"Huzza for Copenhagen and for Paris! may they both flourish!"
The Danes in Paris by HEIBERG.
Wilhelm's cousin, Joachim, had arrived from Paris. We remember theyoung officer, out of whose letters Wilhelm had sent Otto adescription of the struggle of the July days. As an inspired heroof liberty had he returned; struggling Poland had excited hislively interest, and he would willingly have combated in Warsaw'sranks. His mind and his eloquence made him doubly interesting. Thecombat of the July days, of which he had been an eye-witness, hedescribed to them. Joachim was handsome; he had an elegantcountenance with sharp features, and was certainly rather pale--onemight perhaps have called him worn with dissipation, had it notbeen for the brightness of his eyes, which increased inconversation. The fine dark eyebrow, and even the little mustache,gave the countenance all expression which reminded one of fineEnglish steel-engravings. His figure was small, almost slender, butthe proportions were beautiful. The animation of the Frenchmanexpressed itself in every motion, but at the same time there was inhim a certain determination which seemed to say: "I am aware ofmy own intellectual superiority!"
He interested every one: Otto also listened with pleasure whenCousin Joachim related his experiences, but when all eyes wereturned toward the narrator, Otto fixed his suddenly upon Sophie,and found that she could moderate his attentions. Joachim addressedhis discourse to all, but at the points of interest his glancerested alone on the pretty cousin! "She interests him!" said Ottoto himself. "And Cousin Joachim?" Yes, he relates well; but had weonly traveled we should not be inferior to him!"
"Charles X. was a Jesuit!" said Joachim; "he strove after anunrestrained despotism, and laid violent hands on the Charter. Theexpedition against Algiers was only a glittering fire-work arrangedto flatter the national pride--all glitter and falseness! LikePeirronnet, through an embrace he would annihilate the Charter."
The conversation now turned from the Jesuits to the Charter andPolignac. The minute particulars, which only an eyewitness canrelate, brought the struggle livingly before their eyes. They sawthe last night, the extraordinary activity in the squares where theballs were showered, and in the streets where the barricades wereerected. Overturned wagons and carts, barrels and stones, wereheaped upon each other--even the hundred year-old trees of theBoulevards were cut down to form barricades: the struggle began,Frenchman fought against Frenchman--for liberty and country theysacrificed their life.
[Note:"Ceux qui pieusement sont morts pour la patrieOnt droit qu'?leur cerceuil la foule vienne et prie:Entre le plus beaux noms, leur nom est le plus beau.Toute gloire, pr鑣 d'eux, passe et tombe 閜h鑝ereEt, comme ferait une m鑢e,La voix d'un peuple entier les berce en leur tombeau!"--VICTOR HUGO.]
And he described the victory and Louis Philippe, whom he admiredand loved.
"That was a world event," said the man of business. "It electrifiedboth king and people. They still feel the movement. Last year wasan extraordinary year!"
"For the Copenhageners also," said Otto, "there were three colors.These things occupied the multitude with equal interest: the JulyRevolution, the 'Letters of a Wandering Ghost,' and Kellermann's'Berlin Wit.'"
"Now you are bitter, Mr. Thostrup," said the lady of the house."The really educated did not occupy themselves with these Berlin'Eckensteher' which the multitude have rendered national!"
"But they hit the right mark!" said Otto; "they met with areception from the citizens and people in office."
"That I can easily believe," remarked Joachim; "that is like thepeople here!"
"That is like the people abroad!" said the hostess. "In Paris theypass over still more easily from a revolution, in which theythemselves have taken part, to a review by Jules Janin, or to a newstep of Taglioni's, and from that to 'une histoire scandaleuse!'"
"No, my gracious lady, of the last no one takes any notice--itbelongs to the order of the day!"
"That I can easily believe!" said Miss Sophie.
The man of business now inquired after the Chamber. The cousin'sanswer was quite satisfactory. The lady of the house wished to hearof the flower-markets, and of the sweet little inclosed gardens inthe Places. Sophie wished to hear of Victor Hugo. She received adescription of him, of his abode in the Place Royale, and of thewhole Europe litt閞aire beside. Cousin Joachim was extremelyinteresting.
Otto did not pay another visit for two days.
"Where have you been for so long?" asked Sophie, when he cameagain.
"With my books!" replied he: there lay a gloomy expression in hiseyes.
"O, you should have come half an hour earlier--our cousin was here!He was describing to me the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. O, quiteexcellently!"
"He is an interesting young man!" said Otto.
"The glorious garden!" pursued Sophie, without remarking theemphasis with which Otto had replied. "Do you not remember, Mr.Thostrup, how Barth閘emi has spoken of it?
'O?tout homme, qui r陃e ?son pays absent,Retrouve ses parfums et son air caressant.'
In it there is a whole avenue with cages, in which are wildbeasts,--lions and tigers! In small court-yards, elephants andbuffaloes wander about at liberty! Giraffes nibble the branches ofhigh trees! In the middle of the garden are the courts for bears,only there is a sort of well in which the bears walk about; it issurrounded by no palisades, and you stand upon the precipitousedge! There our cousin stood!"
"But he did not precipitate himself down!" said Otto, withindifference.
"What is the matter?" asked Sophie. "Are you in your elegiac mood?You look as I imagine Victor Hugo when he has not made up his mindabout the management of his tragic catastrophe!"
"That is my innate singularity!" replied Otto. "I should havepleasure in springing down among the bears of which you relate!"
"And in dying?" asked Sophie. "No, you must live.
'C'est le bonheur de vivre
Qui fait la gloire de mourir.'"
"You speak a deal of French to-day," said Otto, with a friendlinessof manner intended to soften the bitterness of the tone. "Perhapsyour conversation with the lieutenant was in that language?"
"French interests me the most!" replied she. "I will ask our cousinto speak it often with me. His accent is excellent, and he ishimself a very interesting man!"
"No doubt of it!" answered Otto.
"You will remain and dine with us?" said the lady of the house, whonow entered.
Otto did not feel well.
"These are only whims," said Sophie.
The ladies made merry, and Otto remained. Cousin Joachim came andwas interesting--very interesting, said all. He related of Paris,spoke also of Copenhagen, and drew comparisons. The quietness ofhome had made an especial impression on him.
"People here," said he, "go about as if they bore some heavy grief,or some joy, which they might not express. If one goes into acoffee-house, it is just as if one entered a house of mourning.Each one seats himself, a newspaper in his hand, in a corner. Thatstrikes one when one comes from Paris! One naturally has thethought,--Can these few degrees further north bring so much coldinto the blood? There is the same quiet in our theatre. Now I lovethis active life. The only boldness the public permits itself ishissing a poor author; but a wretched singer, who has neither tonenor manner, a miserable actress, will be endured, nay, applauded bygood friends--an act of compassion. She is so fearful! she is sogood! In Paris people hiss. The decoration master, the manager,every one there receives his share of applause or blame. Even thedirectors are there hissed, if they manage badly."
"You are preaching a complete revolution in our theatricalkingdom!" said the lady of the house. "The Copenhageners cannotever become Parisians, and neither should they."
"The theatre is here, as well as there, the most powerful organ ofthe people's life. It has the greatest influence, and ours standshigh, very high, when one reflects in what different directions itmust extend its influence. Our only theatre must accommodateitself, and represent, at the same time, the Theatre Fran鏰is, thegrand Opera, the Vaudeville, and Saint-Martin; it must comprehendall kinds of theatrical entertainments. The same actors who to-dayappear in tragedy, must to-morrow show themselves in a comedy orvaudeville. We have actors who might compare themselves with thebest in Paris--only one is above all ours, but, also, above allwhom I have seen in Europe, and this one is Mademoiselle Mars. Youwill, doubtless, consider the reason extraordinary which gives thisone, in my opinion, the first place. This is her age, which she socompletely compels you to forget. She is still pretty; round,without being called fat. It is not through rouge, false hair, orfalse teeth, that she procures herself youth; it lies in her soul,and from thence it flows into every limb--every motion becomescharming! She fills you with astonishment! her eyes are full ofexpression, and her voice is the most sonorous which I know! It isindeed music! How can one think of age when one is affected by animmortal soul? I rave about L閛ntine Fay, but the old Mars has myheart. There is also a third who stands high with the Parisians--Jenny Vertpr? at the Gymnase Dramatique, but she would be sooneclipsed were the Parisians to see our Demoiselle P鋞ges. Shepossesses talent which will shine in every scene. Vertpr?has herloveliness, her whims, but not her Proteus-genius, her nobility. Isaw Vertpr?in 'La Reine de Seize Ans,'--a piece which we have notyet; but she was only a saucy soubrette in royal splendor--aPernille of Holberg's, as represented by a Parisian. We have MadameWexschall, and we have Frydendal! Were Denmark only a largercountry, these names would sound throughout Europe!"
He now described the decorations in the "Sylphide," in "Natalia,"and in various other ballets, the whole splendor, the wholemagnificence.
"But our orchestra is excellent!" said Miss Sophie.
"It certainly contains several distinguished men," answeredJoachim; "but must one speak of the whole? Yes, you know I am notmusical, and cannot therefore express myself in an artisticalmanner about music, but certain it is that something lay in my ear,in my feeling, which, in Paris, whispered to me, 'That isexcellent!' Here, on the contrary, it cries, 'With moderation! withmoderation!' The voice is the first; she is the lady; theinstruments, on the contrary, are the cavaliers who shall conductthe former before the public. Gently they should take her by thehand; she must stand quite foremost; but here the instrumentsthrust her aside, and it is to me as if each instrument would havethe first place, and constantly shouted, 'Here am I! here am I!"
"That sounds very well!" said Sophie; "but one may not believe you!You have fallen in love with foreign countries, and, therefore, athome everything must be slighted."
"By no means! The Danish ladies, for instance, appear theprettiest, the most modest whom I have known."
"Appear?" repeated Otto.
"Joachim possesses eloquence," said the lady of the house.
"That has developed itself abroad!" answered he: "here at homethere are only two ways in which it can publicly develop itself--inthe pulpit, and at a meeting in the shooting-house. Yet it is truethat now we are going to have a Diet and a more political life. Ifeel already, in anticipation, the effect; we shall only live forthis life, the newspapers will become merely political, the poetssing politics the painters choose scenes from political life.'C'est un Uebergang!' as Madame La Fl鑓he says. [Author's Note:Holberg's Jean de France.] Copenhagen is too small to be a great,and too great to be a small city. See, there lies the fault!"
Otto felt an irresistible desire to contradict him in most thingswhich he said about home. But the cousin parried every bold blowwith a joke.
"Copenhagen must be the Paris of the North," said he, "and that itcertainly would become in fifty, or twice that number of years. Thesituation was far more beautiful than that of the city of theSeine. The marble church must be elevated, and become a Pantheon,adorned with the works of Thorwaldsen and other artists;Christiansborg, a Louvre, whose gallery you visit; 謘ter Street andPedermadsen's passage, arcades such as are in Paris, covered withglass roofs and flagged, shops on both sides, and in the evening,when thousands of gas-lamps burnt, here should be the promenade;the esplanades would be the Champs Elys閑s, with swings and slides,music, and m鈚s de cocagne. [Author's Note: High smooth poles, tothe top of which victuals, clothes, or money are attached. Peopleof the lower classes then try to climb up and seize the prizes. Thebest things are placed at the very top of the pole.] On thePeblinger Lake, as on the Seine, there should be festive waterexcursions made. Voil?" exclaimed he, "that would be splendid!"
"That might be divine!" said Sophie.
Animation and thought lay in the cousin's countenance; his finefeatures became striking from their expression. Thus did his imagestamp itself in Otto's soul, thus did it place itself besideSophie's image as she stood there, with her large brown eyes, roundwhich played thought and smiles, whilst they rested on the cousin.The beautifully formed white hand, with its taper fingers, playedwith the curls which fell over her cheeks. Otto would not think ofit.