CHAPTER XXXIII.

GAIN PREFERRED TO GLORY--CURIOUS INSCRIPTION--FORMER GAMBLING--AN ASSAULT--FRENCH CHARITY--A LETTER TO HEAVEN--FATHER PROUT.

When a stranger surveys the military asylum for the maimed or aged soldiers--when he beholds the triumphal arch (_l'arc de l'Etoile_) at the higher termination of the Champs Elysées, erected at the almost incredible cost of £417,812, to commemorate the achievements of the French armies--when he contemplates the column in the Place Vendôme, towering to the height of 135 feet, and cased with bas reliefs, of which 360,000 pounds weight of captured cannon supplied the material--when he observes large and frequent bodies of troops marching with beat of drum to various posts--when he finds it impossible to glance at any crowded street, or enter any place of public resort or recreation, without beholding the uniforms of, perhaps, every branch of the service, he is almost forced to the conclusion that the bent of the French disposition, and the genius of the nation, is essentially military. However, I believe that an observant and reflecting mind will notice many points in the French character of an unmilitary tendency. Whenever a campaign or expedition becomes the subject of conversation in a French circle, the first consideration is, How much will it cost, and what shall we gain? Solferino and Magenta are prized more as having annexed Nice, than for the laurels they conferred on French valor. I frequently visited the triumphal arch to which I have already adverted; and on one occasion I was struck by the remark of a Frenchman in reference to the enormous sum it cost, and also to the surprising fact, that although the names of more than ninety victories are inscribed on its interior walls, _not one of those places was then in the possession of the victorious power_.

CURIOUS INSCRIPTION.

On the 15th of August, 1864, the birth day of the first Napoleon, the fête of the Bonaparte family was celebrated by various public demonstrations. The rails surrounding the base of the column in the Place Vendôme were decorated with violet-colored ribbons and wreaths of Immortelles. Amongst them I observed a large oval tablet richly bordered, and bearing an inscription in Italian, which I transcribe and translate, leaving its applicability to the character of the first Napoleon to the calm and dispassionate judgment of all acquainted with the history of Europe from the time of his appearance at the siege of Toulon to the subversion of his power at Waterloo--

"A Te, essere il piu maraviglioso della creazione, il cielo conceda quella pace che ti negò la malvagita degli uomini."

"To you, the most wonderful being of the creation, heaven grants that peace which the waywardness of mankind denied you."

FORMER GAMBLING.

Gambling houses, formerly so perniciously abundant in Paris, have been rigorously suppressed by the government for a considerable time past. High play is carried on still in various phases of society, but as it is furtive and illicit, its dupes and victims are very limited compared with the thousands who were ruined when the vice was tolerated by the public authorities. The Palais Royal was, about forty years ago, the head-quarters of Parisian gaming, and every season produced a crop of suicides. The usual course was for the ruined gamester to pledge or sell his watch or trinkets, buy a pistol at a gunmaker's shop in the piazza, charge it, cross the rails into the parterre, and blow out his brains; but such incidents did not stop the play; they merely produced a few shrugs of the shoulders, and the observation, "His game is up."

There is an old gentleman in Dublin who resides so near my house that I see him almost every day. About the time to which I refer, he was in the confidential employment of a most respectable firm of solicitors, and one morning he was apprised by the senior partner that it was intended to send him to Paris, to have certain deeds executed. He was to be allowed liberally for his expenses, and to be permitted, as a reward for his previous good conduct, to spend ten days or a fortnight in the French metropolis. He arrived in Paris at night, arose early next morning, and betook himself at once to the business with which he was entrusted. He was so fortunate as to find all the required parties, and in a few hours had all the deeds perfected. He then went off in quest of amusement, and having met an acquaintance, was ultimately brought to the Palais Royal, and entered one of the principal gaming-houses. He looked on for a while, and then ventured a stake of a few gold pieces; he won, tried again, and was successful. He continued to play with such good fortune, that at the termination of the sitting, he had won upwards of one thousand pounds. He went to his hotel, took some rest, paid his bill, and set off with all haste for Dublin. His employers were surprised at his speedy return, and he told them what had occurred, adding that _he would not trust himself another night in Paris_. His was a solitary instance of good luck and prudence; for with thousands of others a similar gain would have only been the precursor of final and irretrievable ruin.

AN ASSAULT.

At the suggestion of an intimate friend, who was in Paris during the time of my residence there, I shall mention an incident of an extraordinary and very disagreeable nature, arising entirely from an expression used by me to a young woman possessed of considerable personal attractions, but also having a most fearful and ungovernable temper, without the least intention on my part to excite her feelings. I went into a shop in the Champs Elysées, to purchase some stationery, snuff, postage stamps, &c., and was supplied by the young woman, to whom I handed a twenty franc gold piece for her to take four francs and give me the change. Belgium silver coins were at the time very freely circulated; but Swiss silver was considered to be alloyed most unreasonably, and when recognised was invariably rejected. The damsel gave me eight pieces, each of two francs, and I observed that on two of them the Helvetian or Swiss designation was impressed. I immediately remarked that Mademoiselle had been subjected to a Swiss deception, (_une tromperié Suisse_,) when she exclaimed, "Accursed Englishman, you are a liar," at the same time throwing a heavy canister at me, knocking off my hat, and following up that hostile proceeding by flinging a flask of oil in the same direction. The latter did not strike me, but broke a large square of glass in a side window looking into the Rue de l'Oratoire. Her brother-in-law, who was proprietor of the concern, seized her, and prevented any further violence; but the abusive language continued for some minutes. Finally I succeeded in getting the Swiss silver replaced by two pieces of French coinage, and left after declaring my intention to prosecute my assailant. The proprietor contented himself by declaring that the affair was a mere "mistake;" and he certainly seemed more annoyed by having his window smashed than by the misconduct evinced towards me. Subsequently I was informed that the young woman had been engaged in some courtship or amatory correspondence with a Swiss, who had terminated the affair by an abrupt departure without any previous notice. The angry damsel referred my expression, not to the money, but to the man, and I relinquished any attempt to make her responsible for the treatment I had received in consequence of her hasty "mistake."

FRENCH CHARITY.

In the foregoing observations I have not hesitated to refer to some faults, vanities, and unreasonable expectations which attracted my attention during my residence in Paris. I shall now offer a few remarks and a little narrative connected with one of the noblest virtues that can elevate and adorn human nature, and which I believe to exist in the French character to a degree far beyond what would be imagined by the travellers whose brief visits enable them to take only transient or superficial views of French society. There is no civilized nation more charitable than the French. They have no legalised and established system of poor laws, but their cities abound with benevolent institutions, and the requirements of helpless age or unprotected infancy are never disregarded. There is no lack of charity in any class--even the rag-pickers will share their slender means in alleviating human suffering. Amongst the more affluent there is very little mediocrity of religious feeling; they are generally devout or indifferent, but very few are uncharitable. The means of relief for the suffering of indigence are almost always administered through religious agencies; and the mercy that is manifested in a generous and unostentatious succour of the poor, exemplifies very frequently the words of Shakespeare--

"It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

For many of those who were indifferent to religion, but disposed to charity, have been themselves caught, reformed, and reconciled through the energies which they employed for relieving the necessities of others.

A LETTER TO HEAVEN.

Connected with the subject of French charity, I shall introduce the narrative of an incident of 1864, and I had several interviews and conversations of a very agreeable nature with the little heroine of the tale.

In one of the small old streets which adjoin the market of St. Honoré, upon the upper floor of a house built some centuries ago, the family of a poor workman were struck by a most fearful affliction. Not only had the wife been unable to rise from a bed of sickness for a considerable time, but the husband, the only support of her five children, had, by a sudden accident, been so disabled as to be stretched in utter helplessness and acute suffering. What was to be done? Where were the helpless creatures to find subsistence?

Amongst the children of this hapless couple there was a little blue-eyed, fair complexioned girl; she was lively, intelligent, and interesting, and had been for a short time attending a public school; but now she was obliged to remain at home to give her puny care to her sick parents. Afflicted by the misfortune of her father, and assailed even by hunger, she instinctively sought a remedy.

"When you are in trouble you should apply to the Good God; the sister at the school tells us so. Well, I shall address the Good God. I shall write a nice letter, such as my mother made me write to my godmother last Sunday. I have a bit of paper and a pen."

No sooner said than done. Whilst her parents are in an uneasy slumber, she scribbles a note abounding in blots, in which she implores of the Good God to restore their health, and to send some bread for her little brothers and herself. Then she slips out, runs at once to Saint-Roch, and supposing that the alms-box for the poor was the letter-box of the Good God, she approached it with timidity, and in the hope that she was not seen.

At this moment an aged and respectable lady was leaving the church. She was behind the little girl, and seeing her approach the alms-box stealthily, and supposing her actuated by some culpable motive, she caught hold of her arm.

"What are you doing, you unfortunate child?"

The little girl, surprised and affrighted, cast down her streaming eyes, but being kindly and mildly questioned by the lady, she recounted her sad story, and showed the letter which she wished to send to heaven.

The good lady, moved with compassion, consoled the poor child, and taking the paper, said--

"Leave me your letter; I take upon myself to forward it to its destination."

Then she immediately added, "But have you put your address, to receive the answer?"

The child, who looked upon the lady with the utmost astonishment, answered, "No, Madam; but the sister at my school tells us that the Good God knows everything."

"And she has told you the truth, my child" said the lady, smiling; "but those whom He may charge to deliver the answer may not know as well as He does."

The child then stated where her poor parents lived, received two francs from the lady, and with a joyous heart betook herself back to the wretched garret.

In the morning she found at her door a large hamper containing clothes, provisions, and some money. A label was affixed, inscribed, "The answer of the Good God."

A gentleman named M'Carthy, eminent for his medical skill, and also much respected for his generous and benevolent disposition, soon after, at the instance of the charitable lady, visited the poor sufferers. He was one of those Irishmen whose talents and worth attained to high professional positions in Paris. He speedily cured the man, and considerably alleviated the sufferings of the woman. He allowed me to accompany him two or three times whilst attending the humble denizens of the garret, from whence charity had removed misery and despair, and on those occasions I found the little girl fully convinced and most earnestly insisting, that the answer of the Good God must have been brought _by one of His angels_.