Awful Justice stops, and, bowing gravely, listens to M.Hugo's verses, and, with true French politeness, says, "Mon cher Monsieur, these verses are charming, ravissans, delicieux, and, coming from such a celebrite litteraire as yourself, shall meet with every possible attention--in fact, had I required anything to confirm my own previous opinions, this charming poem would have done so.Bon jour, mon cher Monsieur Hugo, au revoir!"--and they part:--Justice taking off his hat and bowing, and the author of "Ruy Blas" quite convinced that he has been treating with him d'egal en egal.I can hardly bring my mind to fancy that anything is serious in France--it seems to be all rant, tinsel, and stage-play.Sham liberty, sham monarchy, sham glory, sham justice,--ou diable donc la verite va-t-elle se nicher?
......
The last rocket of the fete of July has just mounted, exploded, made a portentous bang, and emitted a gorgeous show of blue lights, and then (like many reputations) disappeared totally: the hundredth gun on the Invalid terrace has uttered its last roar--and a great comfort it is for eyes and ears that the festival is over.We shall be able to go about our everyday business again, and not be hustled by the gendarmes or the crowd.
The sight which I have just come away from is as brilliant, happy, and beautiful as can be conceived; and if you want to see French people to the greatest advantage, you should go to a festival like this, where their manners, and innocent gayety, show a very pleasing contrast to the coarse and vulgar hilarity which the same class would exhibit in our own country--at Epsom racecourse, for instance, or Greenwich Fair.The greatest noise that I heard was that of a company of jolly villagers from a place in the neighborhood of Paris, who, as soon as the fireworks were over, formed themselves into a line, three or four abreast, and so marched singing home.As for the fireworks, squibs and crackers are very hard to describe, and very little was to be seen of them:
to me, the prettiest sight was the vast, orderly, happy crowd, the number of children, and the extraordinary care and kindness of the parents towards these little creatures.It does one good to see honest, heavy epiciers, fathers of families, playing with them in the Tuileries, or, as to-night, bearing them stoutly on their shoulders, through many long hours, in order that the little ones too may have their share of the fun.John Bull, I fear, is more selfish: he does not take Mrs.Bull to the public-house; but leaves her, for the most part, to take care of the children at home.