From Household Words. THE EVE OF A REVOLUTION. sleeping placidly in their gilt fauteuils looking for any thing rather than for so vulgar and FOR a period so near to us as that of the plebian an exhibition as a revolution. That great French Revolution of 1789-upon state of unnatural calm, like enough to the which a few octogenarians can even now, as it quiet in camp when the storming party are were, lay their hand-it is surprising what a gathering in the trenches-that insane caredim veil of mystery, horror, and romance lessness and complete sovereignty of the seems to overhang the most awful convulsion Quem Deus vult perdere truth, have been of modern times. While barely passing before spoken of in these pages, with more away, it had of a sudden risen to those awful especial reference to the social view of the and majestic dimensions which it takes less times. How this same cracked nobility imposing events centuries to acquire, and smirked, and fiddled, and played the gallant, towered over those within its shadow as an and dealt out their quips and cranks to the awful pyramid of fire, blinding those who virtuous court dames, and looked out from look. It requires no lying by, or waiting on, the mansarde windows at the roll of fiery lava posterity for its proper comprehension. It that was coming down the mountains, never may be read by its own light, and by those dreaming it was to come their way. How who run; and is about as intelligible at this they made jokes on the fissures opening in hour as it is ever likely to be. It is felt in the earth around them, and passed about stinctively and those whose sense is slow, witty bon mots on the queer noises and may have it quickened by Mr. Carlyle's flam- earthquake rumblings: how they became as ing torch-flaring terribly through the night. Mr. William Hogarth's drunken fellow, sawHe might have been looking on in the crowd ing away the signboard on which he is astride. during that wild night march to Versailles, or These things offer the strangest problem. standing at the inn door in the little French The most marvellous historical nut for crackposting town, as the sun went down, waiting ing to historical inquirer. Never did ancient wearily for the heavy berline to come up. saw come truer than that one of Quem Deus Marvellous lurid torch that of his. Pen vult perdere, and the rest of it, for this time dipped in red and fire, glowing like a phos- at least! phoric writing. His history of the French What a curious thing to have had a peep Revolution, the most extraordinary book, to just one peep-at that bright lustrous city, our thinking, in its wonderful force, pictur- pefore the eruptian came, in that year of esqueness, and condensation, ever written by 1789, when all the fiddling, and salaaming, mere man. There is other subsidiary light, and posturing was going forward. When too, for such as look back-light from tens of they were holding their beds of justice and thousands of pamphlets, broadsides, hand-rank mummeries. When there was for music bills-all honest, racy of the time, writ by distant roarings, like the wind in the forestfurious hearts, by hands trembling with frenzy and excitement-hands streaked with blood and dust of the guillotine: read by mad wolfish eyes at street corners on the step of the scaffold by lamplight. Hawked about, too, by hoarse-mouthed men and women, to such horrible tune as Le Père Duchesne est terriblement enragé aujourd'hui. An awful, repulsive cloud, darkening the air for such as look back at it. Vast shower of ribaldry, insane songs, diatribe, declamation-all shot up from that glowing crater. An inexhaustible study! In several numbers of this journal an attempt has been made to throw a little light upon the details of this eventful period, more particularly upon the strangely quiet eve of the convulsion, when the high nobility were ungrateful, no doubt, tó Corinthian ears. Though the period is so near, still, as was said before, it seems to be remote from us by ever so many long years. Impossible to conceive that the resplendant Paris of to-day was that same Paris through which our octogenarian sire-then for the first time on his travels-walked admiringly, looking down the shining river at the bright buildings all as yet undefaced, at the purple velvet coats and powdered wigs of the nobility, at their jewelled sword-hilts and snuff-boxes, at their canes studded with diamonds (as set out in a jeweller's list of the day). Well might he look and wonder, might wander up and see guard relieved at the Bastille, or stop at the Tuilleries gate and admire the sturdy Swiss on duty there, in red coats like the English do believe that was the last almanac royal Well, taking it then that this belonged to at home. Then see a great coach or berline | blue silk, having besides, bound with it a copy Terrible times those must have been, and hugely perplexing for the worthy subject of Great George our King, then abroad upon his travels. Not so long since the writer of this article, wandering along the Quai Voltaire a bookhunting, fell in with a little diamond almanac and memorandum-book of the date of this very first year of liberty. It was clearly belonging to a person of quality, being done up handsomely in morocco with inside lining of august evening parties at Versailles-chroni- nights by shots in the streets below, and desperate clanging of the tocsin, and shrieks, on which, dressing himself hurriedly, our doctor would go out very cautiously, leaving my Lord Lauderdale still dozing in his handsome chamber. ports. How he and that nobleman were elbowed by the screaming fisherwomen about the place, and fellows with scarfs about their waists: liberty, equality, and fraternity fellows-all Jacks in office, about the door. How they got up into Mayor Pétion's room, the close there is signed in red letters the name of Target, advocate, who defended Louis hereafter) saw not what was coming, being busy with his august Versailles receptions, and sham English cookery. He might, after all, have had a dim suspicion of what was coming. For he soon sets down "that What might not a random bullet have done he has sent on his mails to London. Doctor for Doctor Zeluco! And yet how curious it John Zeluco Moore was abroad about that seems to find one's self reading of these prosy time, and walking about those fair Paris notes, written by this prosiest of hands, from streets. That heavy personage and immortal the thick, as it were, of the Pandemonium,toady had finished his tour in company with written, as one would write home to one's his Grace, and was now among the French, friends! Documents, historic records, and takin' notes hereafter to be prented. His pompous speculation, set out and balanced most noble Douglas, Duke of Hamilton and formally, are all so much dry bones and dust. Brandon, Marquis of Douglas, &c. &c., had Here, and as in the little memorandum-book, been left safely at home, having driven that is out-speaking life. Conceive him describing noble chaise of his (with a place inside, kept easily and without pomp, just as one or other for the travelling physician) from court to of us might tell of a stroll down into the court, and seen every margrave and elector City, how he set forth, he and my Lord under the sun. The D- of H- as the Lauderdale,-one busy day, for the Hôtel de Doctor mysteriously puts it, was made much Ville,-with the purpose of obtaining passof at all the little German towns. Their Serene Highnesses having him up to tea now and again to take a hand of cards with her Serene Highness. Of course the Doctor contrived to be let in under the wing of my noble patron the D of H- and looked on from afar off at the tea and cards. All the-he writing; up to his eyes in business,while, of course, takin' those famous notes which are now in prent, making up the five slim volumes constituting the View of Society and Manners. But on this second occasion, when the most noble Douglas, Duke of &c. &c., had had sufficient travel, what was to be done? Providence fortunately turned up my Lord of Lauderdale, then Paris bound, and wanting a chaise-companion; and Doctor John was taken up the regular beaten road -by Calais and Abbeville-at which place my Lord Lauderdale was constrained, through ill-health, to sleep the night, and set down in Paris then all in a ferment. Conceive of the poor Doctor what troubled time he must have had of it, walking about nervously during that hot, fiery month of August, and picking up what he could. How many times was he caught in the midst of fighting mobs along the quays Mazarin and Voltaire, while gazing down the river and admiring the buildings. How many times jostled by rough Citizen Somebody in a red cap-and unsavory cap-who would growl at him for an aristocrat. How many times was he woke up of being led in by a mysterious Englishman, who seemed to have entrée everywhere. Exceeding civility on the part of Mayor Pétion, who gossips pleasantly with them on the state of things, but has a little difficulty about the passports. "I have a notion," says Maire Pétion to milord and the Scotch Gentlemun, "that in a short while Paris will be the safest place for a man to be in!" How comically does that notion read now, set down quite innocent.y by the Doctor! Why, even to look at one of the two-sous pieces the Doctor must have emptied out of his purse when quitting the country, it had its own tale to tell, and tells it better than M. Thiers, ex cathedrâ; that is, from his Historic Chair. Here it lies before us, well worn by blood-stained fingers,-here is that good, puff-cheeked, sheep-faced countenance with the fat chin, and hair gathered back into a foolish pig-tail,-on the other side the fasces (they were busy acting romance then) with absurd Caps of Liberty and such mummery, with an inscription which should be noted to this effect The Nation, the Law, dal-monger had made a trip over and filled and (at the tail of all) the King! Poor King, how significant this touch! his note book. Nat. Wraxall, as he was known at the clubs, had been at the French Court, furnished with letters to distinguished people, and had kept his eyes and ears open. With such a wallet of wicked stories as he had brought home from those other tours of Mr. Arthur Young, agricultural tourist, was likewise on his travels during these times. Not with very much concern for the rights of man, or prerogative, or kingly veto, which jargon speeches were rising every day, like sois in Germany, and round the Baltic, was it many kites; but with a true bovine eye,-an likely that Nat. Wraxall would pick up nothing eye to fat crops, and so many quarters of at Versailles and the Eil de Boeuf? Dear, wheat. Arthur Young, Esquire, the well- delightful fellow-and eternal shame to have known agricultural tourist, who had made put him up in the King's Bench for that good those well-known journeys through Ireland thing concerning her Majesty of all the Rusand England, who was so great at cattle- sias!—which, if not true, was well found. shows and farming dinners,-even that agri- Readers who love such company as Thomas cultural eye of his was caught by the awful Raikes, Esquire, and Thomas Moore, Esquire, shadows of coming events, lying thick before and the Lady Charlotte Bury, must be for him on the Paris pavé. He, too, had a person ever beholden to Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, of quality to look to, no other than his Seig- Bart. "But about the Queen," say the clubneurie, the Duc de Liancourt, who took him men, gathering round him, when he comes down to his estates, and showed him his noble home from Paris,-" how about Dilon le beau farming, and standing crops which were most the descampativos, or romps among the likely never to be got in. The king's own bushes, eh?" agriculturalist, also, was extraordinarily civil to Arther Young, Esquire; but still that bovine eye was looking to those forecast shadows. No wonder, indeed; for when he went out of an evening for a lounge in the Palais Royal, it was curious all those crowds about every coffee-house door, straining their necks eagerly, and pressing on each other's shoulders. Mr. Young, pushing his Briton's figure forward, gets within sight and earshot. A man upon a table or chair in the coffeehouse, declaiming frantically, gesticulating, and foaming, all on the favorite sing-song of Rights of Man, Sovereignty of People, and the rest of it, with noisy orchestral accompaniment from bye-standers and bye-sitters, -of bravos and jingling of glasses and coffeecups. Astonished Mr. Young walks away, not knowing what to make of it, and goes to the French Theatre, to hear the Earl of Essex and the Maison de Molière. Neither does he well know what to make of that pamphlet avalanche before spoken of, which has been roaring down the mountains all this while : "Thirteen out to-day," says he, quite mystified, "sixteen yesterday, and ninety-two last week." Stockdale's or Debrett's great pamphlet emporia at home are sheer minnows to M. Deseins', the Paris bookseller. But two or three years before this date, the most delightful gossip and choicest scan "Now, upon my word," says 'our dear gossip, shaking his head-" upon my word this is too bad. A model, sir, I do assure you,-a model wife and mother. But indiscreet; oh! so indiscreet! That business at the ball quite true, sir; quite true. I had it from a person at Court. Dilon had to join his regiment! "Ah!" say the club men. "A noble woman, sir," continues the baronet, "exemplary in all duties. Burke is cracked about her. But if there be one man more favored than another; if there be a lover en titre at all-whisper, whisper-it is Coigny, or Vaudreuil. I had it from a person very high at Court! Mark you, I say, if" Prolonged whistle from the clubmen. a "I thought Dorset, the ambassador," says panting clubman. 66 H'm," says our gossip. "I can tell you Dorset showed me a packet of her letters, neatly tied up. H'm! Indeed, they seemed to be mostly about commissions for the English millinery. But, Dilon, sir-pah! he was as ugly as a mulatto! But a fine figure, sir. She liked your fine-looking men, sir, like Whitworth!" with more to that tune. Prince of gossiping fellows! Well! he saw the city, like the others, when the mountain was smoking, and the lava beginning to flow. How fair it looked, and shone in that evening light, before being buried, and given up to fire and convulsion; had fallen out of fashion as a place of promewhat resource there was for diversion and fid- nade, and the fields called Elysian were dling and amusement, is worth considering, crowded every evening with gay throngs. as it has been scarcely considered before. Provincial wandering along will see disposed On which head there is something to be told, on the light seats portly dowagers, smooth which had best be told in another paper. abbés, heavy shopkeepers with their families. about them, mincing grisettes, ladies of more equivocal quality, and altogether about as strange a contrast to his own settlement at home as could well be fancied. But if he wish real diversion let him turn his face to the Boulevards; and of all days in the week of a Friday. To take up, then, that mysterious subject of Paris sleeping unconsciously on the eve of eruption-dim, strange vision, that makes one hold the breath, and brings up thoughts of that ten minutes' suspense before the criminal comes out upon the drop-and turning to the fiddlings and disporting that went forward while that smithy light was seen through Friday was the fashionable day at this time: the chinks. It is surprising in the midst of and on that day all the persons of quality what gay, sprightly rioting and bacchanalian drove up and down in long files. Such a festivity that day of wrath surprised them. show of exquisite equipages and noble ladies It was Belshazzar's feast over again, and the reclining in them-such a cloud of costly handwriting on the wall. The king was on vis-à-vis berlines, désobligeantes (Mr. Sterne's his throne, and Paris population feasting mer- désobligeante was lying at this date in Desrily, and sight-seeing-such, at least, as were sein's courtyard at Calais), all fashioned like coming fast to their last sous. To have taken glass-coaches, were enough to dazzle our poor a walk then through the city, with eyes and Provincial utterly. Those noble ladies so reears open, would have been only helping one to the conclusion, that this was a well-kept, thriving, light-hearted, innocent people-if ever there was innocent people on the earth. No pandemonium in posse here; no hell broken loose, or likely to break loose; but every thing with a bright carnival aspect. Gay Parisian men and women, too light of heart, too busy a pleasure-hunting to think of such coarse ideas as blood and massacre. Pah! Only conceive those lively, spiritual petits maîtres in conjunction with such rough notions. It were impossible. How was it, then, with this fair city on its surface, or upper crust, as it were, on the eve of the great eruption? Let us take a fat, good-humored provincial, one of those heavy, unsophisticated gentlemen M. de Kock brings on so comically, and set him down in the heart of the bright city, to stare curiously at all things about him. He has come either by diligence, cabriolet, coach, wagon, chariot, little car, long wain, pannier, imperial, berline, express, malle-post, for he might have had his choice of all these conveyances, and has been set down in due course with his mails at the great office in Rue Notre Dame de Victoires. Then, having found a house of entertainment suited to his means, let our curious provincial go forth into the streets, and look about him. clining were duchesses, marchionesses, and very many indeed, as may be imagined, suggestive of the fruit M. Dumas the younger has christened Pêches à trois sous. Of which, however, innocent Provincial has no thought, they being all beautiful ladies of quality to him. Let him have a care, however, while he stares. There are terrible dangers in these same streets of Paris. For it is customary to drive at full speed, and his ears will be deafened with an eternal Gare! Gare! look out! M. le Prince comes thundering along with six horses. He used to have two couriers running on in front, whose white silk stockings some way never showed a speck; but now the mode is to have dogs, monster dogs bounding in front, howling, barking, and certain to overthrow every unguarded passenger. Poor Jean Jacques was once knocked down by a huge Danish dog on the Menil road, and was left there while the owner of the carriage passed on. It had grown to be a dangerous nuisance this furious driving and couriership of dogs. Daily were the canailie being spilt in the gutter, there being no trottoir for walkers. The light conveyances known as diables, carrying people to business or to keep appointments, did grievous bodily harm. So too, did the vinaigrettes, or little basket carriages. Should Provincial be run down, his chance of redress At this time the famous Tuileries Gardens will altogether depend on the wheel that has |