74. From this unbounded influence of the daily press on general opinion, and, through it, on the measures of Government, and the fate not only of administrations but dynasties, has arisen an important difference between the character of the journals and the class of men who write in them in the two countries. In England, till very lately, the highest class of writers very seldom wrote articles in the daily press; and if, on particular occasions, and to serve a special purpose, they did so, they endeavoured to conceal their names, and were often not a little ashamed if they were found out. Even in the monthly and quarterly literature, though they contributed largely, they endeavoured to keep up the incognito, and the essays were not collected and published, with the author's name, till his success in his avowed publications rendered it probable that they would be favourably received by the public. In France, on the other hand, not only were the leading journals on the Liberal and Royalist sides regularly and daily supported by the very highest writers both in point of talent and reputation, but, so far from being ashamed of, they gloried in it, and considered it their best passport to present influence and lasting fame. Chateaubriand, Guizot, Barante, Thiers, Lamartine, Eugene Sue, Dumas, Victor Hugo, and, indeed, all the popular writers of the age, contributed almost daily to the public journals, and their collected articles form not the least interesting, and perhaps the ablest, part of their whole compositions. It is to this cause that the extraordinary ability of the public press during the Restoration, and the vast influence which it had on general opinion, is to be ascribed. Men of philosophic minds, and possessing stores of information, seldom write so well, at least for present effect, as when under the influence of political excitement; for that gives fire to thoughts matured by study, and based on previous reflection. 75. We are not to ascribe this importance, during the last half-century, merely to the greater excitability, and liability to immediate impressions, of the French than the English. At least, as much was it owing to the absence of those influences to the south of the Channel which on the north of it still exercised a predominating influence. The nobility were still erect in England, not only in their hereditary homes, but in political weight; the country gentlemen, though much curtailed of their importance, still lived, dispensed hospitalities, and enjoyed influence on their estates. It was in these two bodies that the ruling power in the State was still to be found; the inhabitants of cities, though daily rising in political consequence, had not yet become the rulers of the empire. It is on the inhabitants of cities, however, or those whose habits have been formed there, that the daily press acts with its principal force; the comparatively secluded life, rural occupations, and intellectual slowness of the inhabitants of the country, always render them more tenacious of old habits and ideas, and less amenable to modern influence. In France this class was entirely awanting; the division of the landed estates among the peasantry had extinguished the land as the seat of political influence, or of peculiar and influential thought. Not half the peasantry of France could even read. Everything depended on the opinions of the inhabitants of towns, the very class most liable to be swayed by the daily press. Thus the arena and rewards of composition for the public journals were different in the two countries: in England, the country was the seat of influence, the House of Commons the theatre of contest; in France, Paris and the chief towns were the ruling power, the disposition of their citizens determined the fate of parties, and they were almost entirely directed by the daily press. Hence the difference in the class of men who at that period in the two countries engaged in its animated and varied pleadings. 76. Add to this, the citizens of the metropolis had discovered a more summary and effectual method of asserting and securing their political supremacy than by the slow method of parliamen tary influence. The Revolution had taught them on many occasions,that, by means of a well-concerted urban tumult, especially if aided by any considerable defection on the part of the military, not only might the legislature be overawed, and the executive subdued, but the dynasty itself might, if necessary, be changed. The work of repeated conflicts, during a long series of parliamentary campaigns, might be done in three days. If victorious, the claims of the leaders of the daily press, by whom the minds of men had been prepared for the revolt, were at once recognised; the editors of newspapers became ministers of state. No one need to be told that M. Thiers, M. Guizot, M. Lamartine, and a great proportion of the statesmen who have ruled France since the fall of Napoleon, were borne forward to power in this way-a thing to this day altogether unknown on this side of the Channel. It is not surprising that the greatest talent in France put into the newspaper lottery when such prizes were in the wheel. And, accordingly, the class of men who wrote in the public journals in Great Britain has been sensibly changed since their influence on political change has been rendered more direct; and it is sometimes now supported by the leading statesmen and first writers of the age. 77. However clearly we may perceive that this change is unavoidable, and that the influence of the public journals on general opinion, and through it on the measures of Government, in all free countries, is daily becoming more decided, it is impossible to contemplate the change without apprehension. The great danger of the daily press is, that it is led to inflame the passions of the moment; its profit, its fame, often its existence, depend on doing so. Whatever is the prevailing inclination of the public mind, that the great majority of the daily press is sure to increase. But as the prevailing inclinations are just as often wrong as right, and founded in error as based in truth, it is impossible to contemplate without apprehension the growth of a power in the state capable of rendering any one of these errors omnipotent for the moment, and precipitating the nation, with the general concurrence of the influential masses, into a course of measures which may eventually prove its own and their ruin. The well-known inability of the vast majority of men to contemplate or give long consideration to remote consequences, however obvious to the thinking few, renders this danger only the greater as the institutions of the state become more democratic. And the ultimate and certain triumph of truth over falsehood, of reason over delusion, affords no security whatever against these dangers; for though that may enlighten future ages, it will not prevent the errors of the present from working out their natural result in the ultimate destruction of public freedom; and if the state is destroyed, or its liberties extinguished, it is poor consolation for the victims in it to discover that they have been ruined by the consequences of their own folly. 78. The decline of the drama in France since the Revolution has necessarily drawn after it the degradation of the stage; for how can the powers of a mighty actor be exhibited in delineating a succession of murders and adulteries, of incests and poisonings, of hairbreadth escapes and atrocious deeds, such as form the staple of the modern or romantic drama in France? The great performers, whether male or female, have been confined, as a matter of necessity, to the legitimate drama. But although it with difficulty maintained its ground against the surging waves of the romantic school, yet it was not without a violent struggle it was overcome; and perhaps the brightest histrionic genius of France shone forth in the days which immediately preceded the fall of that noble art. At the very head of them all we must place TALMA, a performer so great that he has acquired a European reputation, and is worthy to be placed beside John Kemble and Mrs Siddons, whose genius then threw an expiring lustre over the English stage. He had not their great physical advantages; he had neither the Roman profile of the former not the majestic beauty of the latter; his | fitted to feel them in their full intenfigure was short and thick; his coun- sity .in the latter scenes, for which tenance unexpressive; his voice, when they were reserved. Nothing could exraised high, degenerated into a scream. ceed the magnificence of her declamaBut all these disadvantages were more tions-the voice, the manner, the inthan compensated by the energy of his tonation were perfect. It was the spirit mind, and his wonderful power in the of Corneille embodied in the person of representation of passion: he acted a splendid and fascinating woman. with magical effect because he felt strongly, and was thoroughly in earnest -the best, perhaps the only security for success, whether in literature or art. Nothing could exceed the thrill of horror which ran through the audience in his representation of the more impassioned scenes. Those who have experienced a similar sensation from the performances of Mademoiselle Rachel can alone form a conception of it. To English spectators the principal fault of his acting appeared to be that his vehement gesticulation began too early, and went on too long; the demands on the vehement sympathies of the audience were too incessant. That peculiarity, however, belongs to the whole French school of acting, and arises partly from the animated manners of the people, and partly from the experienced necessity of supplying, in their ancient and legitimate drama, by the intensity of the representation, for the measured language and stately voice of the poet. 80. Very different was the character of MADEMOISELLE MARS, who reigned as supreme in elegant comedy as Mademoiselle Georges did in the severer walks of tragedy. Her countenance was charming, and, without regular beauty, in the highest degree expressive; but her figure was large, which, but for the vivacity and youthfulness of her disposition, would have disabled her from the performance of those juvenile parts in which she so much excelled. This circumstance, however, as is often the case, made her appear young when she really was no longer so. She died at the age of sixty-three, and her passport to the last assigned thirty as her age. Her appearance on the stage, however, did not belie this flattering delusion. If the love of admiration is, par excellence, the great characteristic of French women, Mademoiselle Mars was the incarnation of their temperament. She was coquetry personified. Never did it appear in a more graceful and fascinating form, and never did it command a greater number of devout worshippers. Without ever being low, she was always attractive hers were the charms of high-bred beauty, not the hoidenish romping of village maidens. She could descend to represent their festivities, to personify their characters, but it was always with an air of elegance. She was often on the verge, but never passed the limits, of decorum, and the most refined taste could find nothing to except to in her most animated per 79. Contemporary with Talma, and, like him, one of the last stays of the regular drama in France, was MADEMOISELLE GEORGES. She was gifted with far greater natural advantages. Dark hair, a splendid bust, and commanding countenance, a fine figure, and majestic air, gave her, like Mrs Siddons, that command of the senses which, on the stage, is so important an element in general and lasting success. Her mental qualities were on a level with her physical advantages, and rendered her, during nearly twen-formances. ty years, the most admired actress on the boards of the Théâtre Français. She was not so vehement in her representation as either Talma or Rachel, but she was, perhaps on that account, only the more pleasing; the mind was less worn out, from the outset, with violent emotions, and therefore better 81. Last in this bright band, MADEMOISELLE RACHEL is perhaps the most powerful, and in her genius the most gifted. She is the very reverse in personal appearance of Mademoiselle Georges or Mademoiselle Mars; her figure is fine and commanding, but it is thin rather than the reverse, and measured pantomime which moves in harmony with the sound of music, not. the unbridled expression of passing impulse. Strange to say, by the mere expression of feeling by dancing, she drew more tears from the eyes of the audience, in "The Maid and the Magpie," on the Parisian boards, than Jenny Lind afterwards did in the same piece by her admirable vocal powers. She was in the very zenith of her power when the Allies occupied Paris in 1814, and the impression she then made on the author's mind has been undiminished by the subsequent lapse of fifty years. charms the eye by the grace of its movements, the loftiness of its height, not the fulness of its proportions. She seems to have been worn away by the intensity of her own feelings. But they are so vehement, that she sweeps everything before her when she gives them vent; it is like a torrent of lava issuing from the summit of Vesuvius. In the delineation of jealousy, in particular, she is unrivalled; every fibre, every limb, every muscle, quivers with the intensity of the emotion: her whole soul, like the Pythoness in the moment of inspiration, seems thrown into the writhings of her figure. It is these wonderful delineations of passion, in its most fiery moods, which have given her the colossal reputation she enjoys in every part of Europe. Strong deep feeling speaks a language which is understood in every clime. She has little of the tender in her composition, and seldom aims at its delineation; it is the violent, the scornful, the indignant feelings, which she represents with such marvellous effect. Her Phedre, Hermione, and Alzire, are masterpieces which those who have witnessed can never forget. It is me-perishable materials which are so conlancholy to think that, as she is the greatest of French actresses, so she is the LAST; and that after she is withdrawn from the public gaze, not a vestige will remain on the stage which Corneille and Racine have immortalised, of the genius which so long added fresh charms to the representation of their dramas. 83. Of all the fine arts, ARCHITECTURE is the one which, since the Revolution, has made the most decided progress in France. Nothing strikes. a stranger so much, on his first arrival in France, as the combined magnificence and pure taste of their public edifices. Built always of beautiful freestone, which, easily cut at first, becomes hard by exposure to the air, they present, in their simplicity and elegance, a striking contrast to the combination of meretricious taste and spicuous in most of the modern edifices of London. It is probably the very durability and hardness of their materials which have contributed to the chasteness of the style in which they are built. A fantastic or ill-regulated taste works with much more difficulty on granite or freestone than on plaster-of-Paris. Simplicity and chasteness 82. It may appear singular to name of taste become, in a manner, a matter another great performer among the of necessity. The finest buildings of illustrious in the fine arts during the Paris - the Louvre, the Place Louis Restoration in France; but none can XV., the Pantheon, the Madeleine, have seen MADEMOISELLE BIGOTINS the Bourse, the Hôtel des Invalides, at that time who will not admit that the Pillar of Austerlitz-indeed, were she is well worthy of a place in con- completed by the magnificence of Louis temporary portraits. To say that she XIV., or projected by the genius of was a perfect dancer, combining great Napoleon; but it is no slight proof of beauty of figure and countenance with the sustained purity and elevation of perfect grace of movement, is to specify the public taste that the stately style, the least of her merits. Her great ex- begun by the first of these great men, cellence consisted in the expression of and followed up by the second, has feeling and emotion by the movements been continued by their successors. of the figure, and there she was unri- No changes of government, though valled. She was perfection itself in they may have for the time suspended, pantomime; but it was the graceful | have been able permanently to inter rupt the progress of their magnificent edifices. The perpetual charm which these afford to the eye is not the least of the many attractions which permanently attract strangers in such numbers to the French capital. 84. If modern French architecture is remarkable for the imposing effect which it exhibits, and the purity of taste by which it is distinguished, the same cannot be said during the Restoration of its painting. Here the meretricious influence of artificial society is very conspicuous. It is not nature which the modern French artists have studied, but operatic nature: the gestures and expression of the theatre are conspicuous at every step; the glare of the stage-lamps is seen in every light and shade. The attitudes in their historical pieces are all taken from the opera, and exhibit that vehemence and contortion of figure by which their theatrical representations are distinguished, and which is so much at variance with the calm and severe simplicity of the old Italian school. So great has been the influence of the stage on the modern French school of painting, that it may be regarded as omnipotent, and has long precluded its artists from taking an elevated place in the pantheon of modern genius. of France are all stained by the great defect of the French school-that of imitating, not nature, but the stage. There is not in the world, a few brilliant pieces excepted, a more stupendous exhibition of accumulated bad taste and unnatural gestures than the great collection of Versailles now presents; it is worthy to be placed beside the marble monuments of Westminster Abbey, as a collection of the corruption and perversion of taste in an age boasting its civilisation and refinement. 86. To the general condemnation of the modern French school of painting, another exception must be made in the pictures of HORACE VERNET. He is great, because he has studied, not the theatre, but nature-because he has imitated, not the figurantes of the opera, but the habits and forms of actual existence. Like Landseer, he is one of the greatest painters of animals that ever existed; but, unlike him, he has in general represented them, not in their own peaceful and happy retreats, but in connection with the excitement, the pursuits, and the animation of war. Bivouacs of the Old Guard, pickets of cavalry, nightscenes of the Arabs in the desert, charges of horse, evolutions of artillery, have alternately occupied his skilful and practised pencil. The African campaigns, in particular, with their desperate passages-at-arms, pic 85. The painter among them who is distinguished by the greatest simplicity, and who, therefore, has at-turesque incidents, varied costumes, tained to the greatest excellence, is LE GROS. Such is the strength of his genius, and the severe masculine character of his mind, that it has caused him to surmount in a great degree the artificial and meretricious taste by which he was surrounded, and revert to the truth of nature and the severe simplicity of ancient art. His great piece of "Napoleon riding over the Field of Eylau the Day after the Battle," is worthy to be placed beside the finest battle- pieces of Le Brun, both for grandeur of thought, chasteness of colouring, and generality of effect. There is no contemporary historical painting by any British artist which can be compared to it. Most of the other historical painters and collision of European with Asiatic military force, have furnished equally striking and favourite subjects for his brilliant genius. He is essentially a military painter; but in the choice of his subjects, and the figures which fill his canvass, he has availed himself of every accessory which the battle-field, the night-bivouac, the march, the rest at noon, the watering-places, the preparation for action, the fall of the hero, the anguish of the wounded, could afford; and these varied subjects are delineated with a truth and fidelity of drawing, as well as simplicity of effect, which proves that he has studied in the only school of real greatness-the school of nature. In the Exhibition of 1862 in London, the French histori |