LADIES’ LETTER.

Evening Star, Issue 4027, 22 January 1876, Page 2 (Supplement)

LADIES’ LETTER.

Paris, November 27. Tn his well-known ode to a London log, Tom Hood pi'.re sang thus the miseries of the present month—“No moon, no sun, no stars, November.” Thanks to the procession of the equinoxes, or some other cause, the lamentations of the Cockney poet have become applicable in the capital of la belle. Fiance, The weather is gloomy, damp, and dreary. Paris is enveloped, so to speak, in a wet blanket. The sun is on sick leave, and the moon is only visible at the Gaiety Theatre. Worse than all, -we are without news, as sad a calamity for Parisians as to be deprived of green peas and strawberries smothered in cream on New Year’s Day. The death-bed debates of the Assembly interest no one. The public has even failed to remark that the President Mac Mahon completed last Saturday the second of his seven years of office. Undoubtedly the scraps of news from abroad are sufficiently stirring, after the canker of some five years of peace ; but for the Parisian of true descent the world ends at the low ridge of hills that bound his horizon-all beyond is outer barbarism and confusion. Murky November is, however, the busiest mouth of the Parisian winter season. Every one that is someone is coming back to town. The afternoon file of carriages around the Lakes of the Bois de Boulogne becomes every day longer. On opera night the principal row of boxes forms a “ ring of fair faces,” and a perfect blaze of diamonds. Yielding to fashions capricious dictates, all the ladies of the bon ton are clad in snowy white, from the tip of their petite b tline to the end of the fleecy cloud that envelopes their head and shoulders. Now white is a most trying color for a Parisian beauty, and one would think in adopting it, that Worth—which makes the lady as well as “the man”—and confreres have betrayed their fellow-citizenesses into the hands of the enemy. Perhaps, again, the great manmilliner wished to remind Paterfamilias that winter is the period for weddings. In many quarters the hint has been taken, and it is announced that several grand marriages have been “arranged” tor the present season. It is becoming the custom for friends to duly arrive in their grand toilettes on the evening of the signing of the civil contract, when the trousseau and diamonds form in addition a great attraction, rather than the next morning, when the religious ceremony will be celebrated. Among the coming weddings is first, though not least, that of Mile. Bettina de Rothschild with her cousin Leopold, of the \ ienna branch of the family. Though heiress to an immense fortune, Mile. Bettina has received a most practical education. If circumstances should ever so decree it, she could earn her daily bread as a governess. She passed her examination hist winter at Paris, and obtained a first-class diploma as competent to conduct a primary school. Her finncA has also learned a trade ; he is said to be the most skilful blacksmith in all Vienna. These little precautions against hard times are customary in the Rothschild family, and do not think them useless. One day towards the end of his reign, Napoleon 111., in conversing with the English Ambassador, said, “ I have one quality that is wanting in all my rivals.” A little astounded .at this solffiattery, Lord Lyons lisped a few compliments on the talent of his imperial interlocutor ; “Oh! I don't mean that,” said his Majesty laughingly—“ But lam the only European Sovereign that knows how to black his own boots, and 1 could do it again to-morrow.” Subsequent events proved what a fund of truth lay hidden under this fact. The Prince Napoleon, in defending a petty law suit, has just shown that he at least is entirely wanting in that tact and philosophical spirit which distinguished his cousin. A corn-chandler claimed from him a sum of 8,000 francs for the keep of his “charger ” during the sige of Paris. The Prince pleaded —that he never ordered the goods in question ; and, secondly, that as General Trochu had the use of the “charger” during the war, the General ought at least to pay for the animal’s keep. The Prince was condemned to pay the bill, after been publicly twitted on his anything but warlike sentiments. History does not record that he ever “ set a squadron in the field, or the division of a battle knows,” and since he declined the memorable challenge of the due d’Aumale, he is not marked much higher than Bob Acres in courage. The name of Bonaparte is very frequently before the courts at present. M, Bonaparte-Patterson has just been sued by his landlord for two months’ rent. The Judge, however, held that no proof of indebtedness had been shown, ami the defendant came off victoriously. Then we had the Prince Pierre Bonaparte before the civil court, with the sale of his “ White House ” at Auteuil, in which he shot Victor Noir, and where Franklin once resided. The sale brought him 100,000 francs ; this ought to enable his Princess to set up once more in that dress-making business. As for the case of Guizot versus the Empress, we hear no more of it. The son of the statesman that gave France the Republic of 1848, and sent his King, as obstinate as himself, into exile, is perhaps in no hurry to compel her ex-Majesty to accept repayment with compound interest of the 40,000frcs. lent him by the late Emperor. “Enrich yourselves,” was the cuckoo advice of Guizot to Frenchmen. However, there will be no lack of causes e-ldhres before the Parisian Courts this winter. We have certainly not yet heard the last about the squabble between the Queen of .Spain and her cook. This Don of the best blue blood took French-leave of his ex-Sovereigu. But butcher, grocer, and chandler swear by all the gods that Dona Isabella promised to settle their little bills ; this she stoutly denies. The French Judges, not willing to take her Royal word for a bond, forced the poor lady into Court, and swear like the humblest members of the sovereign people.

Thou the Bauffremont affair will bo a staple topic of gossip ; since the separated Princess has remarried a Roumanian Prince in Saxony, claiming the right to do so as a naturalised Saxon subject, duly divorced according to French law, this divorce is null and void. Prince do Bauffremont now claims the custody of his two daughters, and the large family fortune. Whatever bo the result of this puzzling affair, many of its details must be painful even for the public to have to re-listen to them. It would bo well toarrango the matter amicably. Such, luckily, has been the fate of the lawsuit commenced over the coffin of the sculptor Carpeaux. Valenciennes, his native city, desired to give his remains a public funeral. His widow, who during all his long and painful illness—they were judicially separated—kept away from his bed-side, claimed the rights over the body of her husband, and she has at last consented to allow it to he buried in the city where he was horn.

I do not wish this letter to be regarded as au abridged law report, but there is another suit meriting uotioo, as it involves a tableau of manners, as well as of Parisian life. A well known patent medicine- manufacturer has just been fined 500f. for having advertised the cure of one of his patients, the wife of a wealthy merchant. The husband did not exactly pretend to deny that bis wife was cured, but complained of the publication of her name among the consumptive patients of tbo doctor, as likely to have a prejudicial effect on the marriage prospers of his daughters. The court took the same view, and punished the over- clove;- doctor

for his unprofessional conduct. This may seem scanty justice, but in no country is the healing art fenced round with so many paper walls as in France. The strong arm of the law falls heavily and swiftly on any self-appointed Galen. Yet there is no nation more given over to old women’s remedies than the French. These sceptical sons of Voltaire, as they delight to call themselves, believe blindly, and occasionally in the curing powers of some impostor, like the Zouave Jacob, who, before the war, created quite a storm in Paris. He then was medical attendant to a rheumatic marshal, since dead. Till a few weeks ago there lived nearly opposite the new mansion of M. Thiers, a cobbler who passed for a second Esculapius. No one would trust him with a pair of boots to mend, but everyone in the quarter consulted him respecting their bodily infirmities. To give him his due the cobbler played the rule of Moliere’s Mddecin vialyrd lui. It was only by great solicitation that patients could obtain a prescription from him, and they crossed his hand with double the fee paid ordinarily to the princes of the healing art. He disappeared periodically, giving out he was watched by the jealous eyes of the profession. When he returned, his stall was besieged as if it were a shrine. Ultimately, when he had well secured his public, he quietly opened a surgery, and disclosed himself to be a doctor iu search of patients. You must not think that the Parisians show as much credulity in all their ways of living. On some points they are decidedly blase*. An unfortunate acrobat of the winter circus has found this out to his cost. He invented a lour de force, on which he counted to make his fortune. He crept into a cannon of large dimensions, which is dulylet off before the pubic. The shock produced by the explosion serves to loosen a strong steel spring, whose recoil launches the acrobat into mid-air, some twenty yards distant from the “Woolwich Infant,” and within a few inches of a trapeze, which he is expected to seize. During a recent performance the charge of powder was too small, and the unfortunate man fell short, and fell to the ground. This “man-obus,” as he is called, was not severely injured, and the public of course believes the whole affair had been “arranged to puff the circus.” Last spring a large draper’s shop reaped a golden harvest in consequence of one of its assistants having swallowed a dinner fork. Customers were allowed to take a peep at him for nothing. Had the acrobat been killed, it would have been said he did so “to encourage the others. ” This cynicism seems ill-placed among a people that make so much of those that know how to amuse them. “When wo have money,” said a witty Parisian, “wc amuse ourselves by paying those that amuse us—our actors, singers, aud so on ; afterwards we think of the people that kill us—such as generals and doctors : when everybody else is paid, we hand over our coppers to those that instruct us—our teachers and our priests.” Even in the time of the Great Napoleon, a popular tenor was a more important man than a successful general. When a favorite singer of the opera was carried off by the conscription, Pans was seized with a fits of the sulks, and Napoleon hastened to nfcirn the unwilling conscript, for fear of a popular rising. Nowadayß the great city will make any sacrifice for the idol of the hour ; if they he covetous and niggardly—both traits are like Juno’s swans, inseparable -as Patti, Paris will pay them 25,000fr, for a single representation. If vanity be their foible, public opinion will oblige a director to grovel at their feet, aud to imitate the servility of M. Halanzier towards the baritone Faure. ‘ ‘ Stars ” would do well to imitate the busy bee by improving the shining hour, for in most cases it win pass quickly away. Occasionally the public condescends to remember the pet that once ministered to its pleasure. The actress Dejazet at present is dying, and her death vill cause a pang to many that never beheld this comedienne in her prime. Thanks to her many farewell benefits—for one overlooks the weaknesses of second childhood—she has been able to keep the wolf from the door. But her case is an exception. Another great artiste, Frederic Lemaitre, is at present in absolute want, and no efforts of his friends can secure public attention to his distress. Poor Lemaitre, or as his admirers call him, the ‘ ‘ French Kean, ” was in his lifetime a great scapegrace ; when acting in one of Dumas’s dramas, he would descend, diming the performance, to a wine shop along vith a comrade, aud quaff a few bottles of burgundy. He called this operation ‘ ‘ putting on a chemise. ” One night, unable to pay the expenses of his customary debauch, he presented himself before his companions in the green room, and passed round the hat, “for the benefit,” as he said, “of an unfortunate actor who had not even the means of changing his linen.” llvino t unci mezzacorda, as the Italians say. I have already observed that white is the prevailing color for evening, ball, and theatrical toilette ; for promenade and visiting costumes, materials are heavy, in velvet silk, and faille, aud are mostly ornamented with figured aud graceful designs. Now a few general hints to keep in the fashionhats are weighted down with feathers, and toilettes with gold and silver ; green, violet, and straw, mostly in two shades, are the predominating colors ; robes are training, if the material be heavy and of the Princesso shape ; assorted cashmeres, with faille trimmings, are preferred for house dresses ; ribbons are largely employed for evening toilettes, but they cannot bo too rich ; corsages are indicating a rise, but this does not prevent tulle sleeves from being worn “ Finally and lastly,” the fete of St. Catherine, the patrons of ladies who lead the single life, was duly celebrated a few days ago by every girls’ school in France.

Ptie Baufiremont separation and. re-mar-riage of the Princess, after becoming a Saxon subject, has bad its counterpart in Switzerland. In 1863 a young lady married a wealthy financier ; both were French. After a few years of cat and dog life, they obtained relief by a separation. The husband retired to Switzerland—for separated couples enjoy but little distinction here—and in process of time took out letters of naturalisation. Now. according to the French code, a wife must ever be of the same nationality as her busikuxl j so the latter demands, bis wife bciu< y now Swiss, a divorce pure and simple, which France, bound by the Concordat, cannot grant. A\ hat God has joined together lot no man put asunder. However, without being irreverent, one may hesitate to'perceive much of providential interest in unions where the couples only know each other for a month, and detest each other before the conclusion of the honeymoon.