Tartuffe had better things to say about hypocrisy in his time; but then Faith was alive; now, there is no satirizing religious cant in France, for its contrary, true religion, has disappeared altogether;and having no substance, can cast no shadow.If a satirist would lash the religious hypocrites in ENGLAND now--the High Church hypocrites, the Low Church hypocrites, the promiscuous Dissenting hypocrites, the No Popery hypocrites--he would have ample subject enough.In France, the religious hypocrites went out with the Bourbons.Those who remain pious in that country (or, rather, we should say, in the capital, for of that we speak,) are unaffectedly so, for they have no worldly benefit to hope for from their piety;the great majority have no religion at all, and do not scoff at the few, for scoffing is the minority's weapon, and is passed always to the weaker side, whatever that may be.Thus H.B.caricatures the Ministers: if by any accident that body of men should be dismissed from their situations, and be succeeded by H.B.'s friends, the Tories,--what must the poor artist do? He must pine away and die, if he be not converted; he cannot always be paying compliments; for caricature has a spice of Goethe's Devil in it, and is "der Geist der stets verneint," the Spirit that is always denying.
With one or two of the French writers and painters of caricatures, the King tried the experiment of bribery; which succeeded occasionally in buying off the enemy, and bringing him from the republican to the royal camp; but when there, the deserter was never of any use.Figaro, when so treated, grew fat and desponding, and lost all his sprightly VERVE; and Nemesis became as gentle as a Quakeress.But these instances of "ratting" were not many.Some few poets were bought over; but, among men following the profession of the press, a change of politics is an infringement of the point of honor, and a man must FIGHT as well as apostatize.A very curious table might be made, signalizing the difference of the moral standard between us and the French.Why is the grossness and indelicacy, publicly permitted in England, unknown in France, where private morality is certainly at a lower ebb? Why is the point of private honor now more rigidly maintained among the French? Why is it, as it should be, a moral disgrace for a Frenchman to go into debt, and no disgrace for him to cheat his customer? Why is there more honesty and less--more propriety and less?--and how are we to account for the particular vices or virtues which belong to each nation in its turn?
The above is the Reverend M.Macaire's solitary exploit as a spiritual swindler: as MAITRE Macaire in the courts of law, as avocat, avoue--in a humbler capacity even, as a prisoner at the bar, he distinguishes himself greatly, as may be imagined.On one occasion we find the learned gentleman humanely visiting an unfortunate detenu--no other person, in fact, than his friend M.
Bertrand, who has fallen into some trouble, and is awaiting the sentence of the law.He begins--"Mon cher Bertrand, donne moi cent ecus, je te fais acquitter d'emblee.""J'ai pas d'argent."
"He bien, donne moi cent francs."
"Pas le sou."
"Tu n'as pas dix francs?"
"Pas un liard."
"Alors donne moi tes bottes, je plaiderai la circonstance attenuante."The manner in which Maitre Macaire soars from the cent ecus (a high point already) to the sublime of the boots, is in the best comic style.In another instance he pleads before a judge, and, mistaking his client, pleads for defendant, instead of plaintiff.
"The infamy of the plaintiff's character, my LUDS, renders his testimony on such a charge as this wholly unavailing." "M.
Macaire, M.Macaire," cries the attorney, in a fright, "you are for the plaintiff!" "This, my lords, is what the defendant WILL SAY.
This is the line of defence which the opposite party intend to pursue; as if slanders like these could weigh with an enlightened jury, or injure the spotless reputation of my client!" In this story and expedient M.Macaire has been indebted to the English bar.If there be an occupation for the English satirist in the exposing of the cant and knavery of the pretenders to religion, what room is there for him to lash the infamies of the law! On this point the French are babes in iniquity compared to us--a counsel prostituting himself for money is a matter with us so stale, that it is hardly food for satire: which, to be popular, must find some much more complicated and interesting knavery whereon to exercise its skill.
M.Macaire is more skilful in love than in law, and appears once or twice in a very amiable light while under the influence of the tender passion.We find him at the head of one of those useful establishments unknown in our country--a Bureau de Mariage: half a dozen of such places are daily advertised in the journals: and "une veuve de trente ans ayant une fortune de deux cent mille francs,"or "une demoiselle de quinze aus, jolie, d'une famille tres distinguee, qui possede trente mille livres de rentes,"--continually, in this kind-hearted way, are offering themselves to the public: sometimes it is a gentleman, with a "physique agreable,--des talens de societe"--and a place under Government, who makes a sacrifice of himself in a similar manner.In our little historical gallery we find this philanthropic anti-Malthusian at the head of an establishment of this kind, introducing a very meek, simple-looking bachelor to some distinguished ladies of his connoissance."Let me present you, sir, to Madame de St.Bertrand"(it is our old friend), "veuve de la grande armee, et Mdlle Eloa de Wormspire.Ces dames brulent de l'envie de faire votre connoissance.
