Part 1 (2/2)
He will break away from his young wife who has grown up under his eyes in the same town with him, among all the sweet domestic graces, moulded amid all the fresh and sapid delicacies of the provinces, but pshaw! too provincial for a n.o.ble of his importance, and he will go in pursuit of some flower, no matter what, be it only redolent of Parisian patchouli.
He will break the heart of the one, while for the other, he will bring before the councils of administration suspected schemes, blackmailings, concessions, treachery and ruin. Monsieur Claretie had shown us the Vaudrey of his romance involved in all these degradations, although he has checked him as to some, and in his novel, at least, with due submission to the exalted truth of art, he has not shrunk from punis.h.i.+ng this false, great man and pretended tribune of the people, by the very vices he espoused._
_”I do not stop to inquire if even in the story, Monsieur Claretie's 'Marianne Kayser' is frequently self-contradictory, and if in some features I clearly recognize his Guy de Lissac; two characters that play an important part in the narrative! But after all, what does it matter?
It suffices for me that his Excellency the Minister and all his Excellency's entourage are fully grasped and clearly described. Granet, the low _intriguer_ of the lobbies; Molina, the stock-company cut-throat and Bourse ruffian; Ramel, the melancholy and redoubtable publicist, who has made emperors without himself desiring to become one, who will die in the neighborhood of Montmartre and the Batignolles, forgotten but proud, poor, and unsullied by money, true to his ideals, among the ingrates enriched by his journal and who have reached the summit only by the influence of his authority with the public; Denis Garnier, the Parisian workman who has had an experience of the hulks as the result of imbibing too freely of sentimental prose and of lending too ready an ear to the golden speech of some tavern demagogue, who has now had enough of politics and who scarcely troubles to think what former retailer of treasonable language, what Gracchus of the sidewalk may be minister, Vaudrey or Pichereau, or even Granet: all these types are separately a.n.a.lyzed and vigorously generalized. Monsieur Claretie designated no one in particular but we elbow the characters in his book every day of our lives. He has, moreover, written a book of a robust and healthy novelty.
The picture of the greenroom of the Ballet with which the tale opens and where we are introduced in the most natural way possible to nearly all the characters that play a part in the story of Vaudrey is masterly in execution and intention. It is Balzac, but Balzac toned down and more limpid.”_
_I will stop here at the greenroom of the Ballet commended by Monsieur J.-J. Weiss, to give a slight sketch, clever as a drawing by Saint' Aubin or a lithograph by Gavarni, which Monsieur Ludovic Halevy has contributed to a journal and in which he also praises the romance that the _feuilletoniste_ of the _Debats_ has criticized with an authority so discriminating and a benevolence so profound._
_It was very agreeable for me to observe that such a thorough Parisian as the shrewd and witty author of _Les Pet.i.tes Cardinal_ should find that the Opera--which certainly plays a role in our politics--had been sufficiently well portrayed by the author of _Monsieur le Ministre_. And upon this, the first chapter of my book, Monsieur Ludovic Halevy adds, moreover, some special and piquant details which are well worth quoting:_
_”That which gave me very great pleasure in this tale of a man of politics is that politics really have little, very little place in the novel; it is love that dominates it and in the most despotic and pleasant way possible. This great man of Gren.o.ble who arrives at Paris in order to reform everything, repair everything, elevate everything, falls at once under the sway of a most charming Parisian adventuress.
See Sulpice Vaudrey the slave of Marianne. Marianne's gray eyes never leave him--But she in her turn meets her master--and Marianne's master is Adolphe Gochard, a horrid Parisian blackguard--who is so much her master that, after all, the real hero of the romance is Adolphe Gochard.
Such is the secret philosophy of this brilliant and ingenious romance._
_”I have, however, a little quarrel on my own account with Monsieur Jules Claretie. Nothing can be more brilliantly original than the introductory chapter of _Monsieur le Ministre_. Sulpice Vaudrey makes his first appearance behind the scenes of the Opera, and from the sides of the stage, in the stage boxes, opera-gla.s.ses are turned upon him, and he hears whispered:_
_”'It is the new Minister of the Interior.'_
_”'Nonsense! Monsieur Vaudrey?'_
_”'Yes, Monsieur Vaudrey--'_
_”In short, the appearance of his Excellency creates a sensation, and it is against this statement that I protest. I go frequently to the Opera, very frequently. During the last ten years I have seen defile before me in the wings, at least fifty Ministers of State, all just freshly ground out. Curiosity had brought them there and the desire to see the dancers at close quarters, and also the vague hope that by exhibiting themselves there in all their glory, they would create a sensation in this little world._
_”Well, this hope of theirs was never realized. n.o.body took the trouble to look at them. A minister nowadays is n.o.body of importance. Formerly to rise to such a position, to take in hand the reins of one of the great departments, it was necessary to have a certain exterior, a certain prominence, something of a past--to be a Monsieur Thiers, Monsieur Guizot, Monsieur Mole, Monsieur de Remusat, Monsieur Villemain, Monsieur Duchatel, Monsieur de Falloux or Monsieur de Broglie--that is to say, an orator, an author, a historian, somebody in fact. But nowadays, all that is necessary to be a minister is the votes of certain little combinations of groups and subsidiary groups, who all expect a share of the spoils. Therefore we are ruled by certain personages ill.u.s.trious perhaps at Gap or at Montelimar but who are quite unknown in the genealogical records of the Boulevard Haussmann. Why should you imagine that public attention would be attracted by news like this:_
_”'Look!--There is Monsieur X, or Monsieur Y, or Monsieur Z.'_
_”One person only during these last years ever succeeded in attracting the attention of the songstresses and ballet-girls of the Opera. And that was Gambetta. Ah! when he came to claim Monsieur Vaucorbeil's hospitality, it was useless to crouch behind the cherry-colored silk curtains of the manager's box, many glances were directed toward him, and many prowling curiosities were awakened in the vicinity of the manager's box. Little la.s.sies of ten or twelve came and seized your hand, saying:_
_”'Please, monsieur, point out Monsieur Gambetta to me--he is here--I would so much like to see him.'_
_”And then Gambetta was pointed out to them during the entr'acte--after which, delighted, they went off caracoling and pirouetting behind the scenes:_
_”'You did not see Monsieur Gambetta, but I saw him!'_
_”This was popularity--and it must be confessed that only one man in France to-day receives such marks of it. This man is Gambetta._
_”Meanwhile Claretie's minister continues his walk through the corridors of the Opera house. He reaches the greenroom of the ballet at last and exclaims:_
_”'And that is all!'_
_”Alas, yes, your Excellency, that is all!--”_
_And everything is only a _”that is all,”_ in this world. If one should set himself carefully to weigh power or fame,--power, that force of which Girardin said, however: ”I would give fifty years of glory for one hour of power,”--even if one tilted the scale, one would not find the weight very considerable._
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