Going thence to Paris I settled down in the family of a very intelligent French professor, where I remained nearly a year. Not a word of English was spoken in the family; and, with the daily lesson in a French method, and lectures at the Sorbonne and Collge de France, the new language soon became familiar. The lectures then heard strengthened my conception of what a university should be. Among my professors were such men as St.
Marc Girardin, Arnould, and, at a later period, Laboulaye.
In connection with the lecture-room work, my studies in modern history were continued, especially by reading Guizot, Thierry, Mignet, Thiers, Ch
teaubriand, and others, besides hearing various masterpieces in French dramatic literature, as given at the Th
tre Franais, where Rachel was then in her glory, and at the Odon, where Mlle.
Georges, who had begun her career under the first Napoleon, was ending it under Napoleon III.
My favorite subject of study was the French Revolution, and, in the intervals of reading and lectures, I sought out not only the spots noted in its history, but the men who had taken part in it. At the Htel des Invalides Italked with old soldiers, veterans of the Republic and of the Napoleonic period, discussing with them the events through which they had passed; and, at various other places and times, with civilians who had heard orations at the Jacobin and Cordelier clubs, and had seen the guillotine at work. The most interesting of my old soldiers at the Invalides wore upon his breast the cross of the Legion of Honor, which he had received from Napoleon at Austerlitz. Still another had made the frightful marches through the Spanish Peninsula under Soult, and evidently felt very humble in the presence of those who had taken part in the more famous campaigns under Napoleon himself. The history of another of my old soldiers was pathetic. He was led daily into the cabaret, where my guests were wont to fight their battles o'er again, his eyes absolutely sightless, and his hair as white as snow. Getting into conversation with him I learned that he had gone to Egypt with Bonaparte, had fought at the Battle of the Pyramids, had been blinded by the glaring sun on the sand of the desert, and had been an inmate at the Invalides ever since;--more than half a century. At a later period I heard from another of my acquaintances how, as a schoolboy, he saw Napoleon beside his camp-fire at Cannes, just after his landing from Elba.
There still remained at Paris, in those days, one main connecting link between the second empire and the first, and this was the most contemptible of all the Bonapartes,--the younger brother of the great Napoleon,--Jrome, ex-king of Westphalia. I saw him, from time to time, and was much struck by his resemblance to the first emperor. Though taller, he still had something of that Roman imperial look, so remarkable in the founder of the family; but in Jrome, it always recalled to me such Caesars as Tiberius and Vitellius.
It was well known that the ex-king, as well as his son, Prince Jrome Napoleon, were thorns in the side of Napoleon III, and many stories illustrating this were current during my stay in Paris, the best, perhaps, being an answer made by Napoleon III to another representative of his family. The question having been asked, ``What is the difference between an accident and a misfortune (un accident et un malheur)?'' the emperor answered.
``If my cousin, Prince Napoleon, should fall into the Seine, it would be an ACCIDENT; if anybody were to pull him out, it would be a MISFORTUNE.'' Although this cousin had some oratorical ability, both he and his father were most thoroughly despised. The son bore the nickname of ``Plon-Plon,'' probably with some reference to his reputation for cowardice; the father had won the appellation of ``Le Roi Loustic,'' and, indeed, had the credit of introducing into the French language the word ``loustic,''
derived from the fact that, during his short reign at Cassel, King Jrome was wont, after the nightly orgies at his palace, to dismiss his courtiers with the words: ``Morgen wieder loustic, Messieurs.''
During the summer of 1854 I employed my vacation in long walks and drives with a college classmate through northern, western, and central France, including Picardy, Normandy, Brittany, and Touraine, visiting the spots of most historical and architectural interest. There were, at that time, few railways in those regions, so we put on blouses and took to the road, sending our light baggage ahead of us, and carrying only knapsacks. In every way it proved a most valuable experience. Pleasantly come back to me my walks and talks with the peasantry, and vividly dwell in my memory the cathedrals of Beauvais, Amiens, Rouen, Bayeux, Coutances, Le Mans, Tours, Chartres, and Orlans, the fortress of Mont St. Michel, the Ch
teaux of Chenonceaux, Chambord, Nantes, Am-boise, and Angers, the tombs of the Angevine kings at Fontevrault, and the stone cottage of Louis XI at Clry.
Visiting the grave of Ch
teaubriand at St. Malo, we met a little old gentleman, bent with age, but very brisk and chatty. He was standing with a party of friends on one side of the tomb, while we stood on the other. Presently, one of the gentlemen in his company came over and asked our names, saying that his aged companion was a great admirer of Ch
teaubriand, and was anxious to know something of his fellow pilgrims. To this I made answer, when my interlocutor informed me that the old gentleman was the Prince de Rohan-Soubise. Shortly afterward the old gentleman came round to us and began conversation, and on my making answer in a way which showed that I knew his title, he turned rather sharply on me and said, ``How do you know that?'' To this I made answer that even in America we had heard the verse:
``Roi, je ne puis, Prince ne daigne, Rohan je suis.''
