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This latter affair was known to all the Court at the death of the Keeper of the Seals. When the Marechal de Belle-Isle's son was killed in battle, Madame persuaded the King to pay his father a visit. He was rather reluctant, and Madame said to him, with an air half angry, half playful: "Barbare! don't l'orgueil Croit le sang d'un sujet trop pays d'un coup d'oeil."
After having been obliged to surrender the supreme command, he followed the army, like a mock emperor, a kind of onlooker, a superfluous piece on the board. People said of him: "On croit qu'il se promene un peu aux environs de Chalons."
Each of them had, at last, the occasion, and therefore the power, to fill out the lines of his proper individuality. As M. Henri Bordeaux excellently says, "L'esprit inquiet ne se contente de rien, le coeur inapaisé se croit incompris." But now these men knew their vocation, and a precocious experience of life developed in them a temper of meditation.
This latter affair was known to all the Court at the death of the Keeper of the Seals. When the Marechal de Belle-Isle's son was killed in battle, Madame persuaded the King to pay his father a visit. He was rather reluctant, and Madame said to him, with an air half angry, half playful: "Barbare! don't l'orgueil Croit le sang d'un sujet trop pays d'un coup d'oeil."
If it had ventured to put in the slightest appearance M. Evariste Dumoulin would have given it a severe talking to. Some Genin or other would have hurled at it the first cobble-stone he could lay his hand on a line from Boileau: L'esprit n'est point emu de ce qu'il ne croit pas. It was replaced on the stage by an "urn" that Talma carried under his arm.
A force d'attentats il se croit illustré; Et s'il n'était méchant, il serait ignoré. Palissot began with a tragedy. He proceeded to an angry pamphlet against the Encyclopædists and the fury for innovation. Then he achieved immense vogue among fine ladies, bishops, and the lighter heads of the town, by the comedy in which he held Diderot, D'Alembert, and the others, up to hatred and ridicule.
Then, too, the impious paraphrase of the Athanasian Creed, with its terrible climax, from the converting Jesuit: 'Or vous voyez bien . . . qu'un homme qui ne croit pas cette histoire doit etre brule dans ce monde ci, et dans l'autre. To which 'L'Empereur' replies: 'Ca c'est clair comme le jour.
I thought of the last words of "Une Vie," that fine novel, which even Tolstoi considers great, of the old servant's summing up: "La vie, voyez-vous, ca n'est jamais si bon ni si mauvais qu'on croit." "Perhaps," thought I, "'t is the same with death." "The Societe des Gens de Lettres had to buy the ground for him," interrupted the wall-eyed guardian compassionately.
Three pieces of composition I had sketched out were the first monologue: 'J'ai perdu mon serviteur; the air of the Devin; 'L'amour croit s'il s'inquiete; and the last duo: 'A jamais, Colin, je t'engage, etc. I was so far from thinking it worth while to continue what I had begun, that, had it not been for the applause and encouragement I received from both Mussard and Mademoiselle, I should have throw n my papers into the fire and thought no more of their contents, as I had frequently done by things of much the same merit; but I was so animated by the encomiums I received, that in six days, my drama, excepting a few couplets, was written.
Some fleecy clouds were speeding across the clear ether. "No," she answered slowly; "I think I shall go to Corsica. Tell me," she added, after a pause "I suppose I have Corsican blood in my veins?" "I suppose so," admitted Mademoiselle Brun, reluctantly. "Chaque homme a trois caracteres: celui qu'il a, celui qu'il montre, et celui qu'il croit avoir."
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