A pleasant Party.—Discussion between an Englishman and a Frenchman.—National Peculiarities.

I told you yesterday that, notwithstanding the tremendous heat of the weather, we were going to a large party in the evening. We courageously kept the engagement; though, I assure you, I did it in trembling. But, to our equal surprise and satisfaction, the rooms of Mrs. M—— proved to be deliciously cool and agreeable. Her receiving-apartment consists of three rooms. The first was surrounded and decorated in all possible ways with a profusion of the most beautiful flowers, intermixed with so many large glass vases for gold fish, that I am sure the air was much cooled by evaporation from the water they contained. This room was lighted wholly by a large lamp suspended from the ceiling, which was enclosed in a sort of gauze globe, just sufficiently thick to prevent any painful glare of light, but not enough so to injure the beautiful effect always produced by the illumination of flowers. The large croisÉes were thrown open, with very slight muslin curtains over them; and the whole effect of the room—its cool atmosphere, its delicious fragrance, and its subdued light—was so enchanting, that it was not without difficulty we passed on to pay our compliments to Mrs. M——, who was in a larger but much less fascinating apartment.

There were many French persons present, but the majority of the company was English. Having looked about us a little, we retreated to the fishes and the myrtles; and as there was a very handsome man singing buffa songs in one of the other rooms, with a score of very handsome women looking at and listening to him, the multitude assembled there; and we had the extreme felicity of finding fresh air and a sofa À notre disposition, with the additional satisfaction of accepting or refusing ices every time the trays paraded before us. You will believe that we were not long left without companions, in a position so every way desirable: and in truth we soon had about us a select committee of superlatively agreeable people; and there we sat till considerably past midnight, with a degree of enjoyment which rarely belongs to hours devoted to a very large party in very hot weather.

And what did we talk about?—I think it would be easier to enumerate the subjects we did not touch upon than those we did. Everybody seemed to think that it would be too fatiguing to run any theme far; and so, rather in the style of idle, pampered lap-dogs, than of spirited pointers and setters, we amused ourselves by skittishly pursuing whatever was started, just as it pleased us, and then turned round and reposed till something else darted into view. The whole circle, consisting of seven persons, were English with the exception of one; and that one was—he must excuse me, for I will not name him—that one was a most exceedingly clever and superlatively agreeable young Frenchman.

As we had snarled and snapped a little here and there in some of our gambols after the various objects which had passed before us, this young man suggested the possibility of his being de trop in the coterie. "Are you not gÊnÉs," said he, "by my being here to listen to all that you and yours may be disposed to say of us and ours?... Shall I have the amiability to depart?"

A general and decided negative was put upon this proposition; but one of the party moved an amendment. "Let us," said he, "agree to say everything respecting France and the French with as much unreserve as if you were on the top of Notre Dame; and do you, who have been for three months in England, treat us exactly in the same manner; and see what we shall make of each other. We are all much too languid to suffer our patriotism to mount up to 'spirit-boil,' and so there is no danger whatever that we should quarrel."

"I would accept the partie instantly," said the Frenchman, "were it not so unequal. But six to one! ... is not this too hard?"

"No! ... not the least in the world, if we take it in the quizzing vein," replied the other; "for it is well known that a Frenchman can out-quiz six Englishmen at any time."

"Eh bien!" ... said the complaisant Parisian with a sigh, "I will do my best. Begin, ladies, if you please."

"No! no! no!" exclaimed several female voices in a breath; "we will have nothing to do with it; fight it out between yourselves: we will be the judges, and award the honours of the field to him who hits the hardest."

"This is worse and worse," cried our laughing enemy: "if this be the arrangement of the combat, the judgment, À coup sÛr, will be given against me. How can you expect such blind confidence from me?"

We protested against this attack upon our justice, promised to be as impartial as Jove, and desired the champions to enter the lists.

"So then," said the Englishman, "I am to enact the part of St. George ... and God defend the right!"

"And I, that of St. Denis," replied the Frenchman, his right hand upon his breast and his left gracefully sawing the air. "Mon bras ... non ...

Allons!... Now tell me, St. George, what say you in defence of the English mode of suffering ladies—the ladies of Britain—the most lovely ladies in the world, n'est-ce pas?—to rise from table, and leave the room, and the gentlemen—alone—with downcast eyes and timid step—without a single preux chevalier to offer them his protection or to bear them company on their melancholy way—banished, turned out—exiled from the banquet-board!—I protest to you that I have suffered martyrdom when this has happened, and I, for my sins, been present to witness it. Croyez-moi, I would have joyfully submitted to make my exit À quatre pattes, so I might but have followed them. Ah! you know not what it is for a Frenchman to remain still, when forced to behold such a spectacle as this!... Alas! I felt as if I had disgraced myself for life; but I was more than spell-bound—I was promise-bound; the friend who accompanied me to the party where I witnessed this horror had previously told me what I should have to endure—I did endure it—but I have not yet forgiven myself for participating in so outrageous a barbarism."

"The gentlemen only remain to drink the fair ladies' health," said our St. George very coolly; "and I doubt not all ladies would tell you, did they speak sincerely, that they were heartily glad to get rid of you for half an hour or so. You have no idea, my good fellow, what an agreeable interlude this makes for them: they drink coffee, sprinkle their fans with esprit de rose, refresh their wit, repair their smiles, and are ready to set off again upon a fresh campaign, certain of fresh conquests. But what can St. Denis say in defence of a Frenchman who makes love to three women at once—as I positively declare I saw you do last night at the Opera?"

"You mistook the matter altogether, mon cher; I did not make love—I only offered adoration: we are bound to adore the whole sex, and all the petits soins offered in public are but the ceremonies of this our national worship.... We never make love in public, my dear friend—ce n'est pas dans nos moeurs. But will you explain to me un peu, why Englishmen indulge themselves in the very extraordinary habit of taking their wives to market with that vilaine corde au cou that it is so dreadful to mention, and there sell them for the mesquine somme de trois francs?... Ah! be very sure that were there a single Frenchman present at your terrible Smithfield when this happened, he would buy them all up, and give them their liberty at once."

The St. George laughed—but then replied very gravely, that the custom was a very useful one, as it enabled an Englishman to get rid of a wife as soon as he found that she was not worth keeping. "But will you tell me," he continued, "how it is that you can be so inhuman as to take your innocent young daughters and sisters, and dispose of them as if they were Virginian slaves born on your estates, to the best bidder, without asking the charming little creatures themselves one single word concerning their sentiments on the subject?"

"We are too careful of our young daughters and sisters," replied the champion of France, "not to provide them with a suitable alliance and a proper protector before they shall have run the risk of making a less prudent selection for themselves: but, what can put it into the heads of English parents to send out whole ship-loads of young English demoiselles—si belles qu'elles sont!—to the other side of the earth, in order to provide them with husbands?"

Our knight paused for a moment before he answered, and I believe we all shook for him; but at length he replied very sententiously—

"When nations spread their conquests to the other side of the earth, and send forth their generals and their judges to take and to hold possession for them, it is fitting that their distant honours should be shared by their fair countrywomen. But will you explain to me why it is that the venerable grandmothers of France think it necessary to figure in a contre-danse—nay, even in a waltz, as long as they think that they have strength left to prevent their falling on their noses?"

"'Vive la bagatelle!' is the first lesson we learn in our nurses' arms—and Heaven forbid we should any of us live long enough to forget it!" answered the Frenchman. "But if the question be not too indiscreet, will you tell me, most glorious St. George, in what school of philosophy it was that Englishmen learned to seek satisfaction for their wounded honour in the receipt of a sum of money from the lovers of their wives?"

"Most puissant St. Denis," replied the knight of England, "I strongly recommend you not to touch upon any theme connected with the marriage state as it exists in England; because I opine that it would take you a longer time to comprehend it than you may have leisure to give. It will not take you so long perhaps to inform me how it happens that so gay a people as the French, whose first lesson, as you say, is 'Vive la bagatelle!' should make so frequent a practice as they do of inviting either a friend or a mistress to enjoy a tÊte-À-tÊte over a pan of charcoal, with doors, windows, and vent-holes of all kinds carefully sealed, to prevent the least possible chance that either should survive?"

"It has arisen," replied the Frenchman, "from our great intimacy with England—where the month of November is passed by one half of the population in hanging themselves, and by the other half in cutting them down. The charcoal system has been an attempt to improve upon your insular mode of proceeding; and I believe it is, on the whole, considered preferable. But may I ask you in what reign the law was passed which permits every Englishman to beat his wife with a stick as large as his thumb; and also whether the law has made any provision for the case of a man's having the gout in that member to such a degree as to swell it to twice its ordinary size?"

"It has been decided by a jury of physicians," said our able advocate, "that in all such cases of gout, the decrease of strength is in exact proportion to the increase of size in the pattern thumb, and therefore no especial law has passed our senate concerning its possible variation. As to the law itself, there is not a woman in England who will not tell you that it is as laudable as it is venerable."

"The women of England must be angels!" cried the champion of France, suddenly starting from his chair and clasping his hands together with energy,—"angels! and nothing else, or" (looking round him) "they could never smile as you do now, while tyranny so terrible was discussed before them!"

What the St. Denis thus politely called a smile, was in effect a very hearty laugh—which really and bon fide seemed to puzzle him, as to the feeling which gave rise to it. "I will tell you of what you all remind me at this moment," said he, reseating himself: "Did you ever see or read 'Le MÉdecin malgrÉ Lui'?"

We answered in the affirmative.

"Eh bien! ... do you remember a certain scene in which a certain good man enters a house whence have issued the cries of a woman grievously beaten by her husband?"

We all nodded assent.

"Eh bien! ... and do you remember how it is that Martine, the beaten wife, receives the intercessor?—'Et je veux qu'il me batte, moi.' Voyez-vous, mesdames, I am that pitying individual—that kind-hearted M. Robert; and you—you are every one of you most perfect Martines."

"You are positively getting angry, Sir Champion," said one of the ladies: "and if that happens, we shall incontestably declare you vanquished."

"Nay, I am vanquished—I yield—I throw up the partie—I see clearly that I know nothing about the matter. What I conceived to be national barbarisms, you evidently cling to as national privileges. Allons! ... je me rends!"

"We have not given any judgment, however," said I. "But perhaps you are more tired than beaten?—you only want a little repose, and you will then be ready to start anew."

"Non! absolument non!—but I will willingly change sides, and tell you how greatly I admire England...."

The conversation then started off in another direction, and ceased not till the number of parties who passed us in making their exit roused us at length to the necessity of leaving our flowery retreat, and making ours also.