IMPRESSIONS OF TRAVEL IN FRANCE. though a rare, is not, however, a very THIRD ARTICLE. IN high effort of the intellect. Profound minds are seldom witty. Wit is shrewd rather than intellectual; and hence it is usually sarcastic and malicious. We will accord, then, wit to the French, but in proof still of our assertion that they lack humor, and that they lack humor because they are deficient in sensibility. In fine, were we asked to give a moral analysis of the French character, we should mention this want of sensibility as its chief characteristic. Moral sensibility our last article we referred to the opinion of Bulwer, and other writers, that the French national temperament has been undergoing a change since the first Revolution-that its old gayety has gone. There is not enough deep sensibility in the French heart for humor. The assertion may seem paradoxical, but it is true. There never was a humorous man who had not a fountain of pathos within him. Humorous writers have usually been mel--taking that phrase in its widest senseancholy men. Cervantes wrote Don is unknown to the national character. Quixote while desponding in prison, Cow- Individual examples, dear to us personper wrote John Gilpin while in religious ally, rise up before us, at this moment, despair. Dr. Rush somewhere mentions almost to rebuke the hard saying; but, that a hypochondriac once called upon a we repeat, we are speaking of the nacelebrated Italian physician for medical tional character. relief; the prescription was that he should associate with a notable humorist of Rome. "Alas! doctor," replied the sufferer, "I am he myself." Byron refers to this paradox of the heart in his fragmentary journal; he could not write good tragedy, he says, because he was too melancholy. His verse turned to humor. What is thus individually the fact, is aggregately true of nations. The sensibility which is easily touched with the humorous impressions of life is equally susceptible of its other impressions; and as its sad ones are, alas! infinitely more frequent than the humorous, a man of humor is most habitually a man of sadness. And therefore it is that a man of humor is almost invariably a generous a good man. He may be weakfor men of strong sensibility are very likely to be so-but his weaknesses are often more amiable and kindly than the severer virtues of men of little feeling. But this is moralizing, if not sermonizing. There is but little of it in the literature or the art of France. No woman ever showed more heart or more intellect in her writings than Madame de Stael; she is, as yet, the greatest of her sex known in the history of literature-a superb, a glorious creature! but she was a Swiss, and a Swiss Protestant. Rousseau's pages burn with sensibility, though it be morbid passion; but he also was a Swiss, and had a Protestant education. Voltaire was a real Frenchman-full born and educated by the Jesuits; he had a small enough head, as his cranium shows, but an incomparably smaller heart. On the stone monument which contains his heart, in his apartment at Ferney, he says, "My heart is here, but my spirit is everywhere." It would have been an affectionate saying from any other man; but, as coming from him, it conveys a keen satire. His spirit, his fine and subtile sayings, his sarcasms against all truth and goodness, are, indeed, everywhere; but what sentiment of the heart has he left to the world? Bernardin St. Pierre is the best exception to our criticism that we can now recall. All the world weeps, in childhood at least, over the story of Paul and Virginia. It is one of those thoroughly "human" books which, like Goldsmith's Vicar, Defoe's Crusoe, and Bunyan's Pilgrim, cannot lose its interest unless the common human heart shall lose its best instincts. The French are not humorous, and they are not humorous because they nationally lack sensibility. They have wit; no language contains more fine sayingsbons mots, jeux d'esprit. It is a study among them to succeed in smart verbalisms. This is to be spirituelle, as they say; and a more striking moral indication of the national heart could hardly be given than their use of that word. The critics have long settled the difference between wit and humor. The former proceeds mostly from the mind-the The actual French literature is almost boundless; we cannot pronounce judgment upon it, except from the critical "Re latter from the heart. The former views." According to the most favorable of these, it can be but little better than that which preceded it, only more fierce in passion and less powerful in talent. French fictions, and especially the French comedy, are usually caricatures of the most sacred relations of the heart and of the life-those relations which give both moral integrity and moral beauty to the personal affections, and without which there is no stability even to states. The French domestic life is peculiar, and owes its peculiarity, we think, to this want of sensibility. They have no term answering to our sweet word “home,” and they are quite as destitute of the thing itself. Their in-door arrangements, especially in the large communities, are foreign to our notions of domestic intimacy and affection. It is seldom that a common French family has a house exclusively to itself. Each story is a "ménage" by itself, with its kitchen, its saloons, chambers, &c. Very "genteel" boarding-houses, charging at the rate of ten dollars a week per person, are often found on the fifth story-which means the sixth story with us, for the French find it convenient universally to forget the first story in the long enumeration. A "concierge," occupying a room or two on the ground-floor, keeps guard of the common entrance, in behalf of all the tenant families, and is paid by them all. If the latter do not eat at the restaurants and cafés, as families, and habitually, yet meals at home are so casual as to deprive French domestic life of that charm of the "family table" which an Englishman or an American prizes next to the "family fireside," if not the 'family altar." Real French life is out of doors-much of it is in the theater or the ball-room. Home is but a sort of domestic "bureau"-a place of daily resort for the "toilet," for the family business, for sleep, and rest from the excitements of the real life which is without its precincts. Now, if there may be some comforts, and even affections, there can certainly be no sacredness, in a home like this. And may not the domestic demoralization which has been so characteristic of France be owing greatly to this want of home life? We are happy to say that a general reformation has taken place in French domestic morals within the present century. It is perhaps a result of that reaction of the first Revolution which we described in our preceding 66 article. Apparently, Paris is a much more virtuous city than London or New-York; it may not be really so; for French immorality is not vulgar, or at least gross, as is Saxon vice. Grace and outward propriety are essential to a Frenchman's tastes even in his vices. In his language alone can he be gross. But the general improvement of French manners is not altogether in appearance. Libertine abbés, bishops, and cardinals, could not now be tolerated in France. Richelieu and Dubois would have to fly out of the country. The clergy, of all denominations, have generally an exemplary reputation. Louis Philippe's court afforded a good example; that of Napoleon III. is dubious; but scandal hesitates somewhat respecting it. A memorable instance of crime, in connection with the former, shook the throne, and helped on the Revolution-a fact which speaks well for the progress of French morals. In fact, nothing could be more absurd than the notion, entertained generally among us, of the prevalence of domestic infidelity in France. Whatever may be said of the deficiencies and discomforts of French homes, whatever may have been their demoralization in the last century, they are now as generally virtuous as those of perhaps any other European country except Great Britain. It is our opinion that the lower classes in France are more generally virtuous than those of England, because they suffer less. Our countryman, Rev. Mr. Coleman, in his volumes on Europe, makes a similar remark. His agricultural researches led him into the provinces, and quite into the intimate life of the peasants. He was struck everywhere with their superiority to the English field-laborers, both in the amiability of their manners and the purity of their morals. Especially among the female peasants did he observe the absence of that demoralization and grossness which characterize the degraded female laborers of the English fields, coal-mines, and factories. One reason of the difference is, perhaps, the fact that religion has some hold upon the former, but scarcely any upon the latter. We have no favorable notion of the moral influence of Popery, as the reader has well enough learned in the course of these articles; but almost any religion is better than none; and the masses in France are so trained to, at least, the forms of their religion that it becomes a habit with them, and goes with them through life, with more or less restraint. The degraded masses of England, and, to some extent, of our own country, grow up -heathens we were about to say, but that would not be correct. Heathens have religious forms at least; Protestantism, by its deficient system of early training, raises up masses of popular atheists, or at least a class which an American term alone can describe-" nothingarians." 66 One of the many blessings of the great Revolution" was the abolition of the right of primogeniture, by which titles and landed estates were kept in a single family; that right exists yet in England, and is its chief political curse. The old feudal estates of France are now generally divided and sold out in small farms. This division of the soil has afforded the opportunity of becoming land-holders to an immense portion of the common people, and, with this new dignity have come new self-respect, new habits of economy and industry, new interest in public order and security, and new regards for the laws and general virtue. The French are now, we think, making greater advancements in both industrial and moral improvements than any other European people. Next to an improved religion they need an improved system of domestic life, in order to secure these advancements. Both, we think, will yet be developed in the progress they are making. The possession of small farms among the peasants, and the increase of commercial and manufacturing business in the towns and cities, will tend still more to sober the national frivolity, and to create tastes for more intimate, more domestic life. And with the latter will come, more or less directly, that intelligence and those virtues which make a population revolt from Popery. Popery cannot intrench itself in good comfortable homes. It is a pageant now for the out-door life of the French; give them a love of in-door life and its chief value to them is gone. The intellectual life of the French is remarkably vigorous, though not so much in literature (by which it is most popularly known to us) as in science. It has no poetry, and cannot have by the very structure of the language. The Henriade cannot be read through by a man of taste, and it is the only epic claimed by the French. An Englishman finds it hard to appreciate "the great French tragedies" after reading Shakspeare. Corneille, Racine and Voltaire seem to him to rise on stilts, not on wings. Their stiff dignity, their stately didactics, their paucity of scene and of character, cannot be redeemed by their occasional utterance of noble but elaborated sentiments. The fullness of life and richness of genius which characterize so marvelously English dramatic literature, are looked for in vain in the classic drama of France. The modern French comedy is the nearest approach to them. But while the elder dramatic writers of France crippled themselves by their adherence to the Greek models and the old dramatic proprieties, the later writers, with their greater freedom and richness, err in the opposite extreme, and degenerate into superficiality and persiflage. Dramatic literature in France seems, in fine, to aim no longer at artistic excellence and permanent literary rank, but at passing effect. But the scientific intellect of the country will bear comparison with that of any other land. We hesitate but little to say that it takes precedence of any other. A singular fact is it that this people, supposed to be nationally gay and superficial, should present the best results of severe studies and of modern practical sciences. La Place can be ranked second to Newton, if not fully by his side. Cuvier founded comparative anatomy and paleontology, which amounts almost to saying that he founded geology. Lavoisier gave us the very language of that most valuable of practical sciences chemistry; and Frenchmen are continually adding to its resources. Leverier has given us the marvelous fact of the discovery of a planet, which had never been seen from ours, by the magic of mere mathematical calculations. Arago has stood by the side of Humboldt as one of the encyclopedic representatives of modern knowledge. Daguerre has given us the daguerreotype. The medical savans of France lead the world in their department. Her historians are numerous, and foremost in rank. · And in speculative science Royer Collord, Cousin, La Roux are among the most profound as well as the most brilliant thinkers. If Adam Smith first suggested political economy as a science, the French were the first to demonstrate the suggestion and produce the science. Guizot, Nations have, according to history, usually decayed, and irremediably decayed, after reaching their climax of refinement and luxury. Gibbon considered France already in his day an exception to the law; she had reached even an excess of glory and of vice before, under Louis XIV., but she was still vigorous in politics, in arms, and in knowledge. What would he have said of her anomalous spirit if he had seen the stupendous campaigns of Napoleon, the political reorganization which has followed the Revolution, and the scientific triumphs which have been going on amid her convulsions and her wars! France averages a revolution in fifteen It has been said that nations never renew themselves. France is perhaps the only one which has been regenerated. She reached her climax of luxury and corruption; she fell from it into the lowest abyss. She leads Europe to-day in politics, in arms, and in arts. We are disposed to think, too, that she is to be the principal political agent in the future progress of the continental nations. Already a revolution in France means a revolution of western Europe. All eyes turn instinctively toward her for the signs of the times respecting the political fate of the continent. Popery, the religion of the western nations, depends upon her nod. She has learned well some important lessons by her revolutionary experience. Each revolution has shown increasing moderation and good sense. Europe will cease to look for terrors, but will look more hopefully than ever for blessings from her convulsions. Those convulsions must go on. The late quiescence of the democratic spirit in France is but the temporary sleep, the repose of the lion, who will again arise, and, shaking himself with more vigor for his rest, will shake again with his mighty voice all the neighboring forests. The spirit of liberty is essential in the French py are they that can, and do, and love to temperament. It is a national passion. | do it.-Jeremy Taylor. HE that prays despairs not; but sad is the condition of him that cannot pray. Hap France, though bound to Popery by the reigning tyranny, does not and cannot spontaneously adopt it. Her cultivated minds practically disown it. Her general literature is almost unanimously against it. Her liberal men detest it. Her bourgeois smile at it, and would easily overset its whole fabric in a revolution—not with a repetition of the massacre of the "Carmes," but with frolicsome good-humor, as they would lead out some crack-brained old lady who, dressed in the fantastic costume of obsolete times, might have obtruded into their assembly with a claim of the modern "Women's Rights." They would repeat toward it the example of the Merry Wives of Windsor with the fat carcass of Sir John Falstaff-tumble it into the old clothes basket, and send it to be emptied into the ditch. France advances too fast for Popery. Popery is medieval; France is fast outgrowing its medieval reminiscences. It will demand a reformed religion, as it now demands reformed sciences, reformed institutions, reformed politics. A [For the National Magazine.] POPULAR POETRY OF INDIA. FROM THE FRENCH OF DE TASSEY. FORMER paper upon the Female Poets of India presented what data have been gathered upon the subject; very meager, it is true, in facts and specimens, but still demonstrating the fact and acknowledgment of female talent, and the existence of poetic and religious sentiment among these distant and comparatively barbarous nations. We proceed to give some specimens of the poems and poets referred to in the introduction to the former paper. We commence with those which may be characterized as devotional. Those religious songs which contain no mythological allusions are philosophic poems and hymns which are sung by the Kabir-panthi, the Sikhs, and other sects among the Hindoos at their religious gatherings. Many of them are imbued with the doctrine of Vedanta, which is but another name for pantheism. It teaches the unity of all human beings, and compares the relation which exists between God and the creature to the vase and the clay, the waves and the ocean, light and the sun. This manner of expression must not, however, be taken literally, because there could be no expectation of a life beyond the present, since the individuality of man entirely disappears. It may be supposed that the Avedantists and the Sophists, though they teach this annihilation of the created in the creator, may yet believe that man will individually enjoy eternal happiness. The following song of Zulcidas is imbued with the doctrine of pantheism : "O foolish one, invoke the name of Rama! He is the essence of Siva; his name is Ocean. Dwell upon all his attributes and perfections with suitable study. "Observe that time destroys both joy and sorrow; observe the separation of all things. "Time devours what is good and what is bad, at the right and left. Finally everything is absorbed in Rama. "The world is like a garden in the month of Sawan, in the time of flowers and fruits. But consider it all as a vapor. Forget not my words. "O Zulei, he who leaves the name of Rama and puts his hope in another, is like a man who disdains a nourishing dish for a handful of boiled rice." The month of Sawan answers to July and August. 44 By the favor of my grace I have sought the company of the faithful, and she has destroyed my ignorance. The love of God is in my heart; it has destroyed my attachment to exterior life. O my brother! we must receive grief like happiness. "Sensuality and anger are two greedy ravens, who must be driven away at any price. Good works and sins are neighbors who devour each other. Pride and avarice are our two mothers. The chief of the city has tasted the charm of my doctrine, and the people of the villages have seated themselves to listen. 66 Sing a joyful song of congratulation, a happy song of joy; but O, my beloved grand-children! the greatness of the infant Krischna cannot be worthily celebrated. Kabei has spoken. Listen, my brethren; the mind should be filled with good doctrine. Come with me in the narrow way." |