GOSSIP FROM AND ABOUT FRANCE.

March 5th, 1863.

" Ce que je sail is mieux c'est mon commencement," said Racine's extemporary barrister ; and a lucky fellow he must have been to know best how to begin, for I am aware of no greater difficulty in life. Who has not pondered for many minutes, nay, hours, in some exceptional cases, over that awful first sentence, that ter- rible entrée en matiere, which puzzles every correspondent, whether his letter be merely intended for friendly and private eyes, or has to be framed . for meeting the fastidious newspaper public, which are so hard to please, and want at all hazards to be either interested or amused ? Happy, thrice happy the writer whose pea does not shrink from tracing the first words ! After two or three line 3 it will run smoothly enough, and cover the blank paper with marvellous velocity. If Petit Jean had exclaimed, " Ce gee je sais le mains, c'est mon commencement," I could have truly sympathized with him, for I am really at a loss how to introduce my unpretending gossip to the readers of the Spectator.

To prate de omni re scibili et quibusdam aliis may be easy enough ; but to bring method into a cursory, rambling talk about small matters and frivolous incidents, appears a most tremendous undertaking. For however slender and trifling the recorded events and bons mots may turn out, they constitute for the present the whole public and political life of France. From time to time, it is true, a loud voice coming from Italy or from Poland, an eloquent pro- testation against the ignominious fetters which lay him prostrate on the earth, may rouse the old lion from his death-like slumber, and send a chilling tremor through the frame of his self-appointed keepers. But, however deep the roaring, it vanishes away without meeting with a sonorous echo in tho enslaved country, and the criticizing of ball costumes, the soft murmuring of court scandals, the repetition of sharp witticisms, again constitute the order of the day.

Of vulgar plots and intrigues there is always a plentiful harvest in Paris under the second empire, for what with lorettes, gamblers, and stock-jobbers (the three most influential classes), food for scandalmongers is never scarce. In former times the French almost monopolized dazzling wit, and no jest was considered exquisitely smart unless expressed in our clear, pointed language.

Quandum mutates ab Now-a-days French witticism has sadly degenerated. To my mind, nothing can prove more sorrowful, more ignoble, than the perusal of these so-called amusing, satiri- cal, funny papers, the Charivari, the Journal Pour Rire, the Cor- saire, the Figaro, and tutti quanti. Low quibbles, horrifilating puns, doubtful equivocations, and hazardous anecdotes, form the staple of these recognized records of humour. Everywhere we meet with the esprit de mauvais aloi which displayed itself, for so many years, in French vaudevilles and burlesques ; for the Parisian theatres have undoubtedly exercised a most unwholesome influence over French society. There is, to quote a saddening instance, an un- meaning, ungrammatical, and vulgar song, "J'ai is Pied qui la Mue," which just now goes the round of Paris and the provinces ; and the worst side of the matter is, that this disgusting parody has been inspired by Garibaldi's wound and Dr. Nelaton's skill. A nation cannot with impunity indulge in low comedy, and charm its leisure hours by dwelling on the sayings and doings of farcical actors ; the whole life becomes at last artificial, the whole population is im- pregnated by the vile tone, and glowing ebullitions of wit and humour give way to degrading grimaces and revolting jeux des mots.

Without the gay, or rather rapacious ladies, who are stigmatized softiies de marble, without the bouncing, showily dressed lorettes, for whom Rotten Row furnished the English with an illustrative denomination, and whom it would certainly be a libel on antiquity to call Phrynes and Aspasias, in the wake of Parisian feuilletoniats, the journaux amusants would absolutely remain in need of subject- matter. They are the glory of the regime called into existence by Mr. Kinglake's "Five Brethren of the Elysee," and never could the demon of elegance and depravation boast of so many holocausts of virtue. M. Emile Angier, whom the success of Le Fits de Giboyer has made the lion of the day, found himself, a few even- ings ago, at a dinner party given in his honour, near one of the suspicious heroines of the quart de monde, who is to be met with everywhere, and has grown rich enough in her vocation to build a magnificent house, with a grand staircase of marble of Carrara. The whole city has rung with the praises of that marvellous stair- case, which immediately became the topic of conversation. The lady expressed a desire to have some " aphorism" engraved in golden letters on the first step, and bluntly asked the unsuspecting dramatist to compose a verse or two on her behalf. To the utter astonishment of all persons present, the poet declared his readiness to comply at once with her wish, took one of her cards, and wrote on the spot the following illexandrin :— " Ainsi que la vertu, is vice a ses degris" (as well as virtue, vice has its steps.) Well, there are degrees for every one, as the president of the court of assizes at Rouen re- marked to Alexandre Dumas, when he spoke of Corneille with sham modesty. M. Augier's " aphorism " may not be over polite, but at all events it is true.

The chronicles of the Imperial Court are very tame just now, fancy balls being forbidden fruit in Lent. However, there is a

rumour of a projected journey of the Empress to Rome, where the apartments which the ex-Queen of Naples occupied in the Quirinal last year are fitted out anew. If the courtiers are not idle gossips, we hope the old palace will not exercise over Eugenie the baneful influence which it cast over Maria Sophia, and that she will not feel impelled to desert it for a convent. However that may turn out, what peculiar piece of business is she going to perform in the Eternal City ? Is she piously bent on receiving the last blessing of the Pope, whom newspaper correspondents are again reducing to a dying state? Or, has she undertaken to influence the future choice of the conclave ? At all events, we may be sure that if Pius IX. were to leave this world, the French troops would less than ever be ready to leave Rome : they would then find free scope for the peculiar duty which Napoleon has taught them to perform to perfection, viz., to protect an election. •

The insurrection in Poland, together with the forthcoming debate in the Senate, and the Mexican expedition, are still the salient political topics. In proportion as they grow enthusiastic for the former, the French evince a deep aversion for the latter. A cam- paign on the Rhine would decidedly be popular, both among the people and the army, whilst civilians shrink before the coming bill to pay for mules, and the soldiers feel little inclined to play a part in the campagne du vomito. Rumours referring to the bad state of the troops are rife and afloat, and it is even whispered that General Forey nearly fell into the hands of a guerilla band near the very gates of Orizaba. America will prove a huge stumbling- block in the path of Napoleon. M. Drouyn de Lhuys is said to have given an audience to Mr. Slidell, and the Bourse speaks of a loan of sixty millions of francs negotiated by the Confederates. The presence in Paris of Mr. Spence, of Liverpool and Times notoriety, seems to authorize these reports.

The reception of M. Albert de Broglie at the French Academy, where he pronounced a glowing panegyric of Father Lacordaire and the lamented Tocqueville, and was answered in the same strain by M. St. Marc Girardin, waa the literary event of the fortnight, and may almost be considered a political solemnity. Every one was eager to hear two eminent Orleanists throw flowers on the tomb of the eloquent Dominican friar, and faintly advocate a moderate amount of liberty. Some pointed hints went straight to the mind and heart of the fashionable audience.

When M. de Broglie, speaking of the Bourbonian Restoration, boldly remarked, " A religion which has the promise of eternity allowed its destinies to be bound to perishable institutions, and liberty, on the other hand, disregarded in Christian conscience its most natural ally," he betrayed his h elf-Protestant origin. He pleased his hearers better when he stigmatized an all-absorbing State which manifests itself to the people by two great institutions—offices and barracks, and added, "It is God's will that those powers without counterpoise should also be without foundations, and, in the day of peril, without defenders. A nation composed of men thus put in juxtaposition, without any other cement to unite them than the will of a master, is a mountain formed of sandcorns, which the weariness of the wind spares to-day, and which the first blast of the hurricane will scatter to-morrow." A thrill of enthusiasm went through the enraptured listeners, when the passionate orator mentioned " Poland, which refuses to die as long as a prayer can ascend to Heaven in favour of right."

Surely, we have no fault to find with the two liberal Academi- cians ; but we may be allowed to inquire whether the Orleanists are not punished exactly where they sinned? Have they not, through their mad fear of socialism, lent a hand to the obliteration of the last vestige of liberty ? Have they not aided in extinguishing the smallest spark of revolutionary fire still smouldering beneath the embers? Had not their unlucky affiance with the Legitimists, in the nefarious club of the Rue de Poitiers, an overwhelming share in the election of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte ? When, some time before the 2nd of December, 1851, M. Thiers exclaimed in the bitterness of his soul, " The Empire is made," a Republican de- puty could answer him, truly enough, " You have made it."

The Nemesis of retribution is always on the alert, in small and in great matters alike ; and whosoever tramples upon fundamental principles is sure to pay the penalty, be it sooner or later. Thus, Serjeant Glover, who maintained for money, or rather in the expectation of money, that the Imperial Government was pure and liberal, that MM. Billault and Persigny were great men, that the French police was soft-handed, and the Court of the Tuileries immaculate—this unfortunate journalist, who lost so

many fine opportunities of holding his tongue, has since found ample occasion to appreciate by experience the delicacy of Bona- partist statesmen and the mild proceedings of Bonapartist police menials. Thus, the French clerical party applauded with raptur- ous ecstasy the destruction of the last essential liberty, piously ejaculating that the " freedom of doing good " would always be left to them, till the Society of St. Vincent de Paul felt in its turn the heavy grasp of the governing set who are sorely afraid of every pulsation of life. Thus last, but not least, M. de Montalembert, who, so far back as 1850 advocated in full Na- tional Assembly a " Roman campaign at home," in other words, a coup d'6tat ; who hastened to bow to the successful traitor when the usurpation took "place—M. de Montalewbert is now fain to deplore, though in moving and heartfelt words, the helpless, despairing state of inertness to which France is reduced. Why, he and his partizans wanted to make of their unhappy country a real papal subject, sieut ac cadaver ; they helped Napoleon by all the means at their command to take the life-blood out of the prostrate body ; they contrived to assuage his last rebellious impulse ; and now they express their astonishment and grief at finding themselves oppressed equally with their free-thinking countrymen ! They have still to learn that all kinds of liberty depend on one another, they have still to learn that whoever infringes the rights of the most obscure citizen infringes the rights of the whole community. Woe be to the man, the party, and the country, who basely sacrifice any liberty of which they do not feel the immediate benefit ! The day of retribution is at hand, and the load which crushed their opponents is sure to fall on their devoted head.

Nevertheless, it is an encouraging sign of the time to see the different parties which divide France again long for the blessings of freedom. Every one now wants liberty for himself, though some- what inclined to deny it to his fellow-sufferers. Therefore M. Alfred. Assollaut proposes, with most humourous earnestness, to replace all existing taxes by a voluntary tax on liberty. He pointedly invites the French Government to sell, for eight pounds per annum a head, to all who may desire it, the right of saying and printing whatever they like, of going wherever they have a fancy to, and of suing any functionary who may imprison them without sufficient motive. He calculates that 500,000 citizens will at once eagerly embrace this opportunity, and that the amount would defray the expenses of a second Mexican expedition. The number would increase to three millions after the first year, and in ten years, at the latest, every Frenchman would entreat the Administration to receive his voluntary impost, and leave him alone. As a reward for his discovery, M. Assonant modestly asks that the experiment may be first tried on him, and certainly nobody would grudge him the preference. M. Guizot once proclaimed that France was rich enough to pay for her glory in Algeria ; now-a-days time out of every ten Frenchmen begin to think that they are not rich enough to pay for their glory in Mexico. We know the country would not be too poor to pay for her liberty.

The paper is well written, mildly pungent, and softly sarcastic, though it does not attack the House of Hanover—of Bonaparte, I mean to say. Still, the ominous word " liberty " seems in itself to ccnstitute, in legal parlance, " an attempt to trouble the tran- quillity of the State ; " and the printer of the Cormier du Dimanche resolutely declined to insert M. Assolant's article. Thus, he had to invoke the hospitality of the Eulenspiegel of. Brussels, in whose columns French journalists are allowed to vent the surplus of the pent-up indignation that fills their heart. Ab uno disco amnia.

A Gaul..