CHAPTER LVI.

PARIS REVISITED (continued).

SAD NEWS—A DINNER IN THE PLACE ST. GEORGE-PIQUANT LETTERS—
OVERTHROW OF MARSHAL SOULT.

ABOUT the middle of February I received a letter from New York, superscribed with the name of E. Simpson, and sealed with black wax. I knew that Mr. Simpson was the partner of my friend Price, and had long been associated with him in the management of the Park Theatre. I was deeply shocked to gather from its contents that poor Price was dead; and the event must have been sudden, for in his last letter he had made no mention of illness. The cold dry tone of the missive conveying such sad intelligence was not a little repulsive. The writer had been for years the friend and associate of Mr. Price, yet he announced his decease in much the same style he would speak of his departure from town. Not an expression of regret, not a trace of emotion. It ran as follows:

New York, January 24, 1840.

Dear Sir, Mr. Price, during his last illness, received your favour enclosing the agreement of Mdlle. F. Elssler. Mr. Price being deceased, will that circumstance alter Mdlle. Elssler's determination, or does she consider herself engaged to the management, or to Mr. Price alone? If you will favour me with a speedy answer to this you will much oblige me, as till I hear satisfactorily I must pause in my other engagements that will be necessary for the production of her pieces, such as balletmaster, dancers, &c. Pray excuse the trouble I am giving you, but the kindness exhibited in all your letters to the establishment emboldens me. -Yours respectfully,

E. SIMPSON.

Apart from my sorrow at this melancholy occurrence, I was much troubled at its possible effect on Mdlle. Elssler's plans. She had made all her preparations for the journey to America, and to renounce it would not only expose her to much loss, but to many stinging sarcasms. It had been so widely discussed

that to forego it would induce many to believe, especially the authorities of the Opera, that it had only been mooted for some ulterior object, and had never been seriously entertained. From the tenor of Mr. Simpson's letter it might be inferred he was disposed to ratify her engagement with his late partner, but he did not distinctly say so. At all events, it was my duty to communicate the painful information, and I did so at once. Fanny was much agitated to hear of Mr. Price's demise, for though she had seen but little of him, he had inspired her with confidence. She knew nothing of the new manager, and was utterly at a loss what course to pursue. She hesitated at relinquishing the journey, that had been so long the town talk, yet she confessed it would delight her to do so. In the end she appealed to me for advice, declaring her intention to abide by it.

This was a new responsibility I had not anticipated, and it threw me into great perplexity. I had been induced to take part in this theatrical speculation solely to oblige my poor friend Price, who could be no longer benefited by it. If I advised her to renew with Mr. Simpson the engagement entered into with his late partner, I made myself morally answerable for the consequences. This opened the door to contingencies that forced me to pause. I decided the wisest thing was to discuss the matter fully with Fanny, and leave her to adopt what course she thought best, simply binding myself, if she adhered to the American expedition, to aid her all in my power. A long talk thereupon ensued; the various pros and cons were considered; and finally she said that she felt herself so committed to the enterprise that, be the results what they might, she would rather go than retreat. She begged me then to draw up a new contract with Mr. Simpson, introducing, however, some fresh clauses that she thought were reasonable. For instance, she preferred receiving a fixed sum per night, say 400 dollars, to a division of the receipts, as in the former agreement; also she desired the time for her appearance in New York to be postponed till the end of April; and further, a forfeit binding on both signatories to be inserted. I reminded her that Simpson might demur to these modifications, though I thought them quite unobjectionable.

'If he refuses,' she said, 'to accept these propositions, so be it; then I will abandon the project altogether; but if he really wants me, he will raise no difficulty.'

I agreed to draw up the contract as suggested, but told her

she could not expect a reply till the middle of March, when she

would be in England.

'That will do,' she answered. 'I will take all my costumes for America with me; and if Mr. Simpson's reply is unfavourable, I will bring them back to Paris, pocketing the loss. Voilà tout.

During this month Mr. Welles, who continued to manifest the liveliest interest in Fanny's American trip, embarked for New York on business, and he promised her to prepare his friends for the delight her visit would afford them. A few days later, in making one of my usual calls on his engaging wife, she expressed her regret at never having met Fanny off the stage.

'My husband,' she added, 'talks so enthusiastically of her good breeding, her pleasing manners and amiability, that I am really longing to see her.'

'Nothing easier,' I said.

'Well, how can I manage it?' she inquired.

'Ask her to dinner,' I suggested.

'Good Heavens!' she exclaimed. What would Paris sayat least that portion of it which knows me? There would be a vehement cackle at my entertaining a danseuse, even though she were Fanny Elssler.'

'Your position in the beau monde,' I replied, 'is too firm to be affected by the outcries of a few malcontents. Besides, you are an American, and independence of character is a national trait. You may not be disposed to call on Fanny; but as you desire to know her, why should you not invite her to your house? Mrs. Grote did not hesitate, as I have related to you; and years ago the Prince and Princess Metternich often asked her to their palace in Vienna to gratify their friend Von Gentz.'

After pondering a few moments, Mrs. Welles tossed up her pretty head, and said defiantly,

'I am mistress of my own castle, and may admit whom I please. Ask Fanny to dine with me next Monday.'

'With great pleasure,' I responded; 'but whom will you invite to meet her?'

'Whom do you suggest?' she asked.

'I know that my friend Lady Bulwer would be pleased to make her acquaintance; and two of your friends, Corbin and Morgan Gibbes, who know her, would be delighted to come.'

'Yes,' she added, 'and an intimate friend of mine, the Marchioness de las Marismas, wife of the wealthy Spaniard Aguado,

would be pleased, I am sure, to meet Fanny. Let me know if she accepts, and I will send off the invitations.'

Fanny gratefully accepted the compliment tendered; and I forwarded the invitation to Lady Bulwer, who replied as follows:

Rue de Rivoli, February 25.

How can I ever thank you sufficiently, dear Mr. Wikoff, for all your kind consideration for me on all occasions-not by words certainly, which never yet thanked any one? I look forward with very great pleasure to the agreeable party on Monday, and to meeting the beautiful Fanny, to whom I feel very grateful for all the delight she has so often afforded me. Pray thank Mr. Gibbes de ma part; but had I not better call for him, unless he has a carriage? Let me know.

I fear you will think that I am guilty of that worst of crimes-spurring a free horse to death- if I ask you, should you find yourself (but not otherwise) in the Rue 29th Juillet in the course of the day, to have the goodness to call at No. 11, on a Mr. Cook, to inquire after the character of a German servant of the name of Samuel Stridet. M. Ledru promised to do so three days ago, but I suppose he has too much to do to think of such things; and, en attendant, I am in the greatest distress for a manservant. All I hope is, that the way I torment you will convince you, dear Mr. Wikoff, of the sincerity of the friendship of your grateful and obliged

ROSINA LYTTON BULWER.

The dinner in the Place St. George went off in the pleasantest manner. The hostess was enchanted with her chief guest, and treated her with the kindest consideration. The rest of the convives, who had not met her before, were equally charmed. Fanny was dressed, as usual, with great simplicity, wearing but little jewelry, which she chiefly reserved for the stage. Her modest deportment, graceful manners, and intelligent conversation astonished, as much as they captivated, all present. She, in turn, was greatly flattered by the marked attentions of the company, and conceived a violent admiration for her very elegant hostess. She was hardly less struck by the beauty and brilliancy of Lady Bulwer.

If all Americans,' she said to me driving home, 'are only half as amiable and high-bred as those I have met to-night, I fear it will cost me a great effort to leave their country. They seem so sincere, and are so free from that mawkish gallantry which assails me everywhere, that I fancy them quite a new

race of people. How little they are known in Europe, and what ridiculous things are said of them!'

These remarks referred to Mrs. Welles and her American guests; and certainly, in tone and bearing, they would have done honour to any country. I have already spoken of Mr. Corbin, but in all respects Mr. Morgan Gibbes might be regarded as his worthy compeer. He resided in Paris with his wife, who was the daughter and heiress of Mr. Oliver of Baltimore. In the whole circle of my friends there were none who excelled Mr. Gibbes in suavity of disposition and a bland consideration for all whom he encountered. I greatly delighted in his society, and had presented him, in turn, to Lady Bulwer, Mrs. Grote, the Countess Guiccioli, and finally to Fanny, all of whom admired and liked him equally.

By the time she left Paris I had contracted a profound regard for Mrs. Grote. In spite of her towering intellect, that was wholly virile in breadth and force, there ran through her naturc a deep layer of sentiment and romance, which proved that the softer traits of her sex had not become ossified, as it were, with the unusual development of her mind. Though she was considerably my senior, there was so much in common between us that a sincere and lasting friendship was sure to grow up, and I rejoiced at the prospect. Our acquaintance had a strange origin truly, but was none the less precious for that. The strongest tie that united us for the moment was the keen interest we jointly took in the welfare of the brilliant artist that had been thrown in our way. We both felt she deserved a better fate, and both were anxious to raise and consolidate her future. We were equally conscious that we were wandering out of our respective walks of life in meddling in the affairs of a danseuse, however estimable and lovable, and we often talked over this irregularity; yet neither of us had the heart to turn our backs and leave her to the fate that would likely befall her. This was the state of things when Mrs. Grote left for home, and I promised to keep her constantly informed of the doings of her enfant gâté, and also pledged myself to pay her a visit during the coming London season. I wrote to her only three days after her departure, to give her some description of Fanny's farewell benefit at the Opera, which was quite an ovation. She replied immediately at great length; but her letter is so characteristic, and I think interesting, I venture to insert it entire: