Correspondence

2987.  EBB to Mary Russell Mitford

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 204–208.

138 Avenue des Ch. Elysées.

Christmas eve– [1851] [1]

What can you have thought of me? That I was shot or deserved to be? Forgive in the first instance, dearest friend, & believe that I wont behave so any more if in any way I can help it.

Tell me your thought now about L. Napoleon. He rode under our windows on the second of December through an immense shout from the Carrousel to the Arc de L’Etoile—there was the army & the sun of Austerlitz, [2] & even I thought it one of the grandest of sights,—for he rode there in the name of the people after all.

The parties of every colour are frantic with rage, and I hear so much passion from the french & so much nonsense from the English, that it is difficult to keep one’s own thoughts upright & at work. But from the beginning my own opinion has been favorable to the movement– The position as it was, was perfectly untenable, the wheel at a dead-lock. The only question was by whose hand the law was to be shattered at last. I cant pretend to put on looks of horror, at the violence done to an impossible constitution & an impracticable assembly, though, as Englishmen, people are necessarily pedantic about such things: it seems to me that I am a purer democrat in admitting of an appeal to the universal suffrage of the people over the heads of their unrepresenting representatives. For the rest, one cannot answer. He is justified so far, I think,—yet in another month he may be unjustifiable. I cant pretend to answer for his abnegation & patriotism– Can you? Only, if he attempts absolutism, it wont do in France—the prestige will die away & he will go down to the dust, [3] and deservedly. The French are the most democratical of people; but the American forms are repugnant to them, & they will insist on having individualities rather than officialities, always,—they have too much “sentiment” (use the french word) to bear with your committee-men. The unanimity rather than the majority of the election will be wonderful therefore: notwithstanding which, he will not stand except through standing fast by the people as well as appealing to them—& I think & hope that he is too able a man not to perceive this, himself. I have faith in the people at all events—& none in the Times Newspaper, which, pray read backwards upon most occasions, when it speaks about France. We have suffered no alarm whatever– Wiedeman was carried out to walk as usual on the worst day– Still, I sate up that thursday night in my dressing-gown till one in the morning, because we could hear the firing & I could not escape the emotion of the situation. Nothing could exceed the vigour & promptitude of that coup d’etat. Pure or impure, he is a man of incontestable courage & ability—that’s certain.

But we know men, most opposed to him, .. writers of the old ‘Presse’ & ‘National’ [4] —and Orleanists & Legitimists .. & the fury of all such, I can scarcely express to you after the life. Emile de Girardin and his friends had a sublime scheme of going over in a body to England & establishing a socialist periodical .. inscribing on their new habitation “Içi c’est la France.” [5] He actually advertised for sale his beautiful house close by, in the Champs Elysées—asked ten thousand pounds, English, for it,—& would have been “rather disappointed,” as one of his sympathizing friends confessed to us, if the offer had been accepted. I heard a good story the other day– A lady visitor was groaning politically to Madame de Girardin, over the desperateness of the situation. “Il n’y a que celui qui est en haut, qui peut nous en tirer” [6] said she, casting up her eyes. “Oui, .. c’est vrai,”—replied Madame, “il le pourrait, lui,” [7]  .. glancing towards the second floor, where Emile was at work upon feuilletons. Not that she mistakes him habitually for her deity, by any manner of means, .. if scandal is to be listened to.

I hear that Lamennais is profoundly disgusted. He said to a friend of ours that the French people was “putrified to the heart.” Which means that they have one tradition still dear to them (—the name of Napoleon—) & that they put no faith in the socialistic prophets. Wise or unwise they may be accordingly—but an affection & an apprehension cant reasonably be said to amount to a “putrifaction,” I think. No indeed.

Louis Napoleon is said to say (a bitter foe of his told me this) that “there will be four phases of his life. The first was all rashness & imprudence .. but it was necessary to make him known: the second, the struggle with & triumph over anarchy: the third, the settlement of France & the pacification of Europe: the fourth … a “coup de pistolet”.” Se non é vero, ben trovato. [8] Nothing is more likely than the catastrophe in any case: & the violence of the passions excited in the minority, makes me wonder at his surviving a day even. Do you know, I heard your idol of a Napoleon (the antique hero) called the other evening through a black beard & gnashing teeth, “le plus grand scelerat du monde,” & his empire, “le regne du Satan,” & his “marshalls,” “des coquins”. [9] After that, I wont tell you that “le neveu” [10] is reproached with every iniquity possible to anybody’s public & private life. Perhaps he is not ‘sans reproche’ in respect to the latter—not altogether—he has a mistress [11] & debts undeniably: but one cant believe, & ought’nt, even infinitesimally the things which are talked on the subject.

On the 6th of December, the temperature being very mild, I & Robert went in a close carriage to the scene of the fighting—but the barricades had vanished & nothing was to be seen except the bullet-holes in the walls, & the staring horror of the windows dashed in. The pavement was black with men, but the repose had already become absolute. Believe no exaggerations. He had Paris with him from the beginning. All our tradespeople for instance applauded him from the first word spoken to the last step taken– “Ah, Madame .. mais c’est le vrai neveu de son oncle! il est admirable.” [12]

Ah—I am so vexed about George Sand– She came, she has gone, & we have’nt met! There was a M. François who pretended to be her very, very particular friend, & who managed the business so particularly ill, from some motive or some incapacity, that he did not give us an opportunity of presenting our letter. He did not ‘dare’ to present it for us, he said. She is shy—she distrusts book-making strangers, & she intended to be incognita while in Paris. He proposed that we should leave it at the theatre—& Robert refused– Robert said he would’nt have our letter mixed up with the love-letters of the actresses, or perhaps given to the “premier comique” [13] to read aloud in the green room, as a relief to the “Chére adorable” which had produced so much laughter. Robert was a little proud—& M. François very stupid—& I, between the two, in a furious state of dissent from either. Robert tries to smooth down my ruffled plumage now, by promising to look out for some other opportunity—but the late one is gone. She is said to have appeared in Paris, in a bloom of recovered beauty & brilliancy of eyes—& the success of her play, ‘le mariage de Victorine’ was complete. A strange, wild, wonderful woman, certainly!– While she was here, she used a bedroom, which belonged to her son .. a mere ‘chambre de garçon,’ [14]  .. and for the rest, saw whatever friends she chose to see, only at the ‘café,’ where she breakfasted & dined. She has just finished a romance, [15] we hear, and took fifty two nights to write it. She writes only at night. People call her Madme Sand: there seems to be no other name for her, in society or letters.

Now listen. Alexandre Dumas does write his own books—that’s a fact. You know I always maintained it, through the odour of Dumas in the books,—but people swore the contrary with great foolish oaths worth nothing. Maquet [16] prepares historical materials, gathers together notes, & so on—but Dumas writes every word of his books with his own hand, & with a facility amounting to inspiration, said my informant. He called him a great, savage, negro-child. If he has twenty sous & wants bread, he buys a pretty cane instead. For the rest, “bon enfant,” [17] kind & amiable. An inspired negro-child! In debt at this moment, after all the sums he has made,—said my informant .. himself a most credible witness & highly cultivated man. [18]

I heard of Eugene Sue, too, yesterday. Our child is invited to a Christmas tree & party .. & Robert says he is too young to go, but I persist in sending him for half an hour with Wilson .. oh, really I must—though he will be by far the youngest of the thirty children invited[.] The lady of the house, Miss Fitton, an English resident in Paris, an elderly woman, shrewd & kind, said to Robert that she had a great mind to have Eugene Sue .. only he was so .. scampish—I think that was the word .. or something alarmingly equivalent. Now I should like to see Eugene Sue with my little innocent child in his arms—the idea of the combination pleases me somehow. But I shant see it in any case. We had three cold days last week which brought back my cough & took away my voice—I am dumb for the present & cant go out any more.

We saw your friend Mr Fields who was kind & cordial. I tried to see the refraction of your face in him. But, do you know, my dearest Miss Mitford, I do think he must have recovered his ‘bloom’ in passing the channel. I never saw a more decided pœony-bloom in a man, spirits, manners, personal appearance, & character of mind altogether. The widowhood is not likely, I should imagine,—to judge by the texture of the stuff,—to last six months longer. Why, he seemed to me upon the whole, to incline to the ‘jolly’.– Only say it not in the streets of Boston. [19]

At last I have caught sight of an advertisement of your book. A very catching title,—and if I may’nt compliment you upon it, I certainly do your publisher. [20] I dare say the book is charming—& the more of yourself in it, the more charming, assuredly!

Write,—& say how you are, always, when you write. Say too how you continue to like your new house. We heard a good deal of you from Mr Fields though he came to us only once. With him, came Mr Longfellow, the poet’s brother, who is at present in Paris.– I mean the brother .. not the poet. Robert’s love .. may I say?

Wiedeman has struck up two friendships .. one, with the small daughter of our concierge, and one with a little Russian princess a month younger than himself– He calls them both “boys”,—having no idea yet of the less sublime sex,—but he likes the plebeian best. May God make you happy on this & other seasons.

Love your ever affectionate & grateful

Ba–

Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 337–342.

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. Year provided by EBB’s references to the recent coup d’état.

2. Before the Battle of Borodino on 7 September 1812, Napoleon is reported to have said to his officers: “Voilà le soleil d’Austerlitz” (Philippe de Ségur, Histoire de Napoléon et de la Grande-Armée, pendant l’année 1812, 4th ed., Brussels, 1825, I, 283). Louis Napoleon had chosen 2 December for the coup d’état as it was the anniversary of Napoleon’s coronation in 1804 and of his victory over the Austro-Russian army at Austerlitz in 1805.

3. Cf. Psalm 22:29.

4. EBB refers to Eugène Pelletan of La Presse and Paul Émile Forgues of Le National.

5. “Here is France.”

6. “Only he who is above can save us.”

7. “‘Yes, .. it’s true,’—replied Madame, ‘he could do it.’”

8. “Pistol shot.” “If it is not true, it is a happy invention.”

9. “The world’s greatest villain, & his empire, the kingdom of Satan, & his marshalls, rascals.” The black beard belonged to Pelletan.

10. “The nephew.”

11. Elizabeth Ann Haryett (1823–65), known as “Miss Howard” or most often “Mrs. Howard,” whom Louis Napoleon had met in England.

12. “Ah, Madame .. but he is the true nephew of his uncle! he is admirable.”

13. See letter 2982, note 22.

14. “Bachelor’s quarters.”

15. Mont-Revêche (1852).

16. Auguste Maquet (1813–88), a novelist who wrote under the pseudonym “Augustus Mackeat,” had collaborated with Dumas since the early 1840’s, though their works were all published under Dumas’s name; see F.W.J. Hemmings, The King of Romance: A Portrait of Alexandre Dumas (1979, pp. 119–122).

17. “Good child.”

18. Unidentified.

19. Cf. II Samuel 1:20.

20. Apparently, Miss Mitford’s publisher, Richard Bentley, preferred the title Recollections of a Literary Life, or Books, Places, and People to the author’s choices which included “Personal Reminiscences,” “Readings of Poetry,” and “Recollections of Books” (James T. Fields, Yesterdays with Authors, 1872, pp. 291–292).

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