AN APPOINTED U.S. CONSUL TO PARIS—LOUIS XVIII.—A FEW JOTTINGS UPON FRENCH NOTABILITIES—CURE FOR HYDROCEPHALUS—UNSETTLED STATE OF THINGS IN PARIS.

In the autumn of 1846, I went with my family to Paris, partly for literary purposes, and partly also to give my children advantages of education, which, in consequence of my absorbing cares for a series of years, they had been denied. Here they remained for nearly two years, while I returned home to attend to my affairs, spending the winters, however, with them.

Toward the close of 1849 I removed to New York, to execute certain literary engagements. These completed, I went, in December 1850, to Washington, taking my family with me. Here we remained for three months, when, having received the appointment of United States Consul to Paris, I returned to New York, and, after due preparation, sailed on the 5th of April, 1851, to enter upon the official duties which thus devolved upon me.

About the middle of April, 1851, I arrived in Paris, and soon after took charge of the Consulate there. I have frequently been in this gay city, and I now propose to gather up my recollections of it, and select therefrom a few items which may fill up the blank that yet remains in my story.

I first visited Paris in January, 1824, as I have told you. At the time I first arrived here, this city was very different from what it now is. Louis XVIII. was upon the throne, and had occupied it for nine years. During this period he had done almost nothing to repair the state of waste and dilapidation in which the Allies had left it. These had taken down the statue of Napoleon on the column of the Place VendÔme, and left its pedestal vacant; the king had followed up the reform and erased the offensive name of the exiled Emperor from the public monuments, and put his own, Louis XVIII., in their place; he had caused a few churches to be repaired, and some pictures of the Virgin to be painted and placed in their niches. But ghastly mounds of rubbish, the wrecks of demolished edifices; scattered heaps of stones at the foot of half-built walls of buildings,—destined never to be completed,—these and other unsightly objects were visible on every hand, marking the recent history of Napoleon, overthrown in the midst of his mighty projects, and leaving his name and his works to be desecrated alike by a foreign foe and a more bitter domestic adversary.

The king, Louis XVIII., was a man of good sense and liberal mind, for one of his race; but he was wholly unfit to administer the government. He was a sort of monster of obesity, and, at the time I speak of, having lost the use of his lower limbs, he could not walk, and was trundled about the palace of the Tuileries in a wheelchair. I have often seen him let down in this, through the arch in the south-eastern angle of the palace, into his coach; and on returning from his ride, again taken up; and all this more like a helpless barrel of beef than a sovereign. Had the Allies intended to make Legitimacy at once odious and ridiculous, they could not better have contrived it than by squatting down this obese imbecile extinguisher upon the throne of France, as the successor of Napoleon!

The Parisians are, however, a philosophic race: as they could not help themselves, they did not spend their lives like children, in profitless poutings. They had their jokes, and among these, they were accustomed to call Louis Dix-huit, "Louis des huÎtres"—a tolerable pun, which was equivalent to giving him the familiar title of "Oyster Louis." Deeming it their birthright to have three or four hours of pleasure every day, whoever may be in power, they still frequented the promenades, the boulevards, and the theatres.

I cannot, perhaps, do better than transcribe a few passages from the hasty jottings I made at the time:—

"February 14.—Went to a meeting of the SociÉtÉ Philomatique, composed of members of the Institute; saw Fourier, the famous geometrician and physician: ThÉnard, a famous chemist, associated with Gay-Lussac: Poisson, one of the first mathematicians in Europe; and GÉoffroy St. Hilaire, a zoologist, second only to Cuvier.

"The proceedings were conducted with order and simplicity, forming a striking contrast to the pompous declamation I heard in London, at the Society of Arts, upon hatching eggs.

"February 16.—Went to a meeting of the Institute, held in the HÔtel Mazarin: one hundred and fifty members present; Arago president. He is tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing in appearance, with a dark, swarthy complexion, and a black, piercing eye. Lamarck, the famous writer on natural history—old, infirm, blind—was led in by another member, a distinguished entomologist, whose name I have forgotten: Fontaine, the architect; tall, homely, and aged: Gay-Lussac, a renowned chemist, under forty, active, fiery in debate: Cuvier, rather a large man, red face, eyes small, very near-sighted; eyes near together and oddly appearing and disappearing; features acute, hair grey, long, and careless: he spoke several times, and with great pertinency and effect; Lacroix, the mathematician: Laplace, the most famous living astronomer; tall, thin, and sharp-featured—reminded me of the portraits of Voltaire; he is about seventy-five, feeble, yet has all his mental faculties.

"The principal discussion related to gasometers, the police of Paris having asked the opinion of the Institute as to the safety of certain new kinds, lately introduced. The subject excited great interest, and the debate was quite animated. ThÉnard, Gay-Lussac, Girard, Laplace, Cuvier, and others, engaged in the debate. Nearly all expressed themselves with great ease and even volubility. They were occasionally vehement, and when excited several spoke at once, and the president was obliged often to ring his bell to preserve order.

"It was strange and striking to see so many old men, just on the borders of the grave, still retaining such ardor for science as to appear at a club like this, and enter with passion into all the questions that came up. Such a spectacle is not to be seen elsewhere on the earth. The charms of science generally fade to the eye of threescore and ten: few passions except piety and avarice survive threescore. It is evident, in studying this Association, that the highest and most ardent exercises of the mind are here stimulated by the desire of glory, which is the reward of success. One thing struck me forcibly in this assembly, and that was, the utter absence of all French foppery in dress among the members. Their attire was plain black, and generally as simple as that of so many New England clergymen.

"In the evening went to the ThÉÂtre FranÇais, to see Talma in the celebrated tragedy of 'Sylla,' by Jouy. Do not well understand the French, but could see that the acting is very masterly. In the passionate parts there was a display of vigor, but at other times the performance was quiet and natural, without any of the stage exaggeration I am accustomed to. Most of the scenes were such as might actually take place under the circumstances indicated in the play. Talma is said to resemble Napoleon in person: he certainly looked very much like his portraits. His hair was evidently arranged to favor the idea of resemblance to the Emperor. He is a very handsome man, and comes up to my idea of a great actor.

"February 20.—Went to see a new comedy by Casimir Delavigne, 'L'Ecole des Vieillards.' Talma and Mademoiselle Mars played the two principal parts. The piece consisted of a succession of rather long dialogues, without any change of scenery. Talma is inimitable in the character of a refined but somewhat imbecile man, who has passed the prime of life; and Mademoiselle Mars is, beyond comparison, the most graceful and pleasing of actresses. I am struck with the strict propriety, the refinement even, of the manners of the audience.

"February 21st.—Went to the Hospital of La CharitÉ. Saw Laennec, with his pupils, visiting the patients. He makes great use of the stethoscope, which is a wooden tube applied to the body, and put to the ear; by the sound, the state of the lungs and the vital organs is ascertained. It is like a telescope, by which the interior of the body is perceived, only that the ear is used instead of the eye. It is deemed a great improvement. Laennec is the inventor, and has high reputation in the treatment of diseases of the chest. He has learned to ascertain the condition of the lungs by thumping on the breast and back of the patient, and putting the ear to the body at the same time.

"The whole hospital was neat and clean; bedsteads of iron. French medical practice very light; few medicines given; nursing is a great part of the treatment.

"Same day, went to HÔtel Dieu, a medical and surgical hospital. Saw Dupuytren and his pupils visiting the patients. He holds the very first rank as a surgeon. His operations are surprisingly bold and skilful. Edward C——, of Philadelphia, who is here studying medicine, told me a good anecdote of him. He has a notion that he can instantly detect hydrocephalus in a patient from the manner in which he carries his head. One day, while he was in the midst of his scholars at the hospital, he saw a common sort of man standing at a distance, among several persons who had come for medical advice. Dupuytren's eye fell upon him, and he said to his pupils,—'Do you see yonder that fellow that has his hand to his face, and carries his head almost on his shoulder? Now, take notice: that man has hydrocephalus. Come here, my good fellow!'

"The man thus called came up. 'Well,' said Dupuytren, 'I know what ails you; but come, tell us about it yourself. What is the matter with you?'

"'I've got the toothache!' was the reply.

"'Take that,' said Dupuytren, giving him a box on the ear; 'and go to the proper department and have it pulled out!'"

I was again in Paris in the summer of 1832. Great changes had taken place since 1824. Louis XVIII. was dead; Charles X. had succeeded; and, after a brief reign, had been driven away by the revolution of the "Three Glorious Days." Louis Philippe was now on the throne. On the 29th of July, and the two following days, we saw the celebration of the event which had thus changed the dynasty of France. It consisted of a grand fÊte, in the Champs ElysÉes, closed by a most imposing military spectacle, in which eighty thousand troops, extending from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place VendÔme, marched before the admiring throng. Louis Philippe was himself on horseback as commander-in-chief, and such was his popularity among the masses, that, in many instances, I saw men in blouses rush up and grasp his hand, and insist upon shaking it. Sixteen years after I saw him hustled into a cab, and flying from the mob for his life—his family scattered, and he but too happy to get safe to England in the disguise of a sailor!

As I have said, I established my family in Paris in 1846; that winter and the following I was also there. I remember that on a certain Monday in February, 1848, I went up to see our countrywoman, the Marchioness Lavalette, to arrange with her about an introduction she had promised me to Guizot. She was not at home, but as I was coming down the hill from the Place St. George, I met her in her carriage. She asked me to walk back to her house, and I did so. I observed that she was much agitated, and asked her the cause. "We are going to have trouble!" said she. "I have just been to the Chambers: the ministry have determined to stop the meeting of the Liberals to-morrow; the proclamation is already being printed."

"Well, and what then?" said I.

"Another 'Three Glorious Days!'"

To this I replied that I conceived her fears groundless, that Louis Philippe appeared to me strong in the confidence of the people; that he was noted for his prudence and sagacity; that Guizot, his prime minister, was a man of great ability; that the whole cabinet, indeed, were distinguished for their judgment and capacity. The lady shook her head and rejoined,—

"I know Paris better than you do. We are on the eve of an earthquake!"

Soon after this I took my leave. What speedily ensued may best be told in another chapter, by a few extracts from a letter I addressed to a friend in Boston at the time.