rather than rabbits. The terrible uncle had 
 honored Milly with a visit. He had criticized every 
 thing on the table, found fault with my sisters' un- 
 becoming toilettes, and finally, without taking a gun,
 
 2/4 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 had followed me, evidently fully decided to tell me 
 the whole truth, face to face. I had girded my loins 
 with resolution, and had sworn that I would remain 
 impregnable, for I had already made my plans, in the 
 firm belief that I had a vocation for diplomacy. 
 Nevertheless, as we mounted into the solitude of 
 the vines, I began to falter. My uncle followed me 
 through the stakes, without opening his lips, and I 
 would not break a silence that was to reveal so much. 
 To gain courage, I aimed at a little bird, that was 
 
 o o T ' 
 
 picking at the grapes. I did not look, for I had a 
 horror of assassination. The bird flew away, melodi- 
 ously singing a song of gratitude. 
 
 " If that is the way you attain all that you aim at, 
 you will not catch a great deal," said M. de Lamar- 
 tine. 
 
 I entered at once into the full persuasion that I 
 was going to make a bold stroke by a strategem; 
 " I do not miss my aim every day," I replied, " Yes- 
 terday I had the pleasure of talking with M. P. and 
 I have spoken particularly in reference to the elec- 
 tions. M. P. will vote for you." His look fell upon 
 me, with the sharpness of lightning. 
 
 " I thank you for the opportunity of showing you 
 what I have in my game bag," he retorted. "You 
 do not deceive me as to the true subject of your 
 conversation with M. P. and I have no desire to buy 
 his vote by a concession degrading to us. My heir
 
 THE STERN UNCLE. 
 
 2/5 
 
 shall never be his son-in-law, understand that. We 
 commenced by the bourgeoisie, but several genera- 
 tions have purified us, and we will not finish by it. 
 If you should find a Venus de Medecis in a house 
 where there has been a shop, I would not call her 
 my niece. 
 
 " If M. P. were a little more learned he might be 
 my associate at the Academy of Macon, but he never 
 should be related to me. You have the honor of 
 being a nobleman, preserve your rank. As for your 
 heart, give it to whom you please, but do not drag 
 it before the Mayor. The Rhone traverses the Le- 
 man without losing its color. Traverse, if you like, 
 the bourgeoisie, but preserve your color, do not mix 
 your blood. A sacrifice must be made, in order that 
 promiscuity shall not lead to confusion. We noble- 
 men are supposed to represent loyalty. It is a glory 
 well worth the pain. When it shall be your turn to 
 protect descendants, you will thank me for showing 
 you a profile of truth. You are condemned to marry 
 a vicountess. She may not bring you a rose, but she 
 will bring you a fine genealogical tree, that will take 
 root in the soil of the domains that I shall leave you. 
 Now, overwhelm me, if you like, with your anger. 
 Assuage your grief by writing an elegy upon it, and 
 an iambic against me. If your purse is long enough, 
 elope with Mile. P.; get an English blacksmith or an 
 imbecile Spanish priest to marry you. I remind you,
 
 276 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 that you are a minor, and we have the power to put 
 you under lock and key. If you succeed in forcing 
 the bolts, say to yourself, that you mean to ruin the 
 family. I shall withdraw your father's annuity, and 
 shall give no dowries to your sisters. I would rather 
 find a Lamartine of the youngest and most obscure 
 branch, to leave my property to. I warn you. I 
 withdraw my nomination, and you, renounce your 
 lady love." 
 
 And away he went, whistling to my dog who fol- 
 lowed him, showing the great respect that even 
 the animals of the household had for him, and I was 
 left alone in my powerlessness. I thought of the talk 
 that my uncle's arbitrariness would cause in the city, 
 of my dear sisters, whom I should condemn to a con- 
 vent or poverty ; of my father, who would not have 
 money enough to buy a coat for Martinmas ; and of 
 my mother, who would silently embrace me, to con- 
 sole me, but would die of sorrow, at the degrada- 
 tion of her children. I was a traitor to all the vows 
 I had made under the moon, and in the entrancing 
 measures of the waltz. The next day I sent a part- 
 ing letter to Mile. P., and to submit to all the condi- 
 tions, set out for Italy." 
 
 " Where you met Graziella," I could not help say- 
 ing. 
 
 " Alas ! the lyre has seven strings, and I have 
 played upon all of them."
 
 YOUTH GROWN AGED. 
 
 277 
 
 " But Mile. P. has not inspired your poems. If 
 she had, she would have been surrounded by the same 
 eternal halo of her successors." 
 
 " She has not kn^wn it, but she has been in all 
 my portraits, and in all my enthusiasms of Elvira and 
 Graziella. I do not exaggerate in saying, that there 
 never was a smile more exquisitely attractive. 
 Neither the Muses, with their golden tresses, as they 
 danced on the sacred mount of Olympus, nor Laura, 
 with her brown locks steeped in the freshness of Vau- 
 cluse, could compare with the beauty and charm of 
 this adorable girl." 
 
 We were approaching Monceaux. Bijou had not 
 changed his solemn, ministerial trot. A group was 
 coming towards us. 
 
 A young student, in uniform, was leading a donkey 
 on which sat an old, wrinkled, shaking woman. 
 
 Lamartine glanced at the puce-colored dress, the 
 old hat and the false hair, and exclaimed excitedly, 
 
 " Mademoiselle P. ! '' 
 
 After more than forty years, he had met and 
 recognized the light of his youth, in that shadow. 
 She was taking a constitutional with her daughter 
 and grandson. 
 
 What a termination of the pastoral, between this 
 incomparable beauty, and that incomparable genius ! 
 
 Mademoiselle P., bending almost double on her 
 donkey ! Lamartine, in the old chariot of Made-
 
 278 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 moiselle Bruys ! Lamartine drew back into the 
 depths of the carriage, saying : 
 
 " I will be more generous to her than chance has 
 been to me, I will spare her the pain of recognizing 
 me." 
 
 Was it well that he was so considerate ?
 
 XX. 
 
 Lamartines Beneficence. 
 
 I SHOULD reproach myself, if I did not show 
 how much native simplicity, and goodness, there 
 was in Lamartine, and will give a few instances out 
 of the many, where the man appeared through his 
 historical, political and literary glory. 
 
 Like Titus, I do not believe that Lamartine ever 
 lay down at night, without having done a good deed. 
 There was this difference, that Titus planned and 
 remembered his, while Lamartine's were spontaneous, 
 and forgotten. 
 
 It was an evening during one of his numerous 
 visits to me. We had spent the day in conversation, 
 and walks in the garden. He had said many won- 
 derful things as we strolled under the lime trees, along 
 the river Grosne. 
 
 There were still two hours before dinner. 
 
 " You would make M. N., very proud and happy, 
 if you went to see him," said I, to Lamartine. " I 
 spend a couple of hours with him every week, and we 
 talk of nobody but you." 
 
 M. N., was one of my old neighbors, of the liberal 
 school of the Restoration. He had a great aversion
 
 280 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS, 
 
 to Lamartine at first, but gradually had gone to the 
 other extreme, and loved him to fanaticism. Uncon- 
 sciously, he changed his opinion with the same ease 
 that a bird hops from branch to branch, and because 
 of this volatile nature, he had positively no political 
 influence. 
 
 He was a great sufferer from gout, and seldom 
 went away from home. 
 
 " Let us go at once," said Lamartine, moving 
 towards the gate. 
 
 I stopped him. 
 
 " You do not understand that M. N. lives a mile 
 and a half from here, and it is going to rain. I will 
 have the horse harnessed, and we will take the car- 
 riage. It is not quite as old as Mile. Bruys' coupe." 
 
 " I would rather walk." 
 
 I insisted, pleading that the rain would bring on 
 an attack of rheumatism, and that it would be dark 
 before we could cross the mountain, and the horse 
 would be ready in ten minutes, Nothing would do. 
 He took the umbrella that I was holding, and go, 
 we must. 
 
 The rain came down upon us in a regular deluge. 
 I proposed returning, but Lamartine was firm. 
 
 He was completely drenched by the time we 
 reached M. N's. but dried himself, merrily, by the 
 fire. The return, over the stony road, in the darkness 
 and storm, gave me a good deal of anxiety. Lan>
 
 THE YOUNG HOPEFUL. 2 8l 
 
 artine cheered me with anecdotes of his campaigns, 
 in the mud of Flanders, in 1804. He had a good 
 appetite for his dinner, but, in the evening, he was 
 obliged to confess to a cold. 
 
 I wanted to find out his reason for this nocturnal 
 tramp. He had some other motive than simply to 
 be agreeable to M. N. Upon inquiry, I discovered 
 that he had gone into the stable in the morning, and 
 had found one of the horses knee-sprung. This 
 explained the caprice. He would rather run the risk 
 of a sickness, than cause an animal to suffer. 
 
 Another day, we went to see one of the neigh- 
 bors, at Saint-Point. Not meeting anyone in the 
 park, I rode to the door, and rang the bell. After 
 waiting some time, a boy about twelve years old, 
 came along very slowly, with his face half hidden by 
 a monstrous slice of bread and cheese. 
 
 " Is your father at home? " asked Lamartine. 
 
 " Go and see," said the boy, running away, laugh- 
 ing impudently. 
 
 The little rascal was acquainted with Lamartine, 
 and had dined at Saint-Point, only a few days before. 
 We were highly amused at this informal reception, 
 and questioned Mme. B's. perfect success in dis- 
 ciplining her hopeful son. Lamartine took his horse 
 to the stable, and gave me a lesson in attaching a 
 halter, in which he put all the pride and pleasure of 
 an old cavalier. Then we went through the lower
 
 282 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 part of the house, searching all the rooms without 
 finding any one. There were recent traces of wheel- 
 tracks on the gravel, and we concluded that M. and 
 Mme. B. had gone away. 
 
 The young man's impertinence was premeditated. 
 We had some time to wait, as the horses must rest. 
 
 " Let us find the scamp,'' said Lamartine, " and 
 make him as worthy of admiration as a pupil of 
 Mme. de Genlis." He had hidden behind a tree 
 with his bread and cheese, not giving any assistance, 
 and evidently was enjoying our embarrassment very 
 much. 
 
 Lamartine beckoned to him. He only ran a little 
 farther away. We then declared war. Each of us 
 took a side, and enclosed him in a grove. He en- 
 joyed the play, and allowed us to approach, but only 
 under protest. 
 
 The boy, though naturally rude and saucy, had 
 really a fine artistic talent for the piano. Lamartine 
 detested a genius at that age, but he sagaciously at- 
 tacked him on his weak side. 
 
 " You must play Hertz, variations on " La Vio- 
 lette," for us," said he. 
 
 He had learned to know this piece from having 
 had his morniag hours of inspiration invaded by the 
 agonies of a tortured piano. 
 
 The boy was touched, and became gracious at 
 once.
 
 PHI LI BERT AS HOST. 
 
 283 
 
 " I would like very much to play for you," he re- 
 plied, " but mamma told me, the other day, that you 
 did not understand music." 
 
 " He is perfect ! " said Lamartine in a low tone. 
 
 However to accomplish his purpose, he took the 
 youngster by the arm and led him towards the house. 
 His cries were more piercing than the peacocks, that 
 were spreading their beautiful plumage in the sun. 
 and they reached as they always do, the maternal 
 heart. 
 
 Mme. B. appeared on the door-steps, terror- 
 stricken. She had a suspicion of the difficulty, and 
 hurried to meet M. de Lamartine. 
 
 " I was asleep on the sofa, and you have given me 
 a great fright, opening and shutting all the doors in 
 the house. I am sure Philibert has been impolite, 
 and has done all that he could not to give you any 
 information. I will speak to his father about it, and 
 we will punish him severely." Then she commenced 
 the chastisement by kissing him. 
 
 Lamartine had no fear of any serious conse- 
 quences, so following his generous inclinations, he 
 determined to leave an impression. 
 
 " Philibert has been a most charming host," said 
 he, " he has exhausted himself in aiding us. He has 
 taken the horses to the stable, hunted for the ser- 
 vants, and not finding them, has brought refreshments 
 himself. He has tried to converse, and shows a great
 
 284 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 deal of intelligence. In fact he has quite represented 
 you, Madame." 
 
 Philibert was conscious of the satire, and at the 
 same time encouraged. He did not have the weak- 
 ness to protest against the praise. 
 
 " What was he crying for, then," said Mme. B. 
 judiciously. 
 
 The objection was overwhelming. 
 
 " He was crying on our account, Madame," said 
 Lamartine. " We had not been able to find you." 
 
 These small details would have no value, if they 
 did not relate to Lamartine. They come back to me 
 because they charmed and amused me then, and show 
 that his innate goodness was unfailing. He ignored, 
 even to a shade of sensitiveness, everything that did 
 not touch the honor of his country, or his ideas. 
 
 He has been reproached for not knowing how to 
 hate. This is true. But it does not prove that he 
 did not know how to love. 
 
 No writer has ever allowed himself to be more 
 easily criticized. He would make a correction, at 
 the least objection, unless a mental protestation for- 
 bade. 
 
 One day, when he had changed a fine line to 
 suit a professor, who had made a criticism as narrow 
 as a grammarian could make it, I said to him, 
 
 "You do not respect yourself enough in your 
 writings."
 
 THE POET AND THE GRAMMARIANS. 28$ 
 
 " Perhaps not," said he. " That comes from my 
 unfortunate facility, for a cast is scarcely broken, 
 before I mould another from its fragments. These 
 gentlemanly Academicians amuse me beyond every- 
 thing. They do not see that it is we, who are making 
 the grammar over," he added with a kind of pride. 
 
 He received immense quantities of newspapers- 
 Most of them spoke of him only at the time of his 
 great struggles, and it was very rare that these cups 
 of enthusiasm did not contain a drop of bitterness 
 from some reactionary source. 
 
 When these annoyances occupied all the space, 
 he smiled as he read the invectives, and did not even 
 stipulate that they should be well written, in order to 
 forgive them at once. 
 
 " I employ the Mithridates method," said he. 
 " I take a little poison, every day, so that it may not 
 affect me." 
 
 " A person cannot live very long on such a diet," 
 said I. 
 
 " You will see me among the nineties. In my 
 family, the bones are bronze. When I was young, I 
 had a passion for sudden death, but I am condemned 
 to an old age." 
 
 Yet he had the weakness never to tell his age. 
 
 I do not know why he always claimed to have been 
 born in 1793, when the true date was 1790. He told 
 this so often, that he finally believed it. His youthful
 
 286 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 appearance and vigor made him feel young, and he 
 thought that he owed it to his reputation to disguise 
 the certificate of his birth. 
 
 There was a tacit agreement between his sisters 
 to be silent on the question. When strangers were 
 present they quietly accepted the exaggeration, by 
 which he reconstructed his civil estate. 
 
 The truth was declared one morning before me. 
 One of the sisters possessed the quality of frankness. 
 Lamartine had just proved that he was the younger. 
 
 There were some remains of coquetry in her, and 
 naturally she was indignant. 
 
 " Alphonse," said she, " I dare you to tell the 
 name of my God-father, aloud." 
 
 We understood at once that Lamartine was the 
 god-father. The sister healed the wound by add- 
 ing. 
 
 " And say too, that he has written ' Les Giron- 
 dins,' every word of which is true." 
 
 This amiable woman still lives. She has been 
 very handsome, and when we want to see Lamartine's 
 profile again, we can find it in that retreat where she 
 so nobly lives with the memories of a great brother's 
 glory. 
 
 She was a little of a Bonapartist, an exception in 
 the family. There were interminable discussions 
 between her brother and herself. After freeing her 
 mind, she would remember who her antagonist was,
 
 EUGENIE DE LAMARTINE. 287 
 
 and always yield, except on one point ; the cul- 
 inary art. 
 
 Lamartine had his own ideas of cookery, and pur- 
 sued them relentlessly in theory, and even conde- 
 scended to fight his point. I have often seen the 
 sister leave the table in tears, and the next day, I 
 was sure to meet Lamartine on his way to her room. 
 Remembering that he had offended her, he would 
 leave his brightest page to go and console her. He 
 would carry candies, that probably had grown sfale 
 in his closet, and insist that her miserable little dog 
 had much more intelligence than his greyhounds, and 
 call to mind the spring-times of long ago, when 
 Eugenie used to attract all the eyes of Macon to the 
 graceful undulations of her white dress, and the rosy 
 tints of her cheeks, as she came out of the new church 
 after the mass. He would exhaust himself in these 
 demonstrations, which she always allowed to be pro- 
 longed, and he never left her until she had smiled 
 forgiveness. It was an hour lost for work and one 
 gained for happiness. 
 
 He gave constant proof of his inexhaustible sweet- 
 ness of disposition. 
 
 Nothing was more distasteful to him than to be 
 disturbed in the morning at his work. Mme. de Lam- 
 artine had built a chapel at Monceaux, out of an old 
 theatre, and the cur of Presse' came Sundays, to say 
 mass. Once in a while, not to grieve his wife, Lam
 
 288 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 artine would leave his work and go to mass. He 
 carried under his arm an " Imitation," a " Bossuet," 
 or a " Rousseau," just as it happened, but he did not 
 read them. He communed with himself, and found 
 within, a deistical faith, superior to all dogmas. 
 
 I have said that an unhappy chance had sent his 
 old friend and physician to die at the chateau. His 
 death was a sorrow to the whole family, and almost 
 caused a quarrel. Dr. Pascal had always been a free 
 thinker, and confessed with dignity to Voltairianism, 
 whenever the occasion required it. Madame de 
 Lamartine and the other ladies desired the interven- 
 tion of the Church, and their passionate religious 
 ardor led them to introduce a priest into the death- 
 chamber, at night, thus disobeying Lamartine, who 
 respected the wishes of his dying friend. Lamartine 
 learned of the pious strategem. He did not make 
 any scene, but desiring to remove the injury done to 
 the conscience, and, if not to correct the evil, at least 
 to bring the soul back to the atmosphere of freedom, 
 he opened the door before dawn, and bending over 
 the bed, by some secret divine light he re-illumined 
 the reason already in the shadow of death. When he 
 closed the half-shut eyes, they had seen the true God. 
 
 Lamartine was comforted for the departure of his 
 friend, and not to give offense to the neighboring 
 priest, he allowed them to say that the doctor had 
 died in the sacraments of the church. How many
 
 REGRET NOT GRIEVING. 
 
 289 
 
 acts of watchfulness and secret kindness, unknown 
 even to his friends, has he performed in this outpour- 
 ing of benevolence and of true charity ! 
 
 Some have said that he did not seem to regret his 
 dead friends. That was true only in appearance. I 
 never saw him shed tears. He was saddened by the 
 absence of his friends, but he did not believe in death. 
 He felt a certainty, to which conscience gave almost 
 mathematical proof, that he should see the departed 
 again. The communion of souls and exchange of 
 words were alone interrupted. 
 
 One day after a political act of great significance, 
 he said to me, 
 
 " I would like to know if Branger is satisfied." 
 
 Beranger had been dead eight years. 
 
 Lamartine regretted, but did not grieve. Grief 
 seemed to him a weakness, and a concession to the 
 doctrine of annihilation. He respected God too much 
 to admit that he would destroy a creature in whom 
 He had implanted a belief in the immortality of the 
 soul. I have often asked him how Immortality was 
 presented to him, and I have frequently talked with 
 him of the luminous theory of the spheres, of endless 
 incarnations in renewed humanities, and successive 
 purifications. I was very much convinced. He in- 
 clined towards the probability of the theory but never 
 gave a decided adhesion. He was seeking the solu- 
 tion of the great problem.
 
 290 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FKIENDS. 
 
 "I shall never find it," said he, " but you shall 
 know of what I have had a glimpse. I will write a 
 confession of faith when I am very old, and the book 
 will contain, I hope, the honey of all my seasons." 
 
 He never thought himself old enough to write it 
 literally, but as Hugo is doing now, he traced a liv- 
 ing page every day. He prayed by acts of forgive- 
 ness and generosity, which gushed from him as from 
 a fountain head, passionate or refreshing, according 
 to circumstances. The chaplets of holy men and 
 women, are made by devoutly stringing shells, or 
 beads. Lamartine's was made by the continuous 
 grains of kindness, rolling from the abundance of his 
 heart. We could spend hours in telling such beads, 
 but we would rather try and follow the path, along 
 which like a prodigal he has scattered them. 
 
 The history of Leon Bruys d'Ouilly speaks too 
 eloquently of Lamartine's vigilance not to repeat it. 
 
 Thanks to him, in spite of the overwhelming mis- 
 fortunes that pursued Bruys, sadness never came into 
 a life made only for smiles. 
 
 I have already said that Bruys fascinated us, in 
 our youth, by his elegant misconduct. After many 
 fancies, he fixed upon one, as he would attach him- 
 self to a poet. She was an Italian countess, married, 
 and free to act as she pleased. To us, she seemed 
 to have come directly from the romances of Mme. 
 Sand, full of fascinations and daring adventures.
 
 LEON BR UYS D'O UILL Y. 2 g I 
 
 Her own romance was so well known, and was so 
 sure to terminate in a marriage, that Bruys pre- 
 sented me to her as a future cousin. There were all 
 sorts of passionate conceits in the intimacy, beauty, 
 wit, the traditions of an illustrous family, long jour- 
 neys, winters in Paris, an admiring world, and lastly 
 a husband who was making his preparations to leave 
 a widow. They seemed to travel through Europe in 
 a golden-wheeled chariot, which illuminated the road 
 it passed over. The bond was a violation of social 
 order, but in such good taste, and with so many jus- 
 tifiable reasons, that the horror of the name was lost. 
 
 I have also intimated,.that when every thing was 
 ready for a legal consummation, the old count dead, 
 the grand villa built on the Maconnais, suddenly 
 there arose complications, making a marriage impos- 
 sible, and thus, a love that had endured for ten 
 years, was extinguished at the moment it was to 
 have been legalized. The notary was inadmissible 
 in this long scene of masked balls and promenades 
 among the fountains, music, and gondolas of Italy. 
 
 The forsaken one buried herself in tears as sin- 
 cere as ever came from mortal eyes, but she suffi- 
 ciently recovered a few years after, to make a mar- 
 riage of great renown. Lon tried to be tragic, but 
 melancholy never came naturally to him, not even in 
 his complete ruin. The marble for the villa, had 
 absorbed the last of his patrimony. He was obliged
 
 292 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 to sell his woods and lands, little by little, and he 
 determined to struggle by the sole courage of his 
 will, though his muscles had not been rubbed with 
 the oil of strength. 
 
 He had marked talent for many things, and yet 
 without Lamartine he would have died of hunger 
 upon a mountain of irresolute faculties. His politi- 
 cal and religious convictions did not call him to a 
 crusade, which at any rate, was lacking to an epoch 
 when the papal zouaves had not been created. So 
 he took to agriculture, as it belonged to a nobleman. 
 He went to his stables, or to the fields that he was 
 clearing, but if a rhyme was suggested, or by chance 
 he met a shepherdess, he halted. The wheat never 
 came out of the furrows, the grapes never went to 
 the press, and his last penny was buried in a com- 
 post heap. 
 
 Then he thought of music. He sang and com- 
 posed well. One day in Venice he entered a circle 
 surrounding an itinerant musician, on the Place St. 
 Mark. Neapolitan ballads flowed from his lips, and 
 money flowed into his purse. He was applauded 
 vociferously, but would not tell his name. He in- 
 vited his partner to supper and gave him the receipts 
 of the impromptu concert. But what had been an 
 accidental success, could not become a resource. 
 He turned to his paint brushes, which he handled 
 with as much skill as he did the guitar. He hired a
 
 LO A' BR UYS D'O UIL LY. 293 
 
 studio in the Latin quarter, and had the courage and 
 ability, at forty-five years of age, to renew youth. 
 He followed the path immortalized by Miirger. 
 There, he met bagpipes, but not fortune. His pas- 
 tels, undefined and pastoral, resembled a romance 
 of the Restoration far too strongly. Purchasers never 
 came. Due bills accumulated over the pipes we 
 smoked in his company. We did our best to dis- 
 guise our contributions. They were extremely in- 
 sufficient to the needs of a bachelor, who had so 
 many luxurious and idle hours to his account. It 
 was then that Lamartine intervened. To give was 
 so much a part of his nature, that he always found 
 an opportunity of doing it acceptably. In the coun- 
 try, in the attic, in Paris, and in the peasant's cottage 
 where Bruys finally took refuge, Lamartine always 
 came, at the critical moment, with a note of one 
 thousand francs in his hand, and begged so ingen- 
 iously, that he succeeded in leaving it upon the table, 
 without offending a refined susceptibility. He never 
 desired to know whether the money was applied to 
 pressing needs, or to diversions, more or less ortho- 
 dox. He simply desired to continue the thread of 
 happiness which had been interwoven in all the 
 years of his friend's life. At a time when he was 
 much involved in debt, and Bruys destitute, he sent 
 a cart containing food enough for a year, so that 
 Bruys might come oftener to see him at Monceaux,
 
 294 LAMARTINE AMD HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Lamartine was more than paternal, he was maternal 
 in all his characteristics. He wrote twenty pages 
 more, that Bruys' purse might be filled, and his joy- 
 ous nature revived. Instead of revolving about a 
 countess, this facile lover, like a hero of the eigh- 
 teenth century, found plenty of amusement in 
 adoring all the little Suzons of the field. 
 
 Bruys never was seriously earnest, except in 
 friendship and politics. An offshoot of a legitimist 
 branch, and educated by a priest, the horror of cler- 
 icalism had driven him to liberalism, and his admira- 
 tion for Lamartine had led him to republicanism. 
 He sold his last acres to sustain the " Bien Public," 
 and to travel through the country to spread the 
 tenets of Democracy. He held so strictly to his prin- 
 ciples, that he would forget to laugh after dinner, if 
 it- was a question of defending them. 
 
 I have told of the subprefecture that he so in- 
 dignantly refused, December 5th, 1851. At that 
 time, he did not have an overcoat for winter. 
 
 In private, Lamartine always spoke with pleasure 
 of what Bruys d'Ouilly cost him. He considered it 
 his duty to provide for him. If Bruys had been the 
 incarnation of ingratitude, instead of one of the best 
 friends in the world, Lamartine would have done the 
 same for him. His genius had caprices ; his heart, 
 none. 
 
 One afternoon we mounted our horses to go and
 
 LEON BRUYS D'OUILLY. 
 
 295 
 
 see our friend, who had secluded himself for several 
 years in a farm-house at Vergisson. Lamartine was 
 going to do a kind act, and he commenced by a prac- 
 tical joke. I was a very good horseman, thanks to 
 long legs and much practice. Lamartine had several 
 horses, but he chose to send me a mare having all 
 the abandon of a greyhound, under ordinary circum- 
 stances not a disagreeable quality, but disadvanta- 
 geous when one desired to give his whole attention 
 to listening. I utilized the caracoles of my steed as 
 punctuation marks, and succeeded in losing nothing 
 of the conversation. 
 
 It is a charming road along the rocks of the Ver- 
 gisson, and recalls the Italian windings of the Cor- 
 niche. 
 
 We passed by the house of a beautiful and excel- 
 lent lady, Mme. de S , who had been maid-of- 
 
 honor to the Queen of Portugal. She was standing 
 behind the gate, in all the radiance of her youth, sur- 
 rcrnded by her children. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " said she to Lamartine. 
 
 " I am going to see if I can give as much pleas- 
 ure to the heart, as you do to the eyes," he replied. 
 
 " You do not come to see us often enough, M. 
 de Lamartine, so we come to the road, every day, to 
 stop you for a moment. We never shall be tired 
 waiting for you." 
 
 She kept her word faithfully. She waited for him
 
 296 LAMA R TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 on his way to Saint-Point. Not many years after, 
 when, with so much grief, the sad cortege carried 
 back all that remained of his glory, it met the tomb 
 of her who had so fascinated us by her wondrous 
 grace. 
 
 We arrived at Vergisson. Leon occupied a lit- 
 tle dilapidated room in a vintager's cottage, which 
 one of his relations had lent him, and where they 
 used to go for the'vintage. In the autumn, the rains 
 dripped through the old roof upon the bed, and in 
 winter, the cold north winds filled the room with 
 smoke, but nothing disturbed the serenity and resig- 
 nation of its occupant. He, who once adorned the 
 fine suits of Chevreuil, now wore an old patched 
 blouse. He preserved a remnant of luxury in his 
 destitution, and brought from his closet cigarettes 
 of Mount Carmel tobacco, given to him by a pilgrim, 
 in the days of his wealth. His only recreation was 
 an occasional day of hunting, with a neighbor, to 
 whom his coming had been a good fortune. 
 
 " How do you occupy yourself, now ? " said La- 
 martine. 
 
 Bruys colored. 
 
 He had commenced his fourth enterprise. 
 
 " I am writing a poem," said he, " and when it is 
 published I shall be able to pay all my debts. I have 
 already written twelve thousand lines." 
 
 He evidently felt that there was no illusion in the
 
 LEON BRUYS D'OUILLY. 2 $7 
 
 value of his poetical conceptions ; but the noble per 
 sistency with which he demanded his living from 
 music, paintingj poetry, and all the high arts, made 
 him mistake his courage for success, and his visions 
 for bank-bills. Lamartine knew, very well, that he 
 would be the future editor of the poem. He wanted 
 to reward the recluse at once, and he insisted upon 
 hearing a few of the cantos. The measure, limpid 
 and graceful, was traced in the Lamartinian style, 
 but lacked decided color. 
 
 Lamartine never raised his eyebrows, though he 
 could not help seeing that he had been, as it were, 
 washed out. Bruys was writing at the rate of three 
 hundred lines a day. 
 
 " And when you are tired of writing these sweet 
 things, what do you do with the rest of your time ? '' 
 said Lamartine, " I shall be as needy as you some 
 day, my dear friend, and I come to Vergisson to 
 study a plan of practical philosophy." 
 
 " The peasants come into the court in the even- 
 ing, and I put a candle on the cask, and read Lamar- 
 tine to them." 
 
 " Do they understand ? " asked the author of 
 " Jocelyn." 
 
 " I only give them what relates to politics. I 
 explain the Republic to them. I recall fragments of 
 your speeches, and weave them into my own. I 
 demonstrate to them, in my way, or I might almost
 
 298 
 
 LAM 'AR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 dare to say in your way, that the cultivation of the 
 vine, the comfort and well-being of the peasant, peace 
 in the household, and, in fact, the whole conduct of 
 life, is in the Republic, which alone can assure Order. 
 I advise them to think more of God, and less of their 
 priests. I compose songs for them, always telling of 
 Liberty. By the votes of the community at the next 
 election, you will see whether or not I have suc- 
 ceeded." 
 
 Very soon after, we heard the sound of voices 
 and sabots in the street. Our horses had attracted 
 the vintagers at work on the hill-side, and it was soon 
 noised abroad, that Lamartine had come to see his 
 friend. The court could not contain a great many, 
 but it was filled. Old and young assembled, to see 
 Lamartine come out. They did not dare to call 
 him. He did not wait, but went at once, to satisfy 
 an affectionate curiosity. 
 
 It was not an occasion for a speech, which under 
 any circumstance, Lamartine disliked. He shook 
 hands with them, and said a few words which I have 
 remembered. 
 
 " My friends, you have sacrificed your time to 
 come and see me. You leave the plough and spade, 
 to come to a man, who has also tried to work with a 
 useful instrument, and who spends his time in clearing 
 other fields than these, but which belong to you, as 
 well. You are told, that the Republic is a sacrifice.
 
 LON BR UYS D'O UILL Y. 299 
 
 It is also a recompense. We sacrifice to it, what we 
 call our luxuries. You must sacrifice your distrusts. 
 Be no longer suspicious of the rich ! Let them not 
 be to you as the bronze men of the fountains in 
 the public gardens, that spout water alone from their 
 open mouths! Instead of water we often shed our 
 blood. But what of that ! The recompense I mean, 
 is Liberty for all. the perfection of Order. Labor 
 under the eye of God. Fraternity, the Republic. 
 Let your hearts seek to intertwine like the vines you 
 cultivate, on the hills, and in future seasons, there 
 shall come forth from the fruit of brotherly-love, the 
 clear pure wine of Liberty ! " 
 
 He almost forgot his simple audience, and was 
 talking philosophy to Bruys and me. The sun was 
 setting as he mounted his horse and rode away, amid 
 the benedictions of the crowd. He did not spoil the 
 day by leaving any gold. 
 
 His kindness followed Bruys, even to installing 
 him in a little house at Macon. He varied his 
 manner of contributing. Sometimes he sent strangers 
 to buy pictures of the noble artist, as if for them- 
 selves, at unheard-of prices ; at other times he boldly 
 carried his money, that he pretended to have saved 
 from the remains of his fortune, and said that he 
 would be glad to have it again, when Bruys, whose 
 reputation had now begun, had earned all the money 
 he wanted.
 
 3OO LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 This dear friend won his place above by his cheerful 
 resignation, his persevering patriotism, and by his 
 light-heartedness. In spite of tragic experiences 
 which would have been crushing to any one else, he 
 was a living proof that God sometimes creates truly 
 happy beings. 
 
 Bruys died just as a small inheritance was com- 
 ing to him. He was admirable to the last moment, 
 and descended to the tomb, surrounded by the aure- 
 ole of his master, who was holding his hand. 
 
 Undoubtedly, he left behind a track furrowed by 
 his many levities, but he never had a hostile thought, 
 and never said a bitter word. Twenty years of his 
 life he gave to the Republic, and whoever has done 
 that, has loved much, and to him shall much be for 
 given.
 
 XXI 
 
 Last Years. 
 
 ~T~ ET us return to rue de la Ville 1'Eveque and to 
 -i-J those last years. The little house has seen 
 many joys, and hidden many sorrows. Bailiffs, and 
 physicians with their ineffectual remedies have come 
 at all times. It was between those walls, dilapidated 
 like himself, that this grand life, full of heroism and 
 nobility, was to gradually crumble in sorrow, and 
 almost humiliation. 
 
 The wind that whistled around the corners of the 
 streets brought there and found there only lamen- 
 tations. 
 
 Lamartine went there to live about the close of 
 1849. It was a narrow cottage, in the rear of a dark 
 court. There was a door, on a level with the pave- 
 ment, opening into a contracted vestibule, on one side 
 of which, was a spiral staircase, leading to the only 
 story. On the other side, was an apartment, once a 
 conservatory, now transformed into an office, where, 
 for eighteen years, M. and Mme. Cresset kept the 
 books, registered the subscriptions and the numbers 
 of the "Cours familier de Litterature." Crossing a 
 dining-room, so dismal that it was never used, one
 
 3Q2 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 reached the modest parlor, which became grand, 
 when Lamartine was the host. Beyond this was a 
 boudoir that an easel entirely filled, and at the left 
 hand, was a little hall where the meals were served. 
 
 The only luxury attached to the house, was a lit- 
 tle garden, where Lamartine had twenty feet of green 
 grass, for playing with his dogs. At first, the sun 
 used to shine upon the house, but afterwards the im- 
 provements to the Hotel Beauveau, now ministry of 
 the interior, threw the shadow upon this poor little 
 corner of light. 
 
 The poet took frequent rambles, but no longer 
 found poetical inspirations, nor did the orator find 
 any more orations. 
 
 He never came into that house, followed by the 
 demonstrations and acclamations, which are re-iter- 
 ated in the great enthusiasm of his words and writ- 
 ings. 
 
 In leaving rue de 1'Universite', he left his glory. 
 Those who knew him only at rue de la Villa 1'Eveque, 
 never knew the real Lamartine. 
 
 He was haunted by one thought ; to be free from 
 debt. The vinedressers of Monceaux, to whom he 
 owed much, and could not pay, came, constantly, 
 like spectres before him. He forgot that he had 
 enriched them by his liberality, as well as by his ac- 
 quisitions, and always imagined that he should see 
 them coming to Paris, with his bank-bills in their
 
 MME. DE LAMARTINE. 303 
 
 hands, and from this vain hope, came those financial 
 combinations, which, finally exhausted him. 
 
 Mme. de Lamartine never left the bleeding path. 
 She was associated with her husband in work, literary 
 research, and in the sacrifice of her fortune. Her 
 admiration led her to liberality. She did not ques- 
 tion whether there were absolute necessities, or fool- 
 ish caprices. After a few years, feeling that nothing 
 could close a gulf kept open by hazardous specula- 
 tions, she ceased to trouble herself about the future, 
 and gave no more advice. Her counsels were much 
 missed, for she possessed an unerring judgment. 
 She devoted her time to painting and sculpture. 
 For the chimney-piece in the house of the Bois-de- 
 Boulogne, given them by the Muncipality, she 
 painted a series of medallions of distinguished poets 
 that were worthy of a master. She renounced her 
 luxuries with simplicity and grace. She was several 
 years older than Lamartine, and old age marked her 
 earlier. 
 
 She did not lack courage to grow old gracefully, 
 but she did not want to be bent, nor to have white 
 hair. 
 
 She was always expecting that some political 
 catastrophe would proscribe them, and kept brave 
 and active, ready for the long journey. Her health, 
 always delicate, succumbed in the struggle against 
 the invasion of age.
 
 304 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The drawing-room of rue de la Ville 1'Eveque 
 was well filled every evening by dear friends, and 
 often strangers who desired to be presented. Lam- 
 artine would say a few words in English or Italian, 
 Mme. de Lamartine was always present, but no longer 
 directed the conversation, even when sleep overtook 
 the master of the house. She reserved herself 
 for the correspondence. Ronchaud, Alexandre, M. 
 d'Esgrigny have many letters of those last years, 
 showing how brightly the pale flame burned in that 
 soul. 
 
 She died in Paris in 1867. 
 
 Her sickness was long, and painful in its last 
 stages. Lamartine was fastened to his bed by the 
 iron bands of rheumatism. The nurse went from 
 one bed to the other. The two chambers were sep- 
 arated by a hall, and not a word of parting was ex- 
 changed. The death agony warned Lamartine of 
 what was passing. 
 
 I saw him the next day still in bed. The attend- 
 ants were closing the coffin. No tears shone in his 
 firm eyes, nor did his voice tremble when he told 
 me of the death, but his brief words told more pow- 
 erfully than tears, the void left in his heart, and the 
 ties of heroic friendship that had been broken. 
 
 Sobs could not have moved one so much as 
 these stony words. Although the family was still 
 very numerous, Mile. Valentine de Cessiat Lamar-
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 305 
 
 tine, the niece of whom I have already spoken, took 
 her aunt's position, and moreover, continued the 
 task in correcting proofs and writing- from dictation. 
 Lamartine had always held the pen himself, but now 
 he frequently left it in the beautiful hand of Mile. 
 Valentine, who carried her pious flattery even to 
 imitating his hand-writing. Sometimes, now, when 
 I have the pleasure of receiving a letter from her, 
 I tremble. Lamartine seems to live again, and 
 sends me one of his morning notes. 
 
 I have searched my memory so as not to omit 
 anything I know of Lamartine. I should feel re- 
 proached to leave on the path a single souvenir, 
 without piously raising it. I have said that I should 
 show the true Lamartine, and I am sure that truth 
 cannot destroy his nobleness. I trample in the dust 
 of his feet, to the exhaustion of my forces. 
 
 One evening he was more thoughtful and dejected 
 than usual. The little parlor was empty. The visi- 
 tors had not yet arrived. I had asked several ques- 
 tions, and only received monosyllabic replies. I an- 
 ticipated a domestic catastrophe, and though fearing 
 that my interest might be indiscreet, I could not 
 remain in an uncertainty, so scarcely daring to make 
 myself heard, I said, " What is the matter with 
 you ?" 
 
 " I have come to a perplexing problem," said he.
 
 306 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 " I am troubled by a question that my conscience 
 cannot answer. I have never been been so puzzled 
 by any woman, as I am by this man." 
 i " What man? " 
 
 " A perfect man, and yet lacking. An Evange- 
 list and a Helvetius; Victor Schoelcher.'' 
 
 I was acquainted with the man. I bowed, Lam- 
 artine rose. Action was necessary to him, to shake 
 off an impression. 
 
 " He came to me with his noble brow and pleas- 
 ant face," said Lamartine. " I had never met him. 
 He told me of his life, as a republican and apostle. 
 He marches as straight along his road, as if he were 
 guided by a star. He has done more for the amel- 
 ioration of the black race, than Wilberforce, Louis 
 Blanc, or I, or all of the Provisionary government 
 together. He has lived a life of self-forgetfulness, 
 justice is his respiration ; sacrifice his action and 
 right his word. Every inflection makes one think 
 of heaven. The saints and martyrs have not had 
 more charity than he. I was moved to the very 
 depths of my soul, in listening to him. I took his 
 hands in mine, and thanked him for doing so much 
 for God. " I am a Materialist," said he, " and I do 
 not believe in God." Then he went away, leaving 
 me in an inexplicable state of wonder. Can a man 
 draw so much virtue from himself? Is it natural to 
 work so conscientiously for a Divine master and still
 
 VICTOR SCHCELCHER. 
 
 307 
 
 ignore Him? Is it not an attempt to make his 
 merit a blasphemy? Is God indifferent if actions 
 prove what the lip denies ? Why this exception ? 
 Absolute negation leads as directly to servitude as 
 the Zuyder-Zee leads to the North Pole. Caesarism 
 has its recruits, already formed in regiments, in the 
 army of the atheists. 
 
 " And they are legion ! I am not anxious about 
 eternal morality, which always will float, but it is for 
 the Republic of the future, that I tremble. The Re- 
 public is the ideal of Justice, and the workmen of 
 Nature alone, will never build the Holy City. From 
 the marshes of Materialism, there will come forth 
 twenty Marats for every Schcelcher. Never has my 
 admiration for one been so wounded ! Still after an 
 hour's conversation, I love and admire him, and I 
 would like to give him a part of my soul, or rather, 
 for he has a soul of his own working continually, I 
 would like to make that soul burst forth from his lips, 
 by the liberation of his virtues," Lamartine fell sor- 
 rowfully back into his chair. 
 
 Those who came that evening found him very 
 silent. His preoccupation lasted for some hours, 
 though usually, he came quickly out of himself. 
 
 Schcelcher had irritated and charmed him at the 
 same time. I remembered this conversation, when, 
 at the National Assembly, I had the honor of sitting 
 by this philosopher, who has not changed in his char-
 
 308 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 ity or scepticism. If I feel doubtful in regard to any 
 question, I go to him, knowing where to find a true 
 solution. His conscience is more than just; it has a 
 warmth drawn from a celestial source. Schcelcher 
 pardons me for being a spiritualist, as I pardon him 
 for being a priest without knowing it ; a priest in 
 the highest sense, separated from all symbols, and 
 though denying God, taking his stand with Jesus 
 Christ. If the spirit of the Sermon on the Mount 
 comes into the Assembly, at Versailles, I am sure 
 that it rests more upon those who ask for amnesty, 
 than upon those who do not. 
 
 My other assqciate and friend, Laurent Pichat, 
 came to Lamartine about this same time. He was 
 one of the directors of the " Revue de Paris," with 
 Maxime du Camp, and Louis Ulbach. The editor- 
 ship, in those strong poetic hands, met all the politi- 
 cal aspirations, ennobling them in exciting them to 
 action. 
 
 Every copy of the review sent forth a light, like 
 the aurora of the future Republic. 
 
 Pichat had just written an enthusiastic article 
 apropos of a demonstration that the schools wanted 
 to make in honor of Lamartine, so Lamartine invited 
 him to come and see him. 
 
 " My only consolation for never having met Ar- 
 mand Carrel, has been the hope, that, some day, I 
 should see you," said he, when he met Lamartine.
 
 LA UREX T PICHA T. 
 
 309 
 
 " By your character, and talent, you are one of the 
 forces of the Democracy, and you bring Carrel back 
 to us." 
 
 The conversation begun by this justifiable parallel, 
 soon embraced all topics. I do not know how it hap- 
 pened to float from music to dogs. 
 
 On the subject of music, Lamartine went through 
 the whole scale of his eloquence. 
 
 " If I could obtain the gift of measuring my fac- 
 ulties by my aspirations, I would ask to be made a 
 great musician," said he. " The language of words 
 has always seemed lacking to me, to render the reso- 
 nance and color of all that vibrates within us. The 
 language of sound is infinite. Speech reaches only 
 a certain height, and falls back upon the speaker. 
 A musical sound goes beyond the horizon, and 
 draws the singer into the sky. The alphabet is 
 soon exhausted. The orchestra has no limit. 
 Music can do without translators. I would give a 
 thousand ' Lacs ' for one ' Pastorale.' If I repeat 
 a rhyme, Fido goes to sleep ; if I sing a line, 
 Fido understands me, and howls, for I sing out of 
 time." 
 
 Then Lamartine came to one of his dearest texts, 
 " intelligence of animals." 
 
 " I always carry a piece of sugar in my pocket 
 for my dogs," he continued. "This morning in tak- 
 ing my bath, I left my pantaloons on the floor. Fido
 
 3IO LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 sniffed at them, put his nose into the pocket on the 
 right side, and found nothing. This first movement 
 was only instinct. That is true. Now wait for the 
 second. Fido reflects. He remembers that there is 
 a second pocket. He turns the pantaloons over, 
 finds the other pocket, and is rewarded. Are there 
 many men who would know as well as this animal, 
 how to reflect upon the situations, and turn the 
 pockets? " 
 
 I give this example among thousands, to show 
 how many charms, and happy surprises, there were 
 in Lamartine's familiar conversation. 
 
 I can scarcely believe that his presence is not in 
 the National Assembly with his disciples, who are 
 leading his Republic, and trying to make it immor- 
 tal. I feel sure that his influence guides our hands 
 towards the ballot-box, where France is. 
 
 Lamartine continued to give occasional dinners, 
 in spite of his reduced circumstances. I was seldom 
 invited, for the table was small, and there were always 
 many obligations to satisfy in Paris. We were over- 
 whelmed with his hospitality during the summer and 
 autumn, at Saint-Point, and at Monceaux. 
 
 I once said to him, that I had seldom seen Alex- 
 ander Dumas, pere ; so he invited me with one of our 
 neighbors to meet the author of " Monte-Cristo." 
 There was also an ex-consul, an intimate friend of
 
 DUMAS, PERE. jH 
 
 Stendhal, and a journalist, who did not keep his wit 
 for his newspaper. 
 
 Lamartine was very entertaining. He roused 
 himself from his engrossing cares, and shared his 
 " verve " with his guests. I have never understood 
 so well the particular charm and attraction of the 
 table reunions among the Romans, or the " petits 
 soupers," of the i8th century. Dumas gave the 
 material of a whole new volume of impressions of 
 travel. His great sonorous laugh was a cordial and 
 
 o o 
 
 a delight. His witticisms flowed from him, as natu- 
 rally as the ruddy juice from the grapes. We only 
 asked him not to restrain himself. Mile. Valentine 
 was present, and he did not pass the limit of pro- 
 priety. Lamartine could not permit himself to be 
 surpassed in this contest of wit. He was as amus- 
 ing as if Voltaire, Benjamin Constant, and Mme. de 
 Stae'l had spoken through his lips. He seemed to 
 forget that the Republic was dead. 
 
 Stendhal's friend and the journalist were men of 
 spontaneity, yet they could only send back their 
 approbation by their affectionate mirth and ges- 
 tures. 
 
 My neighbor, who passed most of his time in the 
 village library, understood all that was said, for they 
 spoke the true French language. I deplore the loss 
 of so many pearls thrown away in the Lethean waters 
 of my memory.
 
 312 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I would have given much to have taken notes of 
 that event. 
 
 Contrary to the habits of the house, the dinner 
 was prolonged, and the little garden was already en- 
 veloped in darkness, when we entered the parlor. 
 The windows were thrown open, and cigars lighted. 
 One of Dumas' faults was, not to smoke. He brought 
 up many great examples for his defense, and chose, 
 inconsistently, among others, Napoleon, who belonged 
 to a generation of snuff-takers. Then, leaving his 
 anecdotes, he departed at once in a bold panegyric 
 upon the conqueror. 
 
 Lamartine became serious at once. There were 
 certain questions to which he could not be indifferent. 
 No one touched his moral religion without a pro- 
 test. I have always suspected that Dumas wanted 
 to rest, and challenged a speech to aid his diges- 
 tion. 
 
 He obtained it. 
 
 Lamartine blamed Dumas, as he constantly did 
 Beranger, for having written for the Empire. He 
 could forgive anything but that. He always said 
 that M. de Sade had done less harm to humanity, in 
 writing Justine, than General Foy, by saluting the 
 " Column " so frequently. He believed that Saint- 
 Helene had been a too gentle expiation for so many 
 violations. He raised the hero's laurels, and found 
 beneath the brutal crimes of misery, and insincerity,
 
 DUMAS PRE. 
 
 313 
 
 He could not admit any extenuating circumstances, 
 for him, who had trampled out the breath of the Re- 
 public, under the heels of his grenadiers. He saw, 
 standing before the justice of God, a man clothed in 
 hideous purple, who had emptied the sluices of peace, 
 for which so many streams of blood had flowed, and 
 he declared that nothing could purchase the pardon 
 of the assassin, and that Cartouche should have 
 granted mercy to the Due d'Enghien. 
 
 He demolished the prodigious Dumas, piece by 
 piece, as if he had been a minister, and an accomplice 
 of Bonaparte. 
 
 Dumas had the modesty not to reply. 
 
 He carried away his page of history fastened to him. 
 
 However, he was not willing to rest under the 
 malediction of Demosthenes. The good fellow found 
 that there was nothing to do, and after a few face- 
 tious remarks, scarcely relevant, he managed to 
 effect his escape, first poking Lamartine in the ribs, 
 and saying, " Farceur ! " 
 
 I ask Dumas' pardon, but this is the truth. 
 
 This was the last time that I saw Lamartine in 
 the full possession of his faculties. His exquisite 
 goodness remained, but the oil in the lamp was grad- 
 ually diminishing. Occasional gleams flashed forth, 
 but they grew more and more rare. 
 
 The slow work of disorganization had commenced 
 in this homeric brain.
 
 314 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 I could not believe in such a great misfortune. 
 I often went to rue de la Ville 1'Eveque, knowing 
 that the morning hours were clear, and that he was 
 writing those remarkable " Memoires," which ap- 
 peared last year. 
 
 He was inclined to absent-mindedness, and was 
 very silent. At the sight of those statuesque fea- 
 tures, and those deep penetrating eyes, and hearing 
 again the harmonious accents of his voice, I became 
 hopeful that by some unexpected effort he would 
 revive. 
 
 I remember a sad circumstance. I had been im- 
 pressed by the biblical color of the life of Mahomet, 
 in his beautiful " Histoire de la Turquie." I thought 
 that it contained the elements of a great religious 
 opera. 
 
 Kaasbah, the mountain of Koran, the War of the 
 Faith, the Passion, and- Paradise, all that, was heroic 
 and emotional, fascinated me. Music trembled in 
 every page. I read it to my friend Vaucorbeil, who 
 is an artist. 
 
 I versified the text. 
 
 Vaucorbeil took a year and a half to write the 
 music for it. What it is, will be known some future 
 day, for it is impossible that the half-open doors of 
 the Opera shall not entirely open to receive this im- 
 passioned and majestic music. 
 
 I do not believe that any subject has ever lent
 
 VAUCORBEIL: S VISIT. 
 
 315 
 
 more to the fancy, sadness, and exuberance of har- 
 monious inspiration, nor do I believe that Vaucorbeil 
 has failed in his different interpretations. 
 
 After the libretto was finished, conventionality 
 demanded that we should ask Lamartine's consent. 
 
 I told him of my attempt. He was enthusiastic, 
 and proposed writing more verses, if I needed them. 
 I am sorry now that I did not accept. I asked per- 
 mission to bring Vaucorbeil, whom he had met at 
 Jules Le Fevre's. 
 
 The visit was arranged, for the next day. 
 
 There was an air of mystery in our introduction 
 to the house. Lamartine kept us waiting a long 
 time. What had happened ! Had he had a 
 stroke ? 
 
 Vaucorbeil and I walked up and down the little 
 garden, commenting upon the singularity of the de- 
 tention. , 
 
 At last, Lamartine, more carefully dressed than 
 usual, came to the door of the drawing-room. Mile. 
 Valentine, who had supported him so far, disappeared 
 in the rays of the setting sun. Lamartine advanced 
 to meet us, and led us to seats. He fell back into his 
 chair, as if exhausted. He thanked us quietly, for 
 the honor we desired to do him, in carrying into 
 Opera the character of Mahomet, as he had seen 
 him. I expressed my admiration for the traits of 
 gentleness and humanity, he had given to the phys-
 
 316 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 iognomy of the Prophet, in which Voltaire had dis- 
 covered only the false mask of fanaticism. He 
 accepted the investiture, with a smile. 
 
 . Vaucorbeil explained the color, so to speak, of 
 the music he was going to make, and, that the tints 
 should be exact, he questioned the poet upon his 
 travels in the Orient. He had an attractive and 
 picturesque way of asking questions. The replies 
 were few, but it was not for lack of good-will. That 
 dazzling and rapid talker in every form of language, 
 sought sadly for expression. The chord had been 
 over-strained and vibrated no longer. He listened 
 to us, but our own sentences were broken by the sad 
 contemplation of his helpless attitude. 
 
 We struck the golden bell in vain. 
 
 To prolong the conversation was a fatigue for all 
 of us, and when we rose to come away, there came 
 over his face an expression of relief. He was no 
 longer restrained by efforts, whose powerlessness was 
 comprehensible to him. He found a happy word to 
 say at parting. 
 
 Vaucorbeil said, " If we are successful in obtain- 
 ing a representation, you will do us the honor of as- 
 sisting at the opening ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Lamartine, with a tinge of 
 melancholy, " but I shall assist from the paradise of 
 Mahomet." 
 
 There were tears in Vaucorbeil's eyes as he
 
 VAUCORBEIL'S VISIT. 
 
 crossed the court. He had not seen Lamartine 
 since those grand days of the Hotel-de-Ville. 
 
 There remained a long line of friends to follow 
 this mournful spectacle. Ronchaud, Chamborran, 
 Texier, Louis Ulbach, D'Esgrigny, Rolland, Des- 
 places and others. We often met at Lamartine's in 
 the evening. Mile. Valentine received the ladies, 
 who kept up an impassioned interest. Russians and 
 Americans could not go through Paris without 
 saluting Lamartine. He would rise from his chair, 
 which was always placed in the corner by the little 
 chimney, to greet them. He was always carefully 
 dressed, and smiled kindly upon all, but both the 
 smile and the dress seemed imposed upon him. 
 
 The gravest and most important questions of 
 which, once, he had been the creator, floated about 
 him unheeded. 
 
 Had he become indifferent from his cerebral 
 weakness, or, had he already plunged into the con- 
 templation of another world ? I hold to the latter 
 idea, for sometimes a light came into his eyes, and 
 in a soft voice, he murmured words, proving that he 
 still loved us. From these heart whispers we dared 
 to hope. 
 
 A Hungarian physician undertook his restoration. 
 I do not know how he imposed upon the confidence 
 of Lamartine, who always had presence of mind
 
 318 LA MAR TINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 enough, to keep the doctors away from his bedside. 
 Undoubtedly, he was brought by the pitying hand 
 of Mile. Valentine. 
 
 Lamartine did not rise now until ten o'clock. 
 He no longer read. Even his pen rested quietly on 
 the table. The doctor thought that his remedies 
 would have more effect under the sun at Monceaux, 
 and in the early spring-time, ordered Lamartine's de- 
 parture. 
 
 But we all knew that God had gently fixed the 
 hour for meeting the soul, which was no longer con- 
 scious of its earthly temple.
 
 XXII. 
 
 Lamartine s Death. 
 
 r I ^HE Lamartine, before whom I burned the in- 
 -L cense of my homage, was so admirable and so 
 pure, that I turned with mournful regret, towards the 
 sad image that remained. 
 
 To tell of those sorrowful days, would only be to 
 relate again and again the passionate worship and 
 pious prostrations of the nieces. It was not per- 
 mitted that he, who had recounted so many won- 
 derful deaths, should be sensible of his own. 
 
 He never awoke. 
 
 Priests of the highest intelligence came to see 
 him. Pere Hyacinthe, who was then meditating 
 his rupture with the official church, spent a fortnight 
 at Saint-Point, the year before, but Lamartine was 
 no longer himself. The cur6 of the Madeleine, des- 
 tined to fall so soon by the balls of the Commune, 
 in his efforts for charity and peace, was sent for by 
 Mile. Valentine. No conversation was possible. 
 Lamartine could not dispute with this old man, who 
 held the crucifix over him. That assimilation was 
 spared him. 
 
 Had he not climbed his Calvary, and for twenty
 
 320 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 years had he not, by the expanse of his genius, re- 
 kindled the extinct fire of Spiritualism in the souls 
 of his generation ? Had not every speech, and every 
 act, been a divine lesson ? Would he not carry be- 
 fore the Sovereign Master, his sheaf of virtues and 
 sacrifices, and would not the grain germinate in in- 
 creasing abundance above ? 
 
 He was also spared physical pain. His last 
 hours were spent in taking the seeds from grapes 
 that he could hardly carry to his mouth ; and in 
 turning the leaves of a picture-book, which he under- 
 stood less than a child. When the last page was 
 finished, he looked up to the sky, as if in search of 
 a star. That breath, which had intoxicated, forti- 
 fied and controlled multitudes, was quenched in a 
 night of February. 
 
 February ! the grandest month of his life ! 
 
 It was also the month of his new birth ! 
 
 The seal upon his lips was broken. He spoke 
 elsewhere, I went frequently to ask for him, but did 
 not enter. The last time that I was there, was the 
 day of his death. I met M. Guizot in the garden. 
 Tears trembled in his eyes, when he brought back 
 the sad intelligence. Lamartine was so beloved, that 
 even those whom he had dethroned, wept for him. 
 
 The chamber of death was thronged with visitors, 
 all day long. A wreath of red roses shone over his 
 head, in the light of the tapers. His face, like
 
 LA MARTINETS DEA 777. 
 
 321 
 
 sculptured marble, breathed the peace of another 
 realm. 
 
 I found myself before the dead master, with Car- 
 not, and Garnier-Pages, all that remained of the 
 provisionary government. Pelletan knelt there with 
 me. I was not present at the obsequies, which took 
 place at Saint-Point. 
 
 The progress of the funeral cortege, across a 
 country covered with snow, attended by the most 
 illustrious in literature, and by a mourning throng of 
 the peasants, was followed by the thought of France 
 and the eyes of the world. 
 
 Lamartine considered an oration pronounced over 
 the tomb of one already in communion with God, a 
 profanation. Once only, for the funeral ceremony 
 of Armand Marrast, a political necessity compelled 
 him to break his rule. He had forbidden a word 
 said over the earth moved for him. Many eloquent 
 words were unsaid. In one of his poems, he says, 
 
 " Pleure ton fils, O ma vallee ! " 
 
 The valley wept. 
 
 When the door of the tomb, which had already 
 received the mother, wife, and child, opened for the 
 remains of Lamartine, there came forth clouds of 
 shadows, filling every heart with sorrow. Never did 
 the spade of the grave-digger stir the earth more 
 deeply, than these shadows stirred the souls. 
 
 The century lost, at this time, one of the sweetest
 
 322 
 
 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 of its creatures. In him, Genius appeared in its best 
 form, that of Simplicity, and Virtue in its most 
 perfect expression, Unconsciousness ! 
 
 In his consular experience, there was radiance 
 enough for twenty lives. Poesy owes to him melodies 
 that will be sung as long as there are nightingales to 
 sing their love-songs to their mates. The Tribune 
 
 o o 
 
 owes to him echoes that the winds can never destroy, 
 and History, gems that rust can never corrupt. 
 France owes to him the demonstration that the Re- 
 public was the necessary government for her crisis, 
 preparatory to that of her wisdom. 
 
 And we, we owe to him still more. We owe the 
 impossibility to forget our admiration for him for a 
 single moment. 
 
 Cormatin, October and November 1871. 
 
 I should consider my sad task finished, if con- 
 temporary questions did not continually recall Lam- 
 artine. His great shadow is profiled upon all our 
 problems. He has examined them all, in turn ; am- 
 nesty, compulsory education, separation of Church 
 and State, abolition of Capital Punishment, and the 
 legitimacy or crime of War. At each turn of the 
 road, we find, standing like a faithful sentinel, the 
 written thought of Lamartine. Parliamentary halls 
 for many years, will be the sanctuary of his ideas. 
 I often ask myself, in the hours of anxious delibera- 
 tion, if we place these ideas at the very frontiers of
 
 A POSTCRIPT. 
 
 323 
 
 the Republic and if I am true to them. My con- 
 science always says. " You are doing your duty. 
 You go where his word sends you." 
 
 Then, I place before myself two hypotheses : 
 
 Lamartine, twenty years younger. 
 
 Larnartine, in the fullness of his age, and in the 
 integrity of his reason. 
 
 If Lamartine had been only forty years old at 
 the down-fall of the Empire ; if he had heard the 
 clarions that, sounding for the War with Germany, 
 at the same time, to every attentive ear, sounded the 
 coming hour of our disasters ; if the Republic, pro- 
 ceeding from a half-invested capital, or from the foul 
 treason of Sedan, had succeeded in rousing him 
 from his despair as citizen, it would have been impos- 
 sible not to have agreed with the man of February, 
 and events, by their impulsive force, would have 
 sought for a solution through him. It is Lamartine, 
 who would have made, through scornful Europe, that 
 voyage of dramatic diplomacy, which honored to such 
 a degree the patriotic old age of M. Thiers. It 
 is Lamartine, who would have been nominated in 
 twenty departments, as he had been in twelve, in the 
 year 1848. 
 
 His sovereign eloquence would have done the 
 rest and would have demanded of the royalists at 
 Bordeaux, to try through him, for the resuscitation 
 of a dead country. The discussion of principles
 
 324 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 would not have been so long, and his antecedents 
 would have imposed the obligation of at once nom- 
 inating him, President of the Republic. 
 
 The Assembly would not be placed upon the 
 hypocritical foundation of the compact of Bordeaux, 
 which slips from under the feet of those who wish to 
 fly from it. The situation would have been more 
 accurately decided. Lamartine would never have 
 proclaimed that equivoke : a Republic without Re- 
 publicans. He would have risen indignantly before 
 a loyal trial, that would have seemed mean to him, 
 and the pressure of bleeding necessities, aided by his 
 great persuasive faculties, would perhaps have forced 
 the Legitimists of the assembly, to accept the reality 
 of the saving institution, which was then, and which 
 will always be, the Republic. 
 
 These premises admitted, I believe that Lamartine 
 would have governed in the way of M. Thiers, but 
 with a broader Democratic expansion. His policy 
 was, especially, one of cohesion of party, and he 
 would have made an attractive and reassuring Re- 
 public. He could not have put more enthusiasm 
 into the difficulties of the diplomacy than the actual 
 president, but he would have contracted the field of 
 monarchical chimeras. He would have put his heroic 
 soul into the reconstruction of his country. 
 
 If, on the contrary, the great citizen had gone 
 into Parliament, with the eighty years, that he would
 
 A POSTCR1PT. 
 
 325 
 
 have had to-day, it would have been impossible for 
 him not to go and sit near his old colleague Louis 
 Blanc, and the disciples born, as it were, from the 
 spirit of his word. The honor attached to his name, 
 that name inseparable from the Republic would have 
 made the monarchical faults still more contemptible. 
 
 Pretenders, who were only that, and nothing more, 
 would have felt themselves abashed, by the presence 
 of an old man, whose reputation had surpassed all 
 their traditions. Lamartine, only a representative, 
 but still a great man, would have met Edgar Quinet 
 on the road from which Victor Hugo had been forced 
 to disappear for a time, and he would have seated 
 himself in those fertile regions where centres the true 
 Republican vitality. Thus, one with us, counselling 
 us to assure the future by the present, he would 
 have voted, with bitter reservation, no doubt, for the 
 present President of the Republic. Every day, he 
 would have made the most impatient of us under- 
 stand that there was prudence in sacrifice, and a 
 strengthening of the future in a temporary tolerance. 
 
 And he would have extended one hand to M. 
 Thiers, and the other to Gambetta at the same time: 
 to one, who resembles him by his clearness of mind, 
 to the other, who resembles him by his wisdom : 
 and both in their great oratorical powers and good 
 faith. 
 
 So far as my humble part in political action is
 
 326 LAMARTINE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 concerned, I feel that I have not departed from the 
 line traced by my master, and illumined by my con- 
 science. When the clerical party of the assembly 
 affirms its deceptions by its clamors, and its love for 
 order by its tumults, and when Republican France 
 confirms each of our efforts by its applause. I seem 
 to hear above our heads, above all the noise, the 
 voice of Lamartine, who from his world of dreams, 
 says to us, " You are in the perfectly-balanced regions 
 of Truth. You follow the direction of the holy, immu- 
 table compass of Justice, Fraternity, and Progress. 
 You are beginning a path that I follow, elsewhere, 
 and which you will continue with me, later. You 
 are disciplining yourselves as a National party. Effort 
 by effort, sacrifice by sacrifice, you bring together 
 the torn members of your mother country. In the 
 burden and heat of the summer, you collect the 
 materials for a divine structure and a social temple. 
 March on with courage. Sacrifice your present 
 hope to the solidity of the movement of the future. 
 Do not complain if the tears of a generation fall into 
 the cement that you are preparing. They will make 
 it enduring. God is with all good workers. God is 
 with the Republic." 
 Paris, April 1872. 
 
 THE END.
 
 I N DEX. 
 
 Abdul-Medjid, 197. 
 
 Academy, position towards Lamar- 
 
 tine 50. 
 
 Adam, Edmond, 178. 
 Alexandra, Charles, 234, 304. 
 Animals, Lamartine's love for, 27. 
 Arago, Emmanuel, 137, 179. 
 Arago, Etienne, 117. 
 Autun, Bishop of, 75. 
 Band-noire, 158. 
 Banquet at Macon, 104. 
 Baour-Lormian, 265. 
 Barbes, Armand, 51. 
 Beaune, M., 124. 
 Beginning of our friendship, 14. 
 Bel-Air, I, 116. [217,289. 
 
 Beranger, Jean Pierre de, 18, 47, 
 Berze, Chevalier de, 63. 
 " Bien Public," 69, 105. 
 Blanc, Louis, 170. 
 Blanqui, Louis Auguste, 51, 169. 
 Boccaccio, 91. 
 
 Bouchard, Dr., 133, 140. [220. 
 Bousin, Hippolyte, 78, 133, 189, 
 Briffaut, Charles, 47. 
 Bruys, Leon, d'Ouilly, 14, 22, 70, 
 
 106, 130, 290. 
 
 Bruys, Mile. Couronne, 266. 
 Bussierem, 265. 
 Camp, Maxime, 308. 
 Carnot, M., 321. 
 Carteron, D., 133, 140. 
 Caussidieit Marc, 117, 124, 143. 
 
 Cavaignac, Louis Eugene, 148. 
 Chamborre, M., 193. 
 Champeaux, M. de, 35, 54, 198. 
 Champvans, Guigue de, 15, 70, 72 
 
 145, 259- 
 
 Chalon, banquet at, 123 
 Chanorier, M., 133. 
 Chateaubriand, 167,217. 
 Chateau-Tiers, 60. 
 Circourt, Count de, 46, 
 " Civilizateur," 249. 
 Cluny, the abbey of, 9. 
 Cluny, the destroyer of, 10. 
 Constantinople, 197. 
 Convent strategy, 206. 
 Courteau, M., 136. 
 " Conseilleur du Peuple." 248. 
 Cormatin, 155, 
 " Cours de Litterature." 209. 
 Dargaud, M. and Mme., 85. 
 Decaisnes, M., 40. 
 Decourcelle, Adrian, 213. 
 Delaroche, Hippolyte, 208. 
 Delmas, Gaetan, 104, 132. 
 Deschamps, Emile, 41. 
 Desplaces, J. B., 88, 317. [317. 
 D'Esgrigny, M. and Mme. 53'34 
 Delorme, Joseph, 212. 
 Dumas, Alexandre, 97, 310. 
 Dumas, fils, 239. 
 Dumesnil, Jules, 87. 
 Duclerc, Charles T. E., 152. 
 Ducuing, M., 176.
 
 3 28 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Duhois, Edward, 193. 
 
 Dupont d 1'Eure, 114, 124, 171. 
 
 Dupont White, 214. 
 
 Dureault, N., 70, 79. 
 
 Elvira, 70, 79. [148. 
 
 Falloux, A. F. Pierre, Count de, 
 
 Feletz, Abbe, 47. 
 
 Felix, Lia. 230. 
 
 Filles-Repenties, 141. 
 
 Flocon, Ferdinand, 124. 
 
 Foillard, M., 133. 
 
 Garnier-Lacombe, 70. 
 
 Garnier-Pages, 30, 185, 321. 
 
 Gaston de Lacretelle, 256. 
 
 Gay, Mme. Sophie, 44. 
 
 Gengoux, band of, 257. 
 
 "Genie du Christianisme." 218. 
 
 Girardin, Mme. de, 45, 53. 
 
 Girardin, Emile de, 45. 
 
 Gormand, M., 130. 
 
 Graziella, 276. 
 
 Grevy, Jules, 87. 
 
 Gudin, M., 208. 
 
 Guirand, M., 47. 
 
 Hotel-de-Ville, 138. 
 
 Hotel-de-Ville, the group of, 185. 
 
 Hugo, Victor, 18, 26, 35, 41, 48. 
 
 128. 
 
 Jocrisse, 121. 
 Janette, 37, 61, 67. 
 Janin, Jules, 47. 
 July, i8th, 106. 
 
 " La Cloche de Saint-Point," 38. 
 " I. a Chute d'un Ange," 25. 
 " Le Courrier de 1'Europe," 88. 
 Lacretelle, pere, i, 116,135. 
 
 " Lac," 244. 
 
 Labor, Charles, 238. [200. 
 
 La Gueronniere, Louis, E. A., 81, 
 
 Lamartine, Euge'nie de, 286. 
 
 Lamartine, first view of, i. 
 
 Lamartine, Mmede, 5, 303. 
 
 Lamartine, Mile Valentine de Ces- 
 siat, 53, 202. 304. 
 
 Lamartine's later 'works ; 
 Genevieve, Raphael, 
 L'Histoire de la Russe, 
 Le Civilizateur, 
 L'Histoire de la Restauration, 
 L'Histoire de la Turquie, 
 Le Conselleur du Peuple, 
 Le Cours de Litte'rature, 195. 
 
 Lamennais, F. R. abbe de, 18, 47, 
 217. 
 
 "La Reforme," 75, 118. [180. 
 
 La Tour, Adolphe de, 70, 90, 146 
 
 Le Fevre, Jules, 41, 47. 
 
 Lemaitre, Frederick, 222. 
 
 Lemaitre, Charles, 222. 
 
 Levy, Michael, 224, 231. [145. 
 
 Ledru-Rollin, Alex. A., 50, 124, 
 
 " Les Girondins," 101. 
 
 Lostende, M. de, 135. 
 
 " Lucrece," 48. 
 
 Macon, 130. 
 
 Maconnais, the, 106. 
 
 Maistre, Count Xavier de, 16. 
 
 Marrast, Armand, 321. ( 
 
 Martin, Aime, 8. 
 
 Mathieu, Phillipe Antoine, 124 
 
 Mathey, M., 125, 144. 
 
 " Memoires d'outrc tombe, 168.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 329 
 
 Milly,. 36, 169. 
 Millaud, Moise, 215, 249. 
 Mires, Jules, 176, 215, 223, 249. 
 Miroy, Clarisse, 230. 
 Mole, Louis Mathieu, 50. 
 Monceaux, 85, 154, 194. 
 Montalembert, Count C. F. de Ty- 
 
 ron, 43, 169, 
 
 Montlaville, Chapuis, 165. 
 Mormand, Felix, 146. 
 Mont Cassin, 10. 
 Nadaud, Martin. 241. 
 Nemours, Duke de, 73- 
 Opera, the projected, 314. 
 Ordinaire, Dr., 133, 140. 
 Paris in May 1848, 147. 
 Paris, receptions in 39. 
 Pascal, Dr., 56, 146, 288. 
 Pays, le, 177. 
 
 " Pecheurs, les," 32. 187. 
 
 Pelletan, Eugene, 69, 81, 149, 162, 
 Pepe, General, 34. 
 Petetin, Anselme, 145. 
 " Pere Dutemps," 187. 
 Pere Hyacinthe, 319. 
 Pierreclos, Mme. Leon de, 53. 
 Pichat, Laurent, 307. 
 Ponsard Francis, 49. 
 Preault Auguste, 207. [133. 
 
 Prefectorial Commission of 1848, 
 Provisional Government of 1848, 
 
 137- 
 
 " Psaumes," 33. 
 Quinet, Edgar, 8, 85. 
 "Raphael," 242. 
 Republic of 1848, 137. 
 
 Republic, preparing for the, 116. 
 Republic, talk of a, 31. 
 Robespierre, F. M. J. L. 101. 
 Rolland, Charles, 70, 78, 108, 114, 
 
 264, 317. 
 
 Ronchaud, Louis de, 87, 304, 318. 
 Ronot, M., 54, 159. 
 Romand, Baron de, 260. 
 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 65. 
 Saclier, M., 133. 
 Salomon, Adam, 90, 209. 
 Solomon, Mme., 90. [48, 211. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin, 
 Saint-Point, 4, 16, 22, 53, 70. 
 Saint-Ildefonse, M. de, 77. 
 Saint-Victor, Paul, 186. 
 Sambin, M., 133 
 Senton, M., 133. 
 Shoelcher, Victor, 306. 
 Soumet, Alexandre, 47. 
 Studios, visits to the, 207. 
 Texier, Edmond, 90, 317. 
 Thiars M. de, 124. 
 Thiers, Adolphe, 323. 
 Thiers' Histoire de 1'Empire, 24. 
 Thyons, Abbe, 75, 146. 
 Toinette, 268. 
 Tourreau, M. 210. 
 Toussaint 1'Ouverture, 221. 
 Ulbach, Louis, 198, 308, 317. 
 Vaucorbeil the composer, 315. 
 Vergisson, 295. 
 Versaud, M., 70, 133. 
 Veuillot, Louis, 54. 250. 
 Vigny, Alfred Victor, 47, 205. 
 Voltaire, 32, 65.