CHAPTER II.
Among things indescribable is that which is called "Agitation" in Paris--
"Agitation" without riot or violence--showing itself by no disorderly act,
no turbulent outburst. Perhaps the cafes are more crowded; passengers in
the streets stop each other more often, and converse in small knots and
groups; yet, on the whole, there is little externally to show how loudly
the heart of Paris is beating. A traveller may be passing through quiet
landscapes, unconscious that a great battle is going on some miles off,
but if he will stop and put his ear to the ground he will recognise by a
certain indescribable vibration, the voice of the cannon.
But at Paris an acute observer need not stop and put his ear to the
ground; he feels within himself a vibration--a mysterious inward sympathy
which communicates to the individual a conscious thrill--when the
passions of the multitude are stirred, no matter how silently.
Tortoni's cafe was thronged when Duplessis and Frederic Lemercier entered
it: it was in vain to order breakfast; no table was vacant either within
the rooms or under the awnings without.
But they could not retreat so quickly as they had entered. On catching
sight of the financier several men rose and gathered round him, eagerly
questioning:
"What do you think, Duplessis? Will any insult to France put a drop of
warm blood into the frigid veins of that miserable Ollivier?"
"It is not yet clear that France has been insulted, Messieurs," replied
Duplessis, phlegmatically.
"Bah! Not insulted! The very nomination of a Hohenzollern to the crown
of Spain was an insult--what would you have more?"
"I tell you what it is, Duplessis," said the Vicomte de Breze, whose
habitual light good temper seemed exchanged for insolent swagger--"I tell
you what it is, your friend the Emperor has no more courage than a
chicken. He is grown old, and infirm, and lazy; he knows that he can't
even mount on horseback. But if, before this day week, he has not
declared war on the Prussians, he will be lucky if he can get off as
quietly as poor Louis Philippe did under shelter of his umbrella, and
ticketed 'Schmidt.' Or could you not, M. Duplessis, send him back to
London in a bill of exchange?"
"For a man of your literary repute, M. le Vicomte," said Duplessis, "you
indulge in a strange confusion of metaphors. But, pardon me, I came here
to breakfast, and I cannot remain to quarrel. Come, Lemercier, let us
take our chance of a cutlet at the Trois Freres."
"Fox, Fox," cried Lemercier, whistling to a poodle that had followed him
into the cafe, and, frightened by the sudden movement and loud voices of
the habitues, had taken refuge under the table.
"Your dog is poltron," said De Breze; "call him Nap." At this stroke of
humour there was a general laugh, in the midst of which Duplessis
escaped, and Frederic, having discovered and caught his dog, followed
with that animal tenderly clasped in his arms.
"I would not lose Fox for a great deal," said Lemercier with effusion;
"a pledge of love and fidelity from an English lady the most
distinguished: the lady left me--the dog remains."
Duplessis smiled grimly: "What a thoroughbred Parisian you are, my dear
Frederic! I believe if the tramp of the last angel were sounding, the
Parisians would be divided into two sets: one would be singing the
Marseillaise, and parading the red flag; the other would be shrugging
their shoulders and saying, 'Bah! as if le Bon Dieu would have the bad
taste to injure Paris--the Seat of the Graces, the School of the Arts,
the Fountain of Reason, the Eye of the World;' and so be found by the
destroying angel caressing poodles and making _bons mots_ about les
femmes."
"And quite right, too," said Lemercier, complacently; "what other people
in the world could retain lightness of heart under circumstances so
unpleasant? But why do you take things so solemnly? Of course there
will be war idle now to talk of explanations and excuses. When a
Frenchman says, 'I am insulted,' he is not going to be told that he is
not insulted. He means fighting, and not apologising. But what if there
be war? Our brave soldiers beat the Prussians--take the Rhine--return to
Paris covered with laurels; a new Boulevard de Berlin eclipses the
Boulevard Sebastopol. By the way, Duplessis, a Boulevard de Berlin will
be a good speculation--better than the Rue de Louvier. Ah! is not that
my English friend, Grarm Varn?" here, quitting the arm of Duplessis,
Lemercier stopped a gentleman who was about to pass him unnoticing.
"_Bon jour, mon ami_! how long have you been at Paris?"
"I only arrived last evening," answered Graham, "and my stay will be so
short that it is a piece of good luck, my dear Lemercier, to meet with
you, and exchange a cordial shake of the hand."
"We are just going to breakfast at the Trois Freres--Duplessis and I--
pray join us."
"With great pleasure--ah, M. Duplessis, I shall be glad to hear from you
that the Emperor will be firm enough to check the advances of that
martial fever which, to judge by the persons I meet, seems to threaten
delirium."
Duplessis looked very keenly at Graham's face, as he replied slowly:
"The English, at least, ought to know that when the Emperor by his last
reforms resigned his personal authority for constitutional monarchy, it
ceased to be a question whether he could or could not be firm in matters
that belonged to the Cabinet and the Chambers. I presume that if
Monsieur Gladstone advised Queen Victoria to declare war upon the Emperor
of Russia, backed by a vast majority in Parliament, you would think me
very ignorant of constitutional monarchy and Parliamentary government if
I said, 'I hope Queen Victoria will resist that martial fever.'"
"You rebuke me very fairly, M. Duplessis, if you can show me that the two
cases are analogous; but we do not understand in England that, despite
his last reforms, the Emperor has so abnegated his individual ascendency,
that his will, clearly and resolutely expressed, would not prevail in his
Council and silence opposition in the Chambers. Is it so? I ask for
information."
The three men were walking on towards the Palais Royal side by side while
this conversation proceeded.
"That all depends," replied Duplessis, "upon what may be the increase of
popular excitement at Paris. If it slackens, the Emperor, no doubt,
could turn to wise account that favourable pause in the fever. But if it
continues to swell, and Paris cries, 'War,' in a voice as loud as it
cried to Louis Philippe 'Revolution,' do you think that the Emperor could
impose on his ministers the wisdom of peace? His ministers would be too
terrified by the clamour to undertake the responsibility of opposing it--
they would resign. Where is the Emperor to find another Cabinet? a peace
Cabinet? What and who are the orators for peace?--whom a handful!--who?
Gambetta, Jules Favre, avowed Republicans,--would they even accept the
post of ministers to Louis Napoleon? If they did, would not their first
step be the abolition of the Empire? Napoleon is therefore so far a
constitutional monarch in the same sense as Queen Victoria, that the
popular will in the country (and in France in such matters Paris is the
country) controls the Chambers, controls the Cabinet; and against the
Cabinet the Emperor could not contend. I say nothing of the army--
a power in France unknown to you in England, which would certainly
fraternise with no peace party. If war is proclaimed,--let England blame
it if she will--she can't lament it more than I should: but let England
blame the nation; let her blame, if she please, the form of the
government, which rests upon popular suffrage; but do not let her blame
our sovereign more than the French would blame her own, if compelled by
the conditions on which she holds her crown to sign a declaration of war,
which vast majorities in a Parliament just elected, and a Council of
Ministers whom she could not practically replace, enforced upon her
will."
"Your observations, M. Duplessis, impress me strongly, and add to the
deep anxieties with which, in common with all my countrymen, I regard the
menacing aspect of the present hour. Let us hope the best. Our
Government, I know, is exerting itself to the utmost verge of its power,
to remove every just ground of offence that the unfortunate nomination of
a German Prince to the Spanish throne could not fail to have given to
French statesmen."
"I am glad you concede that such a nomination was a just ground of
offence," said Lemercier, rather bitterly; "for I have met Englishmen who
asserted that France had no right to resent any choice of a sovereign
that Spain might make."
"Englishmen in general are not very reflective politicians in foreign
affairs," said Graham; "but those who are must see that France could not,
without alarm the most justifiable, contemplate a cordon of hostile
states being drawn around her on all sides,--Germany, is, itself so
formidable since the field of Sadowa, on the east; a German prince in the
southwest; the not improbable alliance between Prussia and the Italian
kingdom, already so alienated from the France to which it owed so much.
If England would be uneasy were a great maritime power possessed of
Antwerp, how much more uneasy might France justly be if Prussia could add
the armies of Spain to those of Germany, and launch them both upon
France. But that cause of alarm is over--the Hohenzollern is withdrawn.
Let us hope for the best."
The three men had now seated themselves at a table in the Trois Freres,
and Lemercier volunteered the task of inspecting the menu and ordering
the repast, still keeping guard on Fox.
"Observe that man," said Duplessis, pointing towards a gentleman who had
just entered; "the other day he was the popular hero--now, in the
excitement of threatened war, he is permitted to order his _bifteck_
uncongratulated, uncaressed; such is fame at Paris! here to-day and gone
to-morrow."
"How did the man become famous?"
"He is a painter, and refused a decoration--the only French painter who
ever did."
"And why refuse?"
"Because he is more stared at as the man who refused than he would have
been as the man who accepted. If ever the Red Republicans have their
day, those among them most certain of human condemnation will be the
coxcombs who have gone mad for the desire of human applause."
"You are a profound philosopher, M. Duplessis."
"I hope not--I have an especial contempt for philosophers. Pardon me a
moment--I see a man to whom I would say a word or two."
Duplessis crossed over to another table to speak to a middle-aged man of
somewhat remarkable countenance, with the red ribbon in his buttonhole,
in whom Graham recognised an ex-minister of the Emperor, differing from
most of those at that day in his Cabinet, in the reputation of being
loyal to his master and courageous against a mob. Left thus alone with
Lemercier, Graham said:
"Pray tell me where I can find your friend the Marquis de Rochebriant.
I called at his apartment this morning, and I was told that he had gone
on some visit into the country, taking his valet, and the concierge could
not give me his address. I thought myself so lucky on meeting with you,
who are sure to know."
"No, I do not; it is some days since I saw Alain. But Duplessis will be
sure to know." Here the financier rejoined them.
"Mon cher, Grarm Varn wants to know for what Sabine shades Rochebriant
has deserted the '_fumum opes strepitumque_' of the capital."
"Ah! the Marquis is a friend of yours, Monsieur?"
"I can scarcely boast that honour, but he is an acquaintance whom I
should be very glad to see again."
"At this moment he is at the Duchesse de Tarascon's country-house near
Fontainebleau; I had a hurried line from him two days ago stating that he
was going there on her urgent invitation. But he may return to-morrow;
at all events he dines with me on the 8th, and I shall be charmed if you
will do me the honour to meet him at my house."
"It is an invitation too agreeable to refuse, and I thank you very much
for it."
Nothing worth recording passed further in conversation between Graham and
the two Frenchmen. He left them smoking their cigars in the garden, and
walked homeward by the Rue de Rivoli. As he was passing beside the
Magasin du Louvre he stopped, and made way for a lady crossing quickly
out of the shop towards her carriage at the door. Glancing at him with a
slight inclination of her head in acknowledgment of his courtesy, the
lady recognised his features,--
"Ah, Mr. Vane!" she cried, almost joyfully--"you are then at Paris,
though you have not come to see me."
"I only arrived last night, dear Mrs. Morley," said Graham, rather
embarrassed, "and only on some matters of business which unexpectedly
summoned me. My stay will probably be very short."
"In that case let me rob you of a few minutes--no, not rob you even of
them; I can take you wherever you want to go, and as my carriage moves
more quickly than you do on foot, I shall save you the minutes instead of
robbing you of them."
"You are most kind, but I was only going to my hotel, which is close by."
"Then you have no excuse for not taking a short drive with me in the
Champs Elysees--come."
Thus bidden, Graham could not civilly disobey. He handed the fair
American into her carriage, and seated himself by her side.
