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¦ ¦ ¦¦ ¦ ¦ - : . ? . ¦ . It is notorious that the light Literature of modern France is generally excluded from most families , even } n France , by the immorality of its tone and the audacity of its topics . 'Novels and plays are almost always found trenching upon subjects which careful ' fathers and husbands object to see their daughters and wives scrutinizing . We need only allude to a fact so notorious for the sake of calling attention to the other singular fact , namely , that French wiiters , even as a matter of calculation , do not more frequently try the effect of-writing what all may read . The ' wicked and witty' novels are so clever , that nothing but great cleverness can expect to produce an impression on the public accustomed to them ; but a little wit
will go a great way if exercised on subjects which are themselves pleasant , or at least not unfit for universal hearing ; just as a very mediocre talent will carry an Evangelical novel into every Evangelical circle , so little accustomed are Evangelical readers to meet with anything approaching the vivacity and interest of mundane fiction ^ If French writers would but exercise their ingenuity within more restricted limits ., they would find their success tenfold . Emixe Souvestre , by instinct perhaps , discovered this secret , and with very moderate ability achieved a reputation , and commands to this day a public for works , tiresome indeed , but not violating the sanctities of feeling , and those delicacies which are not conventionalisms , but belong to all real moral feeling . M . Edmund About has just furnished
another example of the truth : his collection of tales , Les Mariagts de Paris , is all ' the rage in Paris , and sold in great quantities at all railway stations , not only in virtue of the author ' s name , which has become extensively known by means of the charming Tollay but also in virtue of the fact that the tales were " written by the fireside , between a mother and a sister , " and are fit to be read where they were written . There is nothing hew" in these stories —nothing , except the writing , which is alwayshealthy and happy—to justify their success , were not almost all the talent of Trance engaged in other literature than the litte ' rature de famillc . Had they been less moral they would have scarcely secured attention ; but being at once amusing , witty , and proper , their success is
immense-It is amazmg what dull plays and feeble books the good French public will applaud and read if once it is persuaded that these works are moral ; it has not a verykeen sense , and is apt to take queerviews of the pria ; Mo ? ithgoii ; but , nevertheless , whatever it does regard as moral it loudly applauds . Why , then , are writers so seldom to be induced to supply a demand so obvious ? The causes are many ; and one of the most potent is , that young men write immoral books because young men are prone to SiQjfanfarons de vice , and think it gives them an air to be on the most intimate terms with all forms of corruption ; while men of mediocre talent naturally seek strength in strong situations , piquancy in subjects -which are highly spiced , and thrilling effects in crime . M . About made his name by a charming and perfectly unobjectionable novel ; he has again achieved a large sale by a series of commonplace , but perfectly unobjectionable stories . The reader may order Les Manages tie Paris without misgiving .
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That all animals give out carbonic acid is familiar to every , pn , e ; but hp ' vy and where , this carbonic acid is formed still remains a , profound mystery , in spito of the easy confidence with , which many writers , flowing Likb m ^' s pleasant mode of settling difficulties , talk of the ox ^ ation / of ^ carbon in tUe exercise of the tissues . Those , interested . in tbjs . questiqn wo refer to ; a valuable paper in the AnnnUsftez Science J ^ nturalles ^ ky-Moj ^ BSCiioTg ^ 'on tbp . • . .. .. , ¦¦ . ¦ . ¦ ¦¦ ¦ i" ' ¦! . I . - . .. i .. - ¦¦ I . : ¦¦ , ' ., • . ¦ ¦ ¦ •• . ¦ . - . ! . ¦>
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At such an interview the opening conversation is inevitably predetermined tt « s ~ long I had been in Europe ; the route by which I « had come ; the se ^ vosafiT ' \^ Z he learnt that for fifteen months I had be « n a student at Gottiniren he inmiWvS interest for several of the professors , especially Blumenbach aftd SattoHM ^ What a position was mine then at that moment—seated beside one Traierthn Vt . wisest of the seven sages of Greece , in whose single ; head was mowkno * ple «^ rt !? in the heads of all the seven together ; the wisest man . then living nT « n ™^ 1 J * ° three , the wisest that ever has lived : Across the Atlantic , throu ^^ l ™ J « ,. ? £ Belgium , across the Rhine ( railroads and ocean steamships were not ; in& < % ?**•* \* had come , to be taught by the wise men of GSttingen . And here ' sat ' -r f *~ J + ?*" with the teacher of these Gbttingen teachers , with him from whom everr S ^ J ^ ST had learnt , and from whom the best of them were still learning Y * F £ * £ - * ™ viewx witn the chief of teachers , the wisest of the wise—an intereie * mm . k !? $ " of the highest men of to-day would ; almost give a anger to haVe Zd- ^ tlT £ fT leged tete-a-tete , it was not Goethe who taught me , it was 1 who ttoght GoSh ? It The old iter would have
was always so . Jup had a terrible time of it with his pilgrim worshippers if he had been unwise enough to think of displaying himself to them ; instead of that , he "was interested in making them , display themselves to him , in telling him something heWnted to know and thus making the visit not altogether a bore . The American ' s presentation at Court is also worth extracting : — - Of the importance attached to costume at the courts of Europe , our whole cnuntro has lately become aware , through the recommendation ( which should havn Wi positive instruction ) sent by our Government in 1853 to Us diplomatic representativeTin conforming to which , be it said , and presenting himself in simple citizen ' s dres ^ a * the begilded French Court , wckarfft d ' affaires at Paris , Henry S . Sanford . T am ^ by his manly and truly republican bearing , a well-merited distinction . Thus close upon the heels of the resolution to go to court in Weimar came the question of cos tume . A uniform of some kind , my English friends told me , I must have , the etiauett * requiring it . I might follow my own taste and fancy in the colour and style . On «
of those gentlemen—a man of parts and a graduate of Oxford , who had not even an ensign ' s commission—wore always at court the full dress of an , English field-marshal for which he had paid in London one hundred guineas . This ambitious fancy by tha way , cost him , a few weeks later , a ludicrous mortification ; for the Duke of Clarence ( afterwards William IV . ) happening to visit the Weimar court , the young civilian not wishing his field-marshalship to be challenged l > y so high a personage withdrew for a week . Uniform I had none , and there was hardly time , had I even been so disposed , to have one first invented , and then made up by the tailor . The Englishman cast about in vain to compound an outfit , by borrowing a coat from one pantaloons from another , &c ; but among them were few superfluous articles of the courtlv kind . At last I suggested , that with sword , chapeau-bras knee-breeches and si 1
, > stockings , I might possibly be admitted . The chamberlain was applied to He re ceived the proposal favourably , and would consider it . The matter was doubtless submitted to the Grand Duke and Duchess . It is not at all improbable that even Goethe was consulted . Tor in Weimar , on anything great or small , that was worth a consultation , his opinion was sure tp be sought . Be that as it may , the chamberlain gave a . consenting answer . Instantly a tailor was set to -work on the ' inexpressibles . ' Oaa Englishman furnished a sword , another a chapeau ; and so , with my black " Stultz dress-coat , and a white vest , I was equipped . History , to be history , must he truthfully told ; and therefore , however painfal to my feelings it be to pluck the lightest feather from the plume of my friend Sanford , I have to proclaim , that at about tna time he was born I had made the initiatory step in the blacft coat affair .
A sedan is a light chair covered at top , with curtains on the sides and front , borne on poles by two men . An acceptable vehicle it is , where a pair of muscular human arms can be hired at the rate of twenty-five cents a day , where distances are not measured by miles , and -when you are in full dress with thin shoes . It takes you in and puts you out under cover of hall or entry . A . single servant in livery received me at the foot of the grand ducal stairway , and conducted me up into one of the receiving-rooms , where were already several of my new native acquaintance . The company gathered rapidly , and we soon passed into a larger roam , where I was nresented to the Grand Duchess ., The Grand Duke was ill . The Grand Duchess was affable , and spoke of her son , Duke Bernhardt , who was then travelling in the United States . The introduction and conversation were as unceremonious as they would have been in the drawing-room of a well-bred lady in Boston or Baltimore . It was in this palace , at the head of the stairs I had ascended , that tins Grand Duchess received Napoleon the day after the battle of Jena , and by her calm courage womanly dignity , and intellectual readiness , rebuked his vulgar violence , and extorted an unwilling respect . Ignoble natures , feeling nobleness to be a reproach to themselves hate the true and pure , and , when unavoidably confronted with them , pay them a reluctant homage .
At three the Grand Duches 3 led the way into the dining-room . About fifty persona sat down to a long table , the Grand Duchess in the centre . Opposite and beside h . er were placed the elderly and officially elevated , while the younger members of the company mustered at the extremities , where , intermingled with , the maids of honour and remote from the stately legal centra , we were under no other restraint than that which refines the freedom of ladies and gentlemen . Behind each guest -was a servant in livery . The dinner was princely . That it was , moreover , excellent , I have no doubt ; but this I cannot affirm from personal judgment ; for , happily , my critioal craft in . this significant province of civilized culture was only developed some years later . Of the service—at onco lavish and refined—of the grand ducal table take this as a sample . No sooner was a glass emptied than it was replenished by the watchful attendant . Through this silent savory- sign your preference-r-if you had one—was learnt , and hospitably indulged . You had , for instance , but to leave your Claret and Rhenish and Chninpngno unfinished , and to drain your Burgundy class so often as it was found empty it was refilled with . Chambertin or Olos Vougeot , to the number of a dozen or more fillings , should Any guest be rash enough to trust his head with so many . The dinner lasted till towards five , when the company followed the Duchess back into the receiving-rooms . Hero we lin / rered less than
a half-hour , and then withdrew , to return at seven to tea , conversation , and carde . In the evening I left the palace early , having made an engagement to sup at eig&t with Oher-medldnal-rath ( Upper Medical Councillor ) Froricp , a nun of large knowledge and practical ability , and . of distinguished liberalitv , and for . those dualities much valued by the Grand Duke . "
" Weimar in 1825 " is the title of an extremely pleasant paper in Putnam ' s Monthly Magazine , in which an American records his recollections of a brief stay in the little Saxon city on the llm . His visit to Goethe we will quote : — After dinner ( which at the public table of the Erbprinz was served at half-past one ) , learning that Goethe dined at two , I waited till a quarter past three , and then ¦ walked tolas house in the Fraucnplatz ( Woman ' s Place ) , mot two hundred yards from the _ hotel . I had no letter , and , knowing that Goothe refused to admit unlabellecl ¦ visitors , I raug the bell with misgivings . The servant said , the Ilerr Ge / ieimerath ( the privy-councillor ) had not yet risen from table . ' " There , " cried I , vexedly to myself , as I turned away , " by my impatience I have forfeited the nt best doubtful chance of seeing the great man . The summons of his waiter from tho dining-room to the door , he will feel as an intrusion on his privacy an < l comfortand be thereby
, jarred into an inhospitable mood . " I walked into tho park , enlivened on a sunny faunday afternoon with Weimar ' s quiet denizens . Towards four I was again ringing Goethe ' s bell . Tho servant asked my name . I gave him my card , on which I had written , " aus Washington , America . " My home being near the capital , I availed myself of this to couple my name with that of the sublime man—honoured by all tho hundred millions in Christendom—the presenting of which to the imagination of a great poet might , I hoped , suddenly kindle an emotion tha , t would plead irresistibly in my behalf . The servant quickly returned and ushered me in . I ascended tho celebrated wide , easy , Italian staircase . On tho threshold I was about to pass , my oyo foil pleasantly on the hospitublo sai . vk , inlaid in large mosaic letters . flic door was opened boforo me by the servant , and there , in the centre of the room , tail , large , orect , majestic , Goethe stood , slightly borne forward by tho intcntness of hia look , out of thosclarge luminous fixed on tho entrance
eyes , . in lo-sO , Americans were seldom seen so far inland . In his whole life Goothe liad not probably met with aix . Tho announcement of ono for the unbusied moments of alter-uinner , was , I daro say , to tho ever fresh student and universal observer , a piquant novelty . His attitude and expression , as I enured , were these of an expectant naturalist , eager 3 y awaiting thdTransatlantic phenomenon . Goetho was then in Iiia seventy-sixth year ; but neither on his face nor figure was there any detracting mark of ago . Kindly and gracefully he received me ; advancing as I entered , bade me be , seated on the aofa , and eat down besido mo . In a few momenta I wo « perfectly at ease . , ,. . ,: ¦ ¦
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Critics are notthe legislators , but tne judges and police of literature . They do no make laws—ttiey in . ter . pret and try to enforce them . —Edinburgh Review .
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SEPTK . MBEB . 2 O > 1856 . ] TH E JUE AX > . « E / ' 3 EL # 05
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Leader (1850-1860), Sept. 20, 1856, page 905, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2159/page/17/
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